#don’t lie to yourselves this song goes SO FUCKING HARD

[ilostyou]

hotgirlwalk song of all time cmon

[hollyhomburg]

(warning: overly dramatic) part of me wants to write like- a fucking messy story. like messy as in the m/c is involved with all of the boys kind of messy. like- maybe she was jungkook’s childhood love who he lost touch with when he went to become an idol. and then one day she moves to seoul thinking he’s forgotten about her and thinks “better not bother him- he’s famous afterall” and ends up starting her own life without him thinking that their paths will never cross again. 

she hooks up with seokjin on accident one night without knowing who he is. it’s against his better judgement but he can’t help the fact that sometimes he gets riled up in the way that only a good fuck can settle. a few days afterwords she realizes who he was and decides against contacting him or answering his text messages. ( though she does respond when he writes “i guess you’ve figured out who i am- and in that case- i have to ask you to agree to this” and she’s not an asshole- so she signs the non-disclosure agreement which she sends back to him without comment). 

only a few days later she runs into jimin- or more correctly jimin runs into her getting harassed late at night by a few drunk men. he pretends to be her boyfriend. He’s wearing a mask and a bucket hat and glasses- and despite his height jimin is commanding enough to get them to back off. he ends up walking her home “how do i know you're not trying to walk me home so you can find out where i live?” 

“you’re new here right? dont you know how many cameras there are in seoul” 

“there aren't any cameras on my street” and so jimin sighs, pulls down his mask and turns to a billboard of his face (this one for vt cosmetics sitting outside a closed olive young). imitating his pose for a second before he can see understanding dawn on her face. “see? you really think im going to do something like that?” it’s not every day he lets himself be seen like this- but he has a feeling that for you it’s worth it. but it doesn't get near the reaction that he wanted. 

you curse low, crossing your arms over your chest.  “how the fuck is there another one” and though jimin responds with a ‘what?’ you dont answer. you keep walking, kicking a stone hard enough to hit the billboard. and jimin has to admit this is the first time he’s ever felt lacking in front of a woman. it’s electric and he can’t say he’s not drawn in. 

he walks you home- does not kiss the strange woman who he just met on the cheek even though you’re looking sleepy and soft and vulnerable. jimin is a gentleman. 

it’s not until weeks later that she actually does end up running into jungkook- and she’s shocked to find that their friendship and the pure chemistry they have is still there. they meet up for coffee after coffee and then- she meets the boys, and both seokjin and jimin just try to reign in their over imaginative hearts (and maybe their boners- maybe her and seokjin meet up in some forgotten corner of the company for a repeat meeting- during which seokjin confesses she’s the best fuck he’s ever had). 

everyone can feel the tension between you and jimin. and jimin is the first to confess that yeah- they did meet a few weeks back. and you both pretend you’re not blushing when hoseok teases “wahhhhh thats like a drama” jungkook stoic faced besides her. tugging on her earing and whining to leave. he wants her all to himself- not hat he’d ever admit that. and jungkook- jungkook wishes his heart didn't hurt the same way it had 10 years ago- wishes his schoolboy crush could have just stayed that. 

what's worse- is that Taehyung and yoongi have taken an immediate romantic interest in her. kind of having more of an adversarial situation where they both keep trying to one up the other. Yoongi takes her out on a boat to watch the sunrise in the middle of the ocean, doesn't care about holding her hand in front of the others. yoongi is so sweet and kind; cooks her dinner when she shows up at his house crying for whatever reason (it was jungkook- it’s always jungkook) and when she’s done he kisses the curry he made off of her lips and hands her a water saying playfully. “if you dont drink enough water you’ll run out of tears.” 

“Are you planning to make me cry min yoongi?”

“Only out of happiness hopefully.” 

and taehyung takes her to an amusement park in the middle of the night, so that it’s just them and a few people who follow to run the rides for them. he lets her take cute couple photos and always offers up his oversized jackets for her when she gets cold after riding a wet ride. and maybe she catches him staring at her translucent dress. lets him pull her into a corner of the amusement park and fuck her where anyone could hear or see. “are you sure yoongi could fuck you this good? or seokjin for that matter? don’t think i havent noticed the way he looks at you.” 

and jungkook- jungkook can’t say anything- because he always puts the others first. and namjoon- oh namjoon and you have an incredibly intellectual relationship. Staying up after you’ve all drank yourselves nearly to sleep, jimin curling up on the carpeted floor near you saying “dont walk home alone- wake me before you go and I’ll walk you.” jimin is always saying things like that to you. and getting all protective whenever one of their backup dancers or any other man at the company shows interest in her. 

you and namjoon talk about everything that night- philosophy- love- life- it comes so easy for you to talk with him. and when that night he confesses that he’s never fallen asleep in someone's arms you pat your shoulder and let him lie near you on the wide couch. your hand smoothing up and down his back. and when you wake up in the morning before everyone elce you pretend he hadn’t migrated near you enough that his cheek was up against your chest- and he pretends he doesn't want to record your heart beat and put it into a song so that he can have it to lul him to sleep always. meet up once every few weeks to go on walks together because you both share a love for nature. trips to gardens and parks that feel more like dates than anything.  

and hobi- hobi sees it all happening and tries to stay out of it. rationalizes it that there has to be someone to stay impartial and professional. but you end up becoming friends against his better judgement. you do your work in his studio because you like how he’s always playing music even if he’s not working on one of his own songs, and even then you have headphone and jhope watches you sway and bob your head to whatever you’re listening too. very few people have a sense for beat like you both do- and though you can’t dance- he can see the potential in it. he offers to teach you and you agree and of course you end up fucking in the practice room because hoseok just needed to show her how to move her hips right. 

only- yoongi hears the noises from the studio and goes to investigate, and he’d love it if he wasn’t hurt but he is. So he ignores her for a little while- because he wants to move on- he’s tired of being hurt by her. and then when she confronts him- somehow everyones there and jungkook misspeaks- says some pretty terrible shit that he immediately regrets and when she runs out of course jimn follows her. “jimin just leave” 

“no- not until i know you’re safe” she sighs but then gets angrier when he grabs her hand. 

“no- don’t- don’t do that”

 “do what?”

 “hold my hand unless you have any desire to keep me- to actually love me- then you don’t get to hold my hand” and they walk- jimin grabs her hand and she just sighs- so tired of being pulled 7 different directions. thinks jimin is just interested in sleeping with her- but he’s not- he just wants to love her. 

things get even worse when she and yoongi makeup- decide to try and stay friends, and then jungkook confesses to her and turns the whole thing upside down and someone sees her and namjoon out walking, his arm around her shoulders and suddenly dating rumors are floating around everywhere. and fuck- they’re all fighting. jungkook grabbing her arm “she was my friend first” 

“yeah but i was the one who was romantically interested in her” 

“guess again” 

“that doesn't count seokjin hyung- you guys just slept together that's not love” and before any of them have a chance to settle it out she speaks above all of them (maybe picking up a glass and dropping it to get them all to pay attention to her. “maybe if you stoped and wondered what it was that i wanted you all wouldn’t be pricks right now” and then she just- walks out. dodges their calls- ignores every message. until namjoon turns up at her door and asks her to come see them. everyone nervous before jungkook swallows. looking at her with shining eyes, the face of her first love. “we’ve decided, if you’re okay with it, then we think we can share.” 

(PSA; this fic idea is not free to use!)

[yongiefilms]

FILM | Flickering

BASED ON | The bingo collaboration feature done by legendnct studios

PRODUCED BY | “Whatever goes around eventually comes back to you. So you gotta be careful, baby,” from After The Storm by Kali Uchis (feat. Tyler, The Creator and Booty Colins) ; “Don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms,” from Slow Dancing In the Dark by Joji ; “Baby, I’m afraid to fall in love. ‘Cause what if it’s not reciprocated?” from Honestly by Pink Sweat$

STARRING | Lee Taeyong and Female Reader

FEATURING | Jung Jaehyun, Lee Mark, Lee Jeno, Nakamoto Yuta, Suh Johnny, and Xiao Dejun

GENRE | Romance, Drama, Teen, Angst, Fluff, Slowburn, College, and Frat boy Centred

RATING | PG-13

WARNINGS | Thematic elements, some action, crude humor, mentions of: alcohol, drinking, smoking, anxiety, panic attacks, and heartbreak, excessive partying, stupid college shenanigans, suggestive references, language, and adult themes

PLOT | You were unlucky when it came to love. You fell too fast and gave too much. Though as often as you experienced misfortune, you never truly learned your lesson. However, entering college you knew it would be different, it had to be. No more chasing after infatuation that you perceived to be love, but when you came across him, you knew it would be harder than you anticipated. He drew you in with his alluring aura and made you curious, something that would drive you to seek after someone who didn’t want to be found. Yet as many say, curiosity kills the cat, and one wrong move was all it took. OR He was a fleeting moment, a mere second of time that didn’t last too long.

RUNNING TIME | 29k words

1, 2, 3 NOW ROLLING...

“Okay…Be honest, does this dress make me look like shit?” 

Your best friend, who was perched on your bed some several feet over to where you stood in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, rolled her eyes and let out a scoff, lifting her head up from peering down at her cell phone screen. She knew the question was ridiculous and had no direction because you were beautiful, something no one would deny. Her eyes moved up and down your figure to conduct a proper inspection of you and the dress that hugged your body. Her gaze was borderlining a glare once she was done. She was right, as she always tended to be.

She huffed out a breath, leaning her hands behind her on the soft comforter that laid over your bed and tilted her head to the side. “You can’t be serious. You literally look stunning.”

You flatten your palms against the front of your black satin mini dress, confirming you appeared to be as good as you could possibly be with no wrinkles in sight. “All right, I just have to make sure.”

She scoffed yet again as you twirled around in front of the mirror with a smile on your face, your eyes lighting up with excitement for what would soon come.

But the thrill in your veins subdued as you gave her a pointed stare. “Also just because you’re my hype woman and number one fan, doesn’t mean you can’t tell me like it is.”

She stood up from her position on the bed and made her way over to where you stood, her red stilettos clicking against the vivid brown wood. She placed her hands on your shoulders to smoothen the material of your dress and gave you another once over for good measure.

“Yes I am aware, but you should know by now that I never lie.” Her nose scrunched up the tiniest bit as she showcased her pearly whites. “But seriously,” she stepped back from you, letting her hands drop to her sides. “Can we go now? You take forever to get ready and I just want to go have some fun.” She whined and it was now your turn to roll your eyes at her behavior. She was just as excited as you were, though your ability to mask your emotions was far better than hers. Going to your first college party was enough cause to be eager, surely. 

“Yes we can go now, drama queen.”

She gave a slight glare in your direction at the mention of the nickname, but you laughed it off, loving to tease her as much as she loved to tease you before continuing.

“Anyways let me grab my phone and purse first.”

She nodded her head, and walked out of your bedroom towards the living room area to wait for you, her mobile phone tightly grasped in her left hand with her car keys looped around her index finger.

Once you grabbed your own charged cell phone off the nightstand and placed it in your purse, swinging the strap over your shoulder, you switched the lights off to exit your room.

“Got it!” You exclaimed as you reached her figure leaning against the wall opposite of the front door. You grabbed the sleek doorknob and opened the door, ushering her out as you followed suit.

She smirked at you once you locked the door and placed the key in your bag.

She swung her car keys around her index finger, the metal imprinting her palm when she caught them. “Time for the real fun to begin.”

Then you were off towards your destination, her behind the wheel driving, and you in the passenger seat, the wind blowing against both of your faces from the rolled down windows. The music was blaring from the radio speaker and you giggled amongst yourselves, lip-synching the lyrics to the songs that were your favorites. The adrenaline was pumping through your veins, causing a rush and the unknowns of the night spoke wonders.

If only it was real fun when you arrived at the expanse of the Nu Chi Tau frat house, or more commonly known as NCT around campus. There were already people there, covering the gigantic front yard with red solo cups in hand and flashy attire, but it wasn’t the sparkles of the glitter nor the drunken state of the people that caught your attention, it was something more magnificent. 

The residence that stood before you mimicked one you would only see in the movies. A perfectly mowed green lawn with assorted scrubs encompassed the front yard, leading up to the stairs of the entryway. When you walked ahead you saw everything in clearer light. The house was a few stories high, painted a stark white that stood out in the background of the increasing night. The front lights were on, casting ill-lit shadows that danced against the concrete and some windows glowed the same color, giving evidence that those rooms were filled with occupants at the moment. There was an archway with columns to the side that protruded from the front of the house, as the rest of the habitation was left in the shade. The Greek letters for Nu Chi Tau were nailed on the archway in black and as you neared closer to the front doors, you could make out the words NCT engraved in golden script. You were mesmerized to say the least, the house was beyond beautiful and you pondered how it still looked relatively new in comparison to the other bland frat and sorority houses you had come across. Although, you would have been more in awe if your feet weren’t killing you in that present moment.

When Nicole turned onto the street that would lead the two of you to the frat house, you both had noticed how filled the street was with cars for miles. You had assumed it was most likely due to the party, or the fact that the road was so very narrow, swindling like a wave that made it hard for others to park. Yet regardless of the reason, it is where your dilemma began, for she had to park in the nearest open space, which would be some blocks down from where you needed to be. 

Therefore that is how you both ended up wending your way to the frat house that was so conveniently located at the end of the narrow street, and on top of a hill no less, making matters worse. 

