#but ANYWAY i enjoy these as comparison photos. i just wish the second two turned out as good as the first photo

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 3-3: 海水与火焰 Seawater & Flames Translation

“Secretly snapping shots of me again? What, was last time not enough?"

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

The original plan for Lin Yao’s fitting session was postponed by her agency at the very last minute. After busying for a couple more days, the weekends were here in a blink of an eye.

Following Evan’s suggestion, I’d selected a new apartment that was small, but pretty good in every other aspect, and moved in without a hitch.

It was coincidentally sundown by the time I’d finished decorating my new home. The setting sun was lazily snuggled up high amongst the clouds that touched the building. Guangqi City was dyed in a beautiful pinkish-purple, assimilating into the very glow of the sunset itself.

I was nestled up comfortably on my sofa, admiring the beautiful scenery and enjoying the rare moment of peace.

Ding-dong!

The doorbell rang.

Delivery Man: Hello. Fresh flowers for you.

MC: ?

An’an had sent me a huge bouquet of baby's breath. It had a card attached to it, wishing me a smooth move into my new apartment.

❖☆———————————★❖

An'an: Got the flowers yet?

MC: Yeah! They're especially pretty~

An'an: You're welcome! But, seeing as you've already received them… I have a teeny-tiny request~

MC: Why do I have a bad feeling about this already…?

An'an: Aw, come on, man. Didn't I tell you that I was going to be interviewing my idol's race team next week?

An'an: It’s their test run tomorrow and it’s also a Sunday, so I’m asking you to come and check them out with me!

An'an: Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? You know I love you best, baby!

MC: ...Fine.

An'an: I’ll send you the location later and see you at their training location at 10 AM tomorrow! Be there, or be square!

❖☆———————————★❖

Hence, I woke up early the next day due to the location being somewhere out in the outskirts of the city.

MC: Turn left at 998 Sunset Street and go straight till the end…

MC: Then you’ll see the Glitter Bullet race team's name… Oh, here it is.

A real race track was much more of a spectacular sight to behold compared to what I’d seen on television.

The long and winding race track was akin to that of a python’s body; so long that it seemed never-ending, surrounding a square plot of grass. The dark red tented fabric canopy bearing the team’s name stood right in the centre of the racetrack like an open umbrella.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: What a spectacle…

Everything about the racetrack marvelled me, almost as if I’d accidentally stepped into a whole new world.

Training racecars raced past me, roaring as they went. The visceral heat and the deafening roars of the engines as they zipped past were so exciting that they made everyone's heart race.

I walked to the auditorium, finding a shaded area to sit.

Down at the tracks was what was probably a mock competition. The roaring of the racecars that zipped past was sometimes high-pitched, and sometimes low.

❖☆———————————★❖

The one at the head of them all was a red racecar that was both steady and equally speedy. After a couple of laps, it had firmly locked its place as No.1 on the racetrack.

I stared at the skull pattern on it. It looked really familiar…

I whipped out my phone and zoomed in on it using the camera and confirmed it. My eyes weren’t fooling me after all.

MC: The pattern on it looks exactly just like the pendant Osborn wears!

❖☆———————————★❖

Is that his racecar? As the thought flashed past my mind, I was compelled to raise my phone and press the button on the shutter.

Suddenly, a sharp sound rang out in the chaos of noise.

The yellow racecar that had been snapping at the red one’s heels the entire time had suddenly started accelerating, just like a lion that had just woken up, radiating an unstoppable and unrelenting aura as it went. It swerved with astonishing speed and a sharp screech of its tires, perfectly bypassing the bend in the road before swiftly overtaking the red racecar!

It was like a dash of gold light in the middle of a group, making everything in the surroundings lose out in comparison.

In a blink of an eye, that racecar put a huge distance between itself and the others.

MC: The red racecar got overtaken!

Only the last lap remained before this competition was over. I couldn't help gripping tightly to the railings as I silently rooted for the red racecar.

However, it was the yellow racecar that had been first to cross the finish line in the end.

MC: He still lost out…

I sighed, growing increasingly curious about just which godly being was behind the wheel of the yellow racecar.

MC: ...Osborn's so good at this; I wonder who won against him?

A tall and big figure came out of the yellow racecar, removing his helmet and reaching a hand up to somewhat fix his helmet-mussed hair.

MC: ...Osborn!? That red racecar isn't being driven by him!?

❖☆———————————★❖

It was at that moment that my phone vibrated to life.

An'an: I needa tell you something very important… Please don't smack me!

An'an: A last-minute issue cropped up with the latest issue of the magazine I'm on, so I've got to rush back to the publishing company right now...

MC: I'm… already here, though…

An'an: I'm so, so, sorry for making you go there for nothing…

MC: Don't worry about it. I don't have any plans for today anyway. Besides, I just saw their test run.

An'an: For real!? Did you snap any pics of my idol? Can you send them to me!?

MC: Sure thing. I snapped one aplenty…

Suddenly, I recalled the big, horrid, and terrible screw-up that had transpired earlier. My voice had never died that quickly right then and there. Not only did I fail to get a single shot of her idol, but I'd also taken pictures of EVERYTHING but him.

MC: ...Err, I'll snap a couple more and send them all to you later.

An'an: You're really the bestest bestie! Gotta go, the editor-in-chief's after my arse. Bye bye~

After hanging up, I immediately fell into a moment of depression as I stared at the stream of pictures of the red racecar in the gallery. Is there a second mock competition, by any chance? Otherwise, how am I going to explain this to her…?

??: And whose fangirl is this? What are you squatting here for?

MC: !

The sudden voice that came out of nowhere startled me. I shot up immediately only to meet a pair of eyes that had been half-narrowed into a smile.

I didn't know when he came here, but Osborn was now standing by my side. There he stood under the dazzling sunlight with both hands in his pockets, leaning lazily against the railings with his eyebrows raised.

I felt a little light-headed. Perhaps it was because I had my head down for too long and had gotten up way too quickly, but I abruptly stumbled two steps backwards.

He grabbed onto my arm with a small chuckle.

MC: ...Thanks.

Osborn: Secretly snapping shots of me again? What, was last time not enough?

He leaned down, his gaze landing on the camera interface that was still open on my phone, the smile playing at his lips never once falling.

MC: As if! I’m helping my friend take some pictures. She needs to use it for her interviews!

Osborn: Oh? So what did you take?

MC: Uh, well…

MC: I just casually snapped a couple of pictures of things like your racecar and… the red one… and all…

Osborn: Really? Then what do you think of my driving?

MC: Amazing! Never thought that you'd clinch first in the end like that!

MC: You drove fast and furious during the last lap, but you were also very steady at the wheel! And the part where you finally overtook your opponent at the very last moment was also way too brilliant!

Osborn: Then why'd you only take photos of one who came in 2nd?

I froze. That was when it finally hit me that he'd already seen the camera interface that had been on my phone display earlier.

Osborn causally folded his arms, awaiting my answer with a playful look on his face.

I could only look to the side ever so awkwardly, softly muttering in response.

MC: Because they were leading at the start, so I thought…

MC: Plus, the skull pattern that was on it was just like your pendant, so that's why I...

Osborn was stunned for a while before he let out a laugh.

Osborn: That was the pattern for the last season.

Osborn: I never knew that you'd done your research on me that well.

There was an obvious teasing lilt to his voice. I flushed red, immediately snapping in denial.

MC: I only take extra notice when it comes to patterns! I blame my work habits!

MC: Who told you to be so slow at the start…

Utterly amused, Osborn narrowed his eyes into a smile, leaning down towards me.

Osborn: Do you know that you should never say "slow" to a racer?

MC: ……

I subconsciously shook my head. Osborn nodded moments after he'd leaned in closer.

Osborn: Boy, you sure are easy to intimidate.

Moments after he backed away, he casually placed his hands into his pockets, his smile growing bigger.

Osborn: Come on.

MC:

...Where to?

Osborn: Don't you wanna snap some shots? I'll lead the way.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 3-1) | Next Part: (Chapter 3-5)

[bishreview]

Track by Track Review - Hottest 100 2020

Wrote this article a little bit ago just for fun. Decided to post it on here with the thought of maybe getting back to the Bish Review. Also, put an asterix next to my votes (songs that made my top 10). Anyway, here we go:

100. Kool - BENEE

One of the many gems from ‘Hey u x’. Unlucky to hear her biggest hit so early on.

99. Itch - Hockey Dad

I thought ‘Brain Candy’ was a little bit of a disappointment, but Itch was one of the strongest tracks they duo have released.

98. Your Man - Joji

Surprised to hear this track in the countdown. Pretty solid tune though

97. Audacity (feat. Headie One) - Stormzy

He’s still one of the best from the UK rap scene and this track shows why.

96. Germaphobe - Hockey Dad

One of the weaker tracks, I thought, off Brain Candy, but not surprised a lot of Hockey Dad fans liked this one. Definitely plays into their audience’s taste.

95. Loose Ends (feat. G Flip) - Illy

I do not like Aussie Hip Pop. This track is not an exception.

94. Rain (feat. Tay Keith) - Aitch and AJ Tracey

The piano in this is very ‘Humble’ - Kendrick Lamar. Still a banger though.

93. Lemonade (feat. Gunna, Don Toliver and NAV) - Internet Money

Bit of a forgettable track. It’s okay, but feels like there’s a lot better like this out there.

92. These Days - Thelma Plum

First cover of the countdown. Still one of the best Hottest 100 number ones, and Thelma does it justice.

91. Charlie - Bugs

Second cover of the countdown. I do like this but I feel it doesn’t reach the same heights as the original.

90. No Time To Die - Billie Eilish

A little expected from Eilish but still a solid Bond song (the second in history to make it).

89. In Her Eyes - The Jungle Giants

I cannot wait for the new Jungle Giants album. They’ve gotten better and better with each release.

88. Heart Attack (feat. lau.ra) - BRONSON*

I fell deeply in love with this song the second I heard it. It just has this quiet yet strong emotion behind it. The production on it is something else as well.

87. Three Leaf Clover - Teenage Joans

A really solid debut single by the Unearthed High winners. Can’t wait to hear more from them. 

86. Laugh Now Cry Now (feat. Lil Durk) - Drake

I still don’t get the hype for Drake. The falsetto “baby” in the chorus also never ceases to make me laugh.

85. Too Tough Terry - Dune Rats

Dunies slow descent from mature stoner pop to edgy tracks for teens has been hard to watch. This song just seems like a parody of the band. 

84. Chicken Tenders - Dominic Fike

Has to be the sexiest song about the best thing in the frozen food section at the supermarket. Pity the album didn’t live up to the hype.

83. Down For You - Cosmo’s Midnight and Ruel

I was really keen for this once I heard about the collaboration between the two. Unfortunately it felt a little too much like a Ruel song and it doesn’t really feel like Cosmo’s Midnight had much of a touch on it.

82. The Clap - The Chats

It’s a bit generic for The Chats but I just like hearing them get more popular. Just hilarious dudes. 

81. Weightless - Spacey Jane

One of the stronger and more unique tracks on Sunlight. The synth touches really suit the band.

80. Freaks - FISHER

Cannot wait for FISHER to just slowly fade away. His tracks all sound the same and are so basic. 

79. my future - Billie Eilish

One of the best tracks Eilish has released. Love how this just turns halfway through from a really soft ballad to a bit of an electro pop song.

78. Lady Marmalade - G Flip

It’s a nice cover. The video of G Flip performing it though is really fun.

77. House Arrest - Sofi Tukker and Gorgon City

This song bangs pretty hard. I like a lot of Sofi Tukker have really been putting out some solid stuff.

76. Baby It’s You - London Grammar

This is a great track, that synth in the chorus is heavenly.

75. Photo ID - Remi Wolf

I do like this song but it reminds me of a track from the 80s or 90s and I can’t put my finger on what that track is.

74. Scream Drive Faster - LAUREL

When I first heard this I thought Ladyhawke was back in the mainstream. Little disappointed it wasn’t, but this slaps.

73. Don’t Need You - Genesis Owusu*

Possibly the best chorus of the year. Owusu has stepped up massively in the Australian Hip Hop scene. 

72. Way Down - Ocean Alley

Ocean Alley have plateaued. ‘Lonely Diamond’ just felt like the band had become comfortable. 

71. Obey - Bring Me The Horizon and YUNGBLUD

I just can’t take BMTH seriously anymore. They’re music has become so comically edgy.

70. Low - Chet Faker

Hey look, Nick Murphy has become Chet Faker again. Don’t know why he changes between the two when one is just slightly more soulful than the other, but he does release nice tunes.

69. Second - Hope D

I do like this female, Aussie version of Jamie T. It’s a really nice track. Also the number 69 is claimed by Hope D. haha.

68. Lie to Me - Vera Blue

I don’t know what it is exactly, but there’s something about Vera which just puts her on a different level than her counterparts. She’s just that consistently good.

67. Boss Bitch - Doja Cat

This track doesn’t get old for me. It’s so much fun, and Doja Cat owns it. Love it.

66. Fantasising - Skegss

This track really does have a very “Three Leaf Clover” vibe. I have enjoyed Skegss in the past but their new stuff hasn’t captured my attention really. Seems a bit run of the mill. 

65. C’MON (feat. Travis Barker) - Amy Shark

I actually don’t mind this song, but why does it feature Travis Barker. It’s a piano ballad featuring a punk drummer, and he really doesn’t do that much. I’m confused, was he jealous of Mark Hoppus?

64. Soak Me In Bleach - The Amity Affliction

The song title reflects my thoughts when I hear that The Amity Affliction have released a new one. There are so many better Aussie metal bands out there.

63. Day & Age - Ball Park Music

BPM have a knack for writing amazing ballads. I wasn’t huge on their latest album, but tracks like this continue me having them in my good books. 

62. Run - Joji

One of the best tracks Joji has released. A really mature song for the artist and a step in the right direction for him. 

61. Pretty Grim - Ruby Fields

Ruby is good, but I feel she’s starting to release the same song over and over. Need something fresh.

60. Go (feat. Juice WRLD) - The Kid LAROI

Probably the strongest track by The Kid LAROI, but Juice WRLD outshines him just due to his vocal tone. He just sounds better.

59. Gimme Love - Joji

And that’s three for Joji. I really like how this song has two distinct sections and both are solid without overshadowing the other. 

58. Fly Away - Tones and I

I still don’t get why Tones and I puts on that fake accent in her songs. It just detracts from what could be a nice pop song.

57. Sobercoaster - Beddy Rays

Really didn’t expect this to get so high. I’m happy though because it’s a really fun song.

56. On The Line - San Cisco

Tracks like this keep me invested in San Cisco. They can really release some brilliant stuff.

55. I Think You’re Great - Alex The Astronaut

The fine line between overly chessy and adorably optimistic is what Alex walks on with every track. I think this falls on the former side sadly. 

54. Blue - Eiffel 65 (Flume Remix)

The fact that Flume puts so much of his identity into this remix is why Flume has been one of the most successful Aussie acts this past decade. 

53. In Your Eyes - The Weeknd

If The Weeknd release ‘Blinding Lights’ a month later I’d believe that he would take out this countdown. He didn’t though and instead we are left with this solid track in the bottom 50.

52. The Glow - DMA’s

Why? Why did DMA’s have to get so poppy and generic. I loved their first two album, but I struggled to get through the third.

51. Your Love (Déjà Vu) - Glass Animals

Out of the three big hits the band had in 2020, this is the most underrated. There is so much going on here, yet it never feels muddled. Wavey Davey on fire here.

50. Nothing To Love About Love - Peking Duk and The Wombats

Although this is a nice song, there’s been so many 80s electro pop throwbacks recently that have been done better that this collab just fades into the background.

49. Wishing Well - Juice WRLD

This song is so beautiful and heart-breaking. Really shows why Juice WRLD became such a beloved artist so quickly.

48. Ain’t It Different (feat. AJ Tracey and Stormzy) - Headie One

This is a really cool collab. They use the Red Hot Chili Peppers sample so well and really flow so well with it that it feels almost effortless.

47. Animals - Architects

I like a lot about this track, but the chorus really hits another level. Feels cathartic to scream along to.

46. Pretty Lady - Tash Sultana

Was hoping Tash would move into a more psychedelic direction with their newer stuff, but this is still a fine track.

45. as long as you care - Ruel

A pretty by the books Ruel song, but he really does this style so well.

44. You & I - G Flip

Probably G Flips strongest release this year. The chorus has a lot of flavour.

43. together - Ziggy Alberts

Generic acoustic track by generic Byron Bay artist. He really took the cake this year for dumbest comparison, when he compared wearing a face mask to the holocaust. Thought he’d suffer a bit for it, but apparently his fanbase grew stronger.

42. WHATS POPPIN - Jack Harlow

Jack Harlow is just so much fun. He’s killing it, and WHATS POPPIN is proof of that. Keep the bangers coming Harlow.

41. I Still Dream About You - The Smith Street Band

I felt I was growing out of The Smith Street Band, their newer music just not resonating to me. Then they drop this and make me a big fan again.

40. Come & Go (with Marshmello) - Juice WRLD

Just that chorus. It is so enjoyable. He really was going places.

39. Righteous - Juice WRLD

A back to back, and from one of the more exciting songs on the album we get to one of the more sombre tracks. Everything from the guitar, the vocals, those synth notes. . . this track is just a perfect send off for the artist. R.I.P. Juice.

38. Parasite Eve - Bring Me The Horizon

This song is so unironically cringe and edgy that it somehow becomes ironically fun. It does the full circle.

37. SO DONE - The Kid LAROI

I do like The Kid LAROI, but his vocals on this, combined with the lyrics, just make him sound like a child chucking a temper tantrum. It does make me laugh though.

36. forget me too (feat. Halsey) - Machine Gun Kelly

If this song was released in the early 00s (where it belongs), it would’ve faded into oblivion. At least Halsey sounds pretty solid on her verse though.

35. Running Red Lights (feat. Rivers Cuomo & Pink Siifu) - The Avalanches*

My personal number one for the year. This song has that melancholic, nostalgic feel to it that just hits home every time. Also one of Cuomo’s strongest vocal performances.

34. Everybody Rise - Amy Shark

This song is fine. I wouldn’t go out of my way to listen to it, but it’s fun to sing-a-long to. 

33. Breathe Deeper - Tame Impala

One of the best tracks from The Slow Rush. I love that piano motif throughout, and the bass is so funky. That weird bridge section towards the end is also pretty slick.

32. Criminals - DMA’s

The real criminals are the ones who told DMA’s this was a good idea. I just can’t get around their new stuff. I miss ‘Hill’s End’ and ‘For Now’.

31. Reasons - San Cisco

Tracks like this keep me from becoming a full time fan of San Cisco. They can really release some average stuff.

30. Bagi-la-m Bargan (feat. Fred Leone) - Birdz

Powerful. Birdz really took it to another level here.

29. Dribble - Sycco

Although I find there’s a lot of similar stuff out there, I think Sycco does sound like an original voice in the Australian music scene. She’s killing it.

28. Straightfaced - Spacey Jane

Although there was a lot of good stuff on Spacey Jane’s debut album, I found it to be quite repetitive. This track was one of the ones that I found to fade into the background instead of standing out. 

