#not to mention the road behind my house is this road where motorcyclists and cars decide they can go as fast as humanly possibly

[willowfey]

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[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Male!Werewolf x Human! Reader (Modern AU)

So I’m back with another monster post. Werewolf boi is Rhys - tattooed bad boy with a bad boy and hubristic personality; there is more to him but is more of an enigma. ENJOY!

Warnings: mentions of blood and comfort. LONG CHAPTER AHEAD!

PART 2  - PART 3

A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

You had seen him many times in your small neighbourhood; a man you knew little of. You always saw him in the front of his garage of the front of his home, a heavily tattooed man wearing always some jeans and a white tank-top, always stained with oil with the rest of his muscular body.

You didn’t always like to stare, but the man literally stood out always when you caught him working on his bike or a rusty car. You noticed always his olive skin: greasy and sweaty from working under the hood, his dark hair messy as he finger-combed it out of his deep-caramel eyes.

There wasn’t much to know about him, and although you knew everyone in your small town, the man who lived not too far down from you was someone you knew nothing of.

People spoke whispers of him and his family: that he was the runt compared to his younger brothers, rebelling in many ways and always finding himself in the back of a cop’s car.

Other rumours went to him dealing with drugs, to being part of a mafia gang in the following town; some more absurd to outlandish than the next. The mysterious guy would be in your mind and remain the mysterious hunk with an unknown past and present.

You - on the other hand - were in the minds of some a goody-two-shoes, obeying rules and always tending to stick to them. You finished your education and got good grades, never stuck with the wrong crowds, and always seen as the angel in a world of negativity.

Sometimes that could be tiresome. Sometimes you thought, you would want to break the laws and reform from a life of the good side. Maybe once you could go and break free of the mould you had known all of your life.

Your day was usually the same; wake up, go jogging then head for work for 7 hours. It was the usual. Today seemed like all the others, heading out the door in your gym gear and with the dog leash in hand. 

Toby was a large grey-charcoal great Dane, and indeed, a pain in your backside most days when it came to walking him. He was certainly a hassle when it came to walking and controlling him, and when it came to holding him, it seemed like he was the one always walking you and never the other way round.

“Come on boy.” You cooed, holding the leech tight in your grip as you began to jog down the narrow side of the road.

You lived just outside of your town, dense forests and few small houses lined up on the side of the road, where few cars came. 

Walking down the long stretch of road, you were always anticipating for the lovely sight of the mysterious stranger working already in his open garage; always a sight that made your mouth water like you were picking a sweet treat in a bakery.

Holding Toby on a long lead, you jogged along the road, headphones in as you tried your best in controlling the large dog on your left. 

His large house came into view to your left, and when you were waiting in joy for the lovely sight of the man, you were left in disappointment when you saw nothing but an empty and shut garage door, no sight of anything out of ordinary.

Toby yanked on the lead rougher than you had expected, and you nearly tripped in your gym shoes over the road, and you tried tugging the reigns in before you could fall.

It wouldn’t be the first time that I’d fallen on the side of the road. You reminisced, cringing at the event; the fall had left your knees bloody and palms of your hands scuffed and scratched up, leaving you shaken up.

“Toby, stop.” You grunted, something catching or gaining Toby’s attention, the sheer weight and strength of him was something that made you feel more pressured into trying to stop him.

“Toby.” You pulled him back, expecting for once the dog the size of a small pony, but when you saw that familiar sight of his large ears pinning up and standing straight up, you knew that you were not in any way able to stop him.

He had spotted a squirrel.

Gunning it in the bolt of lightning, quick as silver, Toby sprinted and you had underestimated whether you would be able to hold him back. You were pulled forward from the force as if someone from behind had shoved you to the floor.

The leash fell from your grip when you made contact with the hard concrete, knocking the wind from your lungs as you tried to get some air into you; a burning sensation kicks in through your entire body starting from your fingertips and spreading.

“Toby!” You spluttered, blinking in the realisation of where you were and what could’ve happened to your dog. There were cars on the road, and Toby was sprinting with no care in the world.

You stood shakily to your feet as you went about chasing after him, the adrenaline pumping in your veins, all thought running out your mind with the dread of too many questions?

What happened if he got hit? Or I did? You could barely afford vet bills and the thought of how much it could cost was something you couldn’t deal with, nor the fact you could lose Toby if someone was recklessly driving or needed to swerve.

Heck, I could get someone else injured because of this. Your day seemed to be getting worse the more and more you went with how badly it was going already. You didn’t believe it could get any better.

But then, your saviour, your hero appeared.

The short cut off of an engine caught your ears: a passing motorcyclist coming shortly to stop just before Toby could get past. Casually, almost magically, the anonymous motorcyclist coolly opened a palm out just before Toby sprang like a coil past.

And just like magic, Toby stopped dead in his tracks of running and trotted with no hesitation to be taken in and held by his attached lead.

Your mouth had dropped, as you sprinted down to catch up with the two, luckily, the roads hadn’t been too mad with other vehicles, and those were more interested in getting on with their days to stop and check if everything was fine. They had seen this countless times once over.

You were heavily out of breath, no matter how many times you went out jogging, this one had really knocked all your sense and air out from you, and you wanted to no more than to go and lie down in a darkened room.

“Toby, thank God-- hey, um, thank you.” You took back Toby by the lead that the stranger - now that you could tell was a male - and back into your own grip, making sure to be extra careful not to let him loose.

The male didn’t respond to you at all, and you knew that he had gone out of his way to help you, and it made you feel more embarrassed than you had taken time out of his day to help you; all thanks to you not having a good hold on Toby.

“Uh, I’m sorry about all that, Toby’s a big dog, I should’ve known that he was going to bolt-”

“You can barely even hang onto him, it’s no wonder he got out.” You were cut off from your ramblings, blinking owlishly and unexpectantly by the obscured male in front of you, casually leaning back on his motorcycle.

“I-I’m sorry?” You took more than a good insult before, but this guy was more than good at throwing them at someone like you, and you were certainly not prepared.

You looked over his clothes from what you could tell: all leather and onyx as ink, he wore a leather jacket and black jeans, a white t-shirt underneath. The man went to stand, and before you, you witnessed the helmet he wore come off.

The first thing you spotted that was familiar was the eyes: caramel, and bright and clear, and held so much irritation. You gawked at the neighbour you never knew anything about; the supposed bad boy who was linked to drugs and gangs.

The mysterious man before you was taller than you from what you could see, and from this close, you could see all detail in his face from when he was always working. You could see the freckles on his cheeks and nose, the nose piercing septum that glinted silver and how his eyes poured like the caramel that was poured on top of ice cream.

He was simply gorgeous.

He blinked, looking you up and down with scepticism, “You’re welcome?” His voice was deep, rich and honeyed, perfect and expectant from him. “You have no control of your dog.” He bluntly said to you.

You felt a prang in your chest from being merely and rudely spoken to by this man, and all secrets and rumours about him you had heard all seemed in your eyes to come true. He seemed like an asshole.

You gripped at Toby’s leash tighter in your fingers, looking away and anywhere to not meet his eye line. “Y-yeah, he’s not really my dog, my brother wanted a big dog, and he’s our family dog--”

“Cool, anyway, I’ll be off.” He announced with no warning, starting the engine once more as it roared to life beside you, making you almost leap out of your skin. He noticed, but said nothing, eyeing you silently.

“Thanks once again.” You softly spoke, looking to his body, his tousled dark brown hair and his eyes, already looking you over as he gave no expression nor smile. Those eyes were already looking you over once more, and he must’ve seen you look at him up and down.

“Sure.” He bluntly said, not giving a goodbye as he put his helmet down and hurtled down the road and away, his fleeing figure disappear off the road.

You watched him ride off, breathing out shakily as you heard Toby whine beside you, nudging your bruised and bloody knee. He gave you a look that any other human would’ve described as ‘shit-eating’.

“Yeah, whatever.” You mumbled, limping off to get back home.

-

“You’re telling me he just sped off with no care in the world? Damn, and you’re telling me he might be single too?” The roar of laughter beside you brought you to groan as you wiped down the surface area in the diner you worked at.

“Yeah, can we stop talking about it? He really embarrassed me, Max.” You grumbled, keeping your head down to hide the blush on your cheeks.

Maximus, the half-elf who looked more like something from Game of Thrones snorted beside you, clicking his tongue in humour. “Damn, if I had a neighbour like him, you would see me looking out my window every day. All I’ve got are orcs and faes doing yoga and smoking weed.”

“That sounds better than living in a wasteland.” You muttered, going back to work, thankful that it was getting closer to closing. There were two customers, a couple chatting quietly to each other in the corner and an old man by the counter with a cup of coffee.

“Honey, I’m just saying, you should’ve asked for his phone number, then if he had rejected you, you could’ve given his mine.”

“The cheek!” You faked dramatically, earning a wink from your coworker and a good friend. “I’m sure you would’ve had better luck with him than me.”

“You said he had tattoos too. Maybe I may have to get my car checked out by him.” Max chortled, earning a slap to his shoulder. “I don’t think he even does proper work for others. He’s always working on the same cars and his motorcycle-”

“Now, you didn’t tell me he was a mechanic too!” Maximus beamed. A harsh glare was given a customer in the back, Maximus ignoring it. “He’s mysterious, Max - like he’s an enigma.”

“Those types of guys are always doing coke on Wednesdays and seeing 10 different girls on the weekends.” Max hummed in thought, “You’re playing with your fantasies! The hot neighbour, the innocent angel living next door who comes to him to get his help to sort out her car-”

“I’m not innocent.” You blurted in a whisper, careful to not get anyone else hearing your conversation. “He helps you out, and not just the car.” Max winked cheekily your way, making you groan into your hands, hiding the blush.

Your chatter died down when you heard the door chime with the knowledge of another customer walking in. You removed your hands to look over to your right, seeing in the far corner the person walks in, and all blood draining from your face.

No fucking way.

Maximus noticed your pale face and wide eyes, nudging your shoulder and mouthing what was wrong before his lavender eyes darted back and forth between you and the muscular man coming over to the counter. The elderly man with his coffee cave the man in leather a glare, before he scoffed and continued with his own business.

You watched in horror as the same neighbour who had saved Toby and not your dignity came strolling to lean up casually against the counter.

“Hey,” he spoke, and for the first time since you encounter and a week of avoiding him, he gave you a grin. Your heart fluttered at the sight of sharp canines in his mouth, sharp for any human, “table for one?”

“You’re here... why?” You gaped silently, watching in your peripheral as Maximus slipped off to clean some tables, leaving you to it with the sexy stranger.

“Can I not come to get something to bite?” He spoke smoothly, the same grin never faltering from his olive skin face. “I have a sweet tooth, and nothing says anything like having something nice, right?”

“Right--” You blinked, trying to control your feelings and emotions as you tried to resume the usual employee’s bubbly and friendly exterior. “What can I get for you then, sir?”

He snorted softly at the title, rolling his eyes as he drummed his fingers on the counter. “Anything you got. Heard you do quite good milkshakes.”

I’m not going to get him embarrassing me once more. You thought, feeling both sweaty and light-headed. “Strawberry or vanilla?”

“Strawberry.” He mused, removing himself from the counter as he got himself a booth alone to your right and far away from the door and everyone else before you could ask him to grab a seat.

You watched from your spot, glancing back at Maximus as he mouthed back to you in an exaggerated way. “With a cherry on top.” He mouthed, giving you a thumbs-up as he resumed working.

You sighed, getting to work, silently and carefully making a strawberry milkshake with all the works - whipped cream, strawberry sauce and a cherry on top in a tall glass - and carefully made your way to get to his booth.

He was pressed in the corner, jacket removed as he looked out the window, silently looking out as if he was thinking to himself. He took notice of you as he saw you coming closer, and you slipped the glass on his table with somewhat ease.

“Cheers, sugar.” He thanked you quickly and charismatically, and when you had thought your job had been done, did he speak up to you again.

“Say, wanna sit and chat?”

You turned back to look at him as if he had ten heads. “I’m working?”

“I can see,” he raised an eyebrow, but he still looked to you as if you were mad. “but there’s no-one here.” You breathed out through your nose as you quietly agreed, slipping into the same booth and sitting opposite him, watching as he took a sip of his milkshake through the straw.

His caramel eyes lit up at the taste and he groaned to himself, his eyes rolling into the back of his head dramatically and deliberately, taking another large gulp. The sight alone, made you feel like you needed an exorcism, for allowing such lewd thoughts to come to your mind.

“This is good,” He grinned, eying you almost like a snack, “but not as good as you.”

“Really now, because I don’t think our first meeting went down very smoothly.” You retorted back, trying your best to not allow his sweet words to affect you.

He laughed at the remark, unexpectant but he seemed impressed. “Hey, I’m sorry about it, if it makes you feel any better, I am enjoying this milkshake you made me, and your company.”

“You don’t know me that well,” you began, resting your elbows on the table, “and I don’t know you.”

“True,” he chimed, “but it doesn’t mean we can’t start over, huh?”

You watched him but didn’t respond. He held out a large hand to you, taking the initiative. “Rhys Pearson.”

You told him yours, and finally, you could now put a face to his name. “How long you been working here for?” He asked, his eyes drifting from the tiles to the unkempt ceiling, “You could be working in a nicer place.”

“The pay is cheap but it gets me money, especially for my family.”

“Why?” Rhys questioned, swirling the straw between his fingers. A lump formed in your throat at the given words you wanted to speak. “I just do, nothing else.”

Rhys held his hands up defensively, “Hey if it makes your life feel any better, my home life is pretty shit.”

You raised an eyebrow quizzically, “How so?”

Rhys sighed almost sincerely, “The youngest of four brothers, I never got much attention. Ma and my old man were always pining for work and money, and I always made sure to get their attention in other ways.”

So, the rumours are true. You pondered. You didn’t want to believe them so so quickly, after all, it was wrong to judge a person’s character only from what you had heard, and from what you had seen already, Rhys was deemed different.

“You had four brothers? That does sound shit.” You rarely swore, and sometimes the realisation made you more surprised than your own closest friends.

Rhys leant back into the booth seat: he���s looking at me again, trying to read me once more. “Do you have a ride?”

You blinked. “A ride?”

“Yeah, to get home.” He slurped the rest of the drink down in little time. “I get the bus home, takes a while but I don’t mind the journey.” You shrugged. 

Rhys threw some dollars onto the table whilst he scrambled some from his jacket pocket, before sliding out from the booth to stand. “Let’s go then.”

This guy is mad. “Rhys? Go where?” You wanted to laugh, to think this guy was playing with you and your feelings, but he was interesting, to say the least. 

“I don’t want to say it again, do I? I’ll try you home. I’m not entirely the bad guy, ya know.” He grinned, giving you a wink as he headed to leave.

“I’ll be in my car.” He waved back on you, swinging his jacket over his bare shoulder as he walked out, and the mere sight of that made you nearly swoon and your knees buckle.

You headed back with the empty glass and change leftover, looking back on an observant yet intrigued Max. “What was that all about?”

“I’ll tell you when I get home.” You threw the change into the register, going to head to the back to get your things. “Apparently, he wants to take me home.”

-

You stepped out into the cold yet refreshing air, the coolness hitting your skin as you hurried to take a relaxing breath out through your mouth, taking in the smell of the nearby pine and fresh salt from the coastline. 

It was good to get out of work, notably when you had had a rough day, and it was even better not having to get on a bus all the way home when you could get a free ride back from the hunky neighbour who you still knew nothing about.

That was still the thing, he was still some guy you had just met, and he could’ve been a serial killer or some creeper who liked taking snaps of girls when they weren’t looking.

A nearby honk brought your attention back to who was waiting for you: Rhys’ head hanging out the window as he waited for you. You smiled faintly, more out of nerved, gripping to your jacket you wore as you walked over to his beat-down truck, red as a rusty copper.

“Took you long enough.” He mused lightheartedly. it was better to see him in a good mood than he was irritated with you. “Sorry, got caught up with a coworker.”