You don’t know how long it took you to arrive, but you had calculated around thirty minutes give or take other technicalities. You were glad you made it all in one piece even if the adrenaline in your veins departed and the light in your eyes dimmed, yet you would still try to have the time of your life.

Your hand gripped the golden handle of the front door and turned, pushing it wider with ease to welcome the even more impressive interior as you strode in with Nicole hot on your trail.

The white painted walls, crystal chandelier, golden swirls on the columns, and the spiraling staircase would have blinded you if it had not been encompassed by the dark, the only light emitting from surrounding rooms and the sporadic flashes of color.

You heard a groan from behind you, jerking you out of the blue.

“Ah fuck…fuck…fuck…fuck. My feet are dead.”

You spun around to see Nicole, struggling to take off her stilettos in quick movements, as you could indisputably make out the redness around the heel of her foot and toes. Her drastic measures were a sight that made it difficult to suppress your giggles.

She heaved a loud sigh from successfully getting her stilettos off and hooked the straps over her two fingers, the footwear dangling from her hand when she stood up straight.

She locked her eyes with yours, puffing out air and a lock of hair that fell in her face amidst her conflict. “I need a drink.”

Your subdued titters came out as you nodded your head in agreement. You both needed some energy after the long dreaded walk and what better way than to drink some alcohol. 

Nicole led the way, brushing up against the loads of people that crowded the foyer, not even managing to mumble a single excuse me, but that’s how she was, especially when she needed to get buzzed. After steering through countless throngs of people, you being the one to mutter apologies, you both had arrived at the kitchen. It was as modern as the rest of the house, with the subtle hints of Roman and Greek roots. The appliances were just as pale as the walls, giving off the illusion that nothing appeared to be present, howbeit the only contrast was the black buckets on the countertops and the black bar stools that were placed near the aisle along with the golden lighting fixtures floating above. Not to mention the various silver tin kegs that were located around the kitchen and the bar, which you passed on the way here, not worth the wait for the drinks the two of you desperately needed. 

The kitchen wasn’t nearly as crowded as the rest of the house, withal there were just some scarce students waiting around, refilling their cups, or grabbing a new drink altogether.

Nicole unhands her stilettos on the white marble floor, the bright red color vaguely resembling smeared blood on a snowy surface, before sinking down at one of the free stools and placing her hand in the black bucket to pull out a beer. Conveniently it was a twist off and in mere instances she took large gulps of the brown liquid, finishing the bottle in one go, not bothering to wait for you to have your own bottle in hand.

She licked her lips and elevated her empty beer bottle out to you. “Cheers my love!” She gave a lazy grin and a smile slipped onto your face. “And shit that beer wasn’t strong enough, I need an actual drink.”

You laughed at her as she stood up and rummaged through the cabinets in the kitchen, on the desperate search for some secret stash. You took the empty seat next to the previously occupied one, and placed your purse on the counter, resting your cheek on your knuckles, waiting to see if she had struck lucky.

“Ah!” she suddenly proclaimed, reaching up on her tippy toes to grab the translucent liquid bottle that was placed on the top shelf. Her fingertips barely touched the tall glass, even so she managed to grab it to some shock, her feet being firmly planted on the tile when she had it in her grasp.

She closed the cabinet door and turned with a crude smirk on her face, hiding the bottle behind her back.

“Guess what they were stashing away?”

Your eyes went wide as you dropped the hand that held the weight of your head to your lap. You were curious but also slightly scared at how the smirk on her face grew. It couldn’t be good.

“Um…” you trailed off, placing your hands on the cool marble countertops. You had no idea.

“Those bastards,” she swore, taking the bottle out from behind her to shake it from side to side as you squint your eyes to get a good look at the label. Though you didn’t have to for she told you herself.

“They stored away Balkan 176 Vodka. Who the fuck does that? Like share you greedy, motherfuckers.”

She placed the tall bottle on the countertop, reaching over to the stack of red and blue solo cups that were near the buckets and pulled out two empty cups.

Your eyes got wider at the realization because no way they had Balkan 176 Vodka, it was the strongest in the United Kingdom market with an alcohol by volume of 88%. 

How did they manage to get a hold of it? 

The damn vodka even has thirteen health warnings on the label.

What the hell are they doing in this house?

You heard the pop of the bottle cap and the echoing sound of the liquid being poured into the two cups, interrupting you out of your thoughts.

Nicole held out the blue solo cup to you, jerking her chin out as a form of encouragement to take the cup from her.

With shaking hands, you reach forward, wrapping your hands around the cup.

You knew you would be wasted beyond belief if she poured a lot of the vodka and you only hoped she didn’t, even if your alcohol tolerance was relatively high.

She bumped her plastic cup with yours, murmuring lowly, “Cheers,” and proceeded to down the vodka in one go as you reciprocated the action.

The clear liquid stung in your throat and you could feel a tingling sensation erupt on your tongue. You shook your head to get rid of the feeling and closed your eyes, scrunching up your nose as if it would somehow help extinguish the burn.

Some tears escaped your eyes and through your blurry vision you saw Nicole step away from the counter, shaking her hands out in front of her with her head tilted towards the ceiling.

“Ah shit that burns…” She let out a few coughs, wiping the back of her hand over her lips. “But it feels great.” She puts her hands on her hips and gives you a wide teary eyed smile when she looks over at you.

You cough yourself before giving her an eye roll, placing two fingers on your temples and giving a soft rub to the skin to guarantee you won’t get a headache.

“You’re crazy, you know that right?”

She walked around the counter to where you sat, as you peered up at her, dropping your hands.

She leaned forward to whisper in your ear rather loudly in order to be heard, “Go big or go home baby.”

You placed your hand on her shoulder and gave her a small push, her giggles standing out despite the music resounding in the other room.

Then her giggles ceased and she stared straight ahead, a blank look overtaking her face, her mouth slightly opening.

Your eyebrows scrunched together. “Hey Nicole?” You asked, raising your butt off the seat to poke at her shoulder.

Her body swayed to the left then right before she shook her head and came out of her trance.

She stumbled over her footing as she tried to move forward and pick up her discarded stilettos off the tile to put them on.

“Nicole!” you called as she prowled forward once she tied the ends of the felt, discrediting the fact that you were still there, but your loud voice caught her attention for her head jolted back to peek over her shoulder to where you still sat.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath and pivoted on her heel to go back to where she once was.

“Sorry, sorry love,” she spoke in a rushed manner, fixing her gaze over her shoulder every so often as she shook her head once more. “I just saw some really freaking hot guy and I just—”

You cut her off, knowing where this would lead to. You gave her a small smile of empathy and encouragement. “It’s okay Nicki. Go get some.”

You lightly gave her a push as she staggered forward. Your smile had morphed into a subtle smirk and she laughed at your eagerness for her.

“Oh I will and make sure to get some for yourself too.” She turned around to give you a wink and a peck on the crown of your head, waving goodbye once she pivoted on her heel to presumably stride over to the boy in question.

The kitchen connected to a small dining space that a handful of students were occupying, having conversations with drinks in hand and you just so happened to be in luck for there wasn’t an enormous wave of people, making it easy to see who caught Nicole’s eye.

You followed her figure of a ruby red strapless dress that stood out amongst the neutral tones of the other attire, to where she had passed by a boy with washed out blonde hair, who so happened to be having a conversation to two other girls. He was adorned in a black crisp button up shirt that was folded up to the elbows, with two buttons undone at the top to showcase a bit of chest. You could catch a glimpse of the light reflecting off the silver necklace that peeked out from under his shirt, which was tucked into a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, contrasting his white vans. He took a sip from his red solo cup, letting out a laugh at something one of the girls said, allowing his perfect set of teeth to be seen as his head leaned back. He had a defined jawline and strong eyebrows that looked even better than anyone else’s in hindsight. Nicole really had gotten lucky and when she brushed her shoulder against his, muttering a sorry under her breath, his eyes had followed after her when she moved away.

He apologized to the other girls and quickly whipped his head around to see where Nicole had disappeared to, realizing she starkly could be seen ready to turn the corner to go to another room. His feet made hast as he was hot on her trail and when you saw him loosely latch his hand onto her wrist to turn her around to face him, you knew she would get even luckier. With her sultry gaze and his flirty smile there was no doubt in your mind.

They vanish from sight moments after for he was ready to whisk her away to the second floor with his arm wrapped around her waist and her hand wrapped around his bicep, whispering in his ear.

Lucky indeed.

You turned away after observing them and sighed loudly, swishing the already nonexistent liquid in your cup. You knew it would be possible to find a boy to spend the rest of night with amongst countless that were available to you, natheless you couldn’t help to feel like you didn’t have the desire to “get some” for a particular reason.

So you heaved yourself off the bar stool, too afraid if you hung around in one area for too long someone would surely make a move to hit on you. You weren’t in the mood for company exuding testosterone and cockiness. You weren’t in the mood for assholes.

You poured some more of the hell vodka into your empty cup to give you something to hold onto when you explored the house. You also made sure to grab your purse off the stool, swearing under your breath that you should have just left it in the car and put your cell phone along with keys in your bra like Nicole had done. Sometimes your level of intellect astounded you.

With a cup in hand and purse slung over your shoulder you made your way around the house, bypassing time without any one thing in mind, hoping to see if you could catch your best friend amidst the large gatherings of people, something that most likely seemed impossible. Yet impossible had a good chance as any to become possible too.

You didn’t know how long you had been moving, probably already circled the whole first floor various times, since the remaining floors were closed off for members of the frat. Time went by faster when you were trying to kindly reject offers of those that made an effort to ask you to dance or if you wanted another drink.

Only then is when you saw him—a glimpse of a boy you once knew when you stopped at the bar for a rest.

He looked the same as he did ever since the start of summer, the same from those weeks ago. Light honey colored hair. Dark eyes. A small beauty mark under his left eye. A soft chiseled jaw. Pale pink lips. His signature eye smile, a favorite feature of yours, one bright enough to light up an entire room, one which always made you feel comforted.

Every aspect of his being was the same, except for the outfit which adored his body, that still managed to give you nostalgia—a black short sleeve button up shirt with one button undone to showcase his smooth pale skin, a pair of white jeans that perfectly hugged his legs, and his staple piece of black worn out combat boots.

It reminded you of that one time he had picked you up in a vaguely similar outfit to take you to the outskirts of the city, late at night just for exploring, for adventure, when the both of you started hanging out.

All of it was the same, he was the same, and seeing him there flirting with some other girl wronged you in more ways than one, even if it had been a little over a month since you last saw him in person so close, yet so very far away.

You ducked your head lower, to conceal your figure behind those that were in your line of sight, even if you were still in the open area of view, while secretly keeping an eye on him to see if he would move. He would either notice you directly or his knowledge would be the one to give you away. He always had a sense of knowing where you were without even surveying or asking. He just knew and there was no doubt he would know you were there tonight. You had to escape one way or another before you became found. 

However, you weren’t as inconspicuous as you had perceived yourself to be.

He must have caught you staring, behind the figures that did little to help you in your avoidance of the boy. You didn’t know when he exactly saw you for his leaden eyes had suddenly flitted over the heads of the people surrounding him to meet yours.

Caught.

To say you were scared or anxious would be an understatement for your palms got sweaty and you felt like you could no longer breathe with your heart beating in your ribcage like the fast beat of a drum.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

He excused himself from the brunette he was talking to, gently taking her dainty hand off his bicep when he turned to leave, muttering an apology to her, and stalked over to where you sat rooted to your stool, nearly paralyzed.

But your senses kicked in before then, prohibiting you from just waiting for his arrival. You stumbled over your footing, the heels on your feet making it difficult to get by unnoticed since you were having some difficulty walking away at a fast pace. You tried your best to steer through the people that blocked your path, heading towards an area away from prying eyes, which so happened to be a dimly lit hall that was empty from what you could see.

He was pushing through the drunken bodies, not even managing to say sorry after every push and shove. You heard him call your name, although it was drowned out with the ringing in your ears, the sounds of the music and shouts mixing together indefinitely.

You turned your head over your shoulder to see if he had caught up to you or if you lost him in the crowd.

No figure in sight. You lost him. You escaped.

You leaned your head against the wall, heaving a loud sigh, trying to shake off the jitters in your body. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and the thumping in your chest refused to cease. You wrapped your arms around you in an attempt to calm yourself, to provide much needed comfort.

Comfort that turned to queasiness.

A unlit impending figure loomed over you, casting your body in a black shadow as your breath became short, making it a hassle to inhale, exhale. 

Caught yet again.

You peered up, to see eye to eye with a boy that once held the entire galaxy in his orbs, but now only held emptiness.

The stare was too intense, making you force your eyes away for your own well-being. His shadow became woozy and blurry, making it difficult to pick out which replica was the real version of him.

You were nearly hyperventilating, your breath staggering and your lungs felt as if they would combust any second from lack of oxygen.

The ringing in your ears became louder as you could faintly make out him mouthing your name through reading his lips.

He then raised his hand, cupping your cheek with his thumb, caressing the skin, and that was when everything became calm through a simple touch.

The ringing in your ears ceased, the pounding of the music and chatters of the people became silent, the jitters in your body were gone, and mellowness coursed through your veins to where everything was at a standstill.

Your eyes were wide as you looked at him, awaiting his next move, his next words.

“Bub…” He started then shook his head, the affectionate nickname accidently slipping without consciousness. You hadn’t heard that name come from his mouth in so long. You missed it. “Ah, sorry.” Another shake of the head. “Are you okay? You were almost having a panic attack. Y-Your…” He trailed off, his hand slipping from your cheek to rest by his side as he turned his head away then back to face you. His eyes were soft and filled with concern. He whispered so softly, you could barely make out his words. “Your anxiety hasn’t gotten worse right?”