27. Under the Thunder - Skegss

I really want to like Skegss, they’ve released some great tunes in the past. But this just doesn’t do it for me. It’s just boring. 

26. No Plans To Make Plans - Lime Cordiale

Everything that makes new The Rubens tracks so average is presented here on a Lime Cordiale track. Obnoxiously quirky.

25. Reality Check Please - Lime Cordiale

Hey back to back Lime Cordiale tracks. And another one of their weaker ones. ‘Addicted to the Sunshine’ did this chorus better.

24. Blue World - Mac Miller

Didn’t expect this to make it so high but so well deserved. This song slaps hard but still continues the tragic story that is presented on his posthumous album ‘Circles’.

23. Good News - Mac Miller*

Back to back Mac! To be honest, I am close to tears every time this track plays. If only the lyrics “there's a whole lot more for me waiting/I know maybe I'm too late, I could make it there some other time/Then I'll finally discover/That it ain't that bad” were told to Mac before his passing, because he did have so much more to offer. R.I.P. Mac.

22. Complicated - Eves Karydas

This song is so good. I’ve heard it that many times but it still hasn’t lost its shine. So damn good.

21. Energy - KLP and Stace Cadet

I was really hoping this would crack top 20. Probably the best Dance track of the year. Such a jam.

20. Addicted To The Sunshine - Lime Cordiale

Despite thinking that ‘14 Steps To A Better Living’ didn’t have many new tracks that were that good on it, this one is nice. It’s just a pleasantly nice song.

19. You Should Be Sad - Halsey

I really don’t like Pop Country music but I also find it hilarious that the genre cracked the top 20. ‘09 Taylor Swift would be proud.

18. Tangerine - Glass Animals

With Tik Tok exploding in 2020 I don’t get how this didn’t get adopted by someone on it. It’s so primed to get hyped on it. 

17. Is It True - Tame Impala

I think Kevin Parker’s vocals on this are underwhelming, but that might just be because the instrumental slaps that hard. The rhythm section is so tight.

16. Screw Loose - Lime Cordiale

This sound is what Lime Cordiale do best. We need more dub influence and less elevator pop influence.

15. Skin - Spacey Jane

No matter what you think about Spacey Jane, they sure do make some emotional tracks. One of the most powerful songs on Sunlight.

14. Tombstone - Ocean Alley

The verses are average and pretty bland but the chorus is amazing. Just don’t think the album resonated with me too much, and Tombstone is another mixed track off it.

13. Rockstar - Mallrat

Possibly Mallrat’s best song yet. Her laid back, relaxed style mixed with the low-fi production really meshes well.

12. Get on the Beers (feat. Dan Andrews) - Mashd N Kutcher 

I’m not going to pretend this is my style, but the way this has resonated with Australians during lockdown last year makes the track way smarter than it deserves to be. It’s both ironically and unironically good.

11. On Our Own - Lime Cordiale

I’m happy the three best new tracks of Lime Cordiale’s debut were the highest placing in this countdown. This really is a nice song.

10. Therefore I Am - Billie Eilish

Not my favourite songs from Billie but she continues to be consistently good. The production on this is immense as well.

9. I’m Good? - Hilltop Hoods

I wish old school Hilltop could hear this so could prevent themselves every going this direction. Aussie Hip Pop is not a good genre. This is one of their worst tracks yet.

8. Sending Me Ur Loving - The Jungle Giants*

This song has so much flavour too it. It’s so funky and fun and the production is so tight. Also the guitar work is underrated here, not doing much but adding that icing on the cake.

7. Hyperfine - G Flip

Every time I hear this track (and I’ve heard it a lot) I completely forget about it a couple minutes later. G Flip is good, but this is forgettable.

6. WAP (feat. Megan Thee Stallion) - Cardi B

I understand if this isn’t your style, but I love it. I don’t think there’s ever been a song with so many quotable moments. Every line makes a statement that will get in your head. My personal favourite? “ I let him taste it, now he diabetic”.

5. Lost In Yesterday - Tame Impala

There’s a lot of songs on ‘The Slow Rush’ I like, but Lost In Yesterday I’ve always found kinda boring. It feels a little uninspired. Surprised that this was the album’s big hit.

4. Cherub - Ball Park Music*

BPM have released some great music over the decade but I think this is their best yet. It’s beautiful, emotional and has a fantastic, cathartic breakdown at the end. I love a good build up. 

3. The Difference (feat. Toro y Moi) - Flume*

Everything about this track is why Flume has been so great for so long. This track is great for any situation. If I’m partying, I play it. If I’m relaxing, I play it. If I’m getting pumped up, I play it. If I’m sad, I play it. Flexibility matters.

2. Booster Seat - Spacey Jane

OHHH-OH-OHHHHHHHH AND IT FEELS LIKE THAT AGAIN! One of the best sing-a-long tracks of the year, yet massively emotional. Like damn this song is rough.

1. Heat Waves - Glass Animals*

If I had one word to express how I feel about this winning I would say “deserved”. Not many tracks were as perfect for 2020 as this one. Glass Animals love writing absolute bangers with emotional cores and this one is one of their strongest tracks. Glass Animals just continue to outdo themselves.

That’s it for now, gonna maybe start posting again. I dunno. See how I feel. Ta-ta.

[skrltwtch]

Muse

Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.

Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didn’t expect to become friends, and they definitely didn’t expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.

Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but it’s not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)

Word count: 3,721 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by ‘reading’, I meant ‘scrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindle’. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem …?

Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldn’t be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than I’d dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones I’d been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.

My heart skipped a beat — or was it the pothole the bus went over? — when I came across a new post by George. I didn’t know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadn’t social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.

It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him — or what I knew about him — wasn’t beholden to anyone for a moment.

His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: ‘Mood.’ I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.

An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances he’d read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. I’d be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or he’d see my homely mug and locked profile, and he’d think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.

The beauty of the Internet was that it made ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fairly easy to put into practice.

I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: ’Hi! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. There’s something so … raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. They’re beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.’

I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something that’d never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldn’t were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from —

‘Oh, my God!’ I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance’ at half of maximum volume, so … loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation — not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, you’d see some real shit in due time, too.

I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldn’t think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:

’Hey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, aren’t they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.’

I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet …

Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name — the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: ’Anyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.’

What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.

I replied, ’I’m fine, thank you. I’m on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?’

Most of my notifications that day were from him.

✦✧✦✧

I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so excited — and so, so nervous. This was my and George’s first time meeting each other in person. There’d be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? We’d been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. We’d seen each other even on our ‘I’ll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the best’ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well …

The sound of someone entering the café stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time it’d take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh — probably — time was the charm: it was George — and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn … just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.

I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him — and everything about us — clicked.

He was just like me.

And I was just like him.

And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.

‘Hi! Oh, my God, it’s so good to finally meet you!’ I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, that’d be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, that’d be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?

‘It’s good to meet you, too,’ he said, his expression of cheer unabating. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Do you want anything? My treat,’ he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.

‘I was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.’ I didn’t know why I didn’t get one earlier. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’

As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldn’t make this shit up. In all the years I’d been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didn’t even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own — I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.

Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was ‘I never thought I’d meet another one like me’.

I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. ‘Me neither.’ Then it hit me, and I quickly said, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though.’ Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.

‘Are you kidding me?’ His face lit up with boyish glee. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And I’m so fucking chuffed it’s you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.’ It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.

‘Same. How were you turned?’

‘I was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?’

‘Secondary school. I was walking home from the library.’

‘Shit, that was some time ago, huh?’

‘Almost half my life a werewolf.’

‘Do you know the werewolf that did it?’

‘Nope. How about you?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it, that you’ll never get to know the person who’s changed your life so … deeply? They won’t remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.’ He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. ‘I struggled with what I’d become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.’ Oh, yeah. ‘I felt … grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didn’t want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. That’s extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didn’t ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasn’t there the night before.’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘Right? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. I’d started some of my art — bet you can’t guess which one — on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. It’s as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.’ He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. ‘Sorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.’ Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘Shit, I’m such an’ — he shot me an impish look as he swallowed — ‘animal, aren’t I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!’

I laughed. He was such a dork. ‘It’s not “spiritual woo-woo”. It’s amazing. How is that even possible?’

‘I have no idea.’ He held out his hands in front of him. ‘So thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.’ He waggled his thumbs. ‘Fuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say it’s like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.’

‘And here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, that’s amazing.’

‘I think that’s what’s keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering they’re such far departures from what I usually post.’

‘That explains why they’re so … visceral.’

‘Yeah? I figure you’d appreciate them even more now.’ He smirked. ‘And you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didn’t make them blurry and made them more explicit …’ Oh, he’d get a different breed of followers altogether. ‘But that’s fine. I don’t want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. It’s just a part of who I am.’

‘My turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because … they make me feel seen, because they’re drawn by you.’

He put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s not corny. I’m happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I don’t care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.’ He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. ‘Did you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. That’d be giving me way too much credit.’

‘No, I just thought you like wolves a lot.’

‘Same here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time … that made me feel something, too.’

‘Then I’m very glad we got to be friends,’ I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.

‘Me too.’ He turned his hand over and clasped mine.

‘I have an idea,’ I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. ‘Do you want to meet on the next full moon?’

‘Sure. I can’t wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.’

‘Your place, then?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you’re cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasn’t happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesn’t like change?’

I stared at him in disbelief.

‘I can’t help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.’

We sat and talked in the café the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didn’t want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldn’t let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. It’d be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didn’t think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.

✦✧✦✧

I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, we’d been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didn’t question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each other’s company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not George’s presence, was what I’d been missing all my life?

My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didn’t get to turn into something more: he’d had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.

We wished each other a good morning with a kiss — no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, ‘Do you want to see what I painted last night, love? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’d love it, too.’

I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.

He returned as quickly as he’d left the table. His hands held on to a painting … of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed he’d ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, tearing up a little, frankly. ‘I love it. It’s going to look so good in our new place’, along with the recent paintings he’d made of a similar nature. He’d come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his — our — condition on canvas.

‘Of course, when I have the most stunning model.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘I love you, my muse, my mate.’

[heresathreebee]

Garrote part 4

[Starz Power Diego Jimenez X Jazmine Mann (Black!OC)]

Warning(s): Mature (+17), sexual tension, graphic violence and language. Previous Masterlist Next

Word Count: 2.3k words

AN: Surprise bitches! I'm an impatient bastard and couldn't wait anymore. This picture is finally appropriate (speaking of, assume all photos for this series are not created by me unless specifically stated otherwise). 

@nicke0115 @1zashreena1 @mental-bycatch

Something Nice turned out to be a dress Jazmine bought two years ago. A floral print with white petals she was sure a guy like Diego would laugh at. He still hadn't told her what he wanted with her, so she brought a change of shoes depending on the occasion. He got caught up in some work stuff, so the meeting had to wait until the morning. When he texted her the address, she wheezed. When she rolled up into the lobby, she gasped. It screamed elitist big money in every way from the high ceiling to the marble floors. A man who worked for the Jimenez's led her to the elevator, punching in a code for the right floor and stood silent as a statue. A dangerous, beefy, ranch-smelling statue. 

It's impossible to say why she expected anything less than the secure ritzy elevator to open straight into the home like a front door. There were voices in the room that the bodyguard led her away from, taking her up the stairs and planting her square in front of a door at the end of a hall. 

"Stay here." 

Jazmine did not enjoy waiting. She tapped her foot until her leg cramped, she stretched, she tried the door (locked), and she tried to guess what year the paintings on the wall were made. It was probably pay back. When Diego did show his face, he had the audacity to look surprised to see her. 

"What kept you?" 

"Just business," he said smiling. Bastard. "Inside." 

He let her enter first and it wasn't a bedroom like she had anticipated. There were large picture windows on the northwest corner of the room and a grand piano, other furniture suggesting a kind of study like a bookshelf and an armored cash (she knew a weapons locker when she saw one). Diego's hand slotted itself on her waist as he locked the door behind them. 

"Want to take some pictures," he said by way of explanation. 

"What kind of pictures?" 

Diego smiled cryptically. Jazmine did not miss the way he appraised her form, fingering the soft fabric of her dress before backing up. He pulled his phone from his pocket and snapped a candid before she could stop him. He turned the screen her way, showing her own face in the amazing lighting and quality. 

"Nice, right? Sit down." 

He waited until she was situated on the piano bench before he took a seat of his own. She watched him set the picture as his home screen and shook her head. "We can do better than that." 

She missed the big, cocky smile he pulled when he said, "what do you have in mind?" 

"A guy like you? With a picture of a clothed woman in your phone? Unlikely." 

Diego hummed playfully. "I don't think your clothes are the problem." 

There was a huge plush bean bag next to the smaller book stand under the window. An odd choice for such high class taste, but it didn't look like this room got much use anyways. Diego plopped down on top of it like he had just come home from a long day at work. He looked up at her from between his legs, and beckoned her with a crooked finger. 

"Right here," he patted the inside of his thigh. Jazmine wasn't sure if he wanted her to sit in his lap or... but then he said, "on your knees," and she fell easily into position. "You look pretty like that. Haven't asked me what the pictures are for yet." 

Jazmine shrugged, picking up his phone and snapping a picture of him for herself. "I've already got ten ideas for how to use these. My back up plans have back up plans, but I usually go with the flow. It's saved my ass this long…" 

He hummed, motioned for the phone. "You trust me?" 

Jazmine tensed up immediately. "Yeah." 

His movements were slow as he reached up for the back of her head. Gently, he pulled her down until her cheek rested against his clothed thigh, her chin practically inches from his zipper. He watched her gulp but she didn't pull away and he let her go free. 

"That's a good one. Come here." He pulled her up into a wet kiss and she melted into it. He licked his way into her mouth and swirled his tongue around her plush lips until he was satisfied with how shiny and swollen they became. Jazmine settled back instantly into position, proper her hands on his thighs for support as she posed. If his pants were loose, the sight would be obscene. As it happened, he tried not to move too much as the space in his pants became too tight. Diego snapped a couple of pictures, frustrated he couldn't get far enough to get the framing right. She watched him lean his head back to get it right and she couldn't help but laugh. 

"Alright, alright. We done?" 

"One more." Oh, the way she crawled up his body should not have felt so good. She sat her plump rump right over the button of his jeans and he bit his lip to stop from groaning. Jazmine sat up on her knees, sinking into the bag and snapping the perfect picture. "There." 

He could tell she was doing something, her fingers flashed over the screen and he resisted the urge to snatch it from her hands. Her eyes lit up as a notification sounded and just as quickly her eyes averted. He saw as he took the phone she had her contact open, sending herself her favorite pictures (the first and the last), and he also saw that Alicia needed him. 

"I gotta go," Jazmine announced as she headed for the door. 

"Don't get lost." She did a double take at the sudden turn in his demeanor. It sounded like a threat. Diego’s verbal threat paled in comparison to the ice cold, regal look a woman gave her on her way out. That was how Jazmine got her first look at Alicia Jimenez. 

~

Bored at work, Jazmine let her mind drift back to the morning. She couldn’t get it out of her head, the way his hands absentmindedly twirled the fabric in her skirt between his fingers when he could have easily done so and felt her up. It was intoxicatingly soft, especially for how cheap it was. She slapped some pants underneath it and wished she’d taken out her earrings before her shift– they itched now but if she put them in her pocket she’d never see them again. 

The flow of customers was that of a leaky drainage pipe. They often rolled in and out without so much as a look at her eyes or her name tag, some even going out of their way not to touch her and to turn their bodies sideways as if her existence offended them. Pricks. 

This last guy was acting extra suspicious. Young man with a hat, sunglasses, and a hood drawn up. He was wearing loose basketball shorts in the middle of winter and had his head on a constant swivel. Definitely going to rob the place. Snatch and runs were commonplace, but they hardly looked like this. He was too old not to know you needed a crew for the best haul. But then that means… 

Fucking kid had a gun on him and he was pointing it in Jazmine's face. The chips he had thrown down on the counter were forgotten in favor of the cash in the register– all the cash. He seemed like he was looking for the thrill rather than the kill, but the way he was waving his piece around, he hadn't had much gun safety training. She wasn't dumb enough to try and correct his form right now. Every second he took his eyes off her to scan the area and the barrel of the gun drifted away from her person, she was able to breathe. He ran out the back door. 

Now came the real worst part. Yeah, almost getting shot over $87 wasn't the worst part– calling her boss was. He didn't like his employee's making reports to the police, they had to go through him. Jazmine knew he was into some shady shit, she never felt curious enough to have a look. She barely even registered how long the grown man had been screaming in her face when she heard the door open. 

"Sir we're temporarily closed--"she started to say until she turned to see Diego standing there. 

"What," Frank huffed, "no we are not closed– sir, take as much time as you need, we'll be with you in just a moment." 

Jazmine rolled her eyes. 'We' really meant 'she'. She didn't know how he expected to make change if we didn't have cash, but then something strange happened. 

"This guy bothering you, baby?" Jazmine did a double take. Diego was leaning dangerously over the counter and had locked eyes with Frank. Her boss actually gulped. Taking control of the situation, Jazmine pulled Frank's ass around the counter. Diego followed closely, mirroring their every step with an uncontrollable itch in his fingers. It was beginning to make her nervous. 

Frank turned to snap at Jazmine, "who the hell is this guy" when he came nose to nose with Diego himself. He looked like a panther baring his teeth, and Jazmine watched his hand disappear behind his back. She snatched his wrist, pushing him back to get between the two men. 

"Don't," she hissed in Diego's face. The cool metal of his gun sent tingles up her fingers. "Just my boyfriend, Frank. I asked him to take me home." 

"OK," Frank still sounded confused. Diego's hand slipped away from the gold plated handle of his gun and Jazmine stepped away to gather her bag and wrestle the vest from her shoulders. "Hold on– I didn't say you could go!" 

"Yes you did," she affirmed with a lie. Diego caught the bag thrown at him with a huff, and she fisted his shirt to push him backwards towards the alley exit. 

"No I didn't!" 

"Sure you did! I'll see you tomorrow." 

She knew Diego was pissed. But so was she. As soon as they were free from prying eyes, Jazmine stupidly punched the drug king in the arm. 

"You need to learn about something called boundaries!," she yelled. "From now on, there's gonna be rules about when and where you show up, and who you're allowed to shoot." 

"Eres loco?!" Diego's hand fisted in the collar of her dress and dragged up to look up at him. He pressed the barrel of his gun into her neck and crowded her into the wall of the building. "You think you can tell me what I can and can't do, little girl? Do you know who the fuck I am?" 

He put the gun down so he could slam her into the wall, harder this time until her eyes spun with stars. "You're fucking nothing, cabrona. Todo nada. Do you know how many drugs go through my organization into this city alone? How much money I make?" Jazmine's eyes screwed shut and she let out a loud and regrettable sound. "Are you really shushing me right now?!" 

Diego was about to put a bullet in her head when her hands flew up in surrender. The blow to the head had rocked her– if he wasn't holding her up, she would have fallen to her knees already. 

"I don't want to know about any of that stuff," she said. "I-I can't, Diego. You can't say shit like that around me." 