Rhys didn’t reply, starting the engine as he drove off, and you told him your address, the two of you silently sitting in the car as he drove.

It was peaceful to look out the window, but not to be sat in silence with no conversation. Your mind was going 100 mph, doing cartwheels and trying to find anything to say to him.

“I’m sorry about our first meeting you know?” Rhys spoke up after some time of just driving and following the road. You looked to him confused, waiting for him to elaborate. “I don’t get on well with people, I tend to stick to myself. Usually, people owe me something and I don’t like getting involved and shit.”

“It’s fine.” You replied, “Thanks really for helping. I didn’t want you to think I was weird or weak for being able to hold me down.”

“I couldn’t just let a pretty thing like ya go on being dragged,” There it was again, his sweet-talking, “plus, it was quite hilarious watching it all.”

“How’d... how did you do it? Get my dog back without even having to chase him?” You pondered aloud. Rhys paused for a moment, “I used to look after my aunt’s dog when I was young. I always liked working with animals more than people; especially dogs.”

“Huh.” You were impressed, that he could that so easily, and you knew that it must’ve been some sort of talent to work with dogs and get them to behave.

“This is mine, uh, thanks again, Rhys. It was nice speaking with you and getting to know you more.” He pulled over just outside your house and outside your driveway.

You observed him and noted quickly his posture and how he sat, almost leant back and curled over the steering wheel. Something seemed up, something he wasn’ t telling you.

“There’s more to me that you should know.” He begun, more roughly spoken as he took your forearm in surprise, roughly grasped as you stared in mild nervousness and fear.

He sensed it, not letting go entirely, but loosening his hold on you. “Rhys, I need to get in-”

“I’m... I’m a...” He nearly confessed too quickly, opening his eyes wide as he saw the way you looked over to him; they want to know more but too fearful of what he had to say. He shut his mouth, shaking his head as he let you go. “Nothing, just go.”

You reluctantly left and didn’t say anything else again to him as you left to get into your home, hurrying to get your shoes off as you run up to your room. By the time you had gotten up there, Rhys had gone, and you were sure that same evening as you were getting ready for bed, you heard the distant sound of a howl; a wolf’s howl longing call through the night.

You didn’t hear or see from Rhys for another week, then another, until a month had gone past. It worried you how quickly someone like him could disappear under the radar and not even be seen again by anyone again. 

And of course, it being a small town you lived in, people were quick to assume and speculate.

They guessed it was him running away from home, running to another town, or having to go get more drugs for himself or his gang. The guesses from others made you sick; you felt that they were all lies.

You didn’t want to believe you were smitten with the guy, but Rhys did seem to always appear in the back of your mind, even when you were getting on with your life and work. He always seemed to be there.

You were in your kitchen alone at night, sorting out the bins that needed to be taken out for the next morning, but you had left it all to the last minute, and now it was too late and dark to head out to put them out.

Sighing and begrudgingly doing it, you tied the last of the bags and unlocked your back door to throw them away, no much really light helping you see; only from the large full moon that was out.

People were always so quick to spread tales in your town, of myths and monsters, and it wasn’t the first time they mentioned wolves. Wolves bigger than horses, hungrier and more fierce, raiding people’s homes or destroying lands.

There were apparent disruptions and mentions of raids of bins but you only assumed it could’ve been from foxes or even coyotes.

You had just thrown the last bin in when you had heard it; the most guttural sound that sounded like a blend of a growl and snarl.

It thrummed in the air and shook the ground you stood on, the sound more fierce from what you had heard from Toby when he was protective or scared, and more so deeper than a dog.

You turned round to face the sable backyard, of utter blackness and nothing but leaves and bushes and endless abyss of the woods, your eyes finally adjusting to something that could’ve made you believe it had been just a cat.

But what cat had eyes so big?

The house rattled with the shaking of an earthquake, that shook through the ground like a rising wave waiting to crash, through your entire being. Whatever it was, it was big.

And these eyes, they were wide and bright as ambers and honey, the colour that contrasted greatly through the darkness. They were large and squinted and the sound of snarling brought you to know you were being threatened.

You gripped to the stairs back to get to your door, the first step always seems too high and too far for you to reach, and one mistake could send the creature hurtling towards you with more speed than when Toby sprinted.

The creature’s fur was contrasted with a slight difference in the darkness: its fur was large and shaggy, the colour of ink the more your eyes adjusted to its shape appearing in front of you.

A wolf, the size bigger than anything you had seen before, slinked into the small light of your back garden, paws bigger than your entire head. Its head was hunched forward, prowling muscular arms treading slowly and carefully towards you, black fur the texture of a garden brush.

You leant back as far as you could, aware that you were letting off a pheromone that brought out your fear: and you knew this wolf was aware it could smell it on you.

The wolf stared you down, not doing anything to warn you off now the closer it got, and those amber eyes were enough to make you almost buckle to the ground in fear.

Slow and steady. You needed to remind yourself. You were dealing with a wild animal, one that acted differently to other domestic pets, and you didn’t know nor want to imagine how it would act if you did something out of order.

It was practically towering over you, all muscle and height and it made you feel powerless underneath it, trapped under its hardened gaze and intensity of its possible strength.

You left a small whimper out, as its large head came to nudge at your shoulder, the sound you didn’t want to let out to let it know you were rather scared, as you watched with no knowledge of what it could do next.

It inched closer to you, its warm wet and pink tongue suddenly started lapping at your arm, then your neck and finally and rough lick from your jawline up towards the end of your brow.

You grimaced. Was it now tasting you for taste? You pushed at its brawny chest to get some space, as the soft sound coming from the wolf as you pressed your hand away in dread.

It was a warning, one to make sure you didn’t do it again, and when you looked down, you saw flesh, bare flesh to the bone, some that looked to be flaking underneath the sable fur to reveal itself to you; red and bloody.

You realised it was injured, from the lack of wanting to attack you and the growl from earlier was merely just from not knowing if you were a threat or not.

But what about its skin underneath? It looked... so human.

Before you, the onyx wolf collapsed in a giant heap without any warning, and you yelped back in warning. Its large head was resting just before your feet, its eyes drooping as they looked up to you in question. 

Please. They were warm and full of emotion, and it gave a long whine when you went to gently touch at it again, hot and blotchy to the touch, you didn’t know what to do.

You stayed with it outside for as long as possible, getting water and blankets when it was needed, but it didn’t drink nor get cold.

You remained, resting into its chest as you waited, waited for any chance it would get better, but you didn’t know if it would be possible.

You were scared, but something was calming and proving to be sending of protective vibes to you as if they would never really hurt you now that you thought about it.

You felt the wolf stir behind you, as if ready to quickly lunge up to its feet, but you felt nothing of it. Again, it stirred and slowly shifted, but nothing more. That was when you heard it, softly and begging, the familiar call for your name.

“Help me.”

“Rhys?” You sat up and bolted like a hare in a field, looking back until you felt like your neck had snapped from the speed. The large beast was no longer laying there, instead, a very naked Rhys, bruised, dirtied and caked in mud, he was bloody and sore all over.

You gathered the blanket up and took him safely indoors, where you took him to your couch and got him as warm as possible, all whilst your mind was swirling and spinning with so many questions.

Rhys must’ve sensed your lack of words, speaking up for you. “I get you’re confused.”

“A bit, or more so I am a lot.” You slowly walked over to sit beside him, a few metres away. “You’re... you turn into a large wolf?”

He grinned softly, as if pained. “I’m what humans call a werewolf. My family and I are the only families that live here.”

You went silent, too silent, and Rhys was leaning closer to you, taking your hands into his cold and dirtied ones, he squeezed on them tightly. “Say something.”

“What is there to say, Rhys?” You blurted, “You’re a werewolf, why were you in my garden?”

“I... I had a fight with one of my brothers... got into a fight with him and he won. I was sent off for the night to go find shelter.  thought your place would be the only option.”

You paused, mouth dry with lack of words. You suddenly felt aware of all little details and everything that was going around you, of what you wanted to so badly crawl into a hole and not come out. “You thought I would come and look after you?”

“I dunno. I just thought... you wouldn't judge me, for who or what I was.”

“I wouldn’t.” You squeezed his hands back for emphasis, aware of how small your hands were in his. “But why didn’t you tell me earlier? I was never one to judge anyone.

“I didn’t know how you’d react. Wolves are outcasted from society. I didn’t want you to think I was some... was some kind of monster.” Rhys grumbled softly. 

“You’re not a monster, you’re far from one.” You breathed, leaning into him more. “"God, I can’t believe I’m saying this. I like you. I like everything about you, even though I don’t know you that well, but I want to know more about you.”

Rhys blinked, taking in your words, a smile gracing his tanned skin, one that wasn’t a smirk nor arrogant in any way, it looked genuine. “I like you too, and I want to get to know you more.”

He carefully took your face into his hands, cradling you as he lent in first, capturing your lips to his in a nervous kiss. You reciprocated, kissing him back in a sweet kiss, one that you didn’t expect from someone like him.

It was nice to kiss him, to feel wanted and loved, and you could imagine Rhys liked it too.

You pulled away first, much to his dismay, laughing softly as his reaction; the classic puppy dog eyes.

“Come on, I’ll run you a hot bath and get you cleaned off. Then pizza and cuddles, how does that sound?”

He took your hand as you led him out your living room, smiling broadly.

“I’d like that a lot, sugar.”

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[taking-over-his-life]

The old shop

Written by my old friend Colt.

On a bright autumn day, when the low angle of the sun, the sudden warmth of Indian summer, and the riot of scarlet and yellow leaves all cast a spell over the Virginia countryside, I set off for a drive, with the car windows rolled down. Intense glare alternated with deep shadow, as the road wound through fields and woods. It led to a town called Hapsburg, where it became Main Street, nearly deserted on Saturday afternoon. I parked along the sidewalk, and got out to stretch my legs.

The buildings were of red brick or painted clapboard, one or two stories. Shop windows were empty, or contained faded posters, long out of date. I walked past a café, a drugstore, a lawyer's office, and a barbershop, all closed. Next came a shop that sold old furniture, chipped plates, sentimental pictures, obsolete farm tools—the debris of former households, past lives.

In the display window, draped over the back of a chair, as though the wearer left it there minutes ago, and would soon reclaim it, was a black leather jacket. Creased and scuffed, it had evidently seen hard use. So casually was it thrown on the wooden chair—was it also for sale? I tried the latch, and the ancient shop door opened. A bell jingled sharply overhead, as I stepped inside.

A pale, thin man seated behind a counter barely looked up from his newspaper. His eyes were watery blue or gray, and his hair was sparse, showing the scalp. I pretended to look at a dusty shelf of books, then wandered to the back of the shop, which seemed to have nothing of value. At last, I returned to the front. Except for the man at the counter, there was no one else.

The black leather jacket was compelling. I touched a sleeve—the leather was thick and heavy. I searched for a tag, a price, a label, but found nothing. On the shoulder, a red patch bore the legend: "Hapsburg Motor Patrol." "Go ahead," the man said. His voice was unexpectedly clear and strong, despite his age. "Try it on. You'll be the first, since it just came in. Who knows, this may be your lucky day."

I slipped my arms into the sleeves, shrugged the weight of the leather over my back, and tried the zipper, which worked smoothly.

"A perfect fit," the man said, "like it was custom-made for you. There's a mirror, if you don't believe me."

It was uncanny, but the old leather jacket did fit perfectly. Stiff yet pliable, it was already molded to my shape, broken in by the previous owner.

"Whoever wore it must have had exactly the same upper body size," the man said.

"So you don't know who owned it?" I asked. "Anything about him?"

"Not a clue."

"What about the patches? Will I be arrested for impersonating a police officer?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. The town police department disbanded years ago, when the county took over everything—schools, taxes, roads, jail. The county police wear a different uniform, not that red patch. As it stands now, that jacket is a collector's item, a genuine Hapsburg Motor Patrol issue. Quality leather—they don't make them like that any more. The badge is missing, of course. It went in that reinforced hole in the chest."

The leather creaked, as I flexed my arms and walked to and fro. I inhabited the jacket, inhaled the smell of leather, and felt slightly giddy.

"There's plenty of wear left in that jacket. It will keep you warm on the road, and protect you in case of a spill. When you're riding, that is. Yes, sir, it fits you like a glove."

"How much do you want for it?" I asked, trying not to sound desperate.

"That depends on how much you want it," he answered, suddenly shrewd. His pale eyes glittered in the shadowy interior.

Though I detest haggling, I was unable to take off the jacket. I named a price, a round number, which I hoped was low. To my surprise, the man instantly agreed.

"Sold!" he shouted, as though at an auction.

I reached for my wallet, anxious to complete the transaction before he changed his mind, or before I did.

"Like I said, that leather jacket was meant for you. What are the odds that someone would walk in here, exactly the right build, with an eye for police memorabilia?"

"So you don't know where it came from?"

"Sorry, my friend. It could have been someone cleaning out an attic, getting a house ready for sale, winding up an estate. Wait! Now that you mention it, some other things came in with the jacket. Here's a helmet, the standard police type."

He handed me a white helmet, and I lowered it over my head. Snug, but comfortable. I started to ask the price, but he cut in.

"At no additional cost—special today. And check out these beauties." He rummaged behind the counter, and produced a pair of black leather riding boots.

"Somewhat the worse for wear, but you can replace the heels, and shine them up like new. Here, try them on."

Hurriedly, I untied my shoes, and shoved my feet into the tall boots, folding my pants inside the cylindrical shaft. Amazingly, the boots fit. I wiggled my toes, rocked from side to side, and strode a few paces. Like the jacket, the boots felt eerily right, as though I had worn them for years. Looking in the mirror, I caught my breath.

Instead of the man who entered the shop, an ordinary citizen like millions of others, I saw a police officer, a motorcycle cop, a figure of speed and power, a member of an elite squad, albeit from decades before. The fantasy was exhilarating.

"Do you want a bag?"

Abruptly, I remembered where I was, in a dusty junk shop, in a forgotten country town. I took off the helmet.

"No bag, thanks. I'll wear it."

"What about your shoes?"

"Oh. . . yes."

I handed the man my shoes, which he dropped into a crumpled paper bag. He handed the bag back to me, with a wink of his gray eye.

Jacketed and booted, as though dressed for a costume ball, I exited the shop, and blinked in the dazzling sunlight. The air was growing cooler, and the sun would soon set. With the helmet under one leather sleeve, and clutching the paper bag, I strode to my car for the drive home, through the inflamed countryside.

In the following weeks, as the weather turned cold and windy, I sometimes wore the leather jacket. As promised, the thick, back skin kept me warm. It did not attract attention, other than a smile or nod of approval. The thrill I felt on first putting it on mellowed, and in a way, I grew into the jacket.

One day, it occurred to me to search the pockets. An inner zipper revealed a small black and white photograph of a man standing beside a motorcycle. He appeared to wear the same jacket and boots, with the same white helmet on his head. He also wore a police badge, a silver star on his chest. His posture was upright and confident. The photograph bore no identification, no name or date. It was impossible to tell the man's age, or where the photograph was taken. Still, I was convinced that this was the officer who owned the items I had bought.

His uniform included a pair of riding breeches, tailored snug at the calf and flared at the thigh, almost as though inflated. It was a picturesque style, something that went out of fashion long ago. I could not recall ever seeing such a uniform on the street. In color, the riding breeches were dark, with areas of sheen. Were they made of black leather, too? I placed the photograph in a dresser drawer.

Though out of sight, the image haunted me. Who was this man, in purely physical aspects so much like me? What were his tastes, his habits, his personality? What was the police officer's story?

With no conscious intention, I began to read classified ads for used motorcycles, and I looked more closely at those I passed in the street. I wondered what type of motorcycle my officer rode. What type would a small-town police department be likely to have? When a neighbor parked a motorcycle in his front yard, a machine much like the one in the photograph, with a "For Sale" sign attached to the seat, I did not hesitate.