It was now your turn to move away from his piercing gaze. You never talked about your conflicts with your friends before, you had almost forgotten you had told him, that he knew a secret of yours, but he was never willing to share his own.

You rubbed your hands up and down your arms to provide some heat from the chills that suddenly erupted throughout your entire body.

You refused to behold him. “No,” you muttered, eyeing the floor. “It hasn’t so don’t worry. I’m fine.”

His calloused hands grasp at your chin so he could turn your face to lay your eyes on him. “Are you really okay?”

You knew the underlying meaning to his question. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, just waiting to fall at four words that seemed so simple to provide an answer to, despite that it was so very hard to voice.

Your eyes dropped to the floor, but he titled your chin up to make sure he saw your eyes when you answered, to see if you were telling the truth.

There was no point to lie, to him of all people, so you mumbled the dreadful word, knowing it was the last one he would want to hear, “No.”

He inhaled a sharp breath, letting his hand fall and took a step back, to provide some space between your bodies. He was the one that now refused to take note of you.

“What do you mean?”

You hugged your own body closer, seeing that he couldn’t provide the much needed comfort, not when what you once had no longer existed.

Your delicate voice could barely be heard. “I-It’s just been h-hard without you. I thought I could do it, b-but…” You trailed off, a stray tear making its way down your cheek and onto the floor. The round droplet of water becoming so lonely, resting there by itself, just like you. “I-I can’t.”

He stepped further away, pushing a hand through his hair, messing up the once neat locks.

“You can’t say that.” He inhaled a breath, raising his eyes to the ceiling then at your figure leaning against the wall. “You can’t ask that of me.”

The frustration seeped through your tone. “I know that!” Your voice became softer. “Trust me I know, but what do you want me to say? That I’m fine without you? That I am happy without you in my life?” You paused, trying to cower into your body further if it was even possible. “You know I can’t lie to you, Jen.” He flinched at the nickname, furthering clutching his hair. “You know I can’t so what’s the point? I’m not happy, I’m not happy…unless it’s with you and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I haven’t moved on.”

He let out a long, exasperated sigh, his hand relaxing before settling by his sides. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can no longer be your happiness, but it’s for the best. We both agreed on this, remember? Even if it pains us, it’s for the best.”

You wiped at your eyes. The dry tears could be still felt on your skin, be that as it may you no longer were on the verge of crying, you were angrier than anything else. You threw your hands up in the air, taking steps towards him until you were mere inches away.

“But why can’t the best be filled with joy instead of sorrow. Why Jen? Why can’t we be happy together?”

Your red rimmed eyes and teary face bruised him on all accounts. Whenever you were hurt, he was as well and it was something he was afraid of, he would always be till the end of time. 

“I…” He inhaled a breath. “I don’t know.”

You placed your hand on his bicep giving him a small smile, not letting your temper consume you today. “It’s okay, I get it.”

He leaned his head forward to rest on your shoulder letting out small, shallow breaths as you raise your hand to run through his thick locks of hair.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, bub,” he choked on his words, the nickname slipping past his lips unheard. He hitches up his head off your shoulder, allowing your hand to drop from the movement. He gazed into your eyes, the regret ever so prevalent. “I’m the one to blame for us falling apart.”

You nodded your head, not knowing what else to say, both shocked at his shameless declaration and admittance of his faults, nonetheless also touched that he spoke the truth.

His cell phone then suddenly dinged in his pocket, startling the both of you as he took the device out of his back pocket, the light from the screen illuminating his face in a bright, blinding glow.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He looked up at you and your furrowed eyebrows. “I-I have to go. I…” He opened his mouth, wrangling with his next words, trying to be careful with what he said next because they could either mend or break the already hanging thread that bounded the two of you together.

A subtle smile slipped onto your face that he could see in the muted lit hall and it melted his heart. He knew you understood, like you always had and always will. 

“I’ll see you around.” He reached for your hand, giving it a slight squeeze, the contact alone was one that left tingles in your skin. “Stay safe.”

He leaves, letting go of your hand and the hold you had over his life, retreating into the darkness of the night for an adventure he always sought to seek, except this time you weren’t by his side.

Though even if you weren’t with him, you weren’t alone. 

“You know,” a voice spoke up amidst the near gloominess of the hall, startling you. You jolted in your spot and turned your body around slowly, the pulse of your beating heart quickening. You saw a figure in the shadows, well at least that is what you could make out.

Had someone been there the whole time? Listening to your conversation with Jeno?

You were more exposed than you realized and you wished it wouldn’t bite you in the back.

Your feet padded against the marble floor and you squint your eyes to get a better look a couple of inches away. Their back was resting on the wall with their left foot planted flatly there as you could see the red solo cup in their right hand. Their head tilted forward slightly as they swished the liquid around the cup before bringing it to their lips and then they proceeded to push themselves off to advance towards you. You saw his figure emerge out of the darkness and when he stood so close to you you didn’t know what to do, feel, or think. You felt like your heart stopped beating in your chest and the blood coursed that through your veins spiked with utter heat, it was a different state, one you never experienced before, not even with a previous lover. 

Your mind went blank and your mouth became dry.

The boy that stood before you was beyond beautiful. You could make out his features in the pale lit hall from every little perfection to perfection for he struck you like he was crafted from above to be unrivaled with no fault in sight.

The first thing that drew you in was his eyes. His eyes were sharp and catlike, a deep brown color that cut through your soul as if he could see every aspect of your being. His eyebrows were rich and fine, in a perfect shape, every hair in the same direction, brushed to be unmoving. While his nose was soft and round, enhancing his delicate features. His cupid bow was prominent, yet light, shaping his thin lips that were pink and utterly pulposus. His skin appeared to be smooth, without any blemish in sight, but you could make out a small scar on the right side of his face that was covered by his hair, though the mark did not take away from his loveliness, only amplified it. His hair was midnight black, almost blending into the background and perfectly framed his face, the strands falling to the sides, right above his eyes, leaving a little bit of his forehead exposed. His face was completely stoic with no mein painted across its fairness and he still was able to be so ethereal, yet imitating with his sharp jawline and pierced ears. He was too good to be true and you felt as if you weren’t worthy enough to lock eyes with an exquisite being such as himself. Even so, your eyes roamed around his face to analyze each and every feature, to truly engrave his image in your mind. 

You could stare all day and get lost in him till he broke you out of your thoughts.

“You know,” he repeated again and you could feel his eyes on you as you struggled to look anywhere but at his gorgeous face. “Whatever goes around eventually comes back to you.” He paused and licked his lips, contemplating a motive. He titled his head before stepping forward while your eyes became wide with curiosity, wondering what he was about to do next. He brought his free hand up from his side, delicately grasping your chin to make you focus on him. His thumb came to rest on your lower lip as you unconsciously parted your lips from his scorching touch. He softly moved his thumb around for several seconds before pulling your lip down at a slow pace. His hand settled completely afterwards, resting by his side anew. He maneuvered right next to your body and leaned his face closer, his pink lips touching your earlobe. He whispered so quietly that you could barely make out what he said or if he even said anything at all. “So you gotta be careful, baby.”

Your mouth opened and closed, attempting to get a response out. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you could feel your hands begin to get clammy. He called you baby, a simple word of affection you heard a thousand times in your life, yet when he said it the feelings that overcame you were different. There was something else in the pet name, an unknown tone of emotion that you couldn’t figure out.

You couldn’t figure him out. 

He affected you so much with mere words as well as actions and you had barely glimpsed at him for not many fleeting seconds. He held you in a spell and you didn’t know if it was one that could be broken. 

You gathered enough courage to turn your head, hoping to see his face a mere centimeters from you, but he wasn’t. He stepped away from you amongst your captivated state and the hotness that emitted from his body turned cold. He didn’t even look at you as he strode by, becoming a small figure amidst a bigger crowd, only leaving you with his last lovely words of advice. You were confused to say the least. He didn’t say goodbye or inform you that he would catch you around campus like you hoped he would. He simply left and with that, you felt as if a piece of your heart did as well. What hurt the most was that you didn’t even catch his name.

Who was he?

That was a question you would strive to find the answer to, if it was the last thing you could do on this forsaken planet during your lifetime. For you were mesmerized by a stranger in the dark, a beautiful one at that who had the power to make you fall with his mere presence and make you forget all the same.

You suppose that the mere explanation why you were disoriented as you made your way back to the heart of the party courtesy of the enigma himself, the thought of Lee Jeno long forgotten.

Everything felt dizzy around you as you felt reality slowly morph into fantasy. The colors of the flashing LED lights were blurring together and the bodies that were pushing up against you when you crossed the dance floor felt too close for comfort.

You needed a glass of water or the fresh air or even someone to take your mind off things. You needed to truly be lost to the bliss of your mind in order to gain sobriety thereafter. You were slightly tipsy, most certainly pushing it, yes, but you were also intoxicated from another source that made you drunk—a boy.

Not even the Balkan 176 Vodka had this much of an impact.

You stumbled forward, pushing through the crowd to get to the kitchen, hoping you recalled the familiar pathway to your destination that had started off your night.

You must have been too close to the floor or were worse in appearance than you assumed yourself to be for you tripped on your footing and fell forward, not before someone’s arm came to wrap around you waist to prevent you from face planting the floor.

“Woah,” they said, their husky voice sounding like music to your ears. “Are you okay there?”

You closed your eyes shut and nodded your head, too scared to turn around to face them through your embarrassment. They maneuvered you around so the front of your body was directly in front of their own. You slowly opened your eyes to the sight of yet another breathtaking boy, making him one of countless others you had seen throughout the night. This particular boy though was one with a dimpled smile. He had a boyish charm that exuded from his persona, but also a sense of maturity at the same time. His deep black hair was parted and a few loose strands fell perfectly over his forehead. He had an inviting look on his face and you suppose that is why you choose him.

You didn’t even think twice before grabbing the collar of his shirt and crashing your lips onto his.

A distraction is what he would be from the brutal reality of your intoxicated world full of heartbreak, lies, and a sprinkle of hope.

He must have been startled for he didn’t move his plump lips against yours for a handful of seconds, but after much adherence he gave in.

It might have been weird to make out with a stranger you didn’t know, one whose name you didn’t even ask for, that is the glamor of college frat parties in some form. Everyone hooked up with everyone. No judgment was given and you were just there for some fun, even if it countered your morals.

Sense was out the door and a high took over. No room for second guessing.

You made out with the attractive boy for some long, draining seconds, before he pulled back first. His lips were swollen and so very red. You were sure you mirrored his features.He licked his lips and titled his head, his gaze locking onto yours as he gave his eyebrow a slight raise.

“Wow,” he muttered then proceeded to chuckle. “Do you always make out with strangers before knowing their name? Or just make out with a stranger right when you meet them?” Another chuckle and a shake of the head.

You turned away, the embarrassment coursing through your veins again. You were thankful that sobriety was achieved, howbeit it partially had to be because of a make out session no less. Sometimes you hated when you drank, too out of it to be aware of your actions.

Damn Nicole.

He moved his hand forward and grasped your chin lightly to turn your face towards him. He was the third to make contact with your skin that night, still and all his touch didn’t burn like the boy that emerged from the dark, for it only left you unfeeling.

He hummed waiting for your answer and the intensity of his stare when you peered at him under your lashes made your knees buckle.

“Um…” you trailed off letting out an awkward and forced giggle. “N-no…not really,” you cleared your throat to get the proper words out. Confidence is what you had to remember. “No, but I—”

You were cut off by a shout of another male calling your name, whose figure was pushing through the throngs of people to reach you when you turned your head to take a gander.

“Ah,” he lets out an exasperated sigh. “There you are! I have been looking all over for you.” He huffs out a breath and gives you a pointed stare. “I told you not to go running off…” He then stops abruptly when he inspects the boy who was so blatantly close to you, too close by his standards at least.

His eyebrows furrowed and zoned in at the boy's hand that were placed firmly on your side and how your chest was pressed up close to his. The boy’s hand hadn’t moved from its previous position either, but when he saw the stare of your best friend he let it rest back to his sides and stepped backwards letting go of his hold on you completely.

“Jaehyun? What are you doing? No,” he shook his head and slightly glared at the presumably older boy. “What were you doing?”

Jaehyun, the boy you now knew the name of after a kiss, shyly laughed and brought his hand up to rub at his neck. You could see the tips of his ears beginning to turn pink as he refused to make eye contact.

While you knew he wouldn’t say what you both were truly doing before your friend’s arrival you didn’t want to leave him grasping at straws.

“He—” you started, then stopped at the same pointed look your best friend gave you and let out a huff at his behavior. He was always too overprotective of you.

“It wasn’t what it looked like Mark, I swear.” He put his hands up at the eyebrow raise Mark gave him as if he caught onto the lie Jaehyun was going to tell. His hands sank to his sides before he continued. “I saw her stumbling through the crowd some minutes ago and she was so clearly out of it that she almost tripped so obviously I didn’t want her to hurt herself. I just stopped her from nearly collapsing on the floor. That’s all.”

When he finished speaking, Mark's gaze was anything but less suspicious, yet his face slowly morphed into a subtle smile. “Always a gentleman huh, Jae?” He asked and let out a laugh in which the boy returned.

Jaehyun’s eyes peered over at you as he gave a lopsided grin and subtle wink. “Always.”