The man was at a loss. She truly amazed him with her audacity. He let her go as soon as holding her no longer interested him and she slid onto her butt to catch her breath. One hand clung to her throat and the other came up as if to protect her head from a bullet. He considered it, then put his piece away. Alicia would be furious if their deal with Healy fell through like this. For Porsche. 

Cooler heads prevailed. Diego only helped her stand so she would be easier to get into the car, and they drove in silence the whole way to her apartment. Not once did she look him in the eye or apologize, nor did he take his ferocious stare off of her person. Jazmine sighed in relief when the car finally stopped, but as she was climbing out, Diego caught her by the throat one more time and pulled her ear close. 

"I'm not your fucking boyfriend, Jazmine. We are not friends. Don't forget that, querida." 

~

Healy was waiting for her in her living room. His eyes drifted straight to the red marks rising at her pulse points and the soul crushing exhaustion in her eyes. He offered her a plate of pasta and let her eat in peace for a while. 

"I'm sorry, Jazmine. Really, I am." Healy kept his hands to himself, but he did offer Hercules a treat to keep her busy. "I'll have a talk with los Hermanos Jimenez so you don't have to be on the receiving end of another tantrum like that. The next time you see them, they'll be more careful about what they say around you." 

Tired and beaten, Jazmine merely nodded. 

"Make sure you charge your device. I can't help you if I can't hear you, sweetheart." He left in a moment and for once, she was so glad to be alone. 

[pickalilywrites]

i’m a bit late in posting this on tumblr, but here you go~ i hope you guys enjoy it until the end ^^ thank you for reading!

Can You Please Stay With Me? 

Rivetra. Modern AU. 

Can You Please Stay With Me? Series | i | ii 

4510 words. 

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Petra stares out the window of her office, looking at the clouds of gray. It’s cold and dull and gloomy, although not so different from the weather in the city she had left behind. She thinks. Now that she thinks about it, she’s not that sure what the weather was like in Shiganshina. She wants to say that it was the same, but she can’t remember the last time she had pulled out an umbrella before she came to Manchester. In all the memories she has of Shiganshina, she can remember clear blue skies and the sun peeking out behind skyscrapers, its light almost blinding, but that seems so long ago. Hadn’t it rained sometime in her last month there? It must have at least once or twice, she thinks, because how else would she be so familiar and unbothered by all this rain? 

With a frown, Petra pulls out her phone, tapping on the Instagram app and flipping through her profile. Her most recent photos, taken over a month ago, show the cityscape and beautiful weather - not a cloud in the sky. She flips through more: a photo of flowers blooming on a gorgeous spring day in the park, her rubbing a dog’s belly as it rolled around in the grass, her with an ice cream in hand. And her and Levi, sunglasses over his eyes and that perpetual scowl on his face. 

Petra slams her phone facedown on the table and buries her head in her hands. She should probably delete those photos from her phone, but she can’t bring herself to. She thought it would be fine to just keep them there just so long as she didn’t look at them, and she had done a pretty good job of that until now. Before, it had only been a couple of glances here and there. She wanted to see how much it would affect her, if seeing her ex-boyfriend’s face would ameliorate the throbbing in her chest. (It didn’t.) Eventually, Petra turned off the notifications on all her social media apps and only used her phone for the essentials - phone calls, text messages, and emails. It’s worked well for the most part, and she thought the distance would allow her to get better in time. Then again, the deep knife she felt in her chest just from a brief glance of her old boyfriend is probably a sign that she’s not doing as well as she thought she was. 

There’s a knock on her door - three short raps - and Petra looks up to see her coworker Anka at the door. Anka, meeting Petra’s eyes, flashes her a smile and lifts her hands up to show that they’re full of files and a plate full of pastries. She raises her eyebrows and mouths a bit apologetically, “Door?” 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice you earlier,” Petra says as she opens the door, a bit frazzled. For a brief second, she wonders if she’s forgotten to go to a meeting, but Anka merely laughs her off. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Anka says. The woman sets down the files on Petra’s desk, placing the plate of desserts on top of it. She collapses onto the extra seat Petra keeps in her office and yawns. “Ah, I noticed you weren’t looking too well today, so I decided to grab you a few snacks from the break room. I was going to get some coffee too, but the last time I tried something like that I spilled it all over my trousers. I swear there’s still a stain on it even though I’ve washed it out half a dozen times, but Mitabi tells me he can hardly see a difference from how it was before.” 

“Ah, thank you,” Petra says. She takes a lemon square without much thought, regretting immediately after the first bite. How can something taste so intensely sweet and tart at the same time? She wishes, for a brief moment, that Anka had brought the coffee too, but the thought makes her feel ungrateful so she swallows down the tangy pastry and mumbles a quick “delicious!” between gritted teeth. 

Anka gives her friend a sympathetic smile and pats Petra’s hand kindly. “The bakery never quite gets lemon squares right. Or maybe you need to be in a certain type of mood to enjoy them. Pixis adores them, but he’s quite batty at times,” Anka says, and she speaks about their employer with such affection in her voice that even Petra manages a smile. Anka reaches for a pastry horn that’s dusted in sugar and stuffed to the brim with custard cream. “Here, try this one instead.” 

“I’m not sure-” Petra begins, but Anka is already shoving the pastry into Petra’s open mouth leaving her no choice but to eat it. Anka is right - it’s much better than the lemon square was. The shell of the pastry is crisp and buttery, and the custard cream is so rich and velvety in comparison. She should ask Anka for the name of the bakery so that she can visit it sometime, do some exploring around Manchester like she had meant to do when she first arrived, but for some reason, it slips her mind. “Ah, it’s good,” Petra finally says. 

“Good, eat another one,” Anka commands. She doesn’t stop watching Petra until she sees the ginger reach for another puff pastry horn. Anka picks out a small tart - it’s probably only two inches wide but it’s filled with a fragrant pink jam and has berries piled on top - and takes a delicate bite. “I thought it might do you good. You’ve been glum for a while now. I’m thinking it might be the weather. A lot of people who move here get like that once they come to Manchester because it’s so gloomy all the time. They call it … SAD? Seasonal affective disorder or something.” 

“SAD?” Petra repeats. It’s difficult for her to process all of the words coming out of Anka’s mouth. For some reason, she feels unbearably exhausted and wants nothing more than to go home and sleep bundled under all her blankets. She would blame it on the time of day or the week ending, but it’s Tuesday morning and she really has no excuse. When she realizes that Anka is still watching her, Petra hastily shakes her head. “Ah, no … I think I’m still adjusting to life here. It’s a little lonely, I guess, moving so far away.” 

“Mmm, homesickness,” Anka says with a knowing nod. She leans over Petra’s desk, resting an elbow on it. “That’s pretty common, too. Do you talk to anyone back home? Video call or just on the phone?” 

No. She’s only talked to her father since she’s landed in Manchester. If a notification on her phone popped up from someone else, she would swipe it away, disappointed that it wasn’t who she wanted it to be. Petra had sworn that she would get to them later. It’s just that flying overseas, moving in, and getting adjusted to her new job left her with very little energy to respond to messages. But then a night went by and then a few days and now it’s been a week and a half since she’s received those messages. Her friends probably think she’s dead or at the very least ignoring them. God, she’s terrible. 

“I can never find the time,” Petra says with a rueful smile. 

“Then take time off,” Anka says easily with a wave of her hand. “Oops.” She frowns when a smidge of powdered sugar lands on her pantsuit and begins to hastily swipe away at it. 

“Time off? I just came two weeks ago. It wouldn’t look good to take a vacation so soon even if it’s only for a day,” Petra says. She offers Anka a tissue although she doesn’t think it’ll help much. 

“You came into work the day after your plane landed. People usually give themselves at least a week to settle in before coming into work.” Anka rubs at her trousers with the tissue but it hardly does anything aside from rub the sugar deeper into the fabric. She sighs and stuffs the rest of the tart in her mouth. Holding a hand over her mouth, Anka says, “At least just take the rest of this day off. You really look like you need it, and nothing makes Pixis unhappier than overworked employees.” 

“Really?” Petra says, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, he doesn’t like it when I swipe all the sweets from the break room either, but he eats more of these than he should. And he doesn’t know I’m the one that takes these anyway.” Anka wipes her fingers on the tissue before disposing of it in the trash can sitting beside Petra’s desk. She gets up, straightening out her suit, and then looks at Petra. “Now, come on. I’ll see to it that you leave before you tire yourself out working. I swear Pixis won’t mind. And I’ll give Gelgar your work to do, so don’t worry about that one bit.”

Both of Petra’s eyebrows are raised this time but Anka waves her off. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I’ll give him the rest of the pastries too.” Anka grabs the plate of pastries and the folders that she had originally meant to give to Petra. She smacks her lips when she looks at the leftover goods. “Ah, yes. Plenty of lemon squares leftover. He won’t be able to resist.” 

Although she tries not to, Petra still giggles when Anka gives her a roguish wink. 

It’s much less funny when Petra’s outside of the office building, walking along the streets of Manchester wondering why on earth she agreed to take a half-day. She could traverse the city, perhaps seek out a cute trinket shop and buy something adorably useless for Anka as a thank you. Maybe she should go exploring to find that pastry shop, the one with the delicious custard cream horns. Petra could even just visit the tourist attractions, like the lovely canal she’s heard about in Castlefield or that lovely cathedral near the Irwell river that she’s passed by a half dozen times but has never bothered to actually venture into. But she always finds some reason or other not to go to each of these places. Anka probably doesn’t want something impractical as a gift and Petra doesn’t need more knick-knacks crowding her apartment when she hasn’t even unpacked her luggage yet. Finding the pastry shop is a bad idea since she’s just stuffed herself with desserts not even fifteen minutes ago. And the others … well, she’s not quite in the mood for sightseeing and she’s met enough locals to know that tourists are a bit of a nuisance in Manchester. She knows these are all excuses. This only leaves her with two options: go straight home and mope in her apartment among her boxes of unopened belongings or wander aimlessly around the city. 

Petra hates her apartment. Well, it’s a bit too soon to say whether she hates her apartment or not, but she knows she already dislikes being there. She’s eaten out at restaurants for dinner every night since she’s arrived, saying that she didn’t want to dirty up the kitchen before she finished unpacking. Really, she’s only made her bed (i.e. tossed all of her blankets and pillows onto the bed) and thrown all of her clothes in the closet. The rest of her things sit in luggage cases or boxes that she’s temporarily using as furniture, although it might soon be permanent if she doesn’t start unpacking. Petra blames it on the sudden wave of exhaustion she always feels when she gets home and sees all of her belongings waiting to be unpacked, but she knows it’s not the real reason. It’s just that she can’t fathom the idea of all of her things being put in their proper place and calling this apartment her new home. It would feel empty. It would feel wrong. And that’s the problem, really. 

Petra had attempted to unpack her things the first night, but she found it was impossible. She only opened one box before she wondered how she could possibly arrange all of her belongings while still making sure that Levi still had space for his home office. The cold realization that she wouldn’t have to worry about that hit her a second too soon and she quickly shut the box. She never thought to unpack since then except only to tell herself that she would do it later even though she knew she never would. 

It’s no use thinking about this, Petra tells herself, shaking her head. Others pass by her, watching as she breaks down internally, but Petra ignores them. She thinks about other things. Like how absolutely freezing it is even though she has a million layers on. It’s not raining or snowing. It’s just dreary and glum. What is that Anka said again? Seasonal affective disorder? Ah, that might be it, but Petra has a feeling that she’d still feel terrible even if the clouds parted and the sun began to shine. 

Maybe it’s best to occupy her mind some other way. She can count imaginary sheep. She can count the windows from every shop she passes by. She can count clouds; there are so many today. She settles on counting her steps instead, watching her feet as she does so, but thoughts of Levi interrupt her between each count. 

One. Levi’s hair, a dark black like spilled ink. Two. Levi’s eyes, always narrowed and a stormy gray. Three. Levi’s brow, thin and furrowed, making it seem as if he’s perpetually displeased. Four. Levi’s nose, the curve of its bridge and its rounded tip. Five. Levi’s mouth, constantly set in a thin line. Six. Levi’s rare smile, the small upturn of it almost imperceptible but most definitely there upon a second glance. Seven. Levi’s shoulder, unexpectedly broad for someone of his stature, but perfect for leaning on after a long day. Eight. Levi’s arms, strong and sturdy, holding her tight. Nine. Levi’s chest, his heart thumping against his ribcage as Petra leaned back against him. Ten. Levi’s hands, his fingers intertwining with hers as they sat together on the couch, mindlessly watching another sitcom they’ve watched a dozen times before. 

Petra can’t tell if she feels better or worse remembering him. If she has to say, she supposes it’s about the same except remembering him is far more effortless than forgetting him will ever be. Levi’s not someone she can erase from her mind with a flip of a switch. Forgetting someone should happen naturally, the distance allowing the memories to fade over time, but is Levi someone she can ever really forget? Every detail of him is imprinted in her mind, and to take it all away would leave her feeling emptier than she feels now. Is it the same for him too? She had always assumed that it would be hardest for the person left behind, although she can’t say for certain who is who. 

He left you in the end, remember? He was the one who let you go, Petra reminds herself, but that doesn’t sound quite right. Maybe she should have said something to convince him to come with her, or maybe he should have tried harder to make her stay. If they had tried more, would it hurt less? She tries to remember that last night they had seen each other. Levi had told her he was leaving as casually as someone would talk about the weather, and she watched him go. He didn’t even cast her one last glance before he left. She should be remembering those details - how he had packed all of his things without her knowing, how he spoke to her with such indifference, and how he had left so easily - but she doesn’t. Instead, another memory slips into her mind. 

It was a week after Petra had landed in Manchester and she had just gotten off a call with her father. Even now, she can’t quite recall what they talked about. It was probably something about the weather or maybe about how much they missed each other. Her thoughts were elsewhere, though. She was thinking about Manchester and how the bustling city, one of the largest in England, felt so lonely. Shiganshina was a big city too, but it never felt as lonely as Manchester. For a brief second, she thought of phoning a friend. Maybe it would help to hear a familiar voice. Maybe it would help to hear Levi’s voice. Maybe it would help to hear him say that he misses her too. 

No, Petra thought with a shake of her head. It would be a step back from all the progress she had made after moving here even if she felt as if she was still holding on. And yet she still couldn’t stop herself from staring at her phone screen, her finger hovering over Levi’s contact because she had never been able to erase him from her phone. She nearly dropped her phone when it began ringing, Levi’s name flashing across the screen. 

Her first instinct is to accept the call, her thumb ready to swipe at her screen, but she hesitates at the last moment. There wasn’t any reason for Levi to be calling her. There was no reason for her to pick up. They've already parted ways. If he was calling her, it must be a mistake, she thought, because Levi wasn’t petty enough to call her back and demand any of his belongings that might have gotten lost during the move. She wondered if she should hang up now or let it go straight to her voicemail. After all, he just called her by mistake. 

But what if he didn’t? Petra wanted to ignore the nagging voice in her head, but the more she tried the louder it became. Impulsively, she swiped at her phone and held it up to her cheek. “Levi?” she asked, breathless. 

There were no words on the other side. She heard the wind as it brushed by. She could hear the rush of city life in the distance. She could hear someone breathing steadily on the other side. But there were no words. And, yet, she somehow knew it was Levi from the way he breathed. It was too familiar for her to not know. 

“Levi,” she said, but again he said nothing. It seemed odd for him to call her by mistake and not say anything - not even to apologize or tell her that he hadn’t meant to dial her number - so he must have called her for a reason. But if he called her for a reason … why wasn’t he speaking? Worried, she asked, “Are you alright?” 

Again, there was no answer. There was just the sound of Levi’s breathing, in and out and in and out. Petra had always liked the rhythm of his breathing, slow and steady. She would listen to it as she fell asleep. Even now it was soothing despite the circumstances. They stayed like that for a moment, just listening to each other breathe, but it ends with a sudden click and Petra was forced to face the fact that she was alone once more. 

It’s been a week since then, and Petra still doesn’t know what to make of that call. More than once she’s thought of calling Levi back and asking him about it, usually at night when he’s the only thing on her mind. She’s never gone through with it though. If it really had been a mistake, then it explains why Levi didn't call her back after that first time. Even if she were to call him up just to clarify, she would only end up looking like a fool for waiting so long just to make sure. Instead, she spends the night staring at her phone screen, turning it on and off every now and again just to check, and wishes for Levi to call her again even though she knows she shouldn’t. 

Petra glances down at her phone once more just as it begins to buzz. It startles Petra, nearly making her drop her phone again, but she sees that it’s only Anka calling. Catching her breath, Petra stops at the bridge she was about to cross, leaning against the railing. She feels the strangest mixture of disappointment and relief as she picks up. 

“Hi, Anka,” Petra says. She looks out across the river, watching the boats pass by. Her fingers fiddle with the buttons on her coat. “Is everything alright?” 

“Ah, yeah,” Anka says, but she sounds distracted. After a moment, Anka says, “Someone came into the office just now and asked to see you. He said he knew you from back in Shiganshina. Levi? I told him you already left, but I didn’t know if he was someone you wanted to see so I didn’t tell him anything else.” 

Petra can feel her heartbeat begin to pick up speed and she clutches at her chest with a hand. “Levi?” she asks. She pushes herself off the railing, her feet already carrying her where she needs to go. “Did he leave already?” 

“Yeah. He mumbled an apology and left, but he didn’t say where he was going,” Anka replies. “He left a few minutes ago, but I’m not sure how far away he is from the office now.” 

She’s jogging now, but Petra knows that she’ll be sprinting soon. “I’ll call you later. I have to do something,” Petra tells Anka, already pocketing the phone as she hangs up. In the hour since she’s left work, she’s probably walked three, possibly even four, miles across the city. Petra’s not sure how she has the energy to run back towards her workplace, but she won’t question it. As long as she gets to where she wants to go as quickly as possible, that’s all she really cares about. 

It takes a certain madness to run across a city, but Petra’s been losing her mind for the past two weeks and this breakdown is long overdue. She ignores puzzled looks from the people she runs past, excusing herself hurriedly when she finds herself pushing past a few of them when she hits a crowd. The back of her heels dig at her ankles and she knows she’ll be looking at blisters and cuts later tonight, but she clenches her jaw and runs anyway. The city becomes a blur the faster Petra runs, and she can feel her legs burning with every step she takes but she can’t seem to stop. She doesn’t know what would happen if she were to stop running, but she’s scared to find out. She can’t remember the last time she’s run this fast. Even when she was a teenager Petra hadn’t been able to run this quickly. Then again, she’s never really had anything worth running towards. 

She’s not sure when she stops, leaning against a railing by the river to catch her breath. Her heels have cut through her stockings and into her heels. She doesn’t have to check to see if they’re bleeding. Frustrated, Petra kicks them off even though she knows she’ll regret it later. Petra grabs onto the railing with one hand, panting heavily. It’s so stupid for her to think that she could have run that way. She’s only been running for ten minutes and she couldn’t have crossed more than a mile in that time. Maybe she really is crazy. 