The neighbor, an engineer who would soon move to another city to start a new job, taught me how to ride the motorcycle, and he gave me advice on maintenance and repair. My luck continued in the form of a mild winter, which allowed me to ride on weekends, gradually learning how to handle the motorcycle on narrow roads, and in traffic. Though not especially powerful, it was quick and responsive. I wore my leather jacket, boots and helmet, of course, and sturdy jeans. By spring, I had become a confident, if careful, motorcyclist.

One Saturday, as the trees were coming into leaf, and the air was newly fragrant, I set off to ride through the green landscape. I started with no destination, but the road became familiar, as it wound through fields and woods. Just as it did six months before, it led to Hapsburg. Slowly, I cruised Main Street, looking for the old shop where I had bought the leather jacket, the same one I was wearing. Not seeing it, I turned around, and rolled in the opposite direction, but still failed to find the dusty display window. I parked, pulled off my helmet, and stood in the middle of the street, baffled.

A place I did not remember, a combination art gallery and custom frame shop, hinted at economic revival. Clean, freshly painted, with a gleaming steel and glass door, it was open for business. I entered, and at once was greeted by a young man with black hair, dark brown eyes, and an eager smile. After browsing the drawings and paintings, all by local artists, I explained what I was looking for.

The young man grew solemn, and said he would be right back. He walked briskly to a storage room in back, and returned with a large envelope, which he handed to me. Scrawled on the envelope, as a kind of address, was the phrase:

"For the man in the leather jacket, when he returns."

I studied the envelope for a moment, then asked:

"How can you be sure that this is for me?"

"The junk shop you describe was here, this space. I cleaned it out, renovated, put in new lights, and so on. A lot of work, you can imagine. The previous tenant passed away, I was told, and he left the shop as you saw it. I never met him—a retired police officer. Nothing of the contents was worth saving, but I did save one thing. That envelope was lying on the counter."

I lifted the flap, and extracted something heavy and pliable, made of black leather.

"Looks like a pair of pants," said the young man, clearly interested.

"Yes," I said, "or riding breeches. I saw them in a photograph."

"Awesome! They match your jacket and boots. Want to try them on?"

"I don't need to. They're exactly my size. Don't ask how I know."

"Okay, I won't. Strange things happen, even in Hapsburg. But here's the really strange part. They told me that the old man passed away more than a year ago. So how could you have met him here last fall?"

I shrugged my shoulders, and the leather jacket creaked. I slid the breeches back in the envelope, and tucked it under my thick black sleeve.

"Thanks," I said, turning to leave. "And good luck with the shop."

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Ebb Tide Chapter One

Description: Nothing ever happens on this island. That's what aspiring writer Jeon Jungkook thinks, at least. Endless scorching summer afternoons bleed into navy nights, and every day is the same routine. After years of helping his ailing grandmother run the only hotel for nautical miles, Jungkook is tired of watching guests come and go knowing he'll never join them. But when newcomer Kim Taehyung arrives, he shakes the whole island in his wake. What is he here for? How long will he stay? And why exactly is everyone drawn to him so magnetically? Jungkook doesn't know, but there's one thing he's certain of; there is something very different - and possibly dangerous - about Kim Taehyung.

On an island where nothing happens, Jeon Jungkook ends up entangled with forces of nature that are far beyond his mortal comprehension.

Forces of nature that may prove deadly.

Genre: Supernatural, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn

Pairing: Jungkook x Taehyung

Word Count: 9.0k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Supernatural!Au, Siren!Taehyung, Writer!Jungkook, Fisherman!Namjoon

Warnings: Infrequent swearing and mentions of alcohol

A/N: AHHHH here we are fellas! I’m SO pleased to get going with this new story. It’s member x member, so I get it if that’s not your thing, but I figured I’d give it a shot since I was reaching some creative blocks with this blog! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it. I’m really enthused about it. Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

No official posting schedule due to graduate school applications!

Jungkook is drowning.

That’s all he knows for sure.

Saltwater traces up his nostrils and down his throat, burning as it slides through his esophagus. His hands flail, desperately seeking purchase. Of course, there’s none. No sea stacks to grab on to around the beach, just choppy water, whipping violent like a living thing. He screams, and only bubbles escape. Straining to keep his head above water, Jungkook gasps for air and chokes on water. The waves crash against his bobbing body, unforgiving.

He’s crying.

Or at least he thinks he is. It could be the rain spitting down from the curtain of clouds hanging in the sky so thick he can’t see any blue. That is, if he could open his eyes for more than a few seconds. But as the rain pelts from above and the water whips him around like a rag doll, Jungkook has the brief but chilling realization that he is, in fact, drowning.

He’s going to die.

That’s the second thing he knows for sure.

And at ten years old, Jungkook realizes it’s not death he’s scared of but dying. He’s starting to sink, more water than air, and as his body loses strength along with oxygen, he finds it harder and harder to summon the will to move his fingertips, his toes. In the pregnant darkness of stormy, endless ocean Jungkook’s last remaining breath escapes in an involuntary panic, a spasm of his lungs.

Fear cripples him and, pleading with the gods for mercy, Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut and braces himself for the inevitable inhale of water that will send him dying in earnest.

Please, he begs, don’t hurt.

And as he finally feels he can no longer resist inhaling, something tugs roughly on Jungkook’s small, cold, feeble wrist. His eyes open quick and the only thing he can see is a brief flash of gold, floating elegantly amongst the dark blue water. Like silk.

But even despite this force yanking him dizzyingly fast back toward the surface, Jungkook can’t seem to fight the lull of unconsciousness, beckoning him to succumb. And this is a feeling he can’t resist.

The last thing he hears is a clap of thunder, his grandmother’s distant shout, and a melody, loud enough to pierce through his foggy mind.

Breathy, haunting, darkly magnetic…

It’s the sound of someone singing.

“Jungkook?”

He jumps, turning with wide eyes toward the one who’d called to him. “Namjoon,” he breathes, gripping his nose bridge with a frown. “You know I hate it when you sneak up on me,” he says with a grumble.

Namjoon chuckles, clapping his friend on the shoulder, and hums. “Well, if you’d been paying attention you’d know I’ve been here for, like, three whole minutes already.”

Jungkook stiffens. Was that really the case? He turns to examine Namjoon properly. Tall, toned, and tan Namjoon stands nearly six feet tall with sea-swept hair and a perpetual dimpled smile. He crouches on the shoreline beside Jungkook, working his index finger beneath the sand presumably in search of crabs. His warm eyes are distant as he pokes around in the damp sand and, as usual, he smiles.

“Sorry,” Jungkook says after a long time thinking. He pulls his knees toward his chest, hooks both elbows around them and sighs at the expanse of ocean splayed out like a storybook before him. “Just thinking.”

“Weather’s no good,” remarks Namjoon, collapsing onto his bottom and mimicking Jungkook’s easy pose. The two boys stare out at the water, at the storm clouds gathering in a ring around the horizon, ready to close in on them and the island. “Wanna get outta here before the rain comes?” Namjoon asks, innocent.

But Jungkook knows better what his best friend means. He turns toward him with a soft smile and nods. “Yeah,” he says, sighing as he pushes himself onto his feet once more, patting the backs of his shorts, loosing a spray of sand. “Let’s go to yours.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Aren’t we always at mine?” he teases with a smirk, and Jungkook only rolls his eyes, giving Namjoon’s shoulder a hearty shove.

“Nan’s just being a nag lately,” Jungkook says with a sigh, stretching both arms above his head. “Why else would I be out here before a storm?”

“You’re all talk,” Namjoon remarks with a smirk as he leads the way up the beach toward the crooked wooden walkway above. “You worship that woman.”

“Don’t call her that woman,” Jungkook says with a disgusted grunt.

Namjoon gives him a look over his shoulder, cocking a brow, and without saying a single word Jungkook hears him loud and clear. Like I said. Jungkook chuckles and rubs the back of his sunburnt neck. Namjoon’s right anyway. As much as he begrudges all the labor, Jungkook would do just about anything for his grandmother.

The two emerge on the cracked, sun-bleached sidewalk as a clap of thunder rings out overhead. Jungkook can’t help but jump, his heart kicking up, and turn back toward the beach with wide eyes. Along the jagged cliffs ringing the sand, the gathering storm clouds have condensed, roiling together as they tumble full speed toward the shore. Is it just Jungkook’s eyes or have the clouds gotten faster?

Another boom of thunder shakes the sidewalk a little, and Jungkook doesn’t miss Namjoon taking a careful look at him over his shoulder. Quick to right himself, Jungkook clears his throat and jams his hands in his pockets, forcing his eyes away from the churning, near-black ocean and the violent waves. He can hear Namjoon sigh and sees his friend’s sandaled feet taking slower, shorter steps ahead.

As a flash of lightning illuminates the dark clouds by the cliffside, a roaring engine drowns out the accompanying thunder and Jungkook’s eyes snap up toward the road, hyperaware. Speeding down the street, kicking up dust in its wake, is a shiny black motorcycle. The thing rips along the road and several of the beachside vendors peek out their open windows to scowl after it.

Jungkook only catches sight of the driver for a split second, and his face is a blur of tanned skin and blonde hair, but Jungkook swears he sees the long-limbed motorcyclist’s teeth catch the sunlight as he smiles. No helmet, blasting music at top volume, the driver speeds away, swerving into the wrong lane to pass a car going too slow for him. The screech of rubber wheels and a powerful engine fight over one another in a cacophony of noise that, once too distant to hear, leaves a ringing in its absence.

“Asshole,” mumbles Namjoon as he turns over his shoulder to scan Jungkook.

The younger boy’s eyes are still glued to the plume of fine dust left behind, arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head with a scoff. “Probably compensating for a tiny d-,”

“Alrighty,” says Namjoon with a laugh, hooking an arm around Jungkook’s neck and guiding him back toward the middle of the sidewalk. “I don’t wanna think about his tiny anything.”

Jungkook sighs at his phone screen as he lies stomach down on Namjoon’s bed. He can hear Namjoon’s parents bickering over how best to cook the fish for dinner through the house’s thin walls, and under different circumstances perhaps he’d have found that uncomfortable. But he’s been here too much to be surprised by anything.

What disturbs him more, in fact, is the text message on his phone.

Nan: I’m not paying you to run around the island with the fisherman’s kid.

How his grandmother knows he’s with Namjoon, Jungkook doesn’t bother wondering. Instead he simply flops one arm over the side of Namjoon’s unmade bed and lets the phone fall from his fingertips onto the uneven wood floor.

“Grandma?” asks Namjoon without looking up from his computer.

Jungkook grunts in response and shuts his eyes. “What do you wanna do tonight?”

He hears Namjoon laugh and opens one eye to peek at him. The tireless clouds outside eclipse the setting sun, so the messy room is dark and grey. Namjoon still shines as he tosses a smile over his shoulder at Jungkook.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you gonna go home?” he asks.

Jungkook sighs. “The hotel’s dead these days anyway. Nan can handle it on her own.”

Namjoon cocks a brow. “Are you two fighting?”

“No…”

Namjoon spins his chair around, crosses his arms, and offers a knowing smirk. He says nothing, but for Jungkook it’s enough. He can’t lie to save his life anyway.

He sighs and runs a hand through his windswept hair. “I may have mentioned my online classes.”

Namjoon eyes widen and he grins. He contains a laugh with his hand and immediately corrects himself, clearing his throat and nodding once, once again somber. “I see…”

Jungkook sits upright with a pout. “It’s not funny!” he protests, but Namjoon only smiles gently and shakes his head and Jungkook knows he’s been defeated. “I know,” he says with a sigh, rubbing his jaw. “You were right. There, I said it.”

Namjoon sighs, shutting his eyes, and nods. “That feels good,” he says before chuckling and crossing his legs, resting his chin in his hand. “I mean…you gotta admit not telling her to begin with was kinda dumb.”

“Well…,” he says softly. Having no rebuttal, Jungkook sighs, smooths his hands against his thighs, and pushes up onto his feet. “Let’s get drunk,” he says with a nod.

Namjoon keeps his eyes on Jungkook as the latter walks sternly toward the bedroom door, swinging it open and lingering with raised brows in the threshold. “You…you’re serious?” asks Namjoon.

Jungkook’s resolve crumbles a little and his shoulders fall. “I…I mean…well, when else am I gonna have the whole night off?”

Namjoon chuckles. “All the time,” he says with a smile. “You’re always skipping out on work.” Nonetheless, however, Namjoon stands and crosses his arms, examining his friend with incredulous eyes. “But are you sure? Last time we went out drinking…”

Images of that night come flooding back and Jungkook suppresses a cringe. He can remember the sting of climbing over the lighthouse fence only to stumble at the top and fall in a heap in the dead grass. What’s worse was when he started crying and couldn’t make it back over, forcing Namjoon to call the sheriff to bring the gate keys.

Jungkook shakes his head. “I won’t do anything dumb this time.”

“He says while sober,” Namjoon jokes, laughing as he grabs two coats from his closet, tossing one of them to Jungkook.

He catches it — barely — and slings the thing over his forearm with raised brows. “So that’s a yes?” he asks.

Namjoon turns to him with a smirk and pats his shoulder. “It’s a hell yes.”

Bora’s Bar, arguably the only place worth being on a Saturday night on the island. And while Jungkook usually busies himself with writing most nights, on evenings he feels prone to debauchery it’s not so bad to grab a group of friends and head on over for smokey air and eighties synth. Red and blue neon signs hang crooked on the dive bar’s peeling wallpaper and the bathroom stalls are riddled with graffiti: some of it more offensive than others. The bar takes up most of the space, with a separate billiards room featuring a pool table and a host of half-broken arcade games. The ceilings are low and they trap in the gritty music coming from fuzzy wall speakers.

Namjoon and Jungkook sit side by side at the bar, tipping back shots between halfhearted bites of undercooked tater tots. “Yeah, well, it’s for the best she rejected me anyway,” Namjoon protests, leaning against the back of his barstool, sweeping heavy lidded eyes across the bar toward Jungkook. He smiles, half-drunk. “Y’know she’s got two babies now.”

Jungkook laughs louder than normal, but then again he’s drunker than normal. He smoothes a hand through his damp hair and tosses his head back, smiling. “Dodged a bullet, huh?” he asks.

And for the first time in a while, he feels like a real grownup. Sitting beside an old friend in a hazy downtown bar, shooting the breeze, reminiscing. It’s not every day Jungkook feels this untethered. And maybe it’s the alcohol, but the adult freedom is intoxicating.

Suddenly serious, he turns toward his friend and grabs his shoulder, locking eyes, severe. “Listen here, Kim Namjoon,” he says, blinking slow. Namjoon smiles, like he always does, and gives a nod that shows he’s listening, like he always does. Jungkook inhales sharply and leans forward. “Someday, you’re gonna find yourself the best partner, alright? And they’re gonna think you’re a hunk and they’re not gonna reject you and you wanna know why?”

Namjoon laughs, inching forward to accommodate someone reaching behind him toward the bartender to grab their drink. “Why’s that?” he asks.

Jungkook smiles, patting Namjoon’s shoulder. “Because you’re the best goddamn guy on this whole stupid, boring island,” he says with a slow nod.

Namjoon rolls his eyes and shoos Jungkook’s hand away, resting an elbow on the bar. “You’re drunk,” he says.

Jungkook nods. “Be that as it may,” he begins, “I stand by what I said. I’m an honorable man.”

“Alright, Mr. Honorable. How about you slow down and take an honorable drink of water?” teases Namjoon, sliding a glass toward him.

Jungkook pouts, but obliges, gulping the water down. “Don’t patronize me,” he says between drinks. He slams the empty glass down on the bar and turns once more toward Namjoon, pointing at his chest this time. “But really, nothing happens here and you know it.”

Namjoon sighs, gripping his nose bridge, and leans away to take a sip of his whiskey. “Here we go again,” he says.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Tell me the most interesting thing that’s happened here in the last week, huh?” he counters with a lopsided smirk. “Try it.”