You were hoping Mark didn’t catch on, but with the way his hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you harshly forward, you were beginning to think he had.

“Okay well we better get going. It is a Thursday and we do have class tomorrow so I'll catch you later, Jae. Just tell the guys I had to drop someone off if they’re wondering where I am.”

Jaehyun nodded his head, his eyes still on your own before flashing to meet Mark's. “Will do and hey,” he jerked his head towards you as your eyes slightly furrowed, speculating what he wanted to say to you. “Try not to face plant the floor again, okay?”

You laughed at his remark as Mark's arm came to wrap around your waist tightly, trying to whisk you away towards the front door. You stumbled over how fast he was trying to get your further away from Jaehyun, but still made an effort to reply to the other boy.

You whipped your head around to see him one last time before he would be one figure amongst hundreds. “No promises!”

He shook his head at you and pivoted on his heel. The figure of a boy with a dimpled grin being lost in the sea of people. You hoped you could see him around another time and considering everything you knew you would.

“Try not to flirt with my friends will you?” Mark spoke out as he maneuvered you around the countless bodies occupying the house. He tugged your arm over his shoulder to give him more support while you walked. 

You rolled your eyes at him and pouted. “I was not,” you burped. “Flirting.”

He snickered, peering over at you instantly. “Sure you weren’t.” He looked over the heads of people as he was nearing the front door, stopping in his tracks when you were a few feet away from leaving the house. 

“Anyways where’s Nicole? You came with her right? That’s what you told me because you didn’t want me to come pick you up to bring you to the party.”

You nodded your head, letting out a small yawn. “Mhm, but I lost her not even ten minutes into the party. She went off with one of your frat boys I am sure, I don’t know which one obviously and just left me to mingle.”

He sighed. “We won’t be seeing her for quite some time then.”

“Nope,” you spoke, popping the ‘p.’ “Not a chance.”

“Guess I’ll have to give you a ride then, not that I wasn’t going to but I didn’t want to leave you both alone just in case.” He spoke glancing around to see if by chance Nicole was around, having returned from her little fun escapade.

“Agreed,” you said, yawning once more and you snuggled into the crook of Mark's neck, letting your eyes shut close. Partying for who knows how long and drinking who knows how much alcohol made you exhausted beyond belief. 

“Why have a frat party on Thursday? Especially when most of us have classes the next day. I don’t get it,” you mumbled into his neck as he fondly glanced down at you. There was something endearing about you in that moment, regardless of being at a frat party with sweaty bodies and stomach-churning smells. He leaned forward to kiss the top of your head before adjusting his grip on you so he could get you both out the front door and into his car without any mishaps.

“It is called a frat party for a reason, angel. No day of the week stops us, not even school days.”

You let out a loud groan. “Just great for us, huh?”

He let out a laugh. “Mhm because you’ll definitely have a hangover tomorrow and won’t want to get out of bed, but yay classes. You’re a freshman too and it’s your first week so mind you that you can’t skip even if you wanted to.”

“Screw you.” You murmur elevating your head slightly to properly glare at him. Instead of a threatening look it was something he found cute. But at that same moment when you upheave your head from Mark's shoulder you caught a glimpse of him. You were sure it was him, you couldn’t forget his face even if you tried. He was leaning on a tree in the front yard, once more in the shadows. His right foot was planted on the stump, and in his right hand was an unlit cigarette. His free hand reached into his front pocket and he pulled out a silver lighter that caught glimpses of the moonlight, shining so prominently. When he lit his cigarette he took a long drag and then exhaled, gray smoke encompassing him in a gloomy cloud. He wasn’t checking anywhere but straight ahead to the murkiness of the road, the only light emitting from the lights of the house behind you, that casted a perfect glow across his face, if only he stepped out from the shadows so you could see him in all his enchanting glory. You thought he would turn to eye you, people always did when they felt someone staring, but he didn’t and you forced your head away when Mark called your name.

“Angel?” He asked, his tone curious. “You okay? You blank spaced for a few seconds there.”

You peep up at him to see the concern in his eyes.

You shook your head to get rid of the image that plagued your mind: an image of a boy you thought you wouldn’t see afresh.

“Yeah,” you peered over Mark’s shoulder to see if he was still there, but what you saw was a bare and lonely tree with no boy leaning against it. You were left in disappointment along with confusion for he was there moments ago but left once you turned your head away.

Weird.

Another shake of the head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just sleepy, sorry.” You sheepishly smiled up at him.

He chuckled, giving a kiss to your forehead. “Understandable so let's get you home.”

You rested your head on his shoulder once more, your eyes filled with both drowsiness and longing for a boy you didn’t know. Hope was all you had and it would be a driving force for you to see the bewildering boy for more than a fleeting second.

If only you knew he had caught you staring when he slipped away.

“You’re sober right?” You questioned when you both arrived at the location in which Mark had parked his black Audi Suv Q8. How he had the money for such a gorgeous car was a shocker, especially considering he was in college no less. Mark always did surprise you in more ways than one.

His grip on you loosened so he could fumble through his jean pocket to find his keys. He gave you an exasperated look when his keys jingled in his hand, clinking against one another.

“Angel, seriously? Of course I'm sober. You know I don't really like to drink anyways, especially at parties.”

You giggled at him. “Sorry, I forgot but I just wanted to make sure! You know my safety can be at risk.”

He brought you over to the side of the passenger’s seat as he unlocked the car, opening up the door to push you inside. He unwrapped his arm from around your waist and tugged your arm away from his neck, so you could sit comfortably in the leather cushion. As he reached over to click the seatbelt into place, he became undeniably close to you, his breath fanning your face.

“Angel you’re always safe with me, “ he drew back to get a good glimpse of your face. “Never forget that.” And when you thought he would give you a friendly kiss on the head like he did various times before, he raised his right hand and gave a small flick to your forehead instead.

“Agreed?”

You lurched back, shocked that he flicked you and he laughed at your wide eyes.

“You flicked me!”

His eyes roll in your sight and he leans back to stand up properly. “Yeah I flicked you, had to get you more sober somehow.”

Then he closes the door shut as he makes his way to the driver’s seat leaving your response unheard.

You grumbled underneath your breath and crossed your arms over your chest. “That wasn’t very nice.”

You turned away from him when he got in the car and clicked his seatbelt into place. He stuck the keys in the ignition and a rumbling was heard thereafter of the engine starting.

He called your name, reaching his right arm over to place his hand on your thigh. He patted the bare skin to get your attention. “Angel come on.” He was glancing between you and the empty road in front of him. “Don’t be mean now.”

You shifted your body, turning forward, his hand dropping from your thigh. He now placed both hands on the wheel, still awaiting to see if you would talk to him.

You sighed before letting out a small giggle and stuck out your tongue when you knew he wasn’t paying attention. “I would never.”

He whipped his head suddenly to make contact with you, your laughter still echoing in the car. “Did you just—”

“Hey! Eyes on the road dumbass!” You hollered and reached over to grab hold of the wheel when he had begun to slightly swerve into the left lane from looking at you for too long. He jerked suddenly when he heard your exclamation as he took over the wheel and steered the car back into the right lane.

He let out a sigh of relief, looking straight ahead, glad no cars were near him when the mishap occurred. He released his right hand off the steering wheel, brushing it through his luscious locks of hair before going back to gripping the wheel, his knuckles turning white from how hard his hold was.

You leaned back in your seat, snuggling into the warm leather. Your tone was mocking as you spoke your next words, “You’re so smart, Markie.” You stifled a laugh when he gave a roll of his eyes.

You knew he would reach over to softly punch you, only if he wasn’t afraid of possibly crashing once more.

“Shut up.”

Your laughter rang out and would flood the increasing silence for moments to come along with the pop music that blared from the car’s speakers, Mark’s attempt of drowning out your titters until you finally reached your destination.

You only lived a few minutes away from campus since you didn’t live in the dorms like other fellow freshmen, lucky enough that your parents had been willing to pay for your own place once you had gotten into university.

Mark had pulled up in the parking lot, turning the keys in the ignition to shut off his car. He released a subtle yawn, leaning back in his seat and turned his head to peer over at you.

Your eyes locked with his own, the contact between you lasting for what felt like instances too long. You could see the tenderness in his gaze and a small smile broke out on his face, one you could barely make out due to the darkness of the wee hours of the morning. You were sure it was past two. 

“Come on,” he reached over the center console and brushed his knuckle against your check, as your own lips uplifted into a lazy beam. “Let me walk you inside.”

You hummed in response and he retracted his hand to clutch onto the handle of the car door in order to get out. You waited for him to come to the other side so he could help you out the car and to the door of your apartment, since you intelligibly could not do it on your own, the drowsiness taking over.

He opened the door and leaned over to unbuckle your seatbelt. Your eyelids feel heavy with sleep as you could barely keep them open, when his right arm wrapped around your waist to haul you up. You thought he would just help you to your door, allowing you to hold some of your own bodyweight, but he didn’t. When your feet were planted on the concrete, he latched one arm under your legs, the other still placed around your waist, permitting him to carry you bridal style. Your eyes fluttered open at the abrupt movements, but you just placed your head in the crook of his shoulder once more, finally allowing your eyes to close as he maneuvered your arm around his neck for further support.

He carried you all the way to your doorstep, knowing you had placed a spare key under the doormat when you first moved in.

He placed the key in the lock, turning it in place and pushed the door open with the front of his foot. The lights flickered on, detecting the motion and he trotted on to the end of the hall where the entrance of your bedroom was. He glanced at the stark neon numbers of your alarm clock, noting it was half past three in the morning. He shook his head and you moved in the process, letting out a small whine. He knew your class would be in a little more than four hours and he knew how much you would dread to get up in the morning.

He dropped you lightly on the bed, unraveling your limbs from around him. You turned in your bed, a groan leaving your lips.

He softly chuckled at you then proceeded to tug off your heels, deciding to leave you in the rest of your attire, even if a mini dress wasn’t ideal to sleep in. However, you would manage, especially considering you were too out of it to care.

He tugs the covers out from underneath you, evident of the sounds of protest emitting from your lips.

“I am just trying to tuck you in, you big baby,” he teases. “So stop moving.”

You weren’t fully passed out yet so you took heed to his words, stopping in your movements as you felt the snugness of the blankets engulf you. He made sure you were tucked in nicely before leaning over and placing a gentle peck on your forehead, in which he caught a glimpse of a smile.

“Good night, angel,” he whispered once he leaned back. He brought the covers up to your chin, giving your cheek a little tap with his index finger. “I love you.”

You hummed, tilting your head up to scrunch up your nose in the air as your eyes became closed crescent moons. “Love you too, Markie.” You let out a yawn and turned your head away to face the wall, snuggling deeper into your covers.

A smile was painted on his face as he pivoted on his heel to exit the room and ultimately your apartment in order to drive back to his frat house since he needed some sleep himself, considering you would rely on him in a few hours to make it out of bed for class.

He then stopped in his tracks before he was completely out the door. “I’ll come by in the morning…in a few hours and shoot you a text so you can get up on time. Class at 8am sharp, angel. Don’t forget.” 

His footsteps faded into the hall and you heard the front door slam shut moments after. While he didn’t think you were awake when he spoke his friendly reminder, you were, at least before you finally let sleep take you under. Yet, in those few hours, when Mark said he would swing by, he didn’t.

So there you were, jerking awake in raw sweat when you glanced at your alarm clock that indicated the time was ten past eight in the morning.

“Shit,” you said, bringing your hand up to rub at your temples to potentially soothe the pounding headache you had.

Trust Mark to let you down, though you knew there was a possible conflict. He never forgot things, there had to be a reason, but you wouldn’t let it worry you now when you were assuredly late for class.

You thought of skipping, but recalled the oh so fantastic reminder that you were still a freshman and your class attendance did matter, especially since it was the first week.

You scrambled to get out of bed, tripping over your two left feet as you made your way to the bathroom that was a few steps away from your room.

You rushed to brush your teeth and wash your face, the light makeup crusty beyond belief. You also made sure to pee, just like your usual morning routine. Then you rushed back into your room to swiftly change into a more comfortable outfit, something that wasn’t a short mini dress because no way were you going to be marching into lecture looking like you came straight from the club. You tugged on some black jeans and took the first hoodie you laid eyes on off the hanger before jumping into your socks and grabbing the first pair of Vans that lay by your shoe rack.

You reached for your cell phone on the bedside table along with your car keys, seeing the time was now 8:17am and assorted texts from your friends. The one that stood out most was Mark’s which was the most recent, but you had no time to check what he said, most likely noting he was apologizing for not coming over. You slipped your mobile into your back pocket and went down the hall. You made a fast stop to your kitchen, grabbing a cold bottle of water from the fridge and reaching for the bottle of Advil in the cupboard, that you would undoubtedly need to down in order to get rid of your hangover, the headache pounding feeling louder by the second. You skidded over to the couch in your living room and grabbed your backpack off the cushion, hoping it had all the materials you would need for your classes today. 

After shutting the door to your apartment, making sure it was locked, and skipping down the stairs by twos, you reached the parking garage of your complex, nearly running to get to your sleek grey Toyota Corolla. You kick started your car and drove down the highway, speeding to the point you were sure you would get pulled over if a cop so happened to pass by. Although fate was on your side today because you made it to campus in nearly record time, right on the dot at 8:22am. You would get marked late and definitely scolded some more if you stepped through the door at 8:30am for a lecture, but you could make it if you sprinted across campus, which was what you were going to do.