Still huffing, Petra pulls her phone out of her pocket. In all the madness, she hadn’t thought of trying to call Levi. It makes far more sense than running across a city only to find that he’s already gone. Hell, he might have gone already, moved on after being told she had left work early as if she had anticipated his arrival and left on purpose, but they’ve avoided each other enough. Petra thinks it’s about time they’ve talked. 

Petra calls Levi, holding her breath as she holds the phone up to her ear to listen to the dull ring as she waits for him to pick up. She counts the seconds as she waits, hoping to distract herself, but she can’t even remember what comes after one. Instead, she waits anxiously, her free hand gripping at her coat as she waits. The spaces between each ring seem to take longer and longer, and Petra can feel her heart sink with every passing second. It’s almost about the last ring when she hears a voice calling her name. 

“Petra?” 

She looks at her phone, confused when she sees that Levi has still not picked up. For a second, she thinks she had just imagined Levi’s voice, but it’s too vivid for her to have conjured up on her own. 

“Petra!” 

Her head snaps up, looking towards where she had heard the voice this time. It’s so surreal seeing Levi running towards her, almost as out of breath as she is. As he comes closer, she hears Levi’s familiar ringtone - one of the generic ones that were programmed into the phone because Levi could never be bothered to change it - and she hears her own call going to voicemail. Petra swipes her phone with her thumb, hanging up, and drops her phone in her pocket. 

“Levi,” she says slowly. She steps towards him tentatively, unsure if this is all real or if she’s finally cracked. “What are you doing here?” 

“Sorry I’m late,” Levi says quietly, voice breaking slightly. He steps toward her, and Petra sees that he looks the same as ever. The bags under his eyes are a little bit darker, his hair is a mess like he had forgotten to comb it, and his face is a little thinner, but there’s that same smile on his face when he sees her, the corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. 

Petra’s lip trembles and she can feel tears coming. “I missed you,” she says as a single tear rolls down her cheek. 

Levi reaches his hands out, holding hers. “I know. I missed you too.” He pulls her in and wraps his arms tightly around her. He lets her sob into his coat and he reaches up to stroke her hair with his hand. “I’m sorry I took so long. I had to say goodbye to some people.” 

“That’s good,” Petra mumbles into the wool of his coat. She’s happy, she really is, even as she’s crying. “Levi, that’s so good.” 

They should probably talk more - about Levi’s sudden arrival, about where he’s going to stay, about whether or not they’re going to be okay - but that can wait. For the first time in a long time, Petra no longer feels empty. She no longer feels alone. For the first time in a long time, Petra feels as if she’s come home. 

[halcyonnhood]

Alumni Band (Michael Clifford)

Summary: Nellie and Michael were best friends in high school and in marching band. They reunite through alumni band. Platonic love.

Word Count: 2.1k

Rating: literally PG.

Warnings: me being a soft bitch

Authors Note: I'm back from the dead for .02 seconds. I wrote this while manic and haven't bothered editing it. Incase people aren't aware of what Alumni band is: it's basically just graduates of marching band getting back together and performing (usually.) I'm going off my experience, I literally just did alumni band in October (I was the second youngest.) and we always go to practices and then perform together with the high school band for homecoming games. Tons of fun. I'm also scared people won't like this as much because it isn't romantic and doesn't include smut. Fun. Enjoy!

I will probably make a second part in the future which might be romantic, but I'll probably stick with some platonic!Mikey. Double bonus, Nellie is a plus size character. I didn't feel the need to explicitly say that in this part. We'll explore that in the second.

The band room still smells musty and sweaty, a smell that somehow comforts Nellie Reed. It's been years since she had last stepped into her second home, but everything still looks the same. Chairs were still set in messy rows, music stands placed out of the way in the corner, and there are crumbs everywhere (despite the ‘no eating’ policy). There's a couple of new photos placed randomly along the walls, a disney world trip from 2018, the new drum major beaming proudly with majorettes. It brings back memories of her own high school years and how much she genuinely misses marching band. Of course she does, she wouldn't cancel plans for nothing. She only does it for homecoming week anyhow.

The rest of the alumni band seems to be taking their sweet ole’ time. To be fair, some of them are very old. Nellie has already paced laps around the room multiple times. Looked at photos. Peeked into the uniform closet, viewed the same old uniforms, and quickly shut the door before the odor could become too pungent. After all, the poor cotton uniforms only get dry cleaned twice a year and sadly they still smell like sweaty teens. She pulls out a music stand and takes out her piccolo to get some practice in. Well, that was the plan before a few frames beside the director's podium catches her attention. Upon closer inspection the first frame holds a picture of her, Kellen Loxley, and Michael Clifford at their final senior football game. It had been rainy and cold, both her and Kellen falling multiple times in the mud, yet the three of them were laughing in the picture. Her heart swells at the sight, she had never been so happy and content until that night. The second frame showed Hadden Beaupre's smiling face, she knew why the picture had remained there years after their graduation. He had died a couple nights before graduation after getting in a car wreck with Nellie and Michael. And the picture captures exactly how she remembers him, red curly hair spilling onto his forehead, freckles speckled across his dimpled cheeks, and green eyes shining brightly. God, she missed him. She missed them all.

Her introspective thinking is abruptly interrupted, “Staring at his dopey smile was probably your biggest downfall, ya know?”

She immediately recognizes the voice. She honestly believes that she could identify him anywhere.

“You're just jealous I stared at him, Clifford.” Nellie chuckles. She turns around to be met with none other than her high school best friend. Except he wasn't a teenager anymore and he definitely filled out his once awkward, gangly body.

“Me? Jealous? I could never.” Michael chuckles.

“Whatever you say. I didn't even think you'd show up,” She comments, “Let alone with bubblegum pink hair,”

Michael let's out a laugh, “Can you blame me? I know Jennings hates it and it'll be a good laugh. He can't make me bleach my hair like the good old days,”

“You're the dumbass who would dye it weekly despite knowing the rules,” She rolls her eyes. “I'm surprised you aren't bald from all the chemicals,”

Michael was trying to come up with a witty comeback when the double doors swing open and their old band director peeks his head in, “The rest of the alumni are on the field, apparently they still can't follow directions,”

The practice isn't going as smoothly as it did in high school. Nellie's section is filled with ditzy, forgetful thirty and forty year old women who rely on her to teach them everything. They forgot the very basics, but she's kind and teaches them anyway. While she's helping a woman named Janice with arm swings, she makes eye contact with Michael who is giving her a “are you serious?” look. She just shrugs and gives him a frown, because honestly, this sucks. Michael just smiles from across the field and it sends her back to their freshman year. It had been hot, both of them exhausted and ready to go back home, but they still found enough energy to mouth words to each other and make silly expressions. He looks the same, with dyed hair and his neck strap hanging to display his silver saxophone. It HAD to be silver, his fourteen year old self had claimed. It's unique, unlike every other boring gold saxophone. Of course the boy wanted to stand out, even his hair shows that.

“Will I see you at the game?” Michael questions after practice.

“Do you really have to ask?” Nellie gives him her signature smile. The one reserved just for him.

He chuckles, “It's not polite to assume things,”

“Of course you'll see me there, Mikey.”

The week passes right before Nellie's eyes, it feels that way, but she knows she's just giddy to see Michael again. The duo hasn't been the same since graduation, while at one time they used to be inseparable, now she's lucky to get a text once a month. It was usually saying about the same thing each month, “Hey, I hope you're doing well Nel. Hopefully I'll be home soon. 🖤” Except he never really came home until this week. She wanted to be mad at him, she should be mad at him, but she's too understanding for that. They're both adults with adult lives and that's okay. His adult life is just a little more exciting than her own though, a famous band, cool ass friends, and screaming girls willing to fall at his feet.

Nellie had a pretty bland life in comparison. She stayed in the same small, dead end town working as the city schools music therapist and occasional music teacher. While he was out touring the world and being rich, she was earning two dollars above minimum wage and eating microwavable dinners in her one bedroom apartment. She just wishes she could have the comfort of having Michael closer. At one time it was a reasonable wish, now it seems like too much to ask.

Michael is going to arrive at the high school late. According to the text that he had sent her. It's half expected, he was never on time to begin with and some things never change, she knows that. It isn't a big deal, yet Nellie can't help but feel a little hurt. She just wants to talk to him while getting ready, but the man is nowhere to be found and she's surrounded by strangers again. Not how she wants her night to go and definitely not what she had pictured happening. She had pictured getting there early together and having half of the evening to fool around and act like teenagers again, he had other priorities in place though. And she is definitely not one of them.

Nellie glances down at her phone for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. He hadn't bothered texting her again and there's only twenty minutes until pregame. And while she loves her best friend, she can feel anger and disappointment stirring up deep in her chest. Michael had spent the past few days texting her consistently and talking about how excited he was to relive his old marching band days. How excited he was to spend the evening right along with her. The least he could do is actually fucking show up and she's not sure that he even would. So, she lines up for pregame with the flutes and tries to rid herself of the negative emotions. This is a night for fun and remembering why she was so passionate about music in the first place.

Pregame is still hell. It's not particularly long or challenging, but it's still tiring in its own way. It's only when the band is marching off the field that Nellie spots soft pink hair through the mass of uniforms and alumni. The sight makes her heart race much faster than the marching and crowd could have. The fact that he actually showed up almost cancels all the frustration from before and all she can focus on is getting close to him as soon as possible.

“You showed up,” Nellie says once the duo is sat comfortably in the band stands.

“I told you that I would,” Michael raises an eyebrow at the girl.  

“I was beginning to doubt that,”

“Nel, I have never lied to you” He tells her with a softer tone.

She just plays with the keys of her Piccolo, “Yeah, you do Mike. You usually do every time you claim you'll come home.”

“You know I can't help that. I always make plans and things always pop up. I'm here now, let me make it up to you,”

“I really don't wanna talk about this anymore. I'm going to get hot chocolate, want some?” She asks while handing him her beloved instrument.

“We need to talk, I don't want things to be bad between us.”

“I don't want to now, Michael.”

Nellie wants to stay and talk, it's what she's been craving for months on end. To just cuddle up next to him and talk about everything they've missed. She wants to know all about his famous life, tours, and new friends. She wants to tell him all about her students and how she's successful in her own way. But she doesn't, she turns and walks down the bleachers stairs. Away from Michael and any bad moods that began to cloud her mind. She's just going to get them some hot chocolate and let the cold breeze cool her off before she goes back to him. Their friendship is something they both value and she doesn't want to ruin that due to bitter moods and hurt feelings. They'd work it out, they always do.

As promised, Nellie returns with hot chocolate and the two sip it in silence during the game. He doesn't bother trying to say anything else to her, but doesn't pull away when she cuddles up to him for warmth. They stay like that until halftime when they follow the high school band to warm up. Then onto field. The show feels natural and familiar, the one thing that both Nellie and Michael missed. Throughout the show she can occasionally see his pink hair moving smoothly across the field or see glints of his silver instrument. It fills her heart with nostalgia, no different than the rest of this week.

“I'm sorry I never come home,” Michael tells Nellie after the game.

She turns to watch the boy, his hair sticking to his forehead and green eyes studying her carefully, “I'm sorry that I was being a dick earlier. I was just kinda hurt that you were late. We don't get much time together.”

“I know. I wish it was different but with to-”

“Yeah, tour.” She cuts him off. “I would know more about that if you talked to me.”

“I should've made more time for you. I know,”

“I just want my best friend, Mike.” Nellie says and looks away from him.

Without warning, Michael pulls the shorter girl into his chest and hugs her tightly. She melts into the warm embrace and squeezes him softly.

“I can't take anymore time off. But I was thinking, why don't you take a little vacation and come with us for a month. Or two. I'll show you LA, you can see new places.” Michael tells her suddenly with wide eyes as if it surprises him too.

“Mikey,” Nellie whispers softly. “I have work and bills. I can't just leave like you can,”

A cheeky smile pulls at his pink lips, “And? Work for us,”

“Yes, because you totally need a music therapist,” Nellie rolls her eyes.

“We need…” Michael trails off, “Music lessons? You have a degree in music education.”

“Oh, so now a band with number one songs needs a music educator,” Nellie laughs at the thought. “Especially with all your famous friends,”

“Luke and Ashton can't read sheet music,”

“Luke plays piano,” She deadpans.

“By ear” Michael grins down at her. “You know that isn't proper. C'mon, Nellie.”

“As fun as that so-”

This time Michael cuts her off, “We'll pay double whatever this district offers. They really don't offer much, I would know, we both went here,”

“Fine.” Nellie grins.

Michael wraps his arms around her tightly and spins her around with joy. Nellie starts in a fit of giggles and hugs him tighter than ever before. She finally gets to see her best friend every single day. No more late nights waiting for texts and feeling let down when plans change. Suddenly doing Alumni band is the best decision she's ever made.

“I can't wait for you to meet the boys, Nel” Michael rambles, “You'll love them and oh my god all of the food in LA? To die for. I have so much to show you."

“I can't wait, Mikey."

[yandereshit]

Can I have a headcanon with v x reader were she uses his camera in secret and he finds out and she gets scared that he will get mad at her for using his camera without permission. Her pictures are really good almost as good as V.

Jihyun Kim x Reader: a photoshot.

I took like half of a year to get this done, but I HAVE.

Takes place in better times, after V’s surgery so it’s ALL PROPER AND HEALTHY I GUESS? IT SOMETIMES HAPPENS THAT V IS NOT BEING THE VICTIM? LIKE HE’S NORMAL? HOW??

…Anyway, hope u enjoy ewe;;;;

Photography was an art like no other. After all these years, you came to this conclusion, realizing that it was something nothing else could be compared to. 

It was a peculiar conclusion, for sure. Whenever you tried to persuade your point of view, you’d be met with an awkward silence, because of how photography has been mistreated by almost everyone you knew.

You could understand their reasoning; it seemed as though photography wasn’t even a kind of art. You’re not producing something new, the reasoning would be. You’re only standing there, taking photos. Everyone can take photos. With their phones even. 

But that was what made it so special.

Photography was difficult, because it was difficult to make it interesting; to make it clear that it’s not just a random shot, but a well-considered act, lasting less than a second, yet not incidental.

Having that deep in your mind, you’d wait patiently with the camera in your hands, as the sight around you changed. The light changed, the people passed by. You didn’t oversee the bird flying through the sky above the train station in front of you. The wind hit your hair the very moment a train appeared, barely meters from you, barely slowing down on the station it wasn’t going to stop on. 

Three shots. You knew what you wanted to achieve. 

The train passed by and you lowered the camera, curiously opening the file to see the result.

One of the pictures was exactly what you expected, and you felt amazingly proud of it. The light was perfect. The second was taken in the right moment, but your hand shook ever so slightly, making the picture blur a little. It looked weirdly appealing with this dose of randomness. You took the third a few moments too late, and the train was already gone. Shame. But the others still were something you could be proud of.

You wondered if the camera’s owner also had problems with catching the objects as he wished. Then you came to a conclusion that even in ten, twenty years, such a matter wouldn’t change. Nothing would be perfect.

Photography was difficult. 

You stared at the first photo for some time, smiling softly at how well it turned out. Then the second, wondering how come it still looked nice even though you made such mistake. 

You sighed, glancing at the watch on your wrist. You had to go back home.

You pressed your lips together, glancing at the camera. Without a second thought, you deleted all the photos you took this day. No one would know you took them. They’d just disappear.

You carefully put the camera in the special bag and hung the strap around your neck. Turning around, you left the train station behind, going towards the small, rented apartment you were living in.

The two of you: you, and your husband.

The apartment was cozy, placed nearby an art gallery you’d often visit. You didn’t doubt your husband would afford buying it without a trouble, but you considered moving places often so it wouldn’t really make a sense to spend that much money on it.

Today, you were living in Seul. Tomorrow, you may be living in Tokyo. The borders were no restrain.  

You sighed deeply, opening the door. 

“MC? Good you’re here. Did you see my came-“

The blue-haired man went out from your shared bedroom, and stopped in his tracks spotting you by the door, with the camera bag on your arm, impossible to hide at this point. 

You gulped, feeling your heart stop for a second. 

“Oh, you… took it” he said slowly, frowning for a brief moment. But you didn’t reply, feeling yourself shake slightly with nervousness. 

You shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t have taken his thing without his permission. And now he noticed that in the worst moment possible, because due to your recklessness, he wasn’t able to use the camera when he needed to.

“MC? Are you okay?”

He approached you and placed hands on your shoulders, shaking gently to tear you out from the daze.

“Hey, is everything alright?” 

You looked up at him, completely taken aback.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Huh?” He blinked. “Did you think I’d be mad?” he guessed. You extended your hand, wanting to give back his camera as soon as possible. He carefully took it and placed on the drawer right by the door. 

“You should be…”

“But why?” He smiled softly. “Every single thing I’ve got, belongs to you as well. We’re married, remember?” 

His soft voice made you close your eyes and sigh.

“I still should have told you, I just… didn’t… uh…”

“…didn’t want me to know?”

You grumbled lowly and he cupped your face in his hands, making you look at him just as his own eyes never left your face. His face was bright, ridden off worry, as if what happened, didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“It’s not that weird, really” he chuckled. “Artists often don’t want to share their art, for various reasons. I used to hide my own too.”

“It’s different though-”

“No, it’s not.” He grasped your hand and took the camera, leading you towards your shared bedroom. “Let’s get a closer look…”

“There’s no photos on it” you admitted and he blinked, glancing at the device. 

“Is that so…”

“I deleted them” you said, pressing your lips together nervously.He couldn’t help a chuckle escaping his throat. 

“You don’t have any?”

You looked away, a bit unwilling to actually answer. But at this point, it’s not like you had a choice. Would being dishonest even save you? You didn’t want to lie to him.

“I… do have a few” you admitted. Once ago, when he was absent for a few days, you actually had some time to put them on your pendrive. You never looked at them again, though. And it was a while ago… You didn’t really remember how they looked like, but you were more than sure your husband wouldn’t really like them, with the professional view he had. You were scared of what he’d say – scared that he’d force himself to be nice, while the works would be far from good.

“Hmm, that face tells me something” he smiled softly, not really bothered with the uneasiness you showed. He was warm and understanding, pulling you slowly and gently further and further, so you could share with him how you felt.

“You don’t have to show them to me, if you don’t want to… How about we take more instead?”

Your face flushed.

“I-I mean, I’m afraid that-”

“That they won’t be as good as mine?”

You nodded. Of course they wouldn’t be as good as his. Even if you had a few pictures that looked good in your opinion, you knew that if you were to take photos in front of him, your hands would shake. 

It’s not that you were just shy. You were… ashamed.

You were just an amateur. You may have liked your own works, but it was nothing in comparison to what he was doing. He was… a professional. 

Even though – just as you – all he learned, he did on his own.

Then what was the difference?

You didn’t really know. But it just felt as if there was one – a suffocating difference between your skills. 

“What… should I do?” you asked.

Jihyun gently took out the camera and put it in your hands, turning it on in one smooth motion.

“Is there anything you’d like to take a photo of now?”

You bit on your lip, realizing that the answer came to you right away. You knew what you wanted to take a photo of, it’s been a while since you had this idea, but you obviously never had a chance.