“Well,” says Namjoon, pursing his lips and examining the wall of alcohol behind the bartender’s bobbing head. “I guess…the lighthouse going out last night was pretty interesting. A freighter was trying to get into the harbor and couldn’t because of…you know…the…lighthouse…,” he says, words trailing into silence. His eyes fall to the bar.

“Precisely,” says Jungkook, tipping his head toward his friend and gesturing out at the bar patrons milling about around them. “You know how many of these people we went to high school with?” he asks, laughing. “I mean, between the two of us we probably know every single person on this island.”

“And?” asks Namjoon. “Is it a bad thing?”

Jungkook pauses only to sigh and return his attention to the bar where his cocktail sits collecting condensation. “I mean…it’s not very…inspiring, is it?”

Namjoon chuckles. “Good writers don’t need outside inspiration,” says Namjoon, pressing his index finger to his temple with a wink. “The brain is his only weapon.”

Jungkook groans, lolling his head back. “But I’m not a good writer yet! That’s the problem.”

“You’re a great writer, Kook,” says Namjoon with knit brows. “Just go easy on yourself, hm?”

Before Jungkook can respond, the bar door swings open to a crescendo of thunder outside, shaking the flimsy walls. The music falters a little along with the neon signs before returning to its retro rhythm once the door clicks shut. Startled, Jungkook glances toward the entering patron and sees with a start that it is, after all, a new face.

And a really handsome one at that…

Between shoulders and heads, Jungkook can just make out the stranger’s strong, beautiful features. His large eyes are even from a distance sultry and captivating, half-squinted as he shakes out his blonde hair, tanned skin glittering with rainwater. As he maneuvers around the patrons toward the bar, Jungkook gets a slightly better look at him through the smoke. He’s built well, lean like a swimmer. He’s dressed sharply with a simple black shirt and a checkered flannel, baggy black pants and…

“Is…is that a Gucci belt?” Jungkook whispers to Namjoon over his shoulder, not once looking away from the strange newcomer.

“I…I think so…,” says Namjoon, but there’s no way for either of the boys to be sure. Not just since he’s too far away and the air is too dense, but because neither of them has ever seen one.

The stranger has a straight nose, full lips that move languidly as he orders a drink, big hands with lots of rings that flash once or twice as he offers a bill to the bartender. To be sure, he’s likely the most interesting thing that’s happened on the island this week. And everyone in the bar knows it, if the way they steal glances at him is any indication.

“Handsome,” Namjoon remarks, and Jungkook can only nod.

Likely feeling Jungkook’s eyes boring holes into his face, the stranger glances quickly to the right, capturing Jungkook like a seized animal. He sits frozen, mouth agape, unable to so much as move as the stranger keeps him pinned with his serious eyes. Jungkook’s heart kicks up, pounding a little too fast, and his palms get a little too sweaty to blame on the humidity alone. He takes a shaky inhale, still locked in unwavering eye contact with the strange young man.

“He’s really staring,” Namjoon whispers, and Jungkook can hear from the way his words come out chopped that he’s trying his best not to get caught gossiping.

“What do I do?” Jungkook whispers back, barely moving his lips so as not to rouse the stranger’s suspicion.

“I dunno,” Namjoon says in response, leaning close to Jungkook’s ear. “Looks like he’s seeing through you.”

“Not helping,” says Jungkook with knit brows.

The stranger at long last breaks eye contact to retrieve his drink from the bartender with an easy smile and Jungkook feels like he can finally take a real breath. He looks down for a moment to collect himself, patting his chest a few times. He’d felt…suspended, like he couldn’t move or blink or even think. But like a rubber band snapping, the spell is broken when the stranger looks away.

But not for long.

“Oh shit,” says Namjoon.

Jungkook jumps, turning toward his friend with worried, round eyes. “Oh shit what, Joon?” he asks, worry coloring his tone.

Namjoon is gazing out over his shoulder. “He’s coming over.”

“Oh shit,” Jungkook breathes.

“Yeah…”

Jungkook straightens his back and his shirt, making absolutely sure the seams are aligned with his shoulders, but when he glances back at the stranger and sees again how well he’s dressed, the gap between them is just too staggering. Jungkook settles for a sharp inhale that he holds for a long while and an eventual, dragging sigh. He’s gotten himself into this anyway.

He feels a warm presence taking up the empty bar stool on his left side and freezes. Perhaps if he simply…doesn’t move, the stranger will go away. Or better yet, perhaps staying still will make him invisible. He catches Namjoon’s eye and frantically mimes his pleas for help. Talk to me, he mouths without moving his arms. Look busy!

But Namjoon quickly shakes his head and excuses himself, mumbling some excuse, leaving Jungkook to gape in his wake as he makes a beeline for the bathroom. He’s not going to be any help. Jungkook can feel the clock ticking, and the longer he ignores the stranger the larger his presence feels beside him, like an unacknowledged elephant in the room. He swallows hard, sucks in his breath again, and turns his chair to the left.

His bare knee brushes against the stranger’s thigh and he jumps a little, quick to adjust his chair so the two no longer touch. And, finally, he meets the stranger’s eyes once more only to find them already on his and glittering with mischievous intent. Up close he’s more devastating than Jungkook originally thought. With a sly smirk and practically no pores, the guy resembles marble. Jungkook is swept up in the little details: the many shades of brown in his eyes, the tiny braids emerging here and there from his still-wet golden hair, the rosy flush in his healthy skin…

And Jungkook is all alone with him…

He shakes his head. “Um…hello…,” he says, and it sounds obligatory, like forcing a hostage to read off a script.

But nonetheless, the stranger smiles, resting his elbow on the table and his cheek in his hand as he examines Jungkook. “Hello,” he responds. His voice is like honey: slow, drawling, sweet. But deep, rumbling low in his chest.

Jungkook feels out of his depth. “Are…you, uh…new to town?”

The stranger nods. “How’d you guess?” he asks with a smile, showing his perfect teeth.

Jungkook blinks. “Um…well…,” he begins, but the stranger chuckles and, uneasy, Jungkook joins him. “Ah, you were…joking…”

After a moment of silence, he hears the stranger inhale, sharp, accompanied by a clap of thunder that sent a chill up Jungkook’s spine. Quickly, he lifts his eyes to examine the young man, finding him resting his cheek in his hand, watching him carefully like a science project.

“Tell me your name,” he says, a smirk tipping his lips to the side. His eyes scan Jungkook’s face, and he cocks one brow.

Jungkook swallows hard and leans unconsciously away. “Um…it’s Jeon Jungkook,” he says, seeming to grow smaller under the young man’s intense, unwavering scrutiny.

His smirk widens, showing his canines, and he pauses to sip on his drink. “Shouldn’t have told me,” he says, eye contact faltering only briefly as he guides the straw into his mouth.

Jungkook’s back stiffens and he lowers his head to meet the stranger’s eyes again. “Wait, why?” he asks.

“Don’t you know not to give your name to strangers?” he asks, poking at an ice cube suspended in the dark of his drink. He flicks his eyes to the side to pin Jungkook once again and, still smiling, continues. “There’s a lot someone can do with a name.”

Jungkook pouts, frowning at his own drink. “Well…what’s yours then?” he asks. “That way we won’t be strangers.”

He chuckles, his long lashes dusting the apples of his cheeks. “How about you try to guess?” he suggests with a sigh. “Though I don’t think you’ll get it.”

There’s a peculiar tension in the way this young man is watching Jungkook, in the words he chooses. And Jungkook realizes with a start that he’s being flirted with. He furrows his brow, crossing his arms. “How am I supposed to guess?” he asks. “I don’t even know where to start.”

The stranger cocks his head to the side. “Hm…one hint then,” he says as his eyes fall to Jungkook’s hands clasped on the bar. “I’ll answer one question to help you narrow it down, but only one,” he says, smiling. He sips again on his drink.

“Any question?” Jungkook asks.

He chuckles, nodding once and running long ringed fingers through his hair, revealing the skin of his forehead. “Sure.”

“Alright,” Jungkook says, grabbing for the damp napkin beneath his glass and motioning for the bartender. The man approaches quickly in a jog and pauses in front of Jungkook, expectant. “Do you have a pen?”

He raises his brows. “Hm? Yeah,” he says, rifling around behind the bar.

As the bartender’s head dips below Jungkook’s line of sight, he feels a strange sensation, like being watched on stage, and turns to see the stranger watching him with a smile that seems amused. “What’re you up to?” he asks.

Jungkook purses his lips with a shrug and, before he can answer, the bartender pops up from behind the bar and slides his pen toward Jungkook’s waiting fingers. He returns his attention to the stranger and hands both napkin and pen over, raising his brows.

“What do you want me to do with this?” he asks with a laugh, and Jungkook doesn’t miss the way his heart stutters a little at the sound.

Jungkook crosses his arms. “My question,” he begins. “Are you ready for it?”

The stranger nods. “Mhm. Whenever you are.”

“Alright. How do you spell your name?” he asks.

The stranger pauses, right hand poised to write on the napkin, eyes round and lips parted. The two say nothing as the music drones on, bumping so loud Jungkook can feel it vibrating against the back of his barstool. He raises his brows, bolder now that he’s managed to catch the stranger off guard instead of the other way around.

And, without another word, the young man laughs from his chest, tossing his head back with it, and his eyes squeeze shut. He’s got a bright smile when he means it and Jungkook can’t help but watch as the young man pats his knee, shakes his head, flicks a piece of damp hair from his eye, and leans over the bar to write on the soggy napkin.

“You got me,” he says as he writes with some difficulty. Every stroke pulls against the delicate napkin, and the pen’s dry anyway. Jungkook is surprised the stranger is following through at all. A man of his word. “Pretty clever,” he says, sitting up straight once more with a soft smile, sliding the napkin across the bar toward Jungkook.

He reads it with squinted eyes, the alcohol catching up with him again, and hums. The script is beautiful, elegant, practiced. Figures, Jungkook thinks with a frown, a pretty guy like that would have pretty handwriting.

“Kim…Taehyung?” he says, speaking the name like a question, and raises his brows. He lifts his drink to his lips, still maintaining eye contact if for no other reason than fear of breaking first.

“Mhm,” the stranger says. Kim Taehyung. He smiles, resting his chin on his folded fingers. “So,” he continues, “why were you staring at me before?”

Jungkook sputters, eyes squeezing shut as alcohol dribbles down his chin. He coughs, feels like drowning, and shakes his head. Frantically, he grabs for the napkin and wipes off his face. Taehyung laughs brightly beside him and leans closer to examine Jungkook’s face. He feels hot, feverish, and can’t look him in the eye this close. Taehyung, still laughing, grabs for his own napkin and hands it to Jungkook.

“You got pen ink on your face,” he remarks, returning to his own drink. He chuckles as he takes a sip.

Jungkook, embarrassed, is quick to rub his face again, this time so forcefully that it leaves his skin hot. “Jesus,” he mumbles, mostly to himself.

Taehyung smiles. “Didn’t mean to startle you,” he says softly from beside him.

Jungkook shakes his head. “No, sorry…just…,” he begins, then waves his hands. “Forget it.”

“So why?” continues Taehyung, doggedly stubborn as he watches Jungkook out the corner of his eye.

“Well…you’re…you’re new,” he says.

“Hm…is that it?” Taehyung asks, sighing as he leans easily back against his chair. “That’s all it takes around here?”

Jungkook nods. “Not much happens here,” he says. “Don’t get lots of mainlanders.”

“How do you know I’m a mainlander?” asks Taehyung.

“I mean…,” he says, glancing down at Taehyung’s shiny belt buckle. Two twin Gs. With a laugh, he continues. “You’re definitely not an islander.”

Taehyung smirks. “Provincial,” he says with a sigh, sweeping his gaze out across the bar. “I guess some people like that.”

“Not me,” says Jungkook, pouting as he shakes his head with crossed arms.  He feels a little lightheaded, likely from drinking. After all, he’d never be so social sober. “It’s stifling.”

“Hm…,” Taehyung remarks. “You wanna get out?” he asks, like he’s studying Jungkook.

He wavers a moment before glancing away and nodding once. He grabs for his drink and tips it back. “Yeah,” he says.

Taehyung hums. “You don’t seem all that convinced,” he remarks before leaning toward Jungkook. That smirk is still there, and it’s unsettling. “Let me guess: small-town boy with big city dreams, grew up here. You want to get away but you’re scared once you leave the tiny pond and enter the big ocean you’ll get swept away.” He locks eyes with Jungkook and, for just a moment, Jungkook feels swept up in it. He feels his resistance falter. “Be honest,” Taehyung continues with a smirk.

It’s the same sensation he had when he was a kid, drowning in the ocean.

Powerlessness.

Jungkook’s face goes red. He feels exposed, read through, and suddenly Taehyung’s flirtations don’t seem so innocent. Like he was gathering data on him from the start, figuring out where to strike like a predator teasing his unwitting prey. Unsettled, Jungkook’s stomach begins to twist up in knots and he doesn’t feel so steady.

And in an instant, the enchanting, hazy spell he’s under evaporates like water on hot pavement.

Taehyung’s cocky smirk serves only to fuel Jungkook’s outrage as he stutters out a reply. “N-no! It’s not like that at all!” he protests, but even to Jungkook’s ears the excuse is painfully weak.

But nonetheless, the stranger’s brows arch and he leans away as if the response is surprising. Taehyung pokes further. “Hm,” he begins, scanning him. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” says Jungkook, frowning as he glances to the side to find Namjoon’s seat still empty. He sighs. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

“Then enlighten me,” says Taehyung, swirling his straw around in his drink once more. Again, he leers at Jungkook, almost expectant. Only this time, he’s quick to look away.

Jungkook locks his jaw, narrows his eyes, and leans back just a little. “I…I mean I did grow up on the island,” he begins, watching his hands as he fiddles with his fingers.

Taehyung smiles. “Hm…”

“But that doesn’t mean you got me right,” he continues, glancing out the corner of his eye at Taehyung. But he finds the handsome young man just sipping on his drink as if Jungkook’s words are of no consequence.

Maybe they are.

“I’m back,” says a voice from over his shoulder and Jungkook swells with relief.

Namjoon takes his seat at Jungkook’s right and the two share a loaded glance, Jungkook trying desperately to convey without words what had transpired in Namjoon’s absence. But Namjoon only furrows his brow, shoots a puzzled expression, and squints.

“And who is this?” asks Taehyung’s deep, slinking voice behind Jungkook.

He shivers and turns to face him. “Ah, this is Nam-,” he begins, then stops and crosses his arms and swivels toward Namjoon again. He cups a hand around his mouth and leans forward. “Don’t give him your name,” he whispers, but it seems Taehyung’s hearing is pretty keen as the young man lets out a booming laugh that sets Jungkook on edge once more.

“Three’s company anyway,” says Taehyung, clearing his throat and standing to his feet. He turns to stare down at Jungkook once more, drink half-finished on the bar, eyes half-closed as he offers a knowing smirk. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around, Jeon Jungkook.”

For a split second, Jungkook is suspended. The din of the bar is nearly silenced as frenetic, hyper charged energy passes between the two. This young man is unlike anyone Jungkook has ever met, and he wonders in the brief reprieve from the unrelenting synth if that’s such a good thing.

That sensation returns. That powerless, out of control sensation. Like he’s a piece of driftwood being tossed mercilessly against the rocky cliffside amongst the roiling waves. Looking into his dark eyes is like that. Like looking into choppy black water.

Like primal fear.

And Jungkook can’t seem to look away.

Namjoon coughs a little and claps Jungkook on the shoulder, effectively releasing him as he takes his first gasp of fragile bar air after a long time submerged. Jungkook pats his chest, eyes wide, heart feral, and turns to look at his friend, grateful.

“Nice to meet you then,” he says with a pleasant smile. But Jungkook notices tension in the way his eyes squeeze shut. It’s saccharine. He doesn’t mean it. Not for a second.