Yet, running sometimes doesn’t work for you because when you turned the corner of the hallway where your morning class was located, you bumped into someone. 

“Ow,” you muttered under your breath. Their chest was rock solid and the impact hurt. Their hands came to rest on your forearms to steady you.

“Oh fuck. Are you okay?” they asked gruffly, concern patent in their tone and for some reason their voice was vaguely recognizable. 

“Ah yeah, I’m…” You trailed off, just about ready to see who you ran into, but in the corner of your eye, right before you could, you saw him, a glimpse of a figure with black bucket hat and oversized paint splatter tee. It could have just been anyone, yet you were sure it was him because you would notice those arcane and void eyes anywhere. His eyes barely glanced at his surroundings as he was walking and he had the effect to unintentionally stop your train of thought. You knew it was him, the boy from the frat party, the one that stunned you into silence, the one that made your heart beat rapidly, the one that called you baby, the one—

“Hey!” the person in front of you exclaimed, slightly shaking your arms. “Are you sure you’re good? You were out of it there for a second, princess.”

You shook your head to get your mind unclouded, noting the boy had faded into oblivion, yet again. You never quite had the timing right. Sometimes fate was on your side, other times not so much.

You turn your head, locking eyes with the deep brown of the boy who you bumped into, the same boy who had saved you yesterday. Just perfect. 

He has a gentle smile on his face, one that made you feel cozy and his dimples were showcased so prominently. 

“Well, if it isn't my favorite clumsy girl. We meet again and soon at that. Do I have to keep you from falling all the time?”

You giggle nervously when he quirks his brow, “Well?”

You stutter, looking behind your shoulder then back at his face. “U-Um...well...I-I…”

His boisterous laugh rings. “I’m just messing, princess. If anything I so happen to enjoy our little run-ins. Gives me an excuse to talk to you and have you fall into my arms,” he states with no shame, the smile widening. 

“Of course you’d say that.”

“Can’t help it princess, that was some kiss last night,” his smile transforms to a small smirk.

You hit his chest and he chortles at your action, his head leaning back. You whisper in response, “Shut up, someone might hear you.”

“My bad,” he manages to say in between his amusement.

You shake your head, but then your eyes go wide with realization that you needed to be in class, as in right now. 

“Shit,” you cursed, the fear seeping in your bones. You never had been late before. 

His laughter stops and his eyebrows wrinkle together. “You all right?”

You let out another high strung laugh, stepping back from him and to the other side of his body. His eyes follow your every move. “Oh yeah sorry. I’m fine…I just have to go,” you spoke and then dashed forward, leaving him behind in the dust along with the memory of the same mysterious boy from before Jaehyun stole your attention away. 

You were glad you made it right on time to class, well as late as you were. You footslog through the door at 8:30am, with each pair of eyes in the classroom looking at you for the tiniest nanosecond. You were glad your professor hadn’t called you out, too invested in his lesson that he didn’t spare you a single glance even if you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your skull as you made your way to your seat in the back of the room. Class droned on for two hours and you felt every ounce of willpower draining from your veins. You were sure you would collapse any second now and taking a few tablets of Advil added to your disoriented state of sleepiness. You still had another two classes after this one before you would be able to take a break for lunch and even then you had one more class before you were done for the day.

You were hoping it went by fast, but with your hangover still quite literally hanging around, and your lack of focus, you knew you were fucked.

Fucked is what you were until lunch time came around. 

You were sure everyone could catch on to the fact that you were hung over because simply put you looked like shit. You had your hoodie on, but it barely accomplished concealing your very visible red-rimmed eyes and droopy lids. You were basically dragging yourself over to your designated spot where Nicole, Mark, and you always met up for your breaks. You were glad your schedules overlapped to where you would be able to catch up with them before the other had to dash off to another class. Mark was busier since he was a year above, but he still tried to organize his schedule around your own because his classes were from the early morning to night at times. While you and Nicole usually had classes up till the midafternoon, allowing the rest of your day and night to be free.

When you reached the expanse of the indoor cafeteria, you struggled to find either one of your friends, desperately searching for a similar shade of brown and black amongst countless others.

Then you saw Mark pushing his way through the surrounding students, coming over to you and you caught sight of Nicole sitting at the table tucked into the corner of the dining room, tapping away at her cell phone screen, her tray of food discarded.

There was a smirk plastered on his face when he reached you and slung his arm over your shoulder. He whispered in your ear rather obnoxiously, “You look like shit.”

You pushed at his side to get him off of you from his crude remark, but to no avail for he brought his arm tighter around you so he could hug you to his chest. His laughter rang loud amongst the noise of the cafeteria, but you were sure it would have stood out like a sore thumb.

You mumbled into his chest, your cheek resting on his sky blue button up shirt, inhaling the scent of citrus and detergent. “I hate you.”

His laughter got even louder if that was possible. “You don’t, but whatever you say angel.” He released his grip on you, unraveling himself from your body, though his arm was still around your shoulder as you closed your eyes momentarily, leaning on him.

“Now let’s get you some food, hm?”

You nodded your head as he steered you through the crowd to get to the table. When your eyes opened you still saw Nicole typing away furiously on her mobile, but then she heaved a loud and long sigh, nearly slamming the cellular device down on the table in the process.

You walked around the table to sit next to her, Mark’s arm dropping from your shoulder as he excused himself to go pick up some food for both you and him.

You wrapped your own arm around her as she leaned her body into yours.

“What’s up?” you asked, rubbing your thumb over her clothed skin.

She sighed yet again and shook her head. “Nothing…it’s just a lot happened at that party after I left you alone…” She paused, peering up at the ceiling then down at her twiddling hands in her lap. “A lot and I don’t know…I don’t know.”

You nodded your head in acknowledgement, you had some idea what she meant, most likely referring to the boy she wandered off with at the start of the party, but you would wait for her to tell you what happened and she would when she felt like sharing. There was no point to pressure her.

“I get it, don’t worry Nicki. We can talk about it when you’re ready.”

She turned her head to smile up at you and raised her hand to boop your nose. “Thanks babe. You’re the best.”

You lazily smiled back at her. “Yeah I know.”

She let out a giggle and you were glad you achieved your goal to make her happy in that moment, but it was for a moment too short because the sound of a tray hitting the table echoed in the cafeteria courtesy of Mark Lee himself.

“Ah shit, sorry, sorry,” he muttered, his mouth turned down into a frown. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything between you two.” He rubbed the back of his neck before gently placing the next tray onto the table to lessen the noise.

You laughed as Nicole’s weight lifted off of you.

“You’re fine, Markie, don’t worry.” You smiled up to him and patted the seat next to you. “So what did you get me for lunch?”

He maneuvered around the table to sit next to you, sliding the trays over once he sat down.

He gave you a boyish grin, his star-filled eyes sparkling. “Your favorite.”

You peered down at the tray in front of you, with two styrofoam containers of various sizes and some napkins he had so graciously placed at the sides.

You quirked an eyebrow when you looked over at him, wondering what he meant, considering you loved most food and it was always hard to pick one favorite.

You opened the larger container to a sandwich cut perfectly into two triangles, the distinct turkey slices and cheddar cheese sticking out.

“You didn’t…”

His beam grew. “Yup! A turkey, apple, and cheddar sandwich, baby! I know you’ve been craving one too and since hangovers also suck ass it is perfect for lunch.”

He bumped his shoulder with yours. “With a side of fries of course.”

You giggled and bumped his shoulder right back, making sure to give his hand a squeeze that rested on his thigh.

“Thank you, Markie. You always do take care of me.”

He squeezed your hand right back before you let go to begin eating your food.

“Always.”

“Aw you guys are always so cute…I’m jealous,” a voice broke out, interrupting the intimate moment between you and Mark. 

Nicole had a pout on her face when you turned to look at her, making the both of you laugh.

“Laughing at my misfortune, sweet,” she mumbled with a roll of her eyes, but you could clearly see her trying to hold back a smile.

“Shut up, Nicki. You just wish you had a relationship like us,” Mark exclaimed with a smirk, throwing his arm around your shoulder, tugging you close to him amidst you trying to take a bite out of your sandwich.

You huffed and shook your shoulders to get the weight of his arm off of you in order to eat before your lunch break was over. “Trying to eat, mate.”

Nicole let out a loud, boisterous laugh as she stood up from the table, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. Her boots clicked against the tile as she took small steps to where the two of you sat. She patted Mark’s head, slightly ruffling his locks of black hair, in which he opposed and kissed the crown of your head, her flowery scent lingering when she stepped back.

“As much as I would love to continue this, my loves, I have to get to my next class early. I have to ask the professor some questions about an upcoming assignment.” She tugged on the straps of her backpack to hitch them higher, the sadness in her eyes transparent at her departure when her eyes glimpsed between you and Mark.

“Aw man,” you pouted. “See you later though! Make sure to text me too!”

She gave you a sly wink. “For sure!” She then smirked over at Mark. “Don’t worry I won’t forget to text you either.”

He gave a roll of his eyes but nodded his head nonetheless. “I am honored. Now go!”

“Okay, okay! I am going so bye bye loves.” She gave a little wave and pivoted on her heels, off towards her next class, but stopped in her tracks after a number of steps.

She moved her head to the right in order to glance at Mark from the corner of her eye. “Oh and Mark? Make sure our little party girl makes it to class in one piece.”

She whipped her head forward and continued walking, not sparing an ounce of extra time to see either one of your reactions. Although Mark besides you was trying his best to contain his laughter.

You punched his shoulder and pushed him thereafter, his body swaying right then left, his laughter ever increasing with no complaints of pain from your bold actions.

“You guys are so annoying,” you mustered, the aggressive sound of your chewing echoing in your ears and his own.

He patted your head, maneuvering his hands over to open his containers of food.

He shrugged his shoulders, picking up his fork to twirl the noodles around before stuffing his face with food. He chewed slowly contrary to your prior actions. He swallowed then spoke, “Yeah, but you still love us.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up a fry and pointing it at him. “Don’t give yourself too much credit there, bud.”

You took a bite when he gave you an exasperated look. “Whatever you say, angel, but you and I both know the truth.”

You ignored him and continued eating, food occupying your mind rather than the bullshit Mark pulled on you, though he did in fact call your bluff. You very much loved him and Nicole, no matter how much you joked about not loving them.

Amidst the quietness that surrounded you and Mark, the only sound of you both chewing every so often, until your ears perked up at a conversation from the tables near you, whispers of remarks. 

“They’re here.”

“Who?”

“The frat boys from NCT, who else? Legends on campus. Heartbreakers of the century. Know how to throw a good party. They are pretty smart too and literally all of them are handsome, it’s insane. A whole package if you ask me. Damn good genes.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the statements, contemplating how accurate they could be and if they really held the very weight conveyed.

Then a light bulb went off in your head—the boys from the NCT frat house, the very boys who threw the outrageous party you attended yesterday. They were here in the cafeteria and everyone was making a big ruckus out of their arrival. While they surely had a name for themselves, they couldn’t be that legendary or that gorgeous, but oh how you were so very wrong.

The diverse boys that walked into the cafeteria, their power exuding from their auras, instances after your claims, were so striking it left you breathless and in awe. 

What the fuck was up with all these college boys being so pretty? 

College was a whole different beast from high school, if the boys were any indication.

You were speculating the boys that stode in didn’t whole frat house, since more often than none frats had a lot of members and even more so that they would all be in different years with different classes throughout the day, not being lucky enough to have an identical period of break. Although, you knew it was possible if the right strings were pulled, but you just believed they weren’t capable of such doings for an odd reason you couldn’t point out. Regardless, the members that strode in surely spoke for the rest of them, indeed the good genes.

To your amazement they didn’t stop to grab food like other students would have if they entered the cafeteria, for the sole purpose of food and food alone. Instead they were on the search for someone, their eyes wandering over the heads of the entire student body that were captivated at their presence. They paid no mind to the apparent stares, set on who they were looking for, even disregarding the flirty winks or sultry gazes a number of girls were sending them.  

Surprising you, one of them managed to send a wink right back when he strided by, a boy with relatively long brown hair with blonde highlights and fierce eyes who looked like he came straight out of a Japanese anime.

You rolled your eyes at the boy’s actions and went back to eating the rest of your fries, having already finished your sandwich, as there was no reason for you to pay attention to them in the slightest. Your meal held more importance. Not to mention, you knew they wouldn't head your way, noting that they weren’t looking for you, rather someone else, a girl or a fellow frat boy if another was in the room.

Then you paused suddenly before you took the final bite out of your french fry. You were hit with an abrupt realization. Mark was in a frat—their frat and they could in fact be looking for him.

Your suspicions were confirmed when a very tall and lean boy, with tousled black hair pushed to the side, presumably leading the other boys that trailed behind him, began to head in the direction of where you sat with Mark, his eyes lighting up as he became closer.

Well shit.

Mark doesn’t look up, too immersed in savoring his meal and glancing at his electronic device from time to time that rested on the table.

You on the other hand, do look up, and your eyes are wide in fear the nearer the frat boys get to the table. You weren’t scared of them, no, you were scared of what could possibly happen once they stopped in front of the both of you.

The tall boy is inches away and when you lock eyes with him, all he does is give you a sly smirk.

Not good at all.

You harshly nudge your shoulder with Mark to capture his attention and he turns to you right after, placing his fork down to give you an annoyed look.