“You.”

A soft smiled brightened up the man’s features. 

“What should I do?” he asked, tilting his head to the side curiously.You nodded slowly to yourself, thinking for a good few seconds.

In fact, you were aware that your husband had a thing for lighting. His photos were recognizable, because every single one was different because of various angles and intensity of lights. Your photos were different, but they also contained something you were quite fond of: movement.

“Uh, I’d like you to go there” you announced calmly, pointing at the spot a few meters away, by the window. You were in the living room, the place was well-lightened and pretty in its beige aesthetic. 

The man nodded, turning around and going in the specified direction. But not even two seconds passed since he moved, when the familiar sound of the camera echoed behind his back and he stopped in his tracks, turning his head to face you.

The look on his face was so priceless you instantly took the second photo, this one purely for fun. You couldn’t help but laugh a little, and Jihyun was quick to return the smile.

“That’s it?”

You nodded.

“Who’d think you’d trick me like this. You could have given me some time to prepare” he said with a smile, returning to your side. 

“Well, I didn’t really trick you. I told you I need you to go there, not to be there” you noticed.

Peeking over your shoulder, the man glanced at the camera screen, now featuring the floor at which the camera was directed.

“Want to show me?”

You bit on your lip. You weren’t sure how the photo turned out, nor if it was even remotely close to what you wanted to achieve. With slightly shaky hands, you opened the gallery of saved pictures and opened the one you took just now.

It was a pleasant surprise. You could tell it was, this time, exactly what you wanted to do. The beige background on the room and the light peeking in through the curtains. The man’s figure was the only blurry thing in the whole picture, and his blue hair stood out even more than you expected, the only cold color in the whole photograph. His back was to you as he stepped forward. The picture looked like it contained the motion you wanted to catch, and it looked magical to you.

Jihyun tilted his head to the side and you shyly raised your eyes to meet his face. His own eyes seemed to sparkle.

“I see…” he said slowly, nodding his head. His eyes swallowed every square millimeter of the screen.

“I-is it bad?” you asked, feeling the nervousness you almost forgot appear again.Jihyun only smiled widely.

“Is that what you wanted to make?” You nodded hesitantly. “Then it couldn’t be any better.” 

Your heart thumped at the compliment and you exhaled in relief.

“You sure you don’t want to show me some others?”

The question didn’t scare you out anymore. This time, you agreed.

Please, reblog if you enjoyed! You can find more on my masterlist! It’d be great if you also considered buying me a ko-fi!

[lovecaitlined]

☆.｡.:*Oblivious.｡.:*☆ Jaehyun College AU

 Jaehyun College AU

(◍•ᴗ•◍)❤ Just some fluff since I’m busy studying~ ah wish me luck that I stay in my course and ace it! 🥰🙏🏻

You first meet Jaehyun at the welcoming orientation for college freshmen~

He’s tall, thin, and he has the prettiest face you’ve ever seen, all smiley eyes and deep dimples.

Although you don’t say much to each other, you hit it off pretty well.

He’s quiet and soft-spoken, but so are you!

He’s double majoring in business and accounting, and taking a minor in music, which he explains is his hidden passion~

“I mean, I’ve always wanted to be a singer, and my voice teacher tells me I have a pretty nice baritone, but—got to get this bread, huh?”

It’s pretty impressive. You’re only taking up business management, after all, and sure, yours is an honors course, but it all pales in comparison to the passion of Jung Jaehyun.

Afterwards, you don’t see him around campus much

But you hang out in the library pretty often while your friends are out partying.

You pull out your notes to study, and then suddenly, to your right, Jung Jaehyun is there.

You always chat for a bit before getting shushed by some kid (understandable).

By the time second semester comes around, you two follow each other on social media. But while you interact online, it’s mostly liking each other’s photos and the occasional message on fbc.

And then, for a fleeting moment, you two are classmates—you have the same English Literature II class—but he manages to switch his schedule up so he takes the same class but in a different time frame.

You’re not sure why, but apparently it has something to do with that class conflicting with his practice—voice lessons, maybe!

Anyway, you don’t see him again for the entire summer, except for an Instagram update here and there.

You like each other’s pics, that’s all—his photo with his parents in his family house in Gangnam is pretty cute.

You two don’t interact again until sophomore year, when you’re grabbing your usual order of a regular iced matcha macchiato, and you’re short a few cents of change~

You’re about to pull out a larger bill from your wallet, when a voice behind you says, “I have change.”

You whirl around and it’s Jung Jaehyun, dimply smile and all, towering over you in his lavender hoodie and loose jeans and sneakers.

You try to protest, but he stops you.

Once you’ve gotten your drinks (medium iced Americano for him), you insist on paying him back, but he balks.

“It’s just 20 cents...I think I’ll live.”

You sit together for a while talking, making conversation, until you convince him to let you pay him back, and you two decide on a meeting place sometime later this week

And he adds, half-jokingly, “If you really wanted to see me that badly, all you had to do was ask.”

You think he’s flirting again, of course,

Surely he didn’t mean that.

Because what kind of guy would mean that, right?

I mean, this is Jung Jaehyun...

Who, as you enter your second year of uni, is pretty well-known despite being quiet, for his niceness, his intelligence, and yes, let’s face it: his looks.

But Jaehyun is endearingly kind

He knows he’s handsome, that’s for sure

But he’s never conceited about it.

So it’s kind of hard to hate him or peg him down as some fboy.

Going back to the 20 cents, he ends up—after much convincing on your part—exchanging numbers with you.

Honestly, you didn’t even think it would get this far. You were just planning on asking around for someone who wanted to break your bill down to some loose change, but he just tells you to contact him.

“Give me your phone, I’ll input my number. Here’s mine.”

Andddd you end up meeting him before your marketing class, right outside your classroom. You triumphantly hand him the 20 cents. “See you around!” you say.

You’re prepared to never meet with the Jung Jaehyun again, but as you grin around, he says, “Actually...I think we’re in the same class.”

You looked at him, surprised, sure you didn’t see him last week, and he explains he switched his schedule up again because his initial class conflicted with something else in his schedule.

“So we’re going to finally be classmates, since I had to switch out of EnLit last sem.”

You’re not sure how you feel about this, but Jaehyun sits beside you in the giant lecture hall, and it’s nice to have someone taking down as many notes as you are by your side.

You’d think that would be your last encounter with Jaehyun, but you’re wrong.

You see him all the time now in uni, which makes you wonder if you were just oblivious or unobservant when it came to passing by him in the hallway before.

He likes to hang out with you, to walk you to class at times,

And when he knows your friends’ breaks don’t match yours, he always invites you to sit with him somewhere.

It’s usually with his friends Taeyong, Johnny, Mark, and the like

They’re all pretty friendly people, though, so despite your shyness you actually kind of like being with them.

And you guys begin to chat more online about nonsensical things~

Until one day, your friends insist you must go to a house party

You refuse at first, since you don’t do parties that well—

You’re too shy, and you’re not someone who particularly enjoys drinking—

But your friends insist, so you decide to tag along and stay just for a while.

You dress up a bit and put on more makeup than usual,

And when you get there, to your surprise, Jaehyun is there as well.

He looks as surprised as you, though, so at least it’s not one-sided.

He tells you he didn’t know you were coming, and that he thought you weren’t one for parties.

To which you agree with. “I just came to tag along with my friends.”

But the night is pretty fun~

You end up talking with each other for two whole hours, feasting on pepperoni pizza, Cheetos, and Coke.

It’s getting pretty late, so you look for your friends and tell them you’re gonna go.

While your friends don’t want you to leave, saying it’s dangerous, Jaehyun steps in.

“Actually, I’m walking her home!”

They take one look at Jaehyun, give you a knowing smile, and all but push you out of the door.

You try telling Jaehyun that it’s alright, that he can stay, and he’s all, Are you kidding me? It’s dangerous at night, etc. etc., besides, he says he doesn’t like parties much as well—he only went because his friends dragged him out.

And that walk home pretty much takes your friendship with Jaehyun to another level!

You don’t think much of it at first, but Jaehyun slowly becomes your best friend~

You’re not really the type who notices romantic stuff and all, so when your friends tease you about him, you’re just like...We’re just friends.

They’re all, Girl, have you seen yourself in a mirror? Have you seen what he does for you? etc. etc. but you refuse to get your hopes up.

Truthfully, you’re beginning to fall for him, too, but he’s being just the usual friendly so far...right?

It may sound a little bit cliché, but Jaehyun really does go all out for you.

He’s always inviting you out to eat, to hang, and the like

He offers to walk you home, and sometimes he drops off little gifts at the place where you stay.

And you guys usually walk around the campus together, or study—not together, but side-by-side, at least—at the lib.

But you’re adamant about your friendship

You also have bigger things to worry about, like your majors

You don’t see it, but Jaehyun gets a little bit frustrated when he’s with you.

Honestly, it’s baffling to him as to why you don’t notice that he obviously loves and has feelings for you,

Meanwhile, your friends are already shipping you two together, and you’re still insistent that he doesn’t like you.

“Don’t be so oblivious, girl!” they always say.

But you’re not the type to set yourself up for disappointment, thank you very much.

One of your friends even says that one of Jaehyun’s friends claims that you two are practically dating at this point, and that Jaehyun really likes you, but you pay her no heed, until...

One Friday night, though, Jaehyun asks if you’ll be free, and you say you are—you just have to check out an online paper in the lib.

As usual, he volunteers to go with you, but then...

As you’re clicking through the lib computer, he asks what you’re searching for.

“Oh, for psychology, we’re just learning a bit about Sternberg’s Triangular Theory of Love, like relationships and—”

“That’s cool. Do they ever talk about how some people are just so oblivious when it comes to relationships?”

You’re the only two people in that area of the lib then,

And you swear, in that empty part of the campus, you can hear your heart drop.

You look at Jaehyun’s eyes, and, well,

There’s a world of meaning in them.

Needless to say you forget about Sternberg and psychology for a moment.

As you two walk out the lib in silence, you try searching your head for something to say.

Maybe it was your shyness, but you were, indeed, oblivious.

You’re not sure how to tell Jaehyun what you feel—

Heck, you’re not even sure what you feel,

But as you approach your place, Jaehyun holds your hand, and you freeze right then and there.

“That was a bit of a jerk move, and I’m sorry, it’s just...I’ve liked you for so long, and, well, no matter how hard I try, everything remains stagnant—it’s like you don’t even realize, you know?”

“What I mean is...I like you, I really do. And...I’d like to be with you.”

“What I’m really trying to say is, Will you be my girlfriend?”

He says it, just like that,

And you look into his eyes and you think of what a fool, yes, an oblivious fool you were—

You can’t believe you forced yourself to be blind all this time.

And speaking of time, to make up for all the time you lost, you tell him, “Yes.”

Jaehyun, as it turns out, is a pretty great boyfriend—

He’s responsible, passionate, and kind,

And always introduces you proudly to his friends as “My girlfriend.”

He also thinks you’re the prettiest girl in the world.

You don’t believe him, as usual, but he always says, “Look at yourself!”

And well, Jaehyun makes you realize a lot of things about yourself

You realize you’ve been forcing yourself to be blindsided to a lot of opportunities in your life.

And you begin to gain self-confidence, seeing yourself in a better light.

It makes you realize how closed off you’ve been before,

And even though your friends are full of I-told-you-sos, it doesn’t matter any longer.

You’re no longer oblivious to what you can achieve.

You go out with Jaehyun frequently,

And it’s easy to say he’s one of the best parts about your life.

Sure, he can get clingy at times—

Instead of studying in the lib, he tells you to come over his place at least twice a week because he misses you too much—never mind that you pass by him in the halls at least once every single day.

His roommate, Johnny, is always there, though, but he’s always welcoming, so that’s okay~

But in his room, Jaehyun still manages to be romantic—

Even if it’s just helping you solve a problem or praising you for some minor thing you’ve done.

Eventually, however, you tell him it’s good you two finally became classmates again; you wouldn’t have been able to see him as much if you weren’t.

And then he admits to you he really didn’t have a scheduling conflict this time,

He made it up just so he could be in the same class as you.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

But you’re already laughing,

And he hushes you with a kiss.

Loving yourself wasn’t easy, but at least you knew how to do it now,

But loving Jung Jaehyun?

It’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

The End

♡

[perpetua47]

An artist asked if they could have all of the photos for gesture references, and y’all seem to really like some of my blurry photos, so here’s a lot more blurry ones! Enjoy! Also, i finally wrote up my impressions of the show and the meet and greet, if anyone is interested. Very light on spoilers! 

- Brian really upped the danger level in this Unraveled, it was good dramatic development and got great emotional engagement from the crowd. He’s really refining his craft. If you’re a musical theater fan, I think you gonna like this. :)   - Everyone in the audience was entirely well behaved, as far as I know. The energy was great (I was in the front row, so maybe people were doing excessive amounts of dabbing or wiggle arms or something, but no one ever shouted anything weird.)

- Brian was under the table before the show. I was genuinely looking around and wondering where he would come in from. When Allegra and Pat are talking? Brian’s under the table next to them. Those first pictures where he’s standing behind the table with his arms raised triumphantly? He had just jumped up from under a table. He claimed he was down there for 20 minutes and got pretty hot. 

- He had no notes (except the occasional slide). He memorized everything he did. He worked SO HARD and it’s SO GOOD and he didn’t give up on his dreams of being a baker! *sob* “It's the best bread I've ever had”

- There’s one bit where I genuinely couldn’t tell if Pat was trolling Brian or if it was all preplanned. Afterwards I realized it must have been planned, but at the time it felt super real to me. Brian went up to Pat’s table, acted offended, and had a really adorable huffy hop off the stage. I have video of that hop, if it doesn’t wind up in the final cut. 

- I suspect “Kevin Punt” is a fake name. :) - While the microphone was a fun prop at times, I wished he had a mic that didn’t cover his face so much. I hope the sound came out well, it was very echo-y. Fine to hear at the time, but. (I’m sure it’s fine, they are professionals, Simone had giant headphones on, I just worry.) - The jacket removal was fantastic for the crowd energy. So good. Really good management of crowd energy all around. (THE DREAM BALLET!!!) - The enforcers were stressed about the size of the room before anyone showed up. 2 hours before the show I was talking to one (Matt! You’ll meet them in the video), and they said it was added to the schedule late, everyone knew this room was too small for the crowd he’d get, etc. While we were talking about this, my spouse said “and Brian’s right over there” and I panicked and hid behind a friend - I had thought, foolishly, perhaps I was too old for that kind of reaction. Apparently not! I’ve met famous people I really respect before - I was way more chill talking 1:1 with Neil Gaiman, whose work was hugely influential to teenage me. (All the other students in my department were too intimidated to talk to him until I did.)  I’m old enough to have babysat Brian. Pokemon didn’t even come out till I was in high school. And yet, when I got to meet him afterwards, I think I was shaking a little. - They opened the queue room doors at 90m beforehand, but some people had been milling about since 2 hours before the show. (Including me, but I’d just come from a panel in that room and I wasn’t going to leave.) We were instructed to move slowly and form a line. I can easily imagine it having been a bit messy if we didn’t have several enforcers keeping us in line. I had counted the front row seats during a previous panel, and I knew I was in the first 10 people and would be fine, but I kept recounting anyway. (I really wanted to get photos!) People did get into the line who weren’t there when the doors opened, but it was full 1h10m in advance. People were mostly able to sit down, there were performers, cookies were sold for charity, the comparison to fyre festival was totally unwarranted. :) I was trying not to dwell on not having asked to get a photo with Brian when we’d been in the room so I watched Unraveled videos and tried to be chill.  - The whole show ran something like 40 minutes (I honestly hope they leave it all in the final video, it’s all golden). The song is about 9 minutes. At the end he said he couldn’t think of anything that would kill the mood as quick as a Q&A, and announced the meet and greet. (He had an hour, and we each got max 30 seconds, hugs were freely available.) I engaged in GREAT RESTRAINT in not bolting for the door immediately - but my careful maneuvering to be in the front row of the show meant I was in the first ~15 people to talk to him. I had been planning for weeks what I would say to him if I got somehow got a few seconds with him, not really thinking it would actually happen. I did not expect *thirty whole seconds*. I kept thinking of his polygon cover letter video, and talking about how polygon videos helped an anxious guy like him, and decided that yes, I should say the thing about how his music helped me get through [recent shitty personal thing], and how much I specifically love his cover of “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”. If this really was his first real fan meet up, as was suggested on Tumblr, then I might have been one of the first people to get super emotional in person about how much I love his music and how much he means? I think he looks genuinely happy in the pictures with me, I hope he was.

- My spouse was taking photos the whole time. He asked my name, we hugged, I said the thing, we laughed, we took real photos, and then I turned to leave, and turned back and I darted in for a quick final hug. Then I left and sort of collapsed in happiness in the hall. Y’all, Brian gives really good hugs. I hope he had an awesome time meeting and hugging fans, and that he does lots more of these, and that *everyone* gets a chance to hug him. World Hug Tour. I’m a very emotionally open and PDAish person, and I hug a lot. I get complimented on the quality of my hugs, I know from hugs, and these were damn good hugs. I know he’s a stranger, and we had 30 seconds together, but I said an emotionally vulnerable thing, and I felt heard and like he appreciated me, and I felt safe and secure in that hug. I wish those thirty seconds less blurry in my memory, but I HAVE PHOTOS. (I also kept the SD card on my person that night, in case my camera got stolen out of my car or something. After taking pictures of my camera view screen with my phone. I’ve lost photos before - NEVER AGAIN.)

- Also I made a sappy tweet about how great he was AND HE LIKED THE TWEET.

- Of the dozen or so meetings I saw, most people said something brief and got a hug and a picture together, or asked him to record a video message (or talk to a person waiting on the phone.) While I was there, Simone was standing near him out with the crowds, and Pat was wandering back and forth on the other side of the room, occasionally crossing the barrier to be in videos.

- It’s been three days and I’m still just SO HAPPY. I almost didn’t get to go to PAX, there was a ton of complicated stress about it all, and I am, as stated above, SO HAPPY that I went. I’ve never had popular posts on tumblr before, and I know hundreds of likes and reblogs (and using the photos for memes! And Catholic sculpture comparisons!!!) means hundreds of smiles, and that’s just amazing, y’all.  I’m so glad Brian brings us all so much happiness, and that we bring it to each other. I’ve been in and out of fandom for two decades, and everything is just so nice here! I should probably delurk on that polygang discord. :)

[sinsofafangirl]

Chapter Three.