Which means Namjoon feels uneasy about this guy too…

Taehyung chuckles, bows his head, and turns on his heel. He swerves easily through the crowd, maneuvering around bodies pressed close and backs turned at haphazard angles. Jungkook maintains an unwavering view of him until he disappears into the navy night and spitting rain, the door swinging shut behind him. A spray of rainwater splatters onto the floor in his wake as the door clicks shut, and Jungkook is left with only an unfinished drink and a soggy napkin to prove Kim Taehyung was ever there at all…

Morning sunlight warms the exposed skin of Jungkook’s stomach as he lies draped sloppily across Namjoon’s bed. He squeezes his eyes shut against the light with a wince, but it’s too bright after yesterday’s storm. Jungkook slowly props himself up on his forearms and squints around the bedroom in search of Namjoon. Upon finding the untidy room empty, Jungkook furrows his brow and pushes himself up off the bed. He glances down at his messy shorts and the black shirt he’d worn yesterday now sliding off his shoulder. He peers at himself in the mirror, adjusts the sleeves of his shirt, and huffs. He looks about as rough as he feels.

Fluffy bed head hair a mess atop his head, halfway obscuring tired eyes and drool drying around the corners of his mouth. He shakes his head and turns on his heel, padding on bare feet into the hallway. Both narrow walls are adorned with countless family photographs: both old and new. Like a comprehensive timeline of the Kim family. Old black-and-white pictures morph in a slow gradient into yellowing sepia-toned shots and eventually toward nineties glamor shots. Jungkook takes particular pleasure in the photo of Namjoon and his parents dressed to the nines in glittery blazers and shoulder pads and a vignette border. Jungkook smirks at the shot and gives young Namjoon a poke with his fingertip before continuing into the kitchen.

But once he enters, he realizes with a start that he’s not alone in these early morning hours. And, further, the one to greet him isn’t Namjoon but his grandfather. He sits, bespectacled and grumpy, eyeing a newspaper with a cup of steaming coffee on the table beside his knuckles. With ailing health, one might expect wiry Grandpa Kim to be listless, cashing in his golden days after the better part of a century working. But he’s more energetic now than he’s ever been as far as Namjoon says. And Jungkook has to admit, the eighty-something-year-old man seems in that moment to be faring far better than he himself is.

“Morning, son,” says Grandpa Kim with a bare glance over his shoulder at Jungkook.

He smiles and takes a seat at the table, sighing as he watches the cerulean sky outside, unblemished by even a single wispy cloud. If he wasn’t horribly hungover, perhaps he’d go out for a run. But even thinking of the motion of a jog sends a jolt of nausea through Jungkook’s body and, without realizing it, he cringes.

Grandpa Kim slides his half-drunk coffee toward Jungkook without lifting his eyes from the paper. “Drink up,” he says and Jungkook swears he can see the man smirking. “You had a rough night.”

Jungkook groans a little but, feeling too lousy to protest, obliges after a moment of contemplation. He sips the hot coffee and, like he knew it would be, it’s too bitter for him. Wordlessly, Grandpa Kim slides the sugar container toward Jungkook as well, tapping the plastic lid with one stout finger. Jungkook clears his throat, but once again follows directions, adding a few spoons of sugar to his coffee and stirring it with his pinkie finger.

“Be careful out there today,” says Grandpa Kim as he finally turns his attention away from the paper. He gazes out the window beside him, fresh sunlight streaming in in golden shafts all around. He locks his jaw and grunts before, seemingly against his will, he tears his eyes away from the sun and sea outside.

Jungkook raises his brows. “Hm? Weather seems great,” he remarks, resting his cheek in his hand as he watches an early-morning jogger make her way across the shore.

Grandpa Kim only grumbles something unintelligible and pushes himself up from the table, folding his paper underneath his arm. He says nothing as he waves a hand, dismissive, and turns on his heel toward the hallway from which Jungkook had come. Jungkook watches his figure disappear into the darkness of the hall with a sigh and takes another sip of coffee.

“Don’t pay too much attention to him,” says Namjoon from behind Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook startles, jumping as he whips around to face his sleepy friend. Namjoon offers a tired smile, rubbing his neck. “I never do,” he continued as he collapses onto the creaky wooden chair in front of Jungkook.

“What’re you doing up?” Jungkook asks, placing the coffee on the table for fear of spilling it. He takes a moment to compose himself, letting his eyes wander toward the window once more, toward the calm ocean. “Pretty early after a night out.”

“Could ask you the same thing,” Namjoon says, kicking off his sandals with a belabored sigh. He lolls his head back, eyes slipping shut. “I promised Dad I’d go out on the boat with him today, but he didn’t cover it before the storm so the whole deck’s flooded. Gotta wait for it to dry out. Dad says the water feels off today anyway.”

Jungkook stiffens, turning toward Namjoon with raised brows. “Does that mean he’s not gonna be able to get out on the water today? Won’t he lose money?”

“Yup,” says Namjoon with a shrug, eyes still shut. He heaves a sigh. “Nothing we can do about it though. Nobody anticipated the weather turning yesterday.”

“Huh…,” Jungkook remarks, resting his chin in his palm. “I guess it was pretty sudden.”

“Yeah. Dad talked to Mr. Jung and he said that even the mainland freights weren’t expecting it,” Namjoon says, but he’s quick to wave his hand, like his grandfather waving away the thought before it can develop. “Anyway, gonna be a slow day around the house. You may as well go home.”

Jungkook swallows hard and glances down at his drink, swirling it a little. “Um…no, that’s alright. I can just hang…around here…”

Namjoon chuckles and leans forward to level his eyes with Jungkook’s. “You can’t avoid her forever.”

Jungkook’s shoulders bunch. “I mean technically-,”

“Jungkook,” Namjoon interrupts with a stern look. He backs away. “Your grandma will understand once she hears why you started taking writing courses.” Namjoon pauses when he notices Jungkook’s expression going sour. He sighs and pats his shoulder. “But you have to give her the chance.”

Jungkook slowly raises his eyes, tentative, and sighs. “You were right to begin with, so you’re probably right about this too,” he says, pushing up from the table as his chair scrapes loudly against the uneven floorboards.

Namjoon laughs, claps him on the shoulder, and guides him toward the front door. “And try to drink some water, alright? Your hangover’s so obvious Nan might even notice it through her cataracts.”

Jungkook shoves Namjoon away by the chest with a gape. “Nan doesn’t have cataracts!” he shouts, but even raising his voice makes his head pound. Quickly, he rights himself and steps out onto the crooked sidewalk. He turns to Namjoon with arms crossed over his chest. “Thanks for, you know…being a good friend or whatever.”

Namjoon laughs, leaning against the doorframe with one hand hooked over the top of the thin door. He smiles, dimpled, and waves his free hand as Jungkook steps down the street backwards. “Take care of yourself, huh?”

Jungkook nods, waves a hand, and turns on his heel, starting toward the hotel.

The hotel is quaint, like most everything on the island, and spans the entirety of the westernmost cliffside. Overlooking the surf and the town below, the place is prime real estate. Plenty of businessmen have tried sweeping the land out from under Nan’s nose, but she’s too quick to fall for it. She’s been running Hotel Noeul since she was a teen and her parents passed it down to her, and the owner is just about the only thing that’s changed since the place began in the twenties. The buildings are even older; Jungkook knows that from the draft in the winter and the scorching heat in the summer. It was all Jungkook could do to convince Nan to finally get internet. Traditional sloped roofs, stone pathways and gardens for strolling, ornate sliding doors, the works. As gorgeous as it is backed up against the cliff with trees and greenery and ocean and endless sky, Jungkook tries not to spend his free time here.

“Oh excuse me,” says a young foreigner with a hopeful smile as Jungkook makes his way toward the office building.

Jungkook stiffens and turns toward her. He’s quick to force a smile — too many scoldings from Nan about maintaining a friendly affect has instilled fear in his heart — and bows his head. “Yes?” he asks.

The blonde-haired girl glances skittishly around the garden, pointing at one of the private rooms and stuttering in broken Korean, “Uh…lock-lock…um…can’t get in.”

Jungkook raises his brows. “You’re locked out?” he asks, then curses himself. Of course she won’t know what he said. Instead of continuing, he simply smiles and nods, gesturing toward the office. “This way,” he says.

The girl sighs, relieved, and nods, quick to follow Jungkook up the wood steps and past the open sliding door. He emerges in the front office to find Nan sitting in her usual chair behind the register, reading Wuthering Heights again, her readers slipping down the narrow bridge of her nose. Her long near-white hair is restrained just barely in a bun at the nape of her neck and her hands tremble almost invisibly as she turns the page in her book.

“Nan,” Jungkook says, waving a hand in front of her face.

She lifts only her eyes to greet Jungkook before continuing her reading. “Good to see my grandson has made time to do his job.”

Jungkook sighs, rubbing his temples. “Nan, this guest is locked outta her room,” he says, pointing to the foreigner behind him. “Her Korean sucks,” he continues. The girl waves with a big smile, oblivious, and Jungkook smiles at her.

Nan nods. “Well, sounds like a problem for our maintenance department, doesn’t it?” she asks, still reading.

Jungkook slumps his shoulders. “Nan, I’m the maintenance department,” he says.

“Huh, that’s right,” she says, and Jungkook catches the slight smirk on her lips.

He rubs his forehead. “I can’t even talk to her properly,” he says, groaning.

“Don’t need to talk when you’re fixing a lock,” she says. “And stop complaining in front of our guest.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, crossing his arms, and glances at the foreigner, now scrolling through her phone. “Not like she knows the difference,” he mumbles as he breezes past her toward the toolkit hanging on the wall beside the window. He slings it around his waist and leads the way out into the garden once more.

The girl trots behind him, saying nothing but still smiling as her footsteps crunch on the footpath. “This one?” Jungkook asks once they approach the door she’d pointed to before.

The girl stiffens and nods once, grinning still. Jungkook smiles, but the girl is making him feel unsettled. He crouches in front of the door. “Who comes to a remote Korean island and doesn’t speak Korean?” Jungkook mumbles to himself as he begins working on the lock. He jangles it around a little, jiggling the flimsy door, and sighs. “Always this door,” he says under his breath, pausing to smile and offer the girl a thumbs up.

She returns it before placing both hands into the front pockets of her baggy shorts. “Thank you,” she says slowly, laboring over every syllable.

Jungkook nods and fishes around his tool belt for the WD40. Once finding it, he yanks it out and begins flash spraying the inside of the lock, but since it’s so ancient the thing is hard to maneuver in. He continues his work, furrowing his brow as the midmorning sun beats down against the back of his neck. Sweat beads along his hairline, lingering still from the walk to the hotel.

“If I’d gone to college, maybe I’d speak her language,” he whispers with a sigh as he shakes the door once more, hoping to dislodge whatever is blocking the sensitive keyhole.

He turns to the girl and holds his hands out, beckoning for the key, and it takes her a few puzzled moments to understand his request. When she does, laughing, she drops the brass key into his palm. Jungkook bows his head in thanks and slides the key into the lock, waiting with bated breath for the definitive clink of success. After a few frustrating moments of struggle, the door clicks open and Jungkook, grinning, slides it open and stands to his feet once more.

The girl bows deeply at the waist and Jungkook returns it, but the motion makes his head spin and he feels a wave of nausea overtake him. He stiffens once more as bile rises in his stomach and, horrified at the thought of spewing in front of this guest, forces a tight-lipped smile and rushes back across the garden to a chorus of repeated thank you’s following behind him. Clutching his stomach, he rushes toward the office, hoping to find some of Nan’s anti-nausea pills or if nothing else just a bottle of water, but he stops right in his tracks as he nears the open door.

The hum of Nan’s old electric fan does little to muffle the sound of that deep, unmistakable voice.

His voice.

“Well, can’t we arrange an extended stay? Just this once?”

And suddenly, Jungkook’s nausea isn’t his most pressing issue. Because, standing with his broad back to him, chatting easily with his smiling grandmother, is that guy from the bar the night before. Jungkook fishes around in his pockets frantically, mouth dry and cottony and head throbbing, summer sun forcing the sweat along his hairline to slide down his forehead. He yanks the old napkin from the depths of his pocket and stares at it with wide eyes. Kim Taehyung.

Part of him had hoped he’d imagined the whole encounter in his drunken stupor. Like maybe he’d seen too many dramas featuring a handsome bad boy and a hapless love interest. Like maybe he’d concocted it.

But there he stands, as beautiful as before as the sunlight plays with the golden ends of the curling ends of his hair at the nape of his tanned neck. Jungkook swallows hard, scanning him. He seems taller…

“Certainly not,” says Nan with a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I’m not weak to pretty young men anymore.”

“Ah,” says Taehyung, and Jungkook can practically feel him smirking. “You say that like you’re past your prime.”

Nan laughs again, tossing her head back. “Flattery will get you everywhere, kid,” she says with a sigh. “Well, let’s call it an extended stay then. But no longer than a few weeks! Summer’s the busy season around here,” she continues, holding up her index finger with a stern set of her jaw.

Taehyung leans down and presses the pad of his own index finger to Nan’s, tilting his head to the side. His button-down shirt strains against his shoulders. “You got it,” he says with a smile in his voice.

Jungkook suppresses a shiver. His nausea has returned…

Nan’s laughter stops suddenly when she catches sight of Jungkook lingering in the doorway and her smile slips from her face. She rolls her eyes, leaning back against her chair once more and grabbing for her book, once more listless.

“Here’s my no-good grandson,” she says, turning a page and kicking the plastic fan beside her as it stutters. “He’s been out all night with the fisherman’s kid,” she continues, then smirks and gives Taehyung a look out the corner of her eye. “Also no-good.”

Taehyung turns to look at Jungkook and, once seeing him, his bright eyes go round and his lips part in a startled gape. “You…?” he begins, blinking. “G-Grandson?” he asks, and Jungkook can swear he sees him go a little paler.

With a racing heart, Jungkook sighs, crossing his arms, and rests a hip against the doorframe, fervently avoiding Taehyung’s eyes. He furrows his brow. “Nan, aren’t you sick of the whole apathetic act?” he asks. “You love the Kims.”

Nan shrugs as she pushes her glasses up her nose. “And I love you. They say your sense of judgement gets worse with old age,” she says with an easy sigh.

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle, watching the finished wood floor below his feet. “Well I’m here now,” Jungkook says, still careful not to lift his eyes too high and snag Taehyung’s gaze by mistake.

“And just in time,” she says, waving her hand toward Taehyung. “We just got a new guest staying in Room 102. Show him to it.”

Jungkook stiffens and his eyes go wide. “I-I have to show him?” he asks, pointing to his chest.

Taehyung lets out a puff of laughter and conceals it with his hand. Nan raises her brows. “Well, I’m certainly not gonna do it,” she says, cocking her head to the side. “Hop on it.”

Jungkook swallows his nerves and turns toward Taehyung who is — and he assumes has been — looking right at him with a knowing smirk and narrowed eyes, crossed arms. Despite the incessant pounding of his heart and the unrelated pounding of his head, Jungkook takes another look at Nan with furrowed brows. She’s always like this. Plucky. But…today feels a little worse than usual. And Jungkook is sure he knows why.

You have to give her the chance.

He pauses a moment, wavering in uncertainty, and eventually succumbs to a defeated sigh. Quietly, he approaches the front desk and leans down closer to Nan’s face. “Hey, uh…can we talk later? You know…about…the classes?” he asks, voice low and quiet, timid, like a child. He begrudges himself for showing such a weak expression to Taehyung.

Nan slides only her eyes toward Jungkook and, without uttering a single word, tilts her head down in a barely-there nod. Jungkook returns it and pushes off from the front desk, sauntering over to Taehyung’s side. He stands, tall, glowing, still smiling like he knows something, twirling his room key around one slender ringed finger.

“Show me around, bellboy,” Taehyung says with a teasing lilt in his voice.