You don’t mutter a word, but rather jerk your head forward in the direction of where all the frat boys stood in their glory. Some with smirks plastered on their faces, soft smiles, or no countenance at all. You could make the distinction between the ones you should ignore and befriend. Not that it should matter, Mark wouldn’t allow it all because of what he dubbed his “best friend duty,” which wasn’t anywhere near practical.

Mark’s eyebrows wrinkle and his lips pucker when he moves his head up to see what—or who you were trying to inform him of.

“Oh,” he lets out, barely audible to anyone that wasn’t close to him.

His facial features suddenly relax and the biggest grin slips onto his face. “Hey guys, what’s up?” He questions energetically, picking up the stray napkin to wipe his fingers clean and pocketing his cell after as he awaits a response.

The tall boy moves first, grabbing an empty chair and taking a seat, flicking his hand up in the air to serve as a signal for the other boys, the meaning it held to you, unknown. They disperse in seconds, swiftly walking to the exit of the cafeteria and only one boy, the one that winked at the girl earlier, stays, him too grabbing the chair next to the tall boy in order to sit down.

The tall boy’s smile is too sweet, too kind, and too secretive as he glances between you and Mark when he answers. “Just came to tell you that we set the date for the next NCT frat party.” He leans back in his seat with his arms crossed.

Mark snickers, peering at you in his peripheral vision. You were still shaken at their arrival, but put up a composed front, placing your hands under your thighs and trying to stop the shaking of your right leg. Mark reached his left hand out and put it on the top of your thigh, slightly giving the clothed skin a squeeze, an act of reassurance.

“And this news couldn’t wait till I got back home?”

The grin on the tall boy's face morphs into a thin line, his eyes becoming serious, no longer filled with mirth that was present before. His voice is stern when he speaks. “No, it couldn’t.” He unravels his arms, placing his forearms on the table while he leans his body forward with his piercing gaze directed at Mark. “It couldn’t, especially when you missed our chapter for the week.”  His gaze got icier if it was even possible. “I am sure you know how important they are.”

Mark gulps, moving his eyes away to look down at the table. He doesn’t respond, opting for unnerving silence, with regards to the chatter of the students around that gives you goosebumps all over.

The unnamed boy that was quiet throughout the duration of the talk between the tall boy and Mark lets out an unexpected guffaw that fills the void. He was slouching in his chair, picking at his nails, but straightens his posture to clap a hand on Mark’s shoulder over the table. He gives Mark a small push, his loud voice echoing. “Relax there Markie boy.” He stifles his laughter at the way Mark’s eyes widen and his nose scrunches at the nickname. He leans back, pulling an object out of his back pocket of his black ripped skinny jeans—a lighter and he twiddles with it between his fingers.

The taller boy too chuckles loudly, leaning back, his arms crossed once more. “Exactly. No need to look so scared Mark. I was joking.” A teasing grin rests upon his lips, his eyes twinkling in contrast to the dullness that once made him look empty. He mutters under his breath, “Partially at least.”

The tall boy puffs out a breath of air in-between his lips, looking over at his companion who turns his head. He smirks first, the laughter bubbling up while the latter joins in with the inside joke, shaking his head, disregarding how Mark and you were still in their vicinity.

They both turn their heads forward, the chuckles dying down. Your eyebrows are furrowed, confusion unmistakable in your eyes and Mark’s expression remains neutral, with a hint of annoyance in his starless eyes.

An easy smile rests on the taller boy’s face when he clears his throat to speak. “Anyways as I was saying, another frat party. It will be in two weeks, on a Friday like we usually do.” He pauses then reaches over to pick up a stray fry off your tray, chewing slowly to savor the taste before he continues. His eyes glinted mischief when they flitted over to look at you for a split second. You were going to protest at him stealing your food, but decided against it, too worried about the outcome, even if you knew the only thing he would do was tease you. That is how most frat boys worked anyways and he wouldn’t be any different, if his actions weren’t enough of an indication. “I will let you know the exact details, but invite whoever you want as we get closer to the date. You know the drill for these…yada yada.” He flicks his hand in the air. “But keep in mind we want it more exclusive this time. There were way too many people for our back to school party yesterday. Way too many.” He rolls his eyes. “We get it, we are the fraternity, but people still show up uninvited and fuck up our house with their shitfaced actions.”

Mark hums in agreement, nodding his head. “Okay yeah got it.”

He sternly replies, “Good, we had enough of seeing way too much vomit.” He visibly shudders and your face contorts to a disgusted expression. You understood where they were coming from and you knew you didn’t want your own house to be filled with a repellent smell.

The discussion ceased after his statement and you thought that was it, that he was done with what he came to the cafeteria for, which was to audibly inform Mark about some frat business. Yet you were in the wrong, because he didn’t get out of his seat and stand up to leave like you believed him to do, no, he stayed rooted to his spot and so did his friend.

He suddenly addresses you, the cheekiness in his gaze and tone, displeasing you. He was hot, yes, but you had enough with the absentminded flirting for one night, even if it was hours later.

Alcohol leaving your system sure did marvels.

He leans forward one more, his head tilted to the side while he quirks up a brow to look you dead in the eyes. “Will you be there, gorgeous?”

You had to stop yourself from giving an eye roll when he asked you the question and his implication of a compliment. You gave him a tight lipped smile, your eyes refusing to meet his own as you opted to look at his forehead discreetly.

You were going to respond until Mark beat you to an answer, the firmness crystal clear in his tone.

“Don’t flirt with her, Johnny,” he warned, directing another annoyed gaze at the tall boy who you now had a name to attach to his face.

Johnny leans back, throwing his arm over the occupied chair to his left and snickers. “Okay lover boy.”

Mark groans, just about as done as you were with Johnny’s ever prominent teasing. He never seemed to stop and you were curious as to how Mark could keep up with him. He did spend most of his time with the boys in his frat and Johnny was one of many who could surely have his fair share of annoying moments.

“Also,” Johnny pipes up, his eyes trailing over at the girl that passes by him, before he diverts his attention to the two of you. “Taeyong is looking for you.”

Mark’s eyebrows come together in confusion and your interest is spiked at the mention of an unknown person. Something stirs within you, an emotion of familiarity as if you had ever met someone with the same name, when you were sure you hadn’t. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it as if they were the answer to a long awaited question.

“Taeyong? Why?”

Johnny lets his arm drop from around the chair and shrugs his shoulders, picking at a loose strand on his washed out ripped jeans. “I don’t know, something about a project? I can’t remember all the details.”

“Oh shit,” Mark swears under his breath as everyone looks over at him, including you. “Right.” He shakes his head, mumbling words to himself as his actions draw attention. He could feel the eyes on him and when he looked up, he looked like a deer caught in headlights. He rubs his hand on the back of his neck in a bashful manner and sheepishly smiles. “Sorry.”

Johnny chuckles. “Anyways Yuta and I need to get going.” He bumps his shoulder with Yuta to capture his attention. You now had another name to a face and you knew you would surely remember them both, it was hard to forget any frat boy. Johnny and Yuta both stand up, the latter putting the lighter in his back pocket as their bodies are turned to leave.

“I’ll see you at the house later,” Johnny states, nodding his head at Mark who returns the gesture. His eyes then flit to look down at you, an easy beam resting on his face. “As for you, I’ll catch you around, gorgeous.” He winks at you then turns, sauntering away to the exit of the cafeteria with Yuta sluggishly trailing behind him. Amidst his departure he raises a hand up and yells, “Bye Markie boy.” Both his and Johnny’s laughter echo in the hall until it fades out into nothingness.

Mark heaves a sigh, “Sometimes I can’t stand them.” He regards you with a displeased look and you have to hold back your giggles from his predicament.

“Of course you would want to laugh right, but angel I have to get going,” Mark exclaims, sadness in his gaze. “I’d hate to leave you here on your own, but understand I totally forgot about it. I really have to go, I can’t hold this...project back forever.”

You beam warmly at him, reaching over to pat his hand and give it a squeeze. “It’s fine Markie, don’t worry about it. Go.” You push his shoulder to get him on the move, allowing him to let out a laugh.

He scrambles to collect his trash onto the tray and swings the strap of his backpack over his shoulder, double checking that his cell phone is in his back pocket. Once he stands up and pushes his chair in with his hip, he leans down to give a kiss on the top of your head.

“Okay, bye angel. I’ll see you soon.” He grins and you nod your head at him, muttering your own, “Okay.”

He then quickly treads away, evaporating into the mess of students. Gone in a second.

He truly was in a rush and you couldn’t help but ponder why that was. The project must have been of uttermost importance for him to dash out so speedily. You wondered if there was something more, or maybe you were thinking too much into things, especially regarding a boy who wore his heart on his sleeve ever since you met him. Even so you were curious about the one he was meeting.

Who the hell was Taeyong?

You sigh. There was no room for pondering when it surely didn’t matter and sitting at the now deserted table, you realized you were left alone like you were at the very start.

Left in solitude and utter loneliness, but you soon wouldn’t be for time could tell.

Time worked faster than you realized, as you spent the next two weeks anxious and nervous beyond belief, for a party you knew could potentially give you the responses you so desperately sought.

In the deepest part of your soul you hoped you would see him there, the boy that captivated you without even trying. You needed to figure who he really was and who he could be. You couldn’t be disappointed and when Friday rolls around after long anticipation, you would find out if fate was on your side.

Leading up to the party, your last two weeks were mostly productive to say the least. In between classes, coursework, and your small part time job at a nearby diner along with making time to hang out with your best friends, everything went by in a blur.

Before you knew it, Nicole had come knocking on your door hours before the party, intent on making you look as stunning as you always did, while you would return the favor.

She seemed to have gotten over her so-called slump from the week prior, yet she still didn’t share the cause of her being upset or out of it, though you did have a hunch it still had to do with the boy she escaped with, someone who most likely had captured her heart when she thought no one could ever. If they were to see each other anew you desired that everything would be satisfactory, that everything would go well for Nicole more than anything, because while she put up a tough front, she was more fragile on the inside than what anyone ever gave her credit for.

Seems like fate would have to give her a chance too.

Driving to the frat house, earlier than fashionably late all due to not wanting to kill your feet once again, nerves got to you. Nicole even had to call you out for it, like she seemed to always do when she knew you weren’t calm. She kept you in check.

She even held your arm as you were making your way up to the front door, the recollection from that night hitting you like a splash of cold water in the face during a hot day.

“You good?” She questioned once she let you sit down on the black stool by the kitchen counter, the same place you were the last time you visited the house.

“Mhm, I’m good.” You rested your arms on the cool surface and put your head down, a groan escaping your lips.

She poked your shoulder. “Sure you are babe. What’s up?” She pulled the empty stool out next to you to sit down, awaiting a response.

You didn’t haul your head up, opting to mumble the words that she wouldn’t be able to make out. “Nothing, but everything.” You paused and hoisted your head up, choosing not to antagonize her. She peered at you with expectant eyes that were still tender, one eyebrow lifted in waiting. You rested your head on your knuckles, looking down at the counter instead of into her eyes. You spoke so quietly, she had to lean in closer to make out your words with the loud sounds that surrounded you both.

“It’s just I saw this boy here the other night and I was maybe…I don’t know…hoping—”

She cut you off. “Hoping to see him again?”

You nodded your head, lifting your eyes up. “Yeah, just maybe.”

She sighed loudly. “Listen love, boys in college they’re…” She paused, puffing out air in between her nude colored lips. “They are exactly like the ones we met during high school. They aren’t all too different because they aren’t innocent, caring, or mature in the slightest. No, they aren’t no matter how much their façade proves otherwise. They hold more secrets then necessary and those are the ones that keep them alive. They get a thrill out of being mysterious, untouchable, since they know how much they are desired, especially these frat boys.”

She taps a finger above your heart. “So you have to be careful, love. You have to shield your heart even if you want to open it up to the first guy that enchants you. Don’t do it. Resist because they bring more trouble than what you bargained for. Not everyone is what, who, they seem and I am saying this as a warning, a reminder for you to heed to. I don’t want to see you hurt so please be careful.”

She grasps your empty hand that rests on your thigh, giving you a small squeeze. Her eyes are somber and you can see the twinge of hurt that lingers when you make contact with her. The tone she had was too relatable for her not to be speaking out of her own experiences. Something must have happened and not for the better like you wished.

You drop your hand from holding the weight of your head and put it on top of hers. “Nicki…what happened?”

You tilt your head when she looks away.

“I guess I am not as tough as I seem,” she murmurs.

You shake your enclosed hands to make her turn back. “Hey,” you say when her broken eyes look at you. “You are the strongest person I know and just because you weren’t immune to someone else’s charms doesn’t belittle that. Nicki we all make mistakes and we all hurt at one time or another so it’s okay. You have to be aware that it is okay to be human.”

She nods her head, giving you a light smile. “I suppose you’re right. I am not weak for feeling. I am strong for it.”

“Damn right you are. You’re a bad bitch, remember?”

She chuckles loud and direct, shaking her head at your words. “Indeed I am. We are bad bitches together.”

She slips her hand out from where she was holding yours and raises her pinky.

“Forever?”

You latch your pinky around her own, smiling at her so bright, that she can’t help but let her grin widen. Her eyes now contain a hint of happiness when you shake your pinkies. “Forever.”

You both sit there, smiling at each other, the youthfulness in your gazes and you feel impenetrable. The world could build you up and break you down, but you’d still be left standing no matter how much you endured. After all, you both were bad bitches together, forever.