"You're just a stupid little girl who has done nothing but ruin everything I've ever worked for - your father would be ashamed"

"I'm glad your father's dead, he doesn't have to see what a wretch and a cancer you've become"

"Police Academy?! Ha! Maybe I'll get lucky and someone sensible with half a brain will shoot you like your failure of a father"

Ava woke with a start, her body jolting upright, her eyes still heavy with sleep unable to focus on her unfamiliar surroundings as her heart pounded erratically and her chest heaved as she struggled to shake off the remnants of the all too familiar dream. Too caught up in regaining her composure she never noticed the bucket of water or the person throwing it until she was drenched and spluttering. Her hands came up to rub her eyes in an attempt to once again clear her vision before throwing a glare at the offending person "'bout time you woke up, almost thought you'd died and saved me a whole lotta trouble" a roll of her eyes indicated she'd heard him, she just refused to give him a reaction. Of fucking course it'd be Jacob Seed to get her wet in the frosty early morning air and not in the good way. "Fuck off, Seed" came her irked reply mentally slapping herself for actually responding to him "someone wake up on the wrong side of the cage this morning?" a question asked without an ounce of genuine care and a smirk so fraudulent it made her old Barbie dolls seem a hundred per cent real in comparison. Ava didn't reply and instead huffed in annoyance; she was exhausted and her entire body ached from having to sleep on the dirty floor all night so she was in no mood for being patronised by an asshole choosing to focus on trying to untangle the mess of brunette hair with nothing but her fingers - unsuccessfully I might add which only worsened her already sour mood. Refusing to give up her hands continued as best they could to untangle some of the easier knots and avoiding the still tender area of where she'd been struck a few hours earlier.

Cerulean blue eyes watched as she stubbornly refused to give up enjoying the small huffs of frustration he'd hear occasionally. If he was any sort of gentleman he'd offer her an extra set of hands but he found watching her struggle much more entertaining. Instead the former army marksman took the opportunity to study the young woman sitting awkwardly in his cage; always know your enemy he thought as his gaze wandered over her. Now that it was daytime he could get a good look at her; hair a chocolaty brown and even though it was currently a mess you could see she took care of it, she must have been about 5"2 and a hundred and five pounds if that which surprised him considering she put quite a bit of force into the kick to his face last night - not enough to hurt him too much but she still managed to draw blood. That didn't mean anything to him though, she was still weak and he looked forward to putting her through her paces and beyond but for now his studying continued now noting her eyes that were a sea green "you getting off on this, Seed?" then there was that mouth of hers always too quick with a smart remark and a sarcastic comment - that would soon change, he'd break that bad habit first. "You could have avoided all of this if you and your friends had just walked away" which was true but Ava wasn't about to admit that especially not to Jacob who currently sat upon a metal chair, his large arms folded across his chest whilst his legs stretched out before him crossing at his feet; dickhead came to mind as she finally gave up on trying to tame her unruly hair and turned her attention to the eldest of the three siblings. Easier to see him properly within the early morning rays of sunshine peeking through. The photos provided within the manila folder didn't give much detail; too grainy to actually make anything out but now in the morning light she noticed just how beautiful his eyes were and yes, she hated herself for admitting it and yes, she almost threw up in her mouth but she couldn't deny that they were strikingly beautiful and one of the first things she'd noticed. His scars and his burns weren't even on her radar as she casually studied him whilst his attention was momentarily elsewhere, of course they were noticeable and of course she was curious about them; how had he gotten such severe scarring? Did they bother him? Then she snorted realising what a stupid thought that was - it was Jacob Seed as if anything bothered him.

Her snort caught his attention and his eyes snapped back to her making her look away "somethin' funny?" completely ignoring his question Ava rose to her knees and shuffled until she was at the front of the cage "to answer your previous statement. If you and your freakshow of a family acted like decent human beings none of this would have happened" she spat venomously, her facial expression twisting into something that conveyed hatred. Within an instant Jacob's demeanor changed from one of mild amusement and boredom to that of white hot rage, his hands came up to slam on the bars of the cage as he shot forward making the young woman fall back in fear and shuffle as far back as possible - everyone knew not to slander his family in anyway but apparently Ava didn't get that memo and instantly regretted running her mouth as she saw the sheer anger in his glare and the way his hands gripped the bars hard enough to turn his knuckles white. She wasn't afraid to admit that she was terrified right now but her wide green eyes couldn't look away "don't ever talk ill of my family" his voice despite being low was filled with rage and a fierce protectiveness that almost sounded like a growl, it made a chill run down her spine. If making situations worse by running your mouth was an Olympic event Ava would get gold everytime, it was a talent and right now it was one she wished she never had.

His gaze lingered on her for a few more moments as if contemplating his next move and Ava just prayed to whatever higher power that existed that it didn't involve him opening the cage. Instead Jacob released his grip, stood swiftly from the chair and moved towards two of his Chosen; unable to hear what he was saying Ava closed her eyes and made a mental note not to mention his family again. When she reopened them she noticed Jacob had headed inside the Veterans Centre and the men he'd been talking to heading her way "time to get cleaned up little lady, brother Jacob's orders" cleaned up? Wonderful she thought knowing it wasn't about to be a warm bubble bath waiting for her. When she hadn't moved quickly enough the cage door was wrenched open and a dirty hand grasped her hair making Ava his in pain as he dragged her kicking and screaming across the compound "quite ya flappin' girly, it ain't doin' ya no good" she didn't listen and despite her ankle throbbing she managed to get a lucky hit on the shin of the second man who cursed loudly before regaining his composure and back handing her for the trouble making her head swing back, almost seeing stars from the impact.

Ava was thrown unceremoniously onto the hard floor of a dimly lit concrete room, her hands and knees stinging from taking the brunt of the impact, this made her glance over her shoulder and glare at her two 'knights in shining armour' but they'd already left leaving her to her own devices for the time being. Her mind wondered what their version of 'getting cleaned up' was because judging from the state of them and the smell she had to endure on the way over they hadn't bathed in quite some time; hypocrites.

Ava noticed the medium sized drainage hole in the middle of the room and the large hose pipe hanging neatly on the wall near the door but her muddled mind didn't put two and two together and paid no attention to it, instead she focused on the door and wondered if they'd been stupid enough to leave it unlocked. It couldn't possibly be that easy to get off here, right? As if she'd be able to just open the door and go? Seeing as she was cold, exhausted and hungry Ava didn't think she had much of a choice and even with a bad ankle she could suffer through the pain long enough to get away from this place.

Without hesitation she slowly pushed herself up off the unforgiving floor and hobbled towards the door; her ankle protesting every step she made but she wasn't about to let that stop her when her freedom was so close that she could almost taste it.

A shaky hand reached out towards the handle, her fingers brushing it gently but to her horror it moved and the door began to open making her recoil from the fiery haired brute who had just stepped inside "goin' somewhere, pup?" he asked, his face showed no emotion and neither did his voice which didn't bode well for the brunette now sat on the floor - the momentum of trying to move away quick enough meant she fell ass backwards and her ass had no padding so no doubt that would be yet another bruise for her.

"Strip" came his clipped demand, his gaze fixed and hard on the woman in front of him. His arms were folded across his chest again and Ava wondered if that was a natural stance for him or if it was to stop him from possibly murdering her. Her brows furrowed in confusion at his demand "what?" "you heard me, I said strip" again, his tone was short and clipped but that didn't stop Ava who scoffed and point blank refused. There was no way she was going to strip for him "and if I don't?" she asked raising an eyebrow as if to challenge him which with all things considered was probably pretty stupid on her part but up until this point her life had been a series of stupid events so why not continue?

It was then she realised her mistake and her eyes widened in absolute fear as Jacob stormed across the room and it was in that moment she saw that rage within his eyes from earlier and prayed that whatever death was coming it'd be quick. All of a sudden she found herself pinned to the cold, harsh floor with one of his hands around her throat, his grip hard enough to leave bruises whilst his other hand pinned both her wrist above her - she had nowhere to go because her legs were useless at this point and even they weren't she doubted she'd have enough strength to fend him off long enough to reach the door. His face was now right above hers, his breath hot on her face as she struggled to for air "you'll learn why I'm the best at what I do and you'll either play nice and fall in line remembering that you're nothin' more than meat that's expendable" as if to emphasize his point his grip around her throat became that much tighter that she'd started to squirm beneath him, panic mode had kicked in as her vision became cloudy. She truly thought she was about to die and in the back of her mind she found she was okay with that because that would mean she would finally meet her father. In her current situation she was completely powerless to stop him from choking the life out of her and snapping her neck like a twig but apparently he wasn't feeling that murderous today and released his grip just enough for her to gasp for air " - or you'll be culled, tied up and used as live target practice for my Chosen, so what will it be, princess?"

Ava gasped and spluttered again fighting for air unable to give him a physical answer Ava weakly nodded as much as his grip allowed making a cruel smirk replace the scowl he'd been wearing previously" good girl, you know what to do" within an instant he'd relinquished his grip on both her wrists and her throat and had returned to his previous position. His gaze hardened and cold as watched her pathetically regain her composure.

With no other option but to do as she was told the young brunette cautiously and fearfully began to slip out of her deputy uniform as shaking hands fumbled with zips, buckles and buttons. His never wavering gaze didn't help her much either and not knowing if he would strangle her again also didn't help but soon enough she'd managed to discard her uniform leaving her in nothing but her bra and underwear; surely I can keep these on, right? This made Ava look over towards him and in return he merely nodded making tears spring to her eyes as she tentatively reached for the clasp of her bra at the back to unhook it before letting it drop to the floor. Ava gulped down the feeling of nausea before scrunching her face in pain as she winced - her throat would be sore for a good while and no doubt the bruises he left will last weeks before they fade.

Refusing to let him have the satisfaction of seeing her cry, Ava thumbed the elastic of her underwear before tugging them down over her hips, thighs and legs before discarding them with the rest of her clothes. Every part of her was open to him, she felt extremely vulnerable wished she was anywhere but here. Her earlier bravado had been stripped from her and now she naked and exposed in front of him. A face full of cold, harsh water soon broke her train of thought as the force of the pressure slammed her against the nearest wall making her cry out but this only resulted in more coughing and spluttering from the woman. Not that she could see but she could already tell that her skin had probably turned a nice shade of red if pain was anything to go by.

No matter how hard she tried to cover herself from the onslaught of water it just never made a difference, instead she gave up and pressed herself against the cold wall waiting for it to be over.

After what felt like an eternity the water stopped and she was left sore, drenched and very, very cold if her shivering was anything to go by. It's the type of cold that works its way into your bones and then it's icy tendrils wrap itself around your core and you genuinely wonder if you'll ever feel warmth again. "Get dressed" a flurry of definitely used clothes that consisted of ratty dark jeans and a fade flannel shirt hit her but Ava was that cold she would have worn a garbage bag to get warm at this point so she hurriedly threw them on making a note of just how big they were on her, not that she was about to complain especially if it meant being stripped again.

By now Jacob stood in front of what he could only assume was a drowned rat, her hair now forcefully untangled hung dripping onto the flannel she wore as he grasped her jaw he noticed how she flinched but said nothing, his grip just hard enough to have her attention and possibly leave bruises "when you behave yourself you get privileges like clothes but if you keep running that mouth of yours and misbehaving those privileges get taken away and you'll get punished. I'm sure my men out there would love to see the sight that I just saw and I mean, who knows what would happen if I'm not around" his not so subtle threat was quickly understood; the possibility of getting raped wasn't something she wanted "have I made myself clear?" "y - yes" Jacob quirked an eyebrow and gripped her jaw that little bit harder; more bruises to add to the collection she thought as she painfully cleared her throat "y - yes, sir" her voice was hoarse and it hurt to talk but her answer seemed to satisfy him because relinquished his grip and strode to the door, an arm keeping it open as he glanced at the sorry state of a deputy.

"Time for your trainin', let's go, pup" Ava meekly nodded; too tired and too fearful at this point to put up a fight. Her stomach filled with dread as she made her way towards the door.

It couldn't get any worse, right?

[btskismet]

Kismet (Chapter 9): A BTS Jin imagines fanfic

First ever fanfic. Contains fluff and some smut. Please read sequentially as it is a long story arc. Please provide feedback! My IG is btskismet.

600 am was too early in the day to head out but they knew they had to so they could get to Aomori by 2pm. She didn't sleep as soundly as she wanted since she had those weird dreams again. Seokjin had to even wake her because she kept crying in her sleep. She saw his worried face when he was trying to wake her up and it startled her since the last thing she remembered in her dream was his sad and distraught face looking down on her.

She didn't tell him what the dream was about but she knew she had to soon. He didn't push her to tell him about what happened during the trip to the temple but she felt he was just biding his time. "I have to share this with him sooner or later", she thought as they were walking to take the bus to Kyoto station.

There were hardly any people in the bus when they rode and this made her feel at ease. They sat at the back and Seokjin leaned on her head as they were on the road. Kyoto buses would make several stops so the bus was bound to fill up at some point since most people would be going down the bus stop closest to Kyoto station. She pulled up Seokjin's mask when they were at Nishioji Shijo station. Since the castle was near this bus station, more locals and foreigners got on the bus.

The bus ride took them 30 minutes just to get them to Kyoto station. As they were entering, she asked if he was already hungry. "Right now, 711 is open. Not sure about the other restaurants.", she said. Seokjin gave a thumbs up on 711 fare and they got themselves breakfast. He fancied chocolate milk, yogurt and onigiri so she had the same thing as well.

They were happily eating their food outside of 711 and admiring Kyoto tower in front of them. "It's strange that this tower is the tallest structure in Kyoto and the station is one of the few buildings that are tall in Kyoto. I think there are about 20 tall buildings in the whole of Kyoto. Such a change in comparison to Tokyo."

"You really like this country, don't you?", Seokjin replied.

"I appreciate their way of living and their discipline. Shows how structured, orderly and polite they can be. I don't intend to live here though - I hear women are not treated well."

"I wish I could bring you to Korea right now. You will want to stay there forever.", Seokjin said.

She gave him a spoonful of her berry yogurt and he happily accepted. "Maybe when you're done with your contract and you can finally date in public.", she replied.

"Wohh, guess who'll be on the top of my list of women I'll be dating by then... Will it be you? Hmmm...", Seokjin chided and he received a playful slap from her.

The shinkansen from Kyoto to Tokyo station will be for 3 hours. The station was filled with some people going to work but it wasn't as busy as they thought it would be. They knew that they would have more difficulty once they get to Tokyo station at 1030 am but it was a chance they had to take.

Seokjin received a message from Jimin when they were on the shinkansen, after Seokjin sent him a short video of the arrival of the train. Jimin sent a surprised Chimmy emoji to him and said "daebak" afterwards.

"He said he's jealous that I'm able to ride the train almost by myself. He's envious that I'm getting a lot of rest and solitude too.", Seokjin shared.

"Aaw I wish he could come with us.", she said. He shook his head and said coyly, "We won't have as much fun in bed if he's around..." This response was met with a blush and another slap from her which made him laugh hard. She shushed him immediately, concerned that the sleepy Japanese passengers would wake up from the noise.

~~~~~

"Ok, it's a choice between the Yonezawa Gyudon or the Black Sukiyaki, right?", she asked him as they were outside Ekibenya Matsuri. There were a lot of people inside choosing from all types of ekiben in the store so she had to take a picture of the display of all the ekibens they sell so he could choose what he wants. He was torn between the top two bentos and she was hoping he would decide soon lest they would lose the chance of getting one or the other.

Seokjin was looking at the photo intently and expanding it. "Seokjin, please decide soon. I'm afraid they might run out of it..."

"Can we get both? Let's get both!", Seokjin exclaimed. They already got the kobe beef sandwiches as well as the japchae from another food stall. She wasn't sure if they could finish all the food for the 3 hour ride from Tokyo station to Shin-Aomori station. She knew though that Seokjin is a big eater so it would be best to buy a lot.

"Of course we can get both. Ok, let me line up then."

Seokjin waved bye and started using his phone. She picked up the ekiben and also got some sake and one can of miso soup. She had to line up for more than 15 minutes as a lot of customers were there to get their food too.

Seokjin grabbed her close and kissed her forehead when she went back to him. "I'm sorry if I took long to decide and you had to line up that long and I couldn't help you. I know it's a hassle to do all of that."

"It's not a hassle. Better I do this than having our trip cut short because someone recognized you. I also don't want to miss out on getting the Sukiyaki bento. If you took longer, we might've run out!"

Seokjin gave a short laugh and apologized again. They then walked to the platform for the next train.

~~~~~

The 3 hour train ride was less crowded than the one from Kyoto to Tokyo. It came to the point wherein there were only 5 people in their car plus them. They saw fit to drink the alcohol by then, enjoying the smooth ride to Aomori.

They knew it would be colder once they get to the Shin-Aomori station since they would be up north. Seokjin shared that he was used to weather that cold, just like in SoKor so Aomori should be fine for him. He got concerned for her since she was used to more tropical weather.

"Don't worry, I will warm you up.", he said after taking a swig of the sake. "I won't be behaved though if I had to keep you warm."

She smiled at him, flushed because of the alcohol in her body and fully aware that she was blushing but since she was already very red, it didn't matter.

"You know, you come off as sweet and pure on stage but in real life, you are sly and seductive, I guess. You really have this duality."

Seokjin then stared at her piercingly which made her feel hot. He started coming close to her, reaching out to touch her face as if to kiss her. She was about to panic but then he pulled away laughing naughtily at her reaction.

"It's really fun to tease you. You are quite gullible sometimes."

She felt embarrassed by his statement and she looked away. Seokjin turned her face to his and said, "Don't be angry please. I just like it that I get to ruffle your feathers sometimes. You look so cute."

"Alright. Just don't do it too much. I easily panic when it involves that. I still can't grasp the fact I'm with you, you know. It feels weird sometimes.", she said.