Jungkook feels his face go hot and he fights a snappy retort. He’s on thin ice with Nan as it is. He clears his throat and leads the way out onto the wraparound porch. “Garden,” he says, swinging one arm out toward the lush garden in the center of all the buildings. He hears Taehyung laugh behind him. “Office,” he says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder down the walkway from which they’d come. “Your room,” he says, stopping in front of the delicate sliding door. He crosses his arms and looks Taehyung in the eye.

The young man suppresses a giggle, but it’s clear in his tight smile that he wants to laugh. “Mm,” he manages before breaking, covering his mouth once more. “What a…lucky twist of fate, hm?” he says between laughs.

Jungkook is less amused, standing with one brow raised. Between his wicked hangover, his crappy night’s sleep, his strange evening out, and the stress of fighting with Nan, this twist of fate feels anything but lucky.

Nonetheless, Jungkook forces a smile and nods. “Mhm,” he says. “If you need anything, go to Nan.” And with that, he turns on his heel, ready to leave, but Taehyung’s warm hand on his forearm forces him to stop.

His hand is soft, and his grip is light. If he really wants to, Jungkook can easily slip out of it. But instead and against his better judgement, he turns halfway to meet Taehyung’s eyes, finding them alight with playfulness. He’s smiling, too bright to look at too long. And his shirt reveals too much of his chest.

“Where’s your room?” Taehyung asks, smiling.

Jungkook’s face is hot and his heart is hammering in his ears. He stiffens, instinctively glancing up the hill from the garden toward the guest house where he stays. Something tells him he shouldn’t tell this guy that information, however. “Um…I don’t…live on the property,” he says, but the lie is flimsy even to Jungkook’s undiscerning ears. He curses himself with a cringe.

Taehyung’s lips part and he nods, smiling. “Ah,” he says, staring at the guest house. “So it’s up there?”

Jungkook shakes his arm free and takes a half-step down the walkway. “Anyway, d-don’t come to me if you run out of toilet paper or something, okay?”

Taehyung laughs, crossing his arms and leaning gently against the external wall beside his door. He tilts his head back on the wall, looking down on Jungkook with a smile. “Hm…what if I’m too cold to sleep tonight? Can I come to you for that?”

Jungkook’s heart lurches and he stumbled back down the step into the garden, flushed. “Hotel’s old,” he begins, blinking rapidly. “D-Drafty. Nothing I can do about it.”

Again, Taehyung lets out a melodic laugh and nods. “Well, that’s a shame,” he says.

Jungkook bows his head toward Taehyung and turns on his heel. He’s rushing headlong down the path through the garden when he hears Taehyung whistle over his shoulder, calling from outside his room, “I’ll see you around, Jeon Jungkook!”

And Jungkook remarks with a shiver that Taehyung remembers his name.

He crosses his arms and picks up his pace.

[virmillion]

Ibytm - T minus 26 seconds

Masterpost - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter - ao3

Words: 1,965

Logan rubs at a sore spot on the back of his neck and wonders whether the rest of the day will continue in the same manner as the morning promised it could. Virgil, grumbling and annoyed, stumbled out of bed about thirty minutes after they were already meant to be on their way to the dealership. This in itself would be bad enough, but was only worsened when their Uber kept pushing back their arrival time every ten minutes. By the time they finally reached the apartment (and Virgil was finally ready to go), they were well on their way to being ten minutes late to the appointment, and that’s an optimistic view. The reality of the situation dropped them off out front about twenty minutes after the fact. So no, to answer your question, Logan is not having a good day.

He furrows his brow at the droves of new car smell hammering at his senses, wishing he could be like everyone else who actually enjoys the atrocious smell for some godforsaken reason. By an extended arm, he tugs along a very reluctant Virgil, forcing him to move past the shiny displays of brand new cars that they definitely won’t be able to afford.

“We have to make this meeting, love,” Logan is saying. “It’s crucial to follow through on any appointment you make, especially one so important as this, with someone who actually knows what they’re talking about and has the potentially to hold major sway over a significant life decision.”

“And why couldn’t we just do this online at home, where we don’t have to deal with actual people?”

“Because hearing what they can offer in person gives them a sense of physical closeness to the consumer that might tip their offers in our favor, and it will give us a better idea of the type of company we’re working with. Now hurry up. We’re already late, and I don’t want to make a bad first impression worse.” Virgil hems and haws, but he does eventually follow Logan into the pristine white building. Every surface sparkles—no, seriously, every single surface, from the floor to the windows to the ceiling to the glasses around the neck of the lady that strides over to greet them.

“Hey, are you two Mr. and Mr. Sanders?”

“We are,” Logan says. “Can I assume you’re Ms. Poyani?”

“Yep! You can just call me Kathy, though. Pleasure to meet you!”

“I’m so sorry about how late we’re running today,” Logan apologizes, but she waves it off.

“I’ll hear nothing of the sort! Sometimes life just gets in the way, and you needn’t apologize for that.” She clasps her hands together and smiles brightly, turning on her heel. “If you’ll follow me, my desk is right this way. Give me just a moment to tidy it up and pull over another chair, and we can go ahead and get started!” Logan pulls Virgil along to the cluttered cubicle, the walls of which are swarming with pictures of a couple of toddlers—presumably Kathy’s son and daughter.

Kathy takes a seat at the far side of her desk and clicks around on her computer for a minute before turning to face Logan, then Virgil. “Okay, so we’re looking at y’all’s first car, right?”

“Yes,” Logan answers, hoping his practiced eagerness will distract her from the sheer attitude radiating from Virgil. “My workplace moved locations recently, and we’re just looking for an inexpensive vehicle to get me to and from work. Nothing fancy or added on or anything, just your most basic skeleton.”

“We can absolutely work with that!” Kathy pulls a sheet of paper off the mess of folders and binders on her desk—organized chaos, but chaos nonetheless—and points out a few highlighted bullet points with a manicured fingernail. “Based on your preliminary appointment information, I really like this model for you. It’s a little on the larger side, but—”

“We don’t need a big car,” Virgil interjects. “It’s just the two of us, no kids, no carpool, no nothing, so smaller is better.”

“But we’re still open to hearing your pitch,” Logan adds hurriedly, giving Virgil a pointed look.

Kathy blinks, opens her mouth, hesitates, then continues. “Okay, and I thought this one here would be your best bet for your needs while cutting down on gas consumption, so you’ll save money there in the long—”

“If we cared about gas consumption, we’d be looking at mopeds and motorcycles.”

“We are not getting a motorcycle, Virgil.”

Virgil pouts and crosses his arms, sinking lower in his chair as his eyes drift to the pictures on the wall. Kathy surges forward with her pitch, apparently undeterred, and Logan has to wonder how often she deals with people like them. “I tend to suggest new clients start with a two year lease, so you can get a feel for our company and vehicles without being roped in by a long term purchase. Of course, if, at the end of your two years, you like your lease enough to take out a new one, or even purchase the vehicle you’ve been driving, we can always—”

“That’s assuming we don’t change our minds about this company being worth it, too,” Virgil mutters. “Maybe we end up wanting a better place with better deals.”

“Yes, well—”

“Could you excuse us for just a minute, please?” Logan asks weakly. Kathy gives him an understanding nod and scoots out of the cubicle, presumably heading over to greet some people near the entrance. Logan turns to a sullen Virgil. “What is your deal?”

“My deal?” Virgil’s voice is nothing short of aghast as he sits up and points at the papers fanned out on the desk. “This is easily one of the biggest purchases we’re probably ever going to make, something that will literally transport you to and from your livelihood, and you’re just smiling and nodding along with everything she says!”

“She’s hardly had a chance to say anything at all, what with you interrupting so much! At the very least, you could listen to her pitch before you go and shut it down!”

“I already told you what I want, and you shot that down pretty quick, don’t you think?”

“That’s because you wanted a motorcycle, and the only supporting evidence you had for why we should get one was that you ‘really really want one.’ Desire is not a basis for major life decisions.”

“It’s not like you put up any evidence against why we should get one, either.”

“Fine, you want evidence for why I’m not spending our hard-earned money on a motorcycle? How about how they expose nearly all of your person to elements of weather and pollution, as opposed to the trace amounts that get past cracked car windows? Or how they’re more dangerous to operate on busy roads, where most motorists won’t even be able to see you, much less stop in time to avoid a collision? Maybe the little fact that a motorcyclist is thirty-seven times more likely to die in a crash than someone in an enclosed car, and nine times more likely to get injured?”

“Oh, right, like you just pulled those numbers out of nowhere? You didn’t think to share that information when we were at home, where there wasn’t some car dealership full of people hovering nearby to hear how much you want to ignore my opinion?”

“I never ignored your opinion! I took it into heavy and sincere consideration, looked at the facts and statistics, and decided I cared more about our lives than I do some silly dispute about what kind of car we should get, much less an unsafe motorcycle!”

“Is every argument we have now just a silly dispute to you?” Virgil’s voice is tinted with that achingly familiar venom, and it takes all of Logan’s willpower not to let the same toxins seep into his own words.

“Not if you would just keep a level head for once, rather than blowing up every time you hear a perspective that clashes with your own.”

“Name on time I’ve done that before.”

“Try when I last confronted you about your career choice—of which I have been nothing but supportive since, mind you—and you ran out of the house!”

Virgil gets real quiet, real quick. “That’s not fair.”

Logan forces some amount of poise and rationality into his tone, wondering just how much more calmness he can fit in there before he completely explodes. “It is a discussion we need to have, at some point or another, if only to reconcile our differences regarding the situation. Especially when the combined salaries we bring home might not support all the things we both want to achieve in life.”

“Things like what?” Virgil’s voice is soft, tentative, as he still looks off to the side, still refuses to meet Logan’s eyes.

“Well, things like a motorcycle, for one, I guess.” Logan looks at the papers Kathy left behind, scanning over the highlighted bits. “You’d need to get another license specifically for operating a motorcycle, not to mention the price point for all the necessary safety gear that you absolutely will not be leaving the apartment without, and we can’t forget the ticket on the bike itself. I don’t even want to think about how messy the insurance probably is, either.”

“You say all that like you’re actually considering it.”

“Wildly enough, I suppose I could be.” The unbridled hope in Virgil’s face as he turns to Logan is almost more than he can bear. “It’s not our top priority, and I certainly want to first get an actual car, but I’ll admit that I’ve never been one for clunky soccer mom vans. I don’t dislike the simplicity of bicycles and mopeds, but with that simplicity comes a sort of functionality that is just too irreconcilable with my lifestyle. It all really does come down to price, but if we can bend the budget right, maybe we can find a way to do both when we’re at a place where our finances will support it.”

Logan takes Virgil’s hands into his own, running his thumb over the wedding band. “I want us to work this out together, but these are the kinds of real world problems that, realistically, we’re always going to have to face, and keep on facing. From here on out, we’re in this together. We’re a team, and we need to face the world and believe that, not just as an empty platitude, but as a real, true, genuine partnership that strengthens us when we work together.”

“You’re getting pretty deep for an argument about some crappy little hypothetical bike,” Virgil says with a forced laugh.

“Because when we get to the major issues, the ones far more important than some crappy little hypothetical bike, I want us to both be ready for them.” Logan squeezes Virgil’s hands and inhales, wrinkling his nose at the ever-present new car smell still lingering between them. It’s almost like they soaked the building in bleach to give it that finished polish. “I’ll meet you in the middle here, but halfway is a far cry from me coming to you. You need to give a little, because you can’t just keep getting everything you want all the time. You need to be willing to make sacrifices if you want to make this work, and I’ll be the first to do the same.”

Virgil bites his lip, his eyes wobbling dangerously as they rise to meet Logan’s. They sit in silence for a long, long moment before he speaks up. “I’ll meet you in the middle.”

“Good. I’ll go get Kathy, and maybe we can discuss that crappy little hypothetical bike of yours.”

[williamrichard-posts]

Why Bike Riders Should Join Track days and also Advanced Training

I did what most Militaries do upon returning house from release, I acquired a bike. I purchased a stunning 2007 Accomplishment Daytona 675cc sporting activity bike as well as rapidly discovered that riding it was not as straightforward as I believed. This race reproduced equipment was an exceptionally quickly, unrelenting, function developed motorcycle that would kill me if I was not careful. It required the highest degree of respect.

  Fortunately I discovered some basic skills immediately due to the obligatory training the Marine Corps calls for upon ending up being a proprietor. I very recommend taking one of these Motorcycle security Foundation accepted courses, they will show you the fundamental skills and understanding of motorbike riding.

  I definitely liked to ride my bike any type of chance I could. I would consult with close friends and also take perky canyon rides in southern The golden state. I swiftly found out how qualified my bike was as well as much enjoyable it was to sculpt via a twisty canyon road. I was additionally humbled very swiftly by my lack of experience and had numerous problems as well as close phone calls when I tried to stay on par with the extra knowledgeable bikers.

  There is no doubt motorbike riding can be harmful. There are so many variables past our control such as: weather condition, rainfall, sand, other cars and roadway conditions and so on. There are additionally many we can manage such as: knowing you and also your motorbike's capacities, using the ideal security gear, ensuring your motorcycle is appropriately preserved, having your suspension readjusted for you as well as making certain your tires are properly blown up and in great problem and so on.

F2R roadbook holder

We can all attest to the many threats come across when traveling and likely have the scary stories to accompany them. We need to bear in mind that there are only two kinds of motorcyclists: those who have gone down, as well as those who have yet to do so.

  This is what makes the race course so enticing for bike riders. A number of the inevitable dangers of the roadway are absent. If you enter into a corner to quickly and also blow your exit, you simply escape the track with plenty of space to decrease without the risk of hitting another automobile, tree or guard rail. You have the whole paved space to use rather than a couple of lanes. Most importantly you can truly open the throttle as well as accomplish speeds that would land you behind bars if you were captured! This is where you can press the envelop and feel secure riding at a level outside of your convenience zone. This is where you come to actually find out exactly how to ride.

  I had just been riding 7 months when I did my very first track day in November of 2010. A close friend of mine was a serious track rider who insisted I opt for him to Chuckwalla Valley Raceway. He had actually encouraged me for a long time, I ultimately gave in.

  We were riding with the TrackXperience track day company which was a fantastic organization. They had a tire supplier and also professional suspension arrangement all onsite. The biggest advantage? They supplied a complimentary cyclist school for very first time track cyclists where they looked at all the fundamentals of track riding, the flag procedures, track decorum, safety and security, and also enlightened us on the several bad behaviors as well as mistaken beliefs road motorcyclists give the track. It was fantastic, I discovered a lot that day and also brought the scare tactics level down. One of the most vital one is to inspect your vanity at the entrance gate as well as ride your very own ride.This is where I actually discovered that my bike can doing much more than I could. To exemplify this, I obtained passed by a 13 year old on a 250cc motorbike, he had the understanding and skill to exploit his little motorcycle. I did not care, I was having a blast, yet it is humbling and also motivating.

Used ICO

I had the opportunity to work with the coaches and control motorcyclists that were a wide range of knowledge and also aspired to help me discover. We did lead/follow drills as well as given beneficial feedback, and also answered my lots of concerns when we went back to the pits. These motorcyclists are true enthusiasts and also take great enjoyment in aiding cyclists achieve their goal of coming to be faster, safer and extra confident riders.

  The ambience at the track is an awesome experience by itself. Everybody delights in reviewing the sporting activity, helping each various other find out as well as even assist if you're having a problem with your bike. From young to old, new bikers to experienced racers, it's such a varied group. I have created numerous terrific relationships from track riding.

  An essential subject worth mentioning is expense, it's not as pricey as you think. Depending upon the track and also organization, a solitary day at the track can set you back $100-$275. The prep work relies on the company yet does not take much time. Normally, you will only need to tape up the weak plastic parts like headlights, taillights, as well as turn signals. You will require tires that have a minimum of 75% readily available tread and trust me, they use much quicker at the track. On the whole, with the bike appropriately prepared, a track weekend prices much less than $500 at the majority of. I live in Florida now as well as often go to Jennings GP which has track days every weekend and also had a preregistration price of $130 daily, $260 for the weekend break. I assure you it will be the most effective loan you have actually ever spent.