“Okay,” Nicole laughs, unlatching her pinky from yours. “I think that is enough sappiness for tonight. I mean we came to party right?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Great!” She yells, the music from the next room escalating in sound. “Let me get us some drinks.” She stands up, the creak of her bar stool vibrating. “You’ll be okay on your own while I go to the bar right?”

You nod your head, giving her a smile of reassurance. “Yes I’ll be fine, just don’t be gone too long.”

“I won’t! Be right back!” Then she vanishes from sight, being lost in the scatters of students.

Your knee moves up and down, the nerves coursing through your body. You didn’t want to worry her that you wouldn’t necessarily be okay on your own. You were scared of encountering Jeno, Jaehyun or the other two frat boys that you had met. The awkwardness that would surely ensure, you weren’t ready to face. You could only rely on Nicole to be fast when getting the drinks so you wouldn’t be left alone, unguarded for too long. Yet you knew she always did speak words of truth.

You suppose you were partially lucky and partially not for a few minutes went by and Nicole hadn’t returned, but on the other hand no one dared to look in your direction or spark up a conversation for some peculiar reason. You were left untouched contrary to how the other night went.

In your wait nothing of the sort happened, and you were bored, just glancing around the room and at the bright lit screen of your mobile. You just wanted to be buzzed so you could go dance and forge the thoughts that lingered in your mind. Somber when dancing never was a good fit, more so at a party.

But then you caught sight of someone who had faded out of your mind once you stepped foot into the house. It had to be him…it had to be and your suspicions were confirmed as he became closer to you. The same pitch black hair and hooded eyes that you knew by now after seeing him in passing a variety of times.

He was wearing a short sleeve silk button up shirt adorned with a circular pattern of purple, white, and green that had few top buttons undone to allow his white, creamy skin to be seen. He had paired it with black cargo pants, two dangling silver wallet chains looped to the belt and low cut, white Converse that appeared to be customized in the dim light. The silver necklace and bracelet sparkled when he moved, once more his presence stunned you.

You couldn’t let this moment go unscathed because you had to know something about him, anything rather than admiring from afar. The wants of your heart rather than mind served as a driving force once you stood up from your seat and followed after him before he disappeared like the many times before. His bright colored shirt served as an indicator in the crowd, his steps taken leisurely while yours were taken in a rush to ensure you didn’t lose him. You didn’t know where he was headed, hands tucked into his front pockets as if he didn’t want to be there, but you soon did. He took a sharp right heading in route to one of the side doors in the house, ready to exit to the back.

It wasn’t supposed to be chilly that night, but when you stepped into the backyard, chills erupted on your skin and you rubbed your arms to stop yourself from shivering.

You had never seen the backyard before, only ever been secluded to the first floor of the house, yet it was as equally beautiful as the rest of it. There was an expanse of a pool, leveled from the ground of where you stood that was illuminating with stark blue, casting glows among the rest of the yard with the candles that were placed at the sides and the other bright LED lights. You proceeded out to where the patio area was, a few chairs scattered about and a large glass table in the middle. There was another seating area to your left with high bar stools and marble counters lined along the edges leading up to a small outside kitchen with a television screen plastered on the tile. To your right was a fire pit and a few lawn chairs surrounded the area. In front of you, before one would take the stairs up to the pool, was an empty tiled area with a basketball hoop pushed to the side, a place you supposed they interchanged to fit their activities depending on the day.

Besides being mind-blown at the beauty, you were more shocked that no one was outside. It was unnervingly silent give or take the tweets of the birds and hoots of the owls along with the inside pounding of the music, which faded from penetrating through the walls completely.

“You aren’t supposed to be out here, you know.” He spoke in his light and sweet, slightly raspy voice, that directly contrasted his outside demeanor.

You didn’t know how he had sensed someone followed him outside and you probably knew you weren’t all too discreet, but you took a small group of steps to reach him, where his back still remained in your vision. You were embarrassed that he found out so quickly, though you still had to have some ounce of dignity, some ounce of unwavering confidence.

You gulped before speaking, making sure your next words were the right ones. “How do you know I’m not supposed to be?”

He turned his head to look over his shoulder at you, his gaze piercing through your soul. He hitched up a perfectly arched brow, “You aren’t a frat boy are you?”

You were taken aback and shook your head rapidly, stuttering out a response. “N-No…”

He moved his head forward, disregarding you and snickered. “Didn’t think so. The top levels and the backyard are off limits unless you’re part of the frat.”

That made sense as to why no one was out here, but why didn’t they lock the doors? Did they trust no one would come out here? Even when drunk? 

The functions of the NCT frat house dazed you, never truly knowing how everything worked.

You took more careful steps until you reached him, your shoulder a few inches away from his own, the both of you looking forward. You briefly glanced at him, at the side of his face when you asked your next question. “Then why are you out here?”

He chuckles lowly and moves slightly, his gaze is one that mocks, but there was some mirth that twinkled.

You look down at the floor in recognition. “O-Oh…”

He was part of the frat, of course he was. Another gorgeous boy amongst others. He would be permitted outside and at all parties without any invitation. He could dissipate and reappear as he pleased, although it still threw you off. He didn’t truly seem like the person to commit to something, being all too free-spirited and not open to take orders. However, he still was very much in frat and you meditated on what type of position he held, if he had more authority than what he was letting on.

He spins on his heels, refusing to indulge further in a conversation. His hands are still placed in his front pocket as he strides by, not bearing to glimpse at you in his departure. “Next time don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms.”

You stand unmoving, considering his words and the underlying meaning, maybe there would be a next time, although the sensibility comes back once you take note that he is leaving once more. 

“Wait!” You yell, partially taking large strides to catch up to him in your pumps as he stands still, indeed waiting for you. You reach him, deciding against touching his shoulder for fear of the untold. “What’s your name?”

You had to know the name of the handsome boy to settle some part of your heart.

He looks at you this time, really looks at you, as your gazes are interlocked. “You’ll have to earn it, sweetheart.” He reaches his hand out to touch your chin, his soft touch making your eyelids flutter close. He slightly jerks you forward, your eyes opening as his breath fans over your lips. “Not many have the privilege of having my name come out their mouth.” He drops his hand, stepping back to truly depart.

You stay rooted to your spot. He called you another nickname, the butterflies fluttering in your chest at the sound of it escaping his lips. He truly did have an unwanted effect no matter how much you could refuse to acknowledge it.

Before his hand touches the silver handle of the door to go back inside, you call out to him once more.

“Will I at least see you around?” You were hopeful that you would and could.

“Who knows? You’ll just have to wait and see.” He replies ominously and then he grabs the handle, turning it downward to open the door while he steps inside. The door closes on his bright figure as you are left in the backyard by yourself, left with more hope than you had in a long time.

Yes, he was imitating and impersonal , even so he made you coxy all over. You wanted to see him again, you wanted something more. You yearned for it, and standing there observing the closed door, for nothing at all, you had to figure how you could achieve it, that is until you recalled who you were waiting for previously until he had swept your attention away—Nicole.

She had probably already arrived back at the kitchen, losing her head over where you ran off to without any warning. She did have a big imagination, thinking of the worse, nevertheless she could be practical as well, though in this situation at a party, with strange people, the latter wouldn’t sit quite right.

You rushed forward, opening the door with the bang and got lost in the bodies around you. You pushed through with hurried steps, not bothering to apologize as they would either be too drunk to realize or didn’t care after being crushed up against others.

You were finally able to reach the kitchen after much effort, staggering your way forward at the sight of Nicole’s gold satin A-line dress.

She saw you first and the relief that came across her face made you feel guilty for going off on your own.

“Oh thank goodness,” she said, wrapping her hands around your body in order to give you a hug. You wrapped your own hands around her waist to return the gesture. She sighed and let her hands drop, holding you at arm’s length when she moved back.

“I didn’t mean to worry you. I hope I wasn’t gone too long,” you uttered, twiddling with your fingers.

She pats your arm. “I know you didn’t, still wouldn’t stop me. You were only gone for a few minutes when I got back, which isn’t all too bad.”

You hummed, glad everything worked out, that is until she asked the dreaded question.

“Where were you though?” She added with a pointed gaze, her worry and frustration having already faded, only curiosity lingered. “You know you aren’t supposed to go running off anyways.”

“Ah sorry, sorry. I thought I saw Mark, but when I went after him…well it wasn’t Mark.” You let out a nervous giggle, stepping away to sit down on the chair while she remained standing.

Her eyes zoned in on your face before she gave you a once over to see if anything had changed with your appearance. “Mhm…okay. I reckon that makes sense.”

She was suspicious, yet she didn’t push and you didn’t know what you would have done if she had.

If only she would have known who you were with, someone she indirectly warned against and someone you would see many more times thereafter against your control or hers.

You didn’t think it would be so soon when you saw him again, a few days after the party.

You spotted him on your way to class right after your lunch break. He was sporting a baby blue hoodie with words you couldn’t make out scribbled across the chest, light washed ripped skinny jeans, a blue cap with the words Supreme etched out in white on a red background, and Balenciaga black and white speed sneakers. He had a black leather backpack swung over one shoulder and airpods in his ears.

You had to do a double take when you saw him before you because his outfit was contrary to his natural esoteric aura. You didn’t think he could look so innocent and pure in baby blue.

You didn’t think twice before you jogged forward to meet him, surely not debating possible consequences right then and there.

“Um…hey,” you voiced as you stood side by side with him, walking to wherever he was headed to, when you knew it was the exact opposite of where you were meant to go, however it didn’t matter. They always say the heart wants what it wants.

He took his right airpod out, putting it in the case that dangled from his belt loop. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”

Your eyes widened, you didn’t expect him to be so straightforward and shameless. You were still touched that he remembered you, even if his tone seemed the opposite of welcoming.

“Uh…um…I…” you started, not sure what to say or even ask. You didn’t expect to get this far.

He abruptly stopped, turning his whole body to face you. “Well?” He fixes his hat, hoisting it up slightly to peer at you for a split second, his eyes covered by his jet back, long strands of hair, making it difficult to make direct eye contact. “Get on with it.”

You shook your head, rocking back and forth on the heels of your sneakers. “Sorry, I just wanted to ask if you um…” You paused, peeking at him then at the gray concrete, racking your brain for something, anything. “Wanted to get coffee sometime?”

Some instances passed, no word mentioned by him and you knew that the silence meant you weren’t going to be so lucky. He rejected you—your offer and you had to live with that, your not so discreet attempt at scoring a date.

Until he thunderstrucks you.

He tilts his head and shrugs his shoulders, answering with a firm, “Sure.”

You were positive you hadn’t heard him right. There was no way he agreed to get coffee. You knew you had set yourself for rejection, nonetheless he proved you wrong. Somewhere deep down maybe you had a chance.

“Oh…um…okay then. Should I get your number then?” You couldn’t see his eyes, despite that you knew the intensity they held, some sort of judgment at your boldness. You stuttered, “Y-You know s-o we can s-set a t-time and p-place.”

He shook his head, taking his airpod out of the case and placing it in his ear again. He leaned forward, his face inches away from yours and whispered in your ear, “No, you have to earn that too, sweetheart.”

Your eyes flutter at the proximity and his special nickname that he now began to use. You worry that he can hear the loud pounding of your heart from how near he was.

He backs away and strides forward, not before stating an answer to your unsaid question. “Meet me at the café on Second Street and Thorn at 2:30pm sharp, this Friday. It’s the only chance you get, sweetheart so take it or leave it.”

Then he’s off, leaving you to comprehend what fully happened in a few short minutes. He agreed to coffee and set a date so rapidly, the thought of not having his number leaving your mind. You were finally one step closer to discovering who he truly was and it took a small leap, one he returned in his own way.

You were giddy when you spun in the other direction to get to your last class for the day, nearly skipping on your way there and your happiness would continue till the end of the week, when the desirable day arrived.

In fact, Mark and Nicole noticed your more than cheerful mood, glad that not everything in your life wasn’t as shitty as they perceived it to be because college was more often than none dreadful at times with constant work, some of which were surely questionable. Yet they didn’t complain because your happiness meant theirs too, even if they didn’t know the cause and you hoped you could keep it that way. You weren’t prepared to see the outcomes if they found out it was a he, Mark’s very own frat brother that was to blame for the shift in your mood.

Friday came around in record’s time and when you exited your third class for the day, on your way to the designated café during your lunch break, you weren’t all that tense. Sure, you pondered on what would happen and if he would leave you hanging as you strolled through the doors, nonetheless you could be with him and it was all that mattered.

He didn’t set you up for devastation once the bell above the café doors rung because as soon as you got through the entrance you saw him huddled up at the table in the corner of the room. His head was down as he was scrolling through his cell phone absentmindedly, his bright red high top Converse contrasting the black and white tiled floor. He had on a classic black leather jacket that was thrown over a red, blue, and white checkered flannel with a white GUESS t-shirt underneath, which wasn’t tucked into his loose blue jeans.

A style he pulled off so effortlessly.

He peered up when you were heading his way and pocketed his cell phone in his jeans.

“Hey,” you commented, sliding into the wooden chair opposite of him.

He nodded his head, not selecting to give a verbal response of greeting. “I assume you haven’t eaten lunch yet. We can get you something to eat and a coffee too if you want. Though I am not sure if you want to drink that in the middle of the day.”

“Um…yeah, sure. It’s my lunch break right now so I haven’t eaten anything.”

“Good,” he stated and pushed his chair back to stand up, not waiting for you as he strolled to the front counter. He was quick on his feet and seemed to be one to leave people in the dust.

His eyes were flitting left and right to inspect the menu. He didn’t spare you a regard when you were shoulder to shoulder.