Alright then, he mouthed and finished the last of his sake.

~~~~~

Shin-Aomori station was small compared to the ones they've been to. This being the last station before they traverse the underground tunnel to Hakodate, the city it was in is a quaint, coastal area. Most people would stay on the shinkansen to get to Sapporo or Otaru but that would mean another 4 hours and an evening arrival. They decided to stay at Aomori for one night before heading to Otaru the next day.

In the airbnb they rented, they planned to spend most of the day indoors but go out to eat for dinner. Seokjin found a restaurant called Teji that serves Korean food and made their way to it that night.

"You didn't tell me yet what happened to you in Nara.", he said as he was grilling the samgyeopsal and bulgogi. "Yeah, I haven't told you, haven't I...", her voice trailed off.

Seokjin looked at her inquiringly, his eyes urging her to continue. I have to tell him, she realized, and began to tell him everything.

He had 2 expressions in the span of time he was listening to her: quizzical and surprised. She knew what she experienced was preposterous but he listened anyway.

"It's weird. Your dream sounds similar to what I had before. That's why I said I wanted to speak with you that day we met. I recognized you in my dream. Especially in the one where you were crying as you were sitting on the ground.", he said.

"Are you still dreaming the same dream?", she asked.

"Haven't yet so far. It stopped when we started hanging out."

She nodded. "I know this though: you feel quite comfortable to me and I didn’t regard you so much as a celebrity, like I was awe-struck. It was more of someone who was familiar but I felt quite shy to, if not anxious, yet curious to know. That's why it feels weird sonetimes. I don't know. It's probably just in my head. ", she replied.

Seokjin swayed his head no. "It sounds strange but I feel the same way." He looked at her softly and they locked eyes for a few seconds. Then he jumped up as the oil from the grill hit his hand.

"Oh no!", she exclaimed and pulled him to her to check his hand. "Does it hurt a lot?"

Seokjin started to laugh at his clumsiness and so did she. He then gave her a soft peck in the cheek and said, "Gwenchana, gwenchana..." She placed her right index finger on her lips, gave it a kiss and placed it on the burn mark on his hand. "All better!", she said with a big smile. Seokjin smiled back with his stunning, sweet smile.

--- to be continued ---

[videoranch]

The View from the Side of the Stage

Words and photos by Melodie Akers

Embarking on a 12-date tour seemed like the last thing Nez should have done a month ago. Before the New York show on September 20, I told him how proud I was of him. I had feared he would either decide to go home after three dates or complete the tour without the energy to play or sing his best. The Mike & Micky Show had been far from fun; apart from the shows -- which were incredible -- it had been full of sleepless nights on a shaky tour bus and empty-stomached afternoons in emergency rooms, clutching my copy of Science & Health, while Nez joked with the nurses. I dreaded a repeat of that awful month.

The September FNBR tour had all the opportunities to be grueling. It kicked off with three dates in a row, and there was another block of three in the middle. Days off were singular and rare. Despite having little time for rest, Nez organized his team and resources so that he made it through the journey feeling better by the end than at the beginning.

Nez has been expressing a desire for a jet since before the January tour. In late August, he decided it would be a perfect “ambulance” to shuttle him through the tour. At first it didn’t work how he intended. The driver who was taking us to the airport -- or FBO as I learned to call it -- would be late, or Jonathan and Susan wouldn’t be ready to leave so Nez and I were sitting in the car alone. Or the plane would not be ready, or worse -- broken. The food provided by the jet company turned out to not be up to Nez’s standard. By the time we left Texas, Dan, our tour manager, and I figured out how to use the jet to its full benefit. I started having the jet bring in outside catering from Jewish delis or we’d have a runner grab Popeye’s during the show. Dan started ordering the car earlier, so it was ready and waiting for luggage while Nez fulfilled his Meet & Greet duties. I worked out an organization system of Nez’s luggage that allowed me to pack up quickly and easily after the shows -- something I had finally worked out after struggling all through the Mike & Micky Show. Nez instructed me to call the pilots once we were rolling, providing them our ETA so our plane would be ready and waiting just like the car had been. Once we got it down to this science, a quick flight -- usually less than an hour -- and we’d be touched down with full bellies and headed to the hotel, tucked in bed by 2am.

Jet rides were a welcome time to decompress after the hard work of shows. We’d laugh while discussing the show’s high points and how it was developing. Nez always polled us on what was his funniest joke of the night. As fans have pointed out, no show was the same; Nez did this intentionally. He didn’t wear his hat on stage in Virginia because he had started to feel like it was a cliche! His between-song-banter appeared in the moment each night, and he adjusted the set list as the tour progressed. After the first shows, he cut four songs, then added them back in and even introduced Marie’s Theme as he visibly gained strength and confidence with each performance. His ability to continuously spontaneously create not only reflected his live career as a whole, but showed his developing connection with the Redux band’s interpretation of his work. We listened to a lot of his early ‘70s albums in Sparky just before leaving for rehearsals -- and our listening sessions brought forward some of the ideas he thought were unexpressed in January. Last month, rather than simply “play the album”, he introduced Redux to new ideas and then expressed them onstage. Many of those ideas appeared first within the safety and comfort of the jet.

This was my third tour working as Nez’s handler. “Handler” essentially means I am responsible for getting Nez where he needs to be when he needs to be there with all of his luggage, prepare his costume, make sure he has clean underwear, gets enough rest, and eats at meal times. Nez has told me repeatedly that it is not my job to make sure he is happy, but I still try my best to achieve that, too. In addition to handler, during the tour I kept my positions as his assistant, running his social media, and sending these newsletters. I tried to share shows from the side of the stage through Facebook Live, but many comments from fans complained about the sound. The sound of a show changes depending on where you are stood. From the side of the stage, all you’re hearing is the musician’s monitors and a little bleed of the “front of house mix” -- what the crowd hears. Therefore, stage left was heavily Christian and stage right was heavily Alex and Pete; neither are a great place to hear Nez’s vocal. Nez became frustrated with me because I didn’t have much to say after shows. Even though I stood there waiting to be needed while broadcasting live, I couldn’t hear the real show. For several shows, I stubbornly refused to move from my spot out of fear of not being there when he needed me.

During the Mike & Micky Show, I stood by in case Nez needed more water, a towel, someone to hold his guitar, someone to unlock his iPad… whatever. Every show was a struggle the second he stepped off stage -- and I was half of the team there to hold him up. Dan and I supported him until he’d walk back on stage and perform beautifully. His abilities in June were incredible and confusing to me. However, a wise man once wrote: The devil has no access to the singing man.

The end of the first show in Houston was a massive achievement: It proved he could do the show, which was the principal concern on my mind. As his healing became more apparent, I felt more confident that it was not irresponsible to abandon my side of stage post. I started to complete my packing in the dressing room during the show while enjoying the front of house mix through the venue’s playback pumped into the room, and once I even had the guts to leave the venue to grab Popeye’s for the jet. By New York, I completed my packing backstage then sat in the audience most of the show and was able to give Nez a full review afterwards without neglecting any of my handling responsibilities.

The key elements of a hotel while handling a principal on tour are: blackout shades so he can sleep late, edible room service meals, and close proximity to Starbucks. Our hotel in Dallas had a Starbucks inside but it was closed -- the disappointment took away from Nez’s room having an actual breakfast nook. Nashville’s blackout shades were the best of the tour, even though the room was otherwise unremarkable, making it a standout; Susan called it “womblike”. Nez’s favorite hotel of the tour was the Peninsula in Chicago. When we walked into his room, he announced he was moving. Everything was high-tech: the TV remote was an iPad and even the light switches were touchscreen. But the room’s tech did not take away from its design’s classic beauty achieved through golden accents, dark wood, and deep navy bedding -- like sleeping in the night sky. And they somehow avoided the hotel restaurant curse by having wonderful meals.

The most bizarre hotel was in Detroit. Nez and I are 95% sure it was haunted. Nez’s room had a ballroom with a grand piano. Okay, not exactly -- but it had a mostly empty room bigger than my apartment with a grand piano in the corner. I asked him if he could play piano. “No, why do you ask?” “I’ve seen pictures of you sitting at pianos.” “Oh yeah, I can sit at pianos.” The entire suite (ballroom, dining room, kitchen, bedroom, vanity room, walk-in closet, and bathroom) was 60% empty -- its rooms’ sizes dwarfing their furniture. The bathroom and its vanity room were green marble blocks. Nez said the place was a perfect analogy for the automotive industry of a century ago -- uselessly ginormous. It was also filled with the craziest art -- including a piece in the lobby that made me ask Nez, “Why do they have a painting of Kate Bush?” The green marble vanity and bathroom still backdrop my nightmares.

Recently a friend asked me what touring is like because she is writing a novel about a touring band in the ‘60s. I responded with Nez’s first lesson: laundry and food. Those are the hardest things. I have no concept of how they pulled it off in the ‘60s, though, because they didn’t have Google Maps or Uber. Google Maps is my answer to everything on the road: finding laundromats who do fluff-and-fold, finding the nearest Starbucks, finding restaurants, finding a manicurist two hours before the show, etc.. The main function I wish Google Maps had was a sketch-meter. The number of times I’ve chosen a laundromat that’s 10 minutes away because of its high Google rating to find out that it’s in a “bad” part of town upon arrival... I was grateful to always have an Uber driver there with me, at least.

Uber is the best and worst part of touring in 2018. Depending on the town, it takes either 2 minutes or 20 for your driver to arrive -- and that is usually a good indicator of the arriving driver’s helpfulness. As an introvert, by the end of the tour I dreaded running errands, because being trapped in a car with a stranger whom I felt I was inconveniencing in some insane way took a special toll on my mental energy. But in comparison to ordering black cars and limos, Uber makes transporting a rock star beyond simple -- until you consider seatbelts. Seatbelts in stranger’s cars are somehow always hidden. Nez is terrible about wearing his seatbelt anyway, so I’ve taken to pouncing on him the second he sits down in any vehicle to make sure he is buckled in. I’ve asked him how he survived being a race car driver when he struggles to put on his seatbelt; he has no answer.

I half-joke with Nez that he only tours the east coast to have lobster. After seven shows of only talking about lobster, he finally got his cherished crustacean at lunch in Boston before the Somerville show. That was also my first lobster; Nez says west coast lobsters aren’t real lobster. It was delicious; I fully understand his quest now. We also had the best fried chicken in Nashville, while Nez made up songs at the table like, “Why am I standing in the garage? I know I came in here for something important,” after I shared his habit of making up incredible songs on afternoon drives to Jonathan and Susan. But the best aspect of meals on the road was our company and official tour drink. Most dinners were spent with Jonathan, Susan, and Hennessy sidecars -- Nez’s favorite cocktail! It started during rehearsals at our hotel in Burbank, and continued through the last shows on the east coast. We had a slight hiccup in Nashville when we got into a battle with our waitress as to whether it was salt or sugar on the rim of our glasses, and thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere in a Chicago restaurant where our table was INSIDE a train car. These evenings were one of the first things Nez and I chased down upon returning home… but were disappointed to discover that Jonathan and Susan’s laughter could not be conjured by the sidecars alone.

Restaurants are usually the closest Nez and I got to sightseeing while on the road. Our tunnel of hotel-car-venue-car-plane-car-hotel didn’t offer much light. Most of my “days off” (HA!!) were spent running errands while Nez recuperated (i.e. slept and watched MSNBC in his hotel room). While returning to the hotel from the laundromat in Nashville, I was grateful my Uber driver took a wrong turn: I got to see 6th St from the backseat after Nez had broken his promise to take me the night before. He came through for me in Boston, though. Despite the rain, he felt well enough to happily venture out in an Uber so he could show me the Mother Church. Disappointingly the church was closed due to construction -- and the visit took an incredible turn away from my expectations into modern art. Nez led me into the Mapparium at the Mary Baker Eddy Library, a three-story stained glass globe created just before the Second World War. We stood and pointed out cities and countries to each other -- Rio, Australia, Carmel. Given the state of politics, it was comforting to stand surrounded by an illuminated world. As proven through this tour, art is healing.

[yumikkaku]

HI this was supposed to be a birthday present for kayla sugaquillz but. i had midterms hell this week and greatly overestimated my ability to write while all that shit is going on, so please consider this a work in progress ><

kayla i hope you have had a lovely birthday!! and i hope you like this lmao you tweeted something like “i want someone to write me dumbification yoongi for my birthday” and i just. did it i’m sorry i hope you don’t mind that i borrowed this idea gjmdskaf;ja but for real you’re a wonderful friend and you’ve been with me here for so long and you are so kind and i’m really grateful to be able to call u my friend and...i am a disaster but i hope you enjoy this anyway!!! it is just a little token of my affection for you!!!! and i am sending u lots of love and smooches on this day hehehe

buT!! without further ado here he is:

It’s been a week since Namjoon brought it up.

He had been joking, Yoongi is more than certain.  There’s no other way to interpret what Namjoon had said, a sarcastic little note about how his ultimate kink was being dumb and begging for cock.  Yoongi can’t even remember the context of the conversation anymore, the sentences that had followed before and after buried completely in white noise whenever Yoongi tries to recall them.  He’d completely focused on that one particular comment, that one particular idea, in the following days.

He knows Namjoon had been joking.  He knows that.

He doesn’t know why he keeps thinking about it.

Yoongi stares at the wall opposite the dining room table.  It’s completely bare except for a sideboard — old, a little faded, probably antique and magical in some way Yoongi would never anticipate — with a single framed photo of a cityscape hung above it, perfectly centered in between two windows.

He interlocks his fingers, biting into his lower lip as he stares outside.  Leaves rustle.  Golden eyes glare out at him from the darkness.

He doesn’t know why he keeps thinking about it.

About Namjoon — about himself, groping desperately at Namjoon’s shoulders, whine rising out of his throat as he begs.  For sex, for Namjoon’s attention, for the feeling of his cock buried inside Yoongi’s body because he doesn’t know any better, can’t think beyond his own need, nothing but a body and stupid little brain within it, and —

“Hey,” Namjoon says.  He taps Yoongi’s shoulder as he returns from the bathroom.  His fingers are cold against Yoongi’s skin, no doubt chilly from the water he’d just washed his hands with.  “What’s up?”

He takes a seat across from Yoongi, staring at him from behind big round glasses.  The faded blue tips of his bangs dip below his eyebrows just far enough that the appear to be comically enlarged from behind his glasses.  Yoongi resists the urge to grin.  He’ll need to cut Namjoon’s hair soon.

“Nothing,” he says, turning back to his food.  He’d cooked that night — had brought all the ingredients and the materials to Namjoon’s house to make dinner for the two of them.  It’s a nice thing to do for date night — Namjoon lives alone, so they get the space to themselves, they don’t have to spend the money to eat out, and while Yoongi is cooking he can blast whatever music he wants and shout at Namjoon whenever he grabs his ass.  It’s nice.  “Just thinking.”

“You looked like you were totally spaced out,” Namjoon says.  The legs of his chair drag against the floor as he scoots in.  “What’s on your mind?”

Yoongi’s cheeks turn red.  “Nothing,” he says.  The lie is obvious, and he internally curses, staring down at his own plate.  He’s acting weird.  Namjoon is going to know he’s lying.  Fuck.

But he really doesn’t want to talk about it.  It’s stupid.  Stupid that he wants to be stupid, because — who wants that?

“Yoongi,” Namjoon says.  He tilts his head to the side, reaching across the corner of the table to rest his fingers over the back of Yoongi’s hand.  Shit.  Fuck.  He’s so fucking considerate and caring, genuine fucking worry flashing over his expression when Yoongi glances up at him, and — for a split second Yoongi wonders why in the world he would ever choose to date someone who’s so fucking well-adjusted.  It just makes Yoongi look like a dumbass in comparison.  “What’s wrong?”

Yoongi groans, tossing his head back.  “It’s really nothing, Namjoon, we can just — can we just drop it?”

The sentence comes out sounding harsher than he means for it to.  The edges of Namjoon’s lips pull down into a frown, and —

Fuck, why does Yoongi always screw shit like this up?

He feels his whole face heat up as Namjoon stares at him.  His eyebrows furrow in confusion, his fingers tapping against the back of Yoongi’s hand, and it’s just —

God, it’s so embarrassing.

“It’s really just — it’s not a big deal, it’s stupid, I’m just — holy fuck.”  Yoongi’s tongue fumbles within his mouth, a useless lump of meat.  He can’t stop thinking about Namjoon’s broad shoulders, commanding line of his jaw — even if he looks like a noodly dumbass most of the time with his too-long blue hair and his bangs in his eyes and his big Harry Potter glasses and Yoongi also loves that.  But there’s something so fucking mouth-watering about all those other qualities, about the idea that Yoongi is small and pretty and Namjoon is big and manly and it’s stupid, because they’re both just people and Yoongi’s stupid lizard brain is being archaic.

He takes a deep breath in.

“It’s really, really dumb,” he says.  

Yoongi is really, really dumb.  He supposes he’s halfway to fulfilling that weird kink after all.  

Namjoon frowns.  He looks genuinely concerned.  A few seconds tick by, leaves rustling in the wind outside, low hum of the magic that keeps Namjoon’s wacky witch refrigerator cold continuing in the background, Yoongi’s pulse thundering in his ears.  

It takes him a few moments before he realizes that he’s made this situation awkward enough that he’s going to have to come clean.  There’s no way out of it now.  Fuck.

Yoongi resists the urge to scream.

He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “It’s just — it’s not.  It’s not important.  I just have a new — I was thinking about — sex stuff, and it’s stupid, and nothing’s wrong.  Nothing wrong.  I just think I might be into something new and it’s kind of weird and I don’t really want to talk about it, and I was just spacing out thinking about how fucking weird and stupid it is and then you came in and I acted weird because I didn’t want to talk about it and now you’re worried and I still don’t want to talk about it but I don’t want you to be worried, so can we please just stop.”

Namjoon blinks.

Their food is getting cold.  Yoongi has to work very hard to resist the urge to slap himself in the face.

“It’s a sex thing?” Namjoon asks.

“Yes,” Yoongi answers.  He pulls his hand out from underneath Namjoon’s and folds them in his lap.  “Completely unimportant.  Monumentally stupid.  Can we just go back to eating?”

Namjoon blinks.  “Um,” he says.  He stares out at Yoongi from behind his glasses, eyes wide.  “Okay.  Yeah.  Sure.”

Yoongi sighs.  “Okay,” he says.  He throws his hands up in a gesture that’s meant to be flippant, but he’s sure ends up looking more defensive than anything else.  He bites his lower lip.  “Cool.  Awesome.  Great.”

—

The two of them watch a movie together, later that night.

Yoongi sits curled against Namjoon’s chest, shoulder tucked into Namjoon’s armpit.  He’s not really watching the television, head turned almost completely to the side.  His ear is flush against Namjoon’s chest — and if he focuses he can hear the the thump of Namjoon’s chest, feel the way his lungs expand as he breathes in, feel the comforting hum of magic that always rests just beneath his skin.

It’s nice.

Yoongi has never dated a witch before this — not that it’s particularly unusual to have done so, but Yoongi had simply never gotten the chance.  There’s not much difference, really, other than the magic.  Yoongi had never been around so much magic in his life.

“You awake?” Namjoon asks.

His voice rumbles through his chest.  Very slowly, Yoongi nods, snuggling closer.  Namjoon is warm and Yoongi is cold.  He tucks his bare toes underneath his own thighs, wishing he was in a position that would allow him to shove them under Namjoon instead.

“You wanna, um — talk about the thing now?”

Yoongi groans.  He means for it to come out as a groan, at least.  In reality it sounds more like a whine.  “No,” he says.

Namjoon breathes out.  “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Internally, Yoongi swears.  He hates that Namjoon is so good.  And considerate.  And nice.  What the fuck is up with that?  What in the world could Yoongi have done in a past life to deserve someone so fucking kind and caring and well-rounded —

He digs his forehead into Namjoon’s collarbone.  “I wanna be dumb,” he hisses.

Namjoon blinks.  A long moment passes in silence.  “Huh?”

He doesn’t sound judgemental.  Doesn’t sound distressed.  He just sounds like he legitimately has no idea what Yoongi means.

Yoongi closes his eyes.  “I wanna be dumb and beg for dick.”  More silence.  Namjoon’s hand is soft in the small of Yoongi’s back, his fingers curled gently in the material of Yoongi’s shirt.  “Because you made a joke about it a while ago and my stupid little lizard brain is like, really interested or something, I don’t know, it’s stupid, we’re just people, it’s dumb — “