  If you are a hardcore enthusiast, aiming racer, or even simply a "Sunday cyclist" the amount of understanding and also self-confidence got at the track will certainly aid you be a much better motorcyclist. The skills you have practiced as well as grasped will turn those large "Oh No!" minutes needing restorative action into a "knee jerk" reaction that comes to be force of habit as well as much less scary.

  I cannot encourage riders enough to venture out there and make use of the opportunity. There are numerous organizations with wonderful programs for new bikers and also even some for the very innovative cyclists.

[cyberdelusionphilosopher-blog]

Portland Oregon Cheap car insurance quotes zip 97231

"Portland Oregon Cheap car insurance quotes zip 97231

Portland Oregon Cheap car insurance quotes zip 97231

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What are the listings for African American or black owned auto insurance companies and agents.?

I want to support my people,because no one else is going to support us. Many immigrants only support their business owned by their people,but we blacks have very few businesses. We need to unite and support each other to survive in this every changing country. It feels as if we are second class citizens in our own communities. We have to do business and pay for services of people who dislike us,because we have no alternative. We blacks need to control,manage,and build business in our own communities. P.S. I love America USA is # 1""

Does your car insurance go up if you don't have it for a period of time?

If I dropped my car insurance for monatary reasons, and then picked it back up in a few months would I still have the same rate as before?""

How much would insurance be for an under 21 female in NYS?

I've been trying to figure out how much money I would pay for auto insurance before I get a car, but I can't get any quotes without a car. I am 19, a female, and living in New York State. Is there anyone that would mind sharing how much they pay, what insurance company they have, and how old they are? I would really appreciate it.""

Car insurance rates go up after accident?

Ok, so this is really stupid in my mind. But I got rear ended the other day, and it was obviously the lady's fault since I was waiting at the stop light and she hit me. Anyways, the damage was minor. There was a hole from her screw/bolt that held her front license plate and part of my rear light got cracked. Anyways, she offered to pay us 350 after we got 2 estimates saying it would cost around 700 to paint by bumper and replace the light. she and I were fine with that since my bumper already had noticeable scratches on the side and her damage wasn't that major. But my dad (I'm 19) wanted her to pay 400 or tell her to report it to her insurance. So I thought this was ridiculous since he would have pocketed the 400 instead of fix it (like I said, it was a small hole in the bumper...).So now, I am worried that my insurance will go up. I am a college student, a guy, and a teenager which I feel like would raise my rates, a lot, but he reassures me that our rates won't go up since the lady's insurance will pay for it and that we arent claiming our insurance. So what happens now in the insurance process? All I know is that she has to call her insurance and they send an adjuster to assess the cost of the damages made to our car. Do we have to report it anytime to our insurance company? If not, is there a chance that our insurance company will find out and raise our rates?""

Which company offers good whole life insurance?

I am sick of term life insurance and the company I am with now is abysmal. I would appreciate any help. I have a wife and two daughters, it's about them, not me....""

Whats a good price for auto insurance?

I'm a part-time employee that makes about 210-250$ a week. I drive about 50 mi. 4-5 days a week. I am trying to pay for tuition (3000 a quarter) and a cell phone bill as well (100 a month). I just want a rough estimate on what I should need. When I talk to a representative I feel like he wants to get the most out of me. When I try to pick out a quote myself, I tend to think of the worst cast scenario and opt for the better plans. My plans always come-out to be 220 a month. Is that high or just right? I just need a little guidance by my peers or by older folks that have been down this road before. Thank you very much.""

What happens if you just don't pay your car insurance?

Where I live you get car insured and they put a sticker on the plates with expiry date a year from now. But you still only pay once a month. What happens if you simply stop paying ...show more

What is a good looking and cheap running car for a 17 year old british man hoping to pass soon?

i would prefer a hatchback but dont actually mind lol...need it too look good, be cheap to run and cheap on insurance""

Wanna buy car insurance?

I wanna buy car insurance . My age is 26 year old but this is my first insurance that's why my insurance is very expensive plz tell me which insurance company is cheap

How do you get help if your pregnant and need insurance?

I applied to Medical but they are taking forever. I think I might already be in my second trimester but have not seen a doctor, so I have no idea. I lost my job but my husband works for the county here in California. His paycheck shows a gross of 1517 every two weeks but this is because the county is weird and includes his crappy insurance as his earnings. His taxable earnings are only 1280 a every two weeks and his net pay is only 1022 every two weeks. I also am willing to do AIM but you have to meet make less than 4400 and a min of 2935 a month. I'm just so tired of the run around and want to see a doctor. I'm really worried, this is my first baby. We are barely making ends meet here in California, we should qualify for Medi cal right? Thanks for your help in advance.""

How much would it be for a 20 year old male car insurance?

I am 20 , male in California driving a 2000 Honda civic how much will my insurance be ?? First time being under insurance . And please don't send me links trying to bribe me with your insurance . Please help""

Portland Oregon Cheap car insurance quotes zip 97231

Portland Oregon Cheap car insurance quotes zip 97231

Would insurance be greatly different for a grand am gt and a grand prix GTP?

Im thinking about getting either a grand am gt or (preferably) a grand prix GTP. Would the insurance for those two cars be greatly different in cost if all the other things like coveerage, driver, etc is the same for both? thanks!""

Hi all.......car insurance!!!.?

hi all.......car insurance!!!. is it legal and possible for a person who lives in england to look anywhere in the world for car insurance. so to put it clearly can i insure my car from any insurance company anywhere in the world - could make payments cheaper cheers

How much is insurance for and exotic car?

like a lamborghini or ferrari or porsche?

Does health insurance go up when you buy a motorcycle?

Does health insurance go up when you buy a motorcycle?

What is the best health insurance plan for my husband and I?

We're age 20 & 22. In school. Don't receive insurance through work. Live in Michigan. No health problems right now (that we know of) lol. We can afford about $50 to $100 per month. Looking for dental and a visit or two per year to a physician (checkups) for each of us and a deductible that can work around that and decent co pay.

Does anyone know of an affordable individual health insurance plan in Texas?

Does anyone know of an affordable individual health insurance plan in Texas?

About car insurance and the laws on it?

i just want to know if a car is insured but the driver of that car is not in the policy .. do i still get ticketed for not having the car insured? I don't know if i'm making sense.but let me explain .my car is insured fully covered but my daughter was driving it and got stopped by the police.and he claimed that my car was not insured. i called my insurance carrier and was told that it was because my daughter was not on the policy. I always assumed that as long as the car was insured it did nt matter who drove it. provided an accident was not involved. please help me on this. as soon as possible

Does anyone else have USAA insurance?

When do I get my insurance card

Unemployment insurance in california?

Last year I was unemployed. To make a long story short, i took a job and was there for less than 2 weeks. I was forced to pray, and listen to scripture that was muslim. I am very understanding in all religions, but do not practice myself. I was very uncomfortable and left. EDD decided that i left without cause and that i did not deserve insurance. they made me pay back what they paid me and 30% more. I did so even though I didn't agree. Now that I am laid off again, I filled out a claim and got a response saying that I was eligible, and they gave me the forms to fill out for the first two weeks, the standard claim forn. I filled it out, and now got back letters saying that i am not eligible for benefits until i have filed a claim for each of the 5 weeks in which i am otherwise eligible for benefits. I haven't received new claim forms. I am assuming that I will get these, and I will fill them out for 5 weeks, and then they will pay me? So I am looking for clarification, after claiming 5 weeks they will give me my benefits? Thanks for your help, to anyone that has gone through this. It is so unfair! I paid them so much, for something I felt I was justified doing, and now I am still being punished! I would rather be working and not have to worry about this, but it is so hard to find a job :( not a great holiday.""

Cheap auto insurance in Canada?

for new drivers?

Arnold Clark Insurance?

Whats the minimum age to be a policy holder for arnold clark insurance? Ive been told It's either 18 or 19, Do they still base the risk like everyone else as I've also been told that it's a fixed price regardless of risk, the only rating factor is the drivers age?""

How much is seasonique with blue shield california insurance?

please tell me. i'm on yaz now but four periods a year would be heaven. thanks.

Cheap insurance companies in Calgary Alberta?

What is a good cheap insurance companies in Calgary, Alberta?""

How much does auto insurance cost for a 17 year old boy for insurance companies?

I'm in the u.s.

Auto Insurance Question?

I am a new driver and I just received my G2 a couple of moths ago. I am trying to get auto insurance at a cheep rate. I tried to add my name to my dads insurance (Johnson insurance) and their quote was 120 per month which seems a but excessive as I am only a casual driver. I was just looking for some advice and wondering if I should pay 120 per month or try elsewhere or try to barging with them Thanks a lot for any help

Does the Lexus IS 300 have high insurance rates?

compared to a honda accord sedan.

I am Looking for a Best site for Comparing HEALTH INSURANCE Quotes Online?

Are there reasonable car insurance quotes comparison sites online that someone can link me?

Affordable Health Insurance?

I am a 19 year old college student. I have always been on soonercare but I stopped being covered when I turned 18. I take over 20 hours in college and live with my fiance so I am unemployed. I need health inaurance so I can go to the dentist and eye doctor but everything is way expensive. My fiance is covered by his work but they dont offer family coverage so even when we get married a year from now I will still need my own health insurance. Ive tried getting some quotes but I cant pay $200-$300 a month. Is there somewhere to get afordable coverage that I am over looking?

Insurance and tax for a corsa?

im looking at buying a 06 (56) Vauxhall Corsa 1.4i 16V SXi 5dr for a 1st time car and was wondering how much would insurance, tax and a MOT usually cost for this kind of car?""

Do you need proof of insurance to obtain a Florida Intermediate Restricted Driver License?

I live in Tennessee and moving down to Florida in early August and in Tennessee at age 16 you can get a license called Intermediate Restricted Driver License which just has more restrictions then a 17 year old and less restrictions then a 15 year old/permit. I'm not sure if Florida has these type of licenses but at the age of 16 with a Tennessee Intermediate Restricted License, to get a Florida license, must you show proof of insurance before you get your Florida license? The reason why i'm asking this is because obviously in Tennessee you do not need proof of insurance to get a Driver License. Thanks Guys!""

No health insurance? need prenatal care and sonograms?

i don't have any health insurance and have become pregnant, what do i need to do until my health insurance can kick in or until i can have the baby then get affordable health ...show more""

Driving family car with no insurance?

I Drive my sister's car around a bit because i couldn't afford my insurance. Since I don't have insurance but my sister does on her car, would I get a ticket or get car towed if I drive it around without insurance? or would my sister's insurance cover it too? Thanks""

Which is life insurance company is number one position?

Which is life insurance company is number one position?

Best home insurance in ma?

best and lowest home insurance in MA

Car insurance 15 year old with 4.0 gpa?

my son is going to turn 15 i wanted to know what it would cost and what options i have

Portland Oregon Cheap car insurance quotes zip 97231

Portland Oregon Cheap car insurance quotes zip 97231

Insurance prices?

does the color of a vehicle have anything to do with the price of insurance?

Can a car insurance company find out when you were first issued your license?

I know its wrong to lie, BUT ,my insurance would be SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much lower if I had been driving for longer. I didn't get my license until I was 22 and I'm 23 now, but they give me the rates of a teenager. I pay way too much!""

State auto insurance vs. state of registration?

I am currently working a temporary job away from home in another state not my permanent residence (I am living there for the term of the employment). While there I bought another vehicle and registered it in that state and when insuring it moved my other car to the policy not realizing this could cause a problem. Now on my first vehicle, which was registered in my home state, the home state has refused to renew the registration because it carries out of state insurance. However, I also don't own the first vehicle, it is owned by my parents who are a resident of my home state, I just use it and pay the insurance. So unless I am missing anything, It looks like I am basically going to be forced to register that vehicle in a state where I do not have residence or cancel my insurance policy and get insurance for only that vehicle through a provider in my home state. Is this it or are there other options? I'm confused because they let me renew last year even though I had the out of state insurance, but I had switched during that year so maybe they considered me part-time or something. I would like to avoid changing any state registrations for the time being, because this process is expensive and complicated between the two states in question. Someone told me the cheapest option might be to get a minimum liability policy on the car in my home state so they will give me registration, but I have never heard of that and I'm not sure if that is ok (having two insurance policies on the same vehicle)? I am not trying to play tricks or loophole anything here, I just want to figure out my options and get this done without costing me a lot of money or time.""

How long does a dui on your record affect your car insurance?

ex. I got a dui almost 5 years ago, will an insurance company look at my record from the past 5 years or longer? How many years from your dui do they hold it against you?""

Does full coverage car insurance cover a car that just dies?

I have full coverage car insurance on my car (for legal/employment reasons), comprehensive, collision, PPI, theft, vandalism, rental, etc. Yeah, its an 99 Accord. What I never asked, and now want to know, is if it just dies (cus its about that time that if it did I wouldnt be surprised) will I get the value of the car? I know I do get its value if it is stolen or totaled or vandalized, but does that apply to car death? Pretty sure if it stopped working the cost to fix it would be more than the car is valued at, does that count as totaling? I am getting to that point where the car may be worth more to me stolen or wrecked. I hate dealerships otherwise I might consider a trade-in, but I don't know why anyone would buy it??? I would feel dishonest selling to anyone else, poor saps. I do better off finding someone who is selling a fixer upper. (I got this car for 500 bucks and I put 70,000 miles on it, not too shabby.) I know a guy who can fix up cars real cheap, but when its time, sometimes there is nothing you can do. The car is Kelly Blue Booked between 2900-4500, so would I get a decent price from insurance if I let it die under full coverage?""

Why does Infinity car insurance suck?

everytime i called them for help they always sounds like they are mad and rude at the same time, and they don't even care about helping me out just by the sounds of their voice!!! my question is what a good car insurance out there???""

""Affordable, legit health insurance for a 19 year old girl in nebraska?""

so since i've turned 19, i'm no longer covered by my parent's insurance, and i need my own. I've been looking online but the only things i could really afford are from websites and companies that I've never heard of, so how trustworthy would they be? or is it a better idea just to go with a big company?""

Will my insurance price change?

I've been on my parents insurance account for over a year with no accidents on my record and I pay 200 a month, so if I have my own account from my parents will there be any price changes of either raise or lower? I'm so confused""

Can i use my car insurance to pay for damage to my car?

Some idiot decided not to own up to denting my car at the weekend, so now i am left to foot the bill which judging by the damage is not going ot be cheap. The moron whoever he/she is has dented both passenger side doors. As i have never been in this situation i am not sure if i can use my car insurance to pay for the damage, especially as i dont know who damaged my car in tyhe first place. I am fully comp with Tesco.""

I need help finding the right health insurance?

I am 21 years old female I'm married no kids. I am having problems with my knees I can not walk without pain or swelling involved on virus knees, because of this pain I have not ...show more""

Can my husband take life insurance out on me without me knowing in the military?

hey my husband is in the military and he has a life insurance policy on him and i only have a small portion of it and everything else goes to his mother but i just recently find out he has life insurance out on me way more than i would get from him and i didnt sign anything so im wondering can he do it without my consent? and can i cancel it?

Are there emergency health insurances in California?

And how can some one get it? i don't live in Cali but a friend of mine does. And they can't afford health insurances. but they need to see a doctor.

Car Insurance Groups?

What Insurance Group would a Ford KA (02 Reg) Collection be? And also what Group would a Ford StreetKA be?

How much would insurance cost?

How much would insurance be if I bought a Mustang GT or GT Premium coupe with a 4.6L V8 and 260hp? I'm 15 and in driver's ed, one of the best in class, I make all A's in school, if that matters, and I'd prefer an estimate for liability and full coverage. By the way, I'm a good driver, I'm more concerned with driving smooth than driving fast. I want a Mustang GT because my friend has one and I love it. It would be a 2000-2004 model and I live in Alabama""

What's the average price of new driver's insurance?