“Okay, stop.”  Namjoon cuts Yoongi off and then laughs, tapping his fingers against Yoongi’s spine.  “Sorry, I was gonna let you finish — “

“We don’t need to talk about it, it’s fine — “

“It’s really not all that weird, like, we’ve done stuff before where — “

“It’s just really dumb and not important and I’m sorry that I worried you — “

“I’m, like, a little dominant, and I don’t really mind that or anything — !”

“And it’s not like even a thing that we could really do, it’s just a fantasy kind of thing and — “

“Oh my god, will you stop talking over me, I’m trying to have a conversation with you — “

“I don’t wanna!”

Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest, frowning.  Namjoon immediately bursts into giggles.

“Jesus,” he says.  “You’re, like, five.”

“It’s embarrassing!” Yoongi hisses.  He can feel his own cheeks heating up, his heart pounding against the inside of his chest.  The idea of Namjoon manhandling him, bending Yoongi over the side of the bed while he whines and begs and cries for Namjoon to fuck him, hands twisting into the sheets as Namjoon’s larger body hovers over his own —

“You’re so cute.”  Namjoon reaches over and pinches Yoongi’s chin.  Frown still tugging at the edges of his lips, Yoongi bats his hand away.  “And it’s not impossible.”

Yoongi blinks.  “What?” he asks.

“I mean, there are spells,” Namjoon says.  He reaches back over, dragging the tips of his fingers down Yoongi’s cheek.  “Remember that time I made that — “

“Yes,” Yoongi says.  He presses his lips into a thin line.  He remembers very well the time Namjoon had made a little jelly toy that would wrap itself around a finger or a hand or Yoongi’s cock and squeeze all of its own accord —

“There’s lots of stuff like that,” Namjoon says.  And he’s usually so soft, so kind, so sweet with his big round glasses and his floppy bangs and his dimples pressed into corners of his lips.  But in that particular moment he seems everything but soft — confident, amused, like he thinks Yoongi is silly and his worries are inconsequential and his shyness is adorable, and —

Yoongi loves it.

“It wouldn’t be that hard.”  Namjoon tilts his head to the side.  “Little spells that shift your, uh — mood and biological state aren’t really super difficult — obviously there are the, you know, um, ethical considerations but it’s not like that’s really a problem if you — you know, consent.  Obviously.  Um.”

Silently, Yoongi stares.

“So I could probably make you, you know.  Horny.  And dumb.  If you wanted.”  Namjoon stares at him, bottom lip pinched in between this teeth.  “If you — you know, obviously that would take a lot of trust, so it’s fine if you don’t, and I don’t think you mentioned it as, like, a thing you really wanted to try, so you know, that’s, um — “

Yoongi doesn’t know how Namjoon manages to be so wonderful.

The two of them stare at each other for a long moment.  Voices spill quietly across them from the television, lapping at the edges of Yoongi’s awareness.

With a sigh, Yoongi pulls back just far enough to shove his toes under the curve of Namjoon’s thigh.  “Okay,” he says.  “Sounds good.”

He turns away and pretends he can’t see quite how wide Namjoon smiles.

—

They talk about it a little more, obviously.

Historically Yoongi has always had a hard time talking for extended periods of time about things that embarrass him.  It’s a little hard for him to acknowledge sex outside of the bedroom — thoughts wash through his mind completely unbidden, but the moment he goes to speak them it’s as if his whole body freezes up — but they manage, regardless.

Yoongi wants it to be a surprise.  Wants to give up his control over the situation.  Trusts Namjoon more than enough to let him take it.

And he wants to be stupid.  Yoongi spends so much of his time worrying — anxious about work or life in general or how far he’ll manage to get before he dies.  He gets so nervous talking about sex that they end up discussing everything over five or six separate mini conversations because Yoongi feels like he is going to die trying to get the words to leave his mouth, and — he just wants to be able to let it all go for once.

So they decide on a date.  Yoongi will stay over the night before, will clear his schedule, and then at some point during the day Namjoon will literally work his magic.

—

“Uh, going to the store,” Namjoon says as he pulls his jacket on over his shoulders, adjusting the sleeves and flipping the collar up.  Yoongi resists the urge to snort at how ridiculous he looks.  “Back in like thirty, forty?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says.  He has his laptop sitting on his knees, in the process of answering a couple of emails and scrolling absentmindedly through his twitter.  He really doesn’t have much to do that day, and he’s almost regretting it now — his stomach is tied up in knots, his limbs tingling with nervous anticipation.  He doesn’t really know much about magic.  He has no idea what Namjoon might spring on him — whether it will be a spoken spell or something he drinks or something else entirely.  It’s got him nervous.  “I’ll be here.”

Namjoon shuffles awkwardly in the doorway, shifting his keys from one hand to the other, gaze falling to the floor.  He seems nervous as well.  Yoongi can’t help but smile.

“Okay, um, cool.”

He stands there for a few more moments, hesitating in the doorway.  Yoongi turns his gaze back towards his computer, hoping that will break the tension, but Namjoon only continues to hover, weight shifting from heel to heel for nearly thirty seconds before he finally steps out of the doorway and over to the couch.

He bends down, pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s forehead.  His hip brushes awkwardly against the side-table right next to the couch.

“Love you,” Namjoon says.

Yoongi blinks, turning his gaze upwards.  He stretches upwards, rising just far enough to press a chaste kiss to Namjoon’s lips.  “Love you, too.”

Namjoon grins, squeezing Yoongi’s shoulder.  “Okay,” he says.  He wanders over to the front door, shooting a glance over his shoulder before finally tugging it open.  “See you in, um — soon, okay?”

Yoongi nods, eyebrows raised.  He turns his gaze back towards his computer screen.  “Okay, Joonah, I got it.”

—

It’s about ten minutes before Yoongi finally sets his computer on the coffee table and stretches out.

He’s answered all of his emails.  He’d refreshed his twitter about twenty times.  He’d watched a bunch of dumbass youtube videos.  His stomach is twisted up into knots, his thighs tingling every time he remembers what’s going to happen at some point during the day —

Or maybe Namjoon is just psyching him out.

Yoongi glances around the room, squinting suspiciously at his own cup of coffee sitting a few inches from his foot is kicked up onto the table.  Namjoon wouldn’t psych him out — that’s weird and manipulative and Namjoon is not honest to a fault.

Well — he is also a little weird, to be fair.  But that’s a quality Yoongi can deeply appreciate.

He sighs, standing up for a moment before giving up and collapsing back down onto the couch.  He’s tired.  He wants Namjoon to be home already.  This is torture.

Slowly, he glances up.  His eyes catch on a piece of paper sitting on the side-table.

Yoongi squints.  That hadn’t been there before.

He reaches for it almost without thinking, mouth watering as he feels the thick parchment in between his fingers.  It’s folded into thirds like a pamphlet would be, paper thick and coarse.  He doesn’t even think as he unfolds it, eyes immediately catching on the ink-black symbols scribbled down the paper.  He can’t stop himself from reading them, eyes soaking in each little stroke, each little hook and dot Yoongi’s stomach somersaults inside of him, throat going dry as he looks at each and every character, hands trembling and eyes watering, and —

He sucks in a sharp breath when he gets to the end.  Can feel his toes curl and his heartrate pick up, sheen of sweat materializing on the back of his neck.  His mind goes completely blank.

Fuck, Yoongi thinks.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he realizes that it’s started.  That what he just read was a spell, that Namjoon had created to make Yoongi horny and stupid, but it seems so unimportant.  Yoongi groans, his eyes fluttering shut as he soaks in the physical sensations — his thighs tingling and his heart pitter-pattering in his chest, his cock growing hard and he just —

Namjoon.

Yoongi groans, paper falling from his hands.  It lands haphazardly on the floor and Yoongi bends in half, clutching at his stomach.  Namjoon.  Where is Namjoon?  Why isn’t he here?  Yoongi’s whole body is burning and he’s hard and he wants Namjoon, where is Namjoon — ?

Fuck.  What the fuck.  Yoongi feels his own jaw drop, tongue lolling in his mouth.  He wants cock.  He wants Namjoon to be there and he wants Namjoon’s fingers twisted in his hair and he wants Namjoon to fuck his throat, wants to choke on it, wants for Namjoon to be there.

Before he’s even completely aware of it, he has his nose buried in the seat of the couch.  It smells like Namjoon, fabric dampening as he breathes against it, breathes it in.  His muscles completely relax, his hips falling flush to the cushion.  He reaches out, groping blindly for one of the throw pillows and presses it to his face as he begins to kick his hips forward, length of his cock dragging roughly against the material of the couch and it feels good but it’s not enough, just breathing in Namjoon’s scent and not experiencing his touch, his presence.

Yoongi groans.  A thin stream of drool drips from his lips, wetting the fabric of the pillow.  Where is Namjoon?  He thought that not too long ago but Yoongi’s brain can’t seem to hold onto the memories, can’t seem to wrap itself around the concept of time, around the fact that Namjoon isn’t there.  Why isn’t he there?

When Yoongi hears the door click open, he nearly tumbles off the couch.

[arplis]

Arplis - News: Many moons ago John shared the beach house before & after photos from downstairs (tons of never before seen angles!) right here in this post

And it has taken us a while (how has it been eight months?!) to get the upstairs before & afters all together so you can see all of those comparisons, and browse the entire second floor of our project, which we are thrilled came together (it was looking ROUGH at the start). So let’s pop upstairs & look around, shall we? Because the transformations were just as big up there… UPSTAIRS HALL & OFFICE Here’s the upstairs hall as you face the front room that we converted into a mini storage room & office. There was tons of water damage, mold, and termite damage throughout the entire top floor. This is the same angle now, with smooth walls and a non cracking ceiling! Makes all the difference, eh?! If you take a few steps towards that doorway, this is what the room looked like when we bought the house: And here it is now that we converted it into an office with the addition of some really simple shelves that rest on brackets (and a very basic desktop that we hung in a similar way). It adds SO MUCH FUNCTION to such a small space (when in doubt, go vertical whenever you can!). chair / gold frame / curtains / curtain rod / shelf brackets / shelf tutorial hereFRONT BEDROOM This is what the front bedroom looked like when we got the house – we could see potential in that beautiful floor that we refinished, but it was pretty much a blank slate. Here’s that room now, all furnished & welcoming for guests. This room gets such great light, so we love putting up friends & family who come to stay. It’s so lovely sometimes I wish it was our master bedroom – but there’s no attached bath. So we have the smaller bedroom in the back & leave this loveliness for anyone who comes to stay with us. headboard / duvet cover / blue blanket / night stands / lamps / wood bench / curtain rods Without a doubt my favorite part is this original chimney that we exposed (it used to be hiding in the wall behind drywall) and this dresser, sconce, and mirror setup that we created (the inlay dresser was my best craigslist score to date!). similar inlay chest / rug / sconce To give you more of an idea about how far back we stripped things at this house, here’s a photo that was taken from a similar angle back before the walls went back up. In order to address all the water damage & ensure everything was structurally sound, we had to go all the way back to the studs – and we patched that hole in the brick while we were putting everything back together. MIDDLE BEDROOM There was also a middle bedroom that you used to have to walk through to get to the back bedroom (so… zero privacy). We opted to add a central hallway to change that middle bedroom into a fully private room (now people could take the hallway to get to the back bedroom instead of passing through this one. Oh and it came with a very rotten foosball table full of roaches and a ceiling that was literally crumbling onto the floor in a few spots. Not pictured: giant hornet’s nest. Here’s the central hall we added, so you can see how it totally changed the entire upstairs for the better! We kept everything light in color, so it didn’t feel closed in, and we love how functional it all became with the addition of a few added walls and doorways. And if you’re looking for affordable hallway or bathroom or closet lights, these small industrial guys are such a great price and look really clean. The putty color on top is perfect. gold frame / ceiling light This is the small but cozy middle bedroom that we furnished simply with some soft upholstered items, wood tones, and then some nice brass and oil-rubbed bronze touches. gold frames / similar mobile / lamps / curtain rod / duvet cover / blanket / watercolor artBUNK ROOM If you spin around in the doorway of the middle bedroom above, you’ll face the doorway to the bunk room, which was one of the worst areas in the house when we bought it. The walls were so damaged & rotten, that’s light from outside that’s shining in (and yes, if light can come in, every time it rained this room rotted more – we couldn’t even stand in a few parts of it because the floor was so badly damaged it could have collapsed). There were also some animals living in here – hence all that debris on the floor. It was a mess. Here’s that room now, after completely removing that side of the house and rebuilding it from scratch. We love to save what we can, but it just wasn’t secure or salvageable – but it was worth all that work because now it’s clean, and cozy, and free of animal excrement! HOORAY! blackout shade / quilts / cube shelf / baskets / shark head We built the bunk beds above that you see from scratch (here’s the tutorial for you) and had fun trying to get the wood ladder to tie into the original heart pine floors. That’s right, we saved them and put them back in when this portion of the house was rebuilt! HALL BATHROOM Here’s another shot of the bunk room, this one is if you have your back to the bunks. You can see that totally open area in the ceiling at the corner where every animal was slipping in with all of their friends. We actually realized that we didn’t need such a long skinny room for the bunks when we were rebuilding, so somehow we squeezed a full bathroom, complete with a shower, into this space as well as the bunk room! It was another super functional update that we’re so glad we made. drum stool / similar vanity / mirror / light fixture / towel / blinds You access this bathroom from the same hallway you get to the bunk room and the middle bedroom, and we loved adding a lot of personality with that blue patterned tile on the wall. Oh and I should mention that every single wood door upstairs is original to the house. We stripped and waxed them so they’re completely refreshed looking, but they still have great old details like the original latches and knobs (this one has a tiny ceramic knob, but many others have larger turned wood ones – they’re all so full of wonderful character and still work well for us). patterned blue tile / subway wall tile / hex floor tile / shower curtainBACK BEDROOM This was the view when we bought the house if you walked up the back stairs and looking into the back bedroom, which used to open right up to the stairs themselves. We didn’t do much reconfiguring of that wall you see above, but boy did it transform when we redid the walls and refinished the floors! There’s another original door and you can see what I mean about the wooden doorknobs that a lot of them have! They’re so unique and feel so solid in your hands. beach photo / night stands / wall sconces / similar headboard / similar duvet cover / blue pillow If you spin around and stand with your back to the doorway above, this was the view when we bought the house. See how the stairs just popped you up into the room without much privacy for anyone sleeping in the back bedroom (which we turned into the master bedroom). Well, after A TON of brainstorming, we came up with the idea of pocket doors that could be open so the light from that window would still pass into the bedroom, but at night (when there’s no light to enjoy anyway) they can be closed for privacy – so we can sleep in the bedroom and not feel like anyone in the kitchen can just pop up into our space. They create such nice privacy and also feel extremely original. Whenever anyone tours the house they can’t believe they weren’t there before. similar rug /similar duvet cover / fan Also, a quick chat about fans. They’re so nice in vacation house bedrooms – many people prefer to sleep with one on for a gentle breeze and we didn’t get it until we added them to all of the bedrooms here at the beach house & NOW WE GET IT! They’re also hard to find attractive ones that are quiet and work well and don’t look awful – but we got these and think they’re just beautiful. In two years of using them, we have had zero issues and really love them. So much that we added fans to the duplex bedrooms too! MASTER BATHROOM The master bathroom was arguably one of the worst rooms that we inherited. The floors were so brittle we couldn’t walk on them and the tub was extremely close to falling through to the first floor. Oh and the ceiling was collapsing above it. Generally: everything was falling apart. This room also had to be completely removed from the house and rebuilt from scratch since none of the studs or structure was stable – but again it was completely worth it because we earned a lovely master bathroom that doesn’t have holes in the ceiling or a floor that’s about to give way. SCORE! glass shower wall / wall tile / vanity / white hex floor tile / blue hex floor tile This was the view as you faced the tub (while standing in the bathroom doorway)… … and this is that same view now that everything is rebuilt. You can see that we reconfigured the tub to be off to the right, centered under another lovely and large window. That move meant that we could add a freestanding shower to the left of the room. We also laid this small hex floor by hand, making the little blue flowers one by one, tile by tile (more on that here). It took forever but it feels so charming and original and beachy. We are so glad we did it! It’s one of our favorite details in the entire house. marble table / wall hooks / white hex floor tile / blue hex floor tileTHE BACKYARD We inherited a pretty overgrown and lackluster yard thanks to it being really small and full of poison ivy and not much else… … but the after might be one of our favorite updates to date! patio table set | lounge set | white planters | window box | string lights | similar drum stool | shed: SW Mellow Coral That before shot was from October 2016 and the next one was taken just a few weeks later, right after we cleared some of the brush and weeds. It’s also the project that gave John the worst case of poison ivy of his life. #memories So yes, this backyard and I got off to a rocky start. But all is forgiven now because it has become one of our absolute favorite places in the world. No joke. We are out here basically every night that we are in Cape Charles. patio table set | shed light | lounge set | white planters | window box | string lights | similar drum stool| shed: SW Mellow Coral The end result is also made sweeter by the fact that we had to wait for it longer than originally planned. Our original schedule was to tackle this in the fall of 2017, once our contractor Sean finished the inside of the house. But a new little project distracted all of us (ahem, the duplex!) and we back-burnered the beach house backyard. So for our first few months of staying in the otherwise finished beach house, this was our view out the back door: Slowly but surely we got moving back there – getting a hot tub, adding a paver patio, and getting a shed built in a spot that would make the most of the layout and give us a nice nestled feeling. And thanks to a few strategic furnishings and a lot of greenery, here we are today! Our little backyard beach house oasis… patio table set | lounge set | white planters | window box | string lights | similar drum stool | shed: SW Mellow Coral The before shot below was the red rusted out shed we got with the house: And here’s our new setup, which allows us to enter the shed from the left side (that path leads to two double doors that swing out without disrupting the dining area to the right – plus we got to add a charming planter box on the front). Right across from the hot tub is our outdoor shower. Our contractor installed the same vinyl outdoor shower kit that he put in over at the duplex and it’s quickly becoming the most used shower in the entire house. hooks | house light | towel | welcome mat | house: SW Mellow Coral | door: SW Pale Patina Oh, and this is what that same area looked like when we bought the house – complete with a not-so-safe-looking awning that we tore off ourselves. But the back door is still the same one, we just repainted it a cheerful new color (SW Pale Patina – the same color as the duplex shutters and the doors to our pink shed). And I’ll leave you with one last before & after. This was the view down our side yard when we bought the house (ours was the tree-covered one on the right side). And here’s that view today. The fence is also new and matches the ones that both of our neighbors already have in their side yards. It gives us some privacy, allows our dog Burger to be loose in the backyard, and offers a sweet little peek down towards the shed when it’s open. It also swings to be double-wide when needed (future planning for parking a golf cart back there). We love that our neighbors on both sides have the same one so from the street it all looks nicely cohesive – once ours weathers to be that darker brown/gray color it’ll be great. So we hope you guys enjoyed that beach house before & after fest. And remember you can find all the paint colors & furniture/accessory links on our Beach House page – there are just some linked here – but that post is much more exhaustive. You can also see the downstairs before & afters of the beach house here on our finally finished (it’s only a year overdue ;) Beach House Before & After page, which you can find from now on under the blog header in the dropdown menu that says Before & After. And you can browse all of our beach house posts & projects here. *This post contains affiliate links* The post Before & Afters Of Our Beach House: Upstairs appeared first on Young House Love. #OurBeachHouse #Decorating #Favorites

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/many-moons-ago-john-shared-the-beach-house-before-after-photos-from-downstairs-tons-of-never-before-seen-angles-right-here-in-this-post-2