For the longest time I didn't want to drive anywhere. I live in a big city, I can bus or bike where I need to be. But I've been forced into getting a drivers license, and will need to get a car soon. What's the average cost of insuring a typical used car with a 28 year old male new driver?""

""50 in a 40, first ticket ever. Insurance?""

I got a ticket for going 50 in a 40 tonight. My gas was PASSED E, and I was turning into the gas station. I realize that doesn't do anything for my case. I'm 17. I've never been in a wreck, never been pulled over. The cop (who is a friend's dad) said that I go to court Oct 1 and if I'm eligible for Defensive Driving I can take it, and it wont go on my driving record. Question is, does this affect my insurance rate at all? I pay my own insurance. I have State Farm.""

Choosing a good car which has cheap insurance---I live in CANADA?

Car choosing help--I LIVE IN CANADA.? I need help choosing a car that is going to be low insurance for me. I'm 22/female/college grad/part time worker/full insurance G / Went to driving school. Thanks in advance.

Information about health insurance please?

Im looking for a cheap but good health insurance. Please let me know what your recommendations are.

Do I need insurance to drive my own car with a permit in Arizona?

Can I use my own car or do I have to use my parents car with a permit?

Asking all female drivers under 25- Whats a cheap car insurer?

Asking all female drivers under 25!! Does anyone know of or have been with any cheap car insurance companies? Ive already checked quite a few but they seem really expensive...Please help!

Can you give me a list of car insurance comparison sites please?

Can you give me a list of car insurance comparison sites please?

""Who has the cheapest car insurance in Houston, Tx?

I have Geico right now.. I am a 17 year old boy who has a car accident on his record (in june 2010).

How does insurance for a scooter in florida work?

I was wanting to get a scooter a little like the one on this site: http://gainesville.craigslist.org/mcy/1167379006.html So anyone have any info that might help me like will i need insurance, would i need a special tag or license that costs more, are there any laws towards scooters in florida, would i need to get something from the owner like any type of paper work? Any tips would help a bunch!! thanks!!""

What's the average penalty for driving without insurance in England?

What sort of fine, and how many points?""

Im 18 and live on my own...but im on my parents insurance still. can my parents see what i go to the dr for cuz im using their insurance?

Im 18 and live on my own...but im on my parents insurance still. can my parents see what i go to the dr for cuz im using their insurance?

Portland Oregon Cheap car insurance quotes zip 97231

Portland Oregon Cheap car insurance quotes zip 97231

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/anyone-know-where-my-husband-can-get-dental-work-done-roger-wade/"

[aneyeforlondon]

May 10 the beginning of the road trip!

Today was pretty exciting. We left the hotel about 9:30 and had the desk clerk call us a cab to the airport to pick up the car. We got there and despite a little trouble finding the pick up location, after asking an airport employee, our driver made a quick u-turn in the road and got us where we needed to be. After signing my life away we headed out to the Hertz area to parking spot 4. And in that spot was a jet black Volvo S90. Not sure if we have this kind in America, but it's gorgeous! My pictures haven't quite downloaded and being nearly 11PM, I needed to get this posted. We drive out of the rental car lot and I get on the M8. Only the wrong way, not like the wrong side of the road, because I have someone sitting next to me saying "stay left" every 5 minutes, which is a good thing, but we headed in the wrong direction. We end up in some area of Glasgow we have NO idea where we are and Sherri realizes at just the right moment aha! We have built in navigation. So I pull over and she inputs the address of where we want to go and off we are. Now I do not much like city driving, but today it was city driving like it or not. I only hit a curb once before getting out of Glasgow and I think I was doing about 30 MPH. We head towards the West coast of Loch Lomond and let me tell you these roads are narrow. Back in an area of the Loch that has wider roads and pull over spots, we pull over and run across the highway and take pictures. We even went down this steep path to get good shots and had to use trees to hold on to in order to get back up. Back across the highway safe, we are back on the road stopping every now and again to take pictures. We head in to Killin to have lunch at the Falls of Drochart Inn. We had Cullen Skink with homemade bread. What is that you ask? It's a fish chowder of sorts, it was delicious but so filling. However; that did not stop us from having our first sticky toffee pudding with butterscotch sauce and ice cream! Delish! Sherri asks the owner if it would be ok for us to leave our car in their parking lot as behind the Inn, are some standing stones about a 10 minute walk away. We had watched it be nice weather then the rain came and then the sun came back out again so we took the opportunity to take some pictures of the falls across the street and then headed towards the stones. Just as our instructions indicated, we went through one set of stone pillars, walked a while and passed through another set and came across two little lambs sitting by the fence. When we got there one stood up and threatened to leave, but when it saw we were going to keep walking it laid back down. Just as we start walking, Sherri stops me and points to the right. There they are, the stones. We go through the last set of pillars, these had lions on them and with a little effort get the gate opened and closed. We head towards the stones and the sheep laying about them took off, and we walked through them, took a lot of pictures and videos and then we felt some drops on us so we started walking back towards town. It doesn't rain for long and the trees kept us dry. We took a few more pictures of the falls in Killin from the other direction and then decide to move on to our next destination Glen Coe. We found the ski lifts and as we got out of the car noticed how much colder and windier it had gotten. We aren't even up near the top of the mountain so getting on open ski lifts was not something that enticed us. Besides, the mountains had not really gotten green much so we'd just be looking at a brown mountain (that is how we talked ourselves out of it!). So we decide that we will head to the other set of enclosed lifts at Fort William. We make it back down to the main road (fun with a one lane road) and head to Fort William. But first we find the Glen Coe Visitor Centre and stop in there as well to take a look around. We went in to the gift shop but decide we don't really have time to do the tour, so just go out behind to have a look at Ben Nevis from this location. We head over to Ft. William and of course by now it's well past 5, and the Centre is closed. Starting to be a theme don't you think? So we head on to our B&B. Our host Ellie is a gem and shows us around the house and also recommended that we not go back in to Ft. William for dinner as there is some bike event going on which we had been seeing motorcyclists all day in the area. She recommends instead that we head up the road to Glenfinnian as there are two places we can eat that she mentioned had wonderful chefs. The first was the Glenfinnian Hotel and Restaurant and the other Princess House. She said we needed reservations at Glenfinnian and offers to get us a table. Our choice was 6:30 or 8:15. I didn't want either but it is what it is and she coerced then into giving us a 6:45. So we freshen up a bit after talking a bit more about our day tomorrow with Ellie and she tells us the train will be running after all so for you Harry Potter fans, the train that you see in the movies passing over the viaduct is what we will be photographing tomorrow between 10:30 and 11:00. We head back downstairs and we meet Barry, Ellie's husband, in the parking lot (it's a small lot mind) and I get to back out the way I came in. Now this car has a lot of things, suede and leather seats, alloy wheels, heated steering wheel and heated seats, but NO back up camera! The one thing I rely upon but...alas, Peeps I'm getting better :). I get out without incident and off down the road to Glenfinnian we go. We find the hotel just fine and are seated. Up first is the first gin and tonic of the trip! I really want to make sure that while in Scotland, I eat things that I can't get most places, so I was torn between the Scottish rib eye, a venison dish and the venison sausage. After talking to the waitress, we both decided on the venison sausage with mushrooms and red onion gravy served over mashed potatoes and if you think that does not sound good, I ate every last bite, it was delicious. But hey, we still have room for dessert right? We chose a dessert trio that consisted of a chocolate mousse that had rolled chocolate straws stuck in the side, raspberries with a raspberry sauce and freshly made Scottish shortbread cookies. YUM!! I felt like we really needed to walk, because we have not made it to our 10K steps for the day but sometimes things do not go your way! We head back to the B&B and are safely tucked into our bed to rest up for another busy day. I'm sure I left something off, much like yesterday. Hopefully; I'll be able to remember what and maybe do a "catch up" post later. Until tomorrow...Good night everyone!!

[victoriazoey26]

How to be a Safe Motorcycle Rider

Choosing to commute to work by motorcycle can save you time and money, but it doesn’t come without its risks. Making sure you’re well prepared can save you from injury in a motorcycle accident in Sandy, Utah or wherever it is you’re commuting. Unfortunately, sometimes accidents can’t be avoided.

WEAR THE PROPER SAFETY GEAR ON EVERY RIDE

Even in the temperate weather of St. George, you’ll need to make sure you gear up every time your ride. Depending on your commute, you’ll need to plan your gear for the weather conditions. Make sure you have a good jacket that protects you in case of a motorcycle accident. If you’re a lawyer or a businessman that typically wears a suit to work, you might want to look into a jacket that doesn’t wrinkle your work clothes during the ride.

CONSIDER HEATED GEAR IN COLD CONDITIONS

If you’re commuting in a region that gets cold, make sure you have gear that keeps you sufficiently warm. In cold conditions you should consider using heated grips, heated gloves, a heated vest, a neck warmer and warm base layers. Investing in a helmet with an anti-fog lens will help you keep optimal visibility in cold weather conditions and help you avoid a motorcycle accident.

STAY VIGILANT: ACCIDENTS HAPPEN WHEN RIDERS GET COMPLACENT

Popular studies show that riders and drivers are most likely to crash within a 25-mile radius of their own houses. This is because people get comfortable close to home and stop paying attention to the road. This can also become a problem when commuting. Riding the same route every day can get comfortable, and commuters run the risk of getting complacent. No matter how many times you ride the same route through St. George, make sure you stay vigilant every single time — especially if you’re a mother, a father or a lawyer.

QUICK TIPS FOR MASTERING MOTORCYCLE CORNERING

You finally did it: You bought the Indian Scout that you’ve been dreaming about since you were 17. You’ve been slowly saving for the past year or so and gradually breaking the news to your friends and family: You bought a motorcycle, and you’re beyond ready to take it out on the road.

If you’re new to motorcycle riding, there are a few basic turning maneuvers that can help you avoid becoming the victim of a motorcycle accident as you streamline down the freeway from West Jordan, Utah to Southern Utah. Here are some of the best turning moves to know to avoid becoming the victim of an accident and consequentially having to call a lawyer.

The Outside-Inside-Outside Maneuver

When turning a corner in a motorcycle, the general rule of thumb dictates that you enter the turn on the outside, gradually move through the turn on the inside and then exit on the outside. There’s actually a science behind why this maneuver works so well: It allows you to see farther down the turn and anticipate a situation that might cause a motorcycle accident and the consequential need for a lawyer. It doesn’t matter if you’re making a quick turn while entering the freeway in West Jordan or traversing a roundabout on the East Coast.

This maneuver will help prevent a serious motorcycle accident.

Accelerate Through Turns

It’s critical to also briefly discuss speed. Contrary to what might seem like common sense, motorcyclists should actually accelerate through turns, not brake. Braking in the middle of a turn will force your motorcycle to stand upright or even slide out, and will almost certainly catapult you into the dirt on the side of the road. Although that curvy freeway entrance in West Jordan might look intimidating, don’t slow down — doing so might result in a motorcycle accident that almost certainly requires a lawyer.

Mastering a turn on a motorcycle takes practice, but it’s well worth it. Before you take that beautiful Indian Scout out on any major roads this summer, master these turning maneuvers to decrease your chance of an accident.

Free Initial Consultation with Lawyer

It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. Legal problems come to everyone. Whether it’s your son who gets in a car wreck, your uncle who loses his job and needs to file for bankruptcy, your sister’s brother who’s getting divorced, or a grandparent that passes away without a will -all of us have legal issues and questions that arise. So when you have a law question, call Ascent Law for your free consultation (801) 676-5506. We want to help you!

Ascent Law LLC8833 S. Redwood Road, Suite CWest Jordan, Utah 84088 United StatesTelephone: (801) 676-5506

Ascent Law LLC

4.9 stars – based on 67 reviews

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Source: http://www.ascentlawfirm.com/how-to-be-a-safe-motorcycle-rider/

from Securities Lawyer In Utah https://securitieslawyerinutah.wordpress.com/2018/04/08/how-to-be-a-safe-motorcycle-rider/

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How to be a Safe Motorcycle Rider

Choosing to commute to work by motorcycle can save you time and money, but it doesn’t come without its risks. Making sure you’re well prepared can save you from injury in a motorcycle accident in Sandy, Utah or wherever it is you’re commuting. Unfortunately, sometimes accidents can’t be avoided.

WEAR THE PROPER SAFETY GEAR ON EVERY RIDE

Even in the temperate weather of St. George, you’ll need to make sure you gear up every time your ride. Depending on your commute, you’ll need to plan your gear for the weather conditions. Make sure you have a good jacket that protects you in case of a motorcycle accident. If you’re a lawyer or a businessman that typically wears a suit to work, you might want to look into a jacket that doesn’t wrinkle your work clothes during the ride.

CONSIDER HEATED GEAR IN COLD CONDITIONS

If you’re commuting in a region that gets cold, make sure you have gear that keeps you sufficiently warm. In cold conditions you should consider using heated grips, heated gloves, a heated vest, a neck warmer and warm base layers. Investing in a helmet with an anti-fog lens will help you keep optimal visibility in cold weather conditions and help you avoid a motorcycle accident.

STAY VIGILANT: ACCIDENTS HAPPEN WHEN RIDERS GET COMPLACENT

Popular studies show that riders and drivers are most likely to crash within a 25-mile radius of their own houses. This is because people get comfortable close to home and stop paying attention to the road. This can also become a problem when commuting. Riding the same route every day can get comfortable, and commuters run the risk of getting complacent. No matter how many times you ride the same route through St. George, make sure you stay vigilant every single time — especially if you’re a mother, a father or a lawyer.

QUICK TIPS FOR MASTERING MOTORCYCLE CORNERING

You finally did it: You bought the Indian Scout that you’ve been dreaming about since you were 17. You’ve been slowly saving for the past year or so and gradually breaking the news to your friends and family: You bought a motorcycle, and you’re beyond ready to take it out on the road.

If you’re new to motorcycle riding, there are a few basic turning maneuvers that can help you avoid becoming the victim of a motorcycle accident as you streamline down the freeway from West Jordan, Utah to Southern Utah. Here are some of the best turning moves to know to avoid becoming the victim of an accident and consequentially having to call a lawyer.

The Outside-Inside-Outside Maneuver

When turning a corner in a motorcycle, the general rule of thumb dictates that you enter the turn on the outside, gradually move through the turn on the inside and then exit on the outside. There’s actually a science behind why this maneuver works so well: It allows you to see farther down the turn and anticipate a situation that might cause a motorcycle accident and the consequential need for a lawyer. It doesn’t matter if you’re making a quick turn while entering the freeway in West Jordan or traversing a roundabout on the East Coast.

This maneuver will help prevent a serious motorcycle accident.

Accelerate Through Turns

It’s critical to also briefly discuss speed. Contrary to what might seem like common sense, motorcyclists should actually accelerate through turns, not brake. Braking in the middle of a turn will force your motorcycle to stand upright or even slide out, and will almost certainly catapult you into the dirt on the side of the road. Although that curvy freeway entrance in West Jordan might look intimidating, don’t slow down — doing so might result in a motorcycle accident that almost certainly requires a lawyer.

Mastering a turn on a motorcycle takes practice, but it’s well worth it. Before you take that beautiful Indian Scout out on any major roads this summer, master these turning maneuvers to decrease your chance of an accident.

Free Initial Consultation with Lawyer

It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. Legal problems come to everyone. Whether it’s your son who gets in a car wreck, your uncle who loses his job and needs to file for bankruptcy, your sister’s brother who’s getting divorced, or a grandparent that passes away without a will -all of us have legal issues and questions that arise. So when you have a law question, call Ascent Law for your free consultation (801) 676-5506. We want to help you!

Ascent Law LLC8833 S. Redwood Road, Suite CWest Jordan, Utah 84088 United StatesTelephone: (801) 676-5506

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from Michael Anderson http://www.ascentlawfirm.com/how-to-be-a-safe-motorcycle-rider/

from Utah Bankruptcy Law https://utahbankruptcylaw.wordpress.com/2018/04/08/how-to-be-a-safe-motorcycle-rider/