“What do you want?”

You squinted at the menu looking at the drinks section and at the food they offered. They had a wide selection, very beneficial for a café and your hunger that needed to be sufficed.

“Uh…a small iced coffee with a caramel swirl and almond milk. Light on the ice and a California club croissant sandwich, no tomatoes please,” you recite to the cashier when they appeared after he asked the question. They nodded their head, typing your order into the screen, then their eyes peered expectedly at the boy next to you.

“A medium iced golden ginger and club sandwich.”

“Okay!” The cashier enthusiastically noted, their fingers typing away. “Your total will come out to $21.77. Cash or credit?”

You scrabbled to take your cell phone out your back pocket, seeing the opportunity to pay first, since you technically invited him out, he only accepted your invitation.

Just when you were able to raise your device to the scanner, he placed his platinum credit card on the counter, sliding it over to the cashier.

“I’ll pay,” he announced as the cashier swiped his card and handed it back to him moments after. You nodded your head slowly, putting your phone back in your pocket, and slightly slouching your shoulders in defeat.

“Here’s your receipt,” the cashier declared, holding out the white gloss paper over to your companion. He took it swiftly from their grasp and crumbled the paper into his front pocket.

“We’ll have your order out momentarily,” they smiled sweetly before turning away to prepare your drinks and food.

He walked away from the counter and back to the spot hidden away from view. You both sat down and he propped his leg on the empty chair next to you.

“So…” you trailed, clasping your hands together on the wooden table. You focused on him and he stared right back, the zeal so very hard to bear. “What’s your major?”

“Neuroscience.”

The shock surely mirrored in your face. 

He was a science major? 

Anything in relation to science would be at the bottom of the list for a career he would pursue, you would think, because he appeared to be anything but. Despite your assumptions, he indubitably had surprises up his sleeve.

“W-What? You major in biological and biomedical science?”

“Yes,” he leans forward with a tilt of his head, placing his own hands on the table. “Let me fathom, I don’t seem like a science major?”

You shake your head. “Y-Yes…No…I mean I truthfully thought you were an art major, specifically in fashion design or something of the alike.”

He presses on, “Why is that?”

“Well…I don’t know. A hunch I guess,” you shrug your shoulders, not knowing what you were truly getting at. “You just strike me as a very creative person with a great sense of style. You even wore something customized the other day. I am sure you did that yourself.”

He leans back, crossing his arms in his chair. “You aren’t wrong. I like art, but more as a hobby and I happen to have natural fashion taste. Customizing clothes and shoes is just a pastime.”

You nod your head slowly. Not everything is as it seems. “Oh…well, it still holds true in some regard.”

“Indeed,” he murmurs.

You both get interrupted at the arrival of your food and drinks. The young girl serves the plates and drinks, a kind beam etched onto her face. Her gaze lingers too long on him when she asks if anything else is needed before she trudges away and he would be a fool not to notice. He disregards it, however, opting to ignore. You wished you could remain as neutral as he was, still the green, ugly monster couldn’t help but claw in your being.

While you were going to continue to ask him questions to get to know him better, you decided against it. Maybe after you finished your meal so you ate in silence, the occasional slurp and chewing sounds filling the quietness, regardless of those that came and went into the café.

He wipes his mouth clean with his spare napkin once he finishes eating, crumbling it up in a ball when he’s done. “Your major, what is it?”

You look up, in the midst of sipping the last droplets of your iced coffee and give him a small smile. “I’m a psychology major.”

“Ah,” he says, pushing his plate forward to the center of the table.

You thought he would add on, but he doesn’t and you decide to further the conversation.

“I know you already told me a hobby of yours, any more you have though?”

“I compose music,” he shrugs, raising his arms in the air to stretch. “I cook too.” His arms lower and he rests them on the empty chair to his right. You knew he wouldn’t ask you about your own hobbies as he seemed to like being on the receiving end and didn’t seem all too interested in you, when you wanted to know everything in contrast.

You decide to speak up for yourself, to permit him to know some things about you too. “Well I like to bake and I do some graphic design on the side.”

He nods his head for the unkempt time that day. You wished he would talk more than use actions. His voice was all more soothing to listen to.

“How about—”

You are cut off by a ding sounding from his cell as he checks the screen that illuminates with a notification. He stands up abruptly, his cell phone held tightly in his grasp.

“I have to go. I’ll see you around…” He pauses peering down at your furrowed brows. “We should do this again sometime.”

Did he say that correctly?

You were sure this “date” was more boring rather than entertaining.

Your eyes furrow even more as you’re amazed at his open admittance to another so-called gathering between the two of you. You were going to ask yourself, but he beat you to it.

“Sure,” you replied with a kind smile. “I’d like that.”

His head movement is slight and you notice his agreeance. He steps away from the table and your hand reaches out to catch onto the cool leather of his jacket before you can stop yourself.

He eyeballs you expectantly, wondering why you had stopped him.

“Does that mean I can get your number?” you question with a tilt of your head.

He chuckles lowly at your shamelessness. “I suppose you earned it, sweetheart.”

He takes his cell phone out of his pocket, handing it over to you in order to put in all your contact information while you take out your own device from your pocket to give to him. You take his cell from his grasp and type away your first name along with your phone number. Once the electronics are returned to their respectful owners, you glance down at the name he put into his phone, holding onto the fact that it could very much be his real name, except it wasn’t. He had named himself “NCT 1,” and you had to roll your eyes from the name of choice.

You slightly giggle and you can see the ghost of a smile on his face when he went his way towards the exit. The bell dings when he’s gone and as you look at his retreating figure in the huge glass window, a smile twitches on your face, one so very wide.

Your little lunch “date” went better than expected and it was one of many for more to come, serving as the much needed catalyst. Over the next couple of weeks, you would text with the boy whose name wasn’t disclosed and bask in his presence over the semi-dates you had with each other, ranging from ones at the same café for lunch or ones late at night in the library. They varied and whenever you met up, there was a sparkle in your eyes and a lightness in your chest. You were able to get to know him more and more, to truly understand him, to get to see what laid beyond the surface of his façade. He was more than what meets the eye, even if he seemed to deflect his fair share of personal information, you still had gotten closer. He wouldn’t have asked to meet up so often if you hadn’t liked the company and you wouldn’t have agreed if you thought he was a waste of time.

The only aspect that was frustrating was his refusal to share his name or even give a hint at what it could be. He would deflect, saying it didn’t matter and all that did was the moments with each other, yet his reassurance did little to suppress your ever growing curiosity. However, he had eventually cracked at your most recent study date.

“It’s Lee…Lee Taeyong,” he proclaimed randomly when you were scribbling down notes and he was reading a passage for his assigned reading in the dim corner of the library at nearly ten past eleven at night. The sound of the tick-tock filling the void of silence.

“Huh?” you asked, placing your pen down on the table and glancing up at him, head tilted, forehead wrinkled.

“My name,” he cleared his throat, locking eyes with you. “My name is Lee Taeyong.”

You had gotten a name that night to attach to the gorgeous boy you now knew more than ever about and his name was as equally captivating as himself.

Although contrary to your meetups, you rarely saw him around campus and if you did so happen to see him, he always seemed to be with a fellow frat brother, refusing to acknowledge you if you looked his way. It was odd in contrast to how he acted when you two were alone, and somehow you understood where he was coming from. You wouldn’t want to be caught either with him. Too many questions to deal with after, too much judgment and disappointment.

Despite that fear hidden in the back of your mind, he unknowingly made you happy, beyond content for a reason that was too hard to explain and too obvious to those around you.

Mark and Nicole knew something was up, but never lodged on the matter, regarding that joy could be found anywhere and in anything. Yet, you weren’t as subtle with your dashing off or disappearing for long periods of time when the meet ups became more frequent. They would eventually catch on, although you would remain blinded by the manufactured bubble of joy that was created.

So your then high became a low.

You blame Mark, but at the same time you don’t because you knew you had to be cautious. 

He invited you that week for a small get together at his frat house, nothing grand like the parties they hosted nearly every two weeks on a Friday. No, this gathering would be for close friends and companions, just for some lighthearted fun, to serve as a destresser before the hell weeks would start in December. It was a Thanksgiving celebration of sorts, a Friendsgiving where you would come together and strengthen your bonds with each other, regardless of how much you knew of the others who would join. 

He invited you and Nicole like he always did with any event that revolved around his fraternity or partying in general. You thought it would be nice to come, to spend some quality time with your best friends that you felt you hadn’t seen in forever, too preoccupied with Taeyong to have some time with them. He was far from your mind when Mark extended the invitation and you wished your common sense would have kicked in earlier, before the small party began, because he was in fact part of the fraternity and would very much be there.

You shouldn’t have been shocked when you saw him right when you ambled into the house with Mark and Nicole in tow. He was chatting with Johnny, the tall boy you hadn’t seen in so long ever since that encounter months ago. He held a champagne glass in one hand while the other was tucked into his black jeans. He had his signature chains intertwined in the belt loops with a light lavender turtleneck, that had a graphic design in blue of a person’s lower face in the center of the chest, tucked into his jeans, and a black and white tweed blazer thrown over the top. His shiny, black dress shoes completed the outfit as he was surely one of the best dressed by far. Even if the event was semi-formal and everyone you saw littering around in the entryway were classy, yet simple in their approaches, he managed to catch your eye right away.

“Ah, if it isn’t little Lee arriving right on time!” Johnny yells out, striding over in big steps to where the three of you stood by the entrance.

Mark rolls his eyes at the nickname, but goes in for a half handshake and hug. “Hey at least I made it and also it isn’t little Lee anymore, remember? If anything I am the middle Lee.” 

“Still won’t stop me from calling you little Lee, little Lee.” Johnny slaps him on the shoulder, his laughter echoing. “I see you brought two stunning ladies in tow too.” He directs his attention to you and Nicole, not bothering to conceal the fact that he was blatantly checking the both of you out.

“Looks like we meet again, gorgeous,” Johnny states, reaching for your hand and giving a light kiss to the skin, a wink thrown after you retract your hand.

You don’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Hi Johnny,” you mutter with a sickly gratifying smile plastered across your face.

He laughs once more as his eyes then trail to Nicole who stands unfazed and slightly bored at the appearance of Johnny.

“Well I don’t think we’ve met before. I would have remembered a face like yours, someone so absolutely breathtaking,” he cheekily vocalizes.

It is now Nicole’s turn to roll her eyes and she takes steps to get nearer to Johnny, his eyebrows shooting up at her boldness, but then a smirk rests on his face.

She reaches out her hand and pats him on the chest before he gets the chance to kiss her hand. “Save the flirting for someone else, will you mate? For someone you at least have a chance with because it ain’t me honey,” she drawls, stepping away to go further inside the house, waving her hand in the air as a farewell.

Mark and you stifle back laughter at her shamelessness. She sure was something, you would admit.

“Fuck you guys,” Johnny remarks, flipping both you and Mark off, yet you could see the ghost of a smile on his lips as he retreats after Nicole.

“She’s something, huh?” Someone says, taking the thoughts right out of your head.

“Yeah,” you respond, wiping your finger under your eyes from how hilarious that scene played out. “She sure is.”

And that is when you pause in realization. You knew that voice.

You turn around to come face to face with an all too familiar boy—Lee Taeyong.

You chuckled timidly, fumbling with your fingers as you fix your gaze on him. His eyebrow is arched and when he takes a sip of his champagne you can see his smile reflected in the glass.

“Oh!” Mark exclaims, putting his arm around your shoulder, an action that makes Taeyong’s eyes harden in the smallest way, or maybe you were imagining it. “I don’t think you guys have been introduced to each other before. This is Taeyong angel, and Taeyong this is—”

Taeyong doesn’t let Mark finish, muttering out a stern, “I know who she is Mark, I’ve seen her around with you before.”

“Oh,” Mark lets out, his enthusiastic self diminishing. “That makes sense.”

Taeyong nods and lifts his glass in your direction, his eyes refusing to make contact for more than a second. “Nice to meet you.”

You mumble back with a slight frown you desperately try to hide. You conjectured why he was acting so cold. “You too.”

“Okay, anyways…” Mark trails off looking between the two of you, trying to figure out if something was up. “I am going to get a drink. You ready, angel?” He asks you when he peers at the side of your face.

You give Mark a small smile, nodding your head. “Yeah, but…um I have to use the restroom first.”

Though before you could depart, someone else makes an appearance, someone you forgot about and would make matters much more complicated than they need to be.

“Yo Mark! They need help with the drinks in the back,” he yells walking into the room, jabbing his finger behind him. “They apparently stocked up on their orders of alcohol so it’s a lot.” 

You glance at the entrance when you hear his voice and your heart stops in your chest. 

What the hell was Lee Jeno doing here?

Mark’s arm drops from your shoulder, giving a roll of his eyes. “Of course they fucking did. I'll be right there.” He doesn’t spare Jeno another glance and neither do you, desperately trying to conceal yourself from his line of sight. Mark regards you with kind eyes, knowing you had questions he would answer at a more convenient time about why Jeno was here. He continues on from before he was interrupted. “You know where the restroom is right?”

Your eyes can’t help but flit to where Jeno stood, trying to see if he left, but when you look over Mark’s shoulder, you see him patiently waiting for the older boy and his eyes are already staring right at you. You gulp, turning back to look at Mark. “Yes, I do,” you step away from him, not spearing another glance at Taeyong or Jeno as you get lost down the hall towards the bathroom. 

Although you do manage to see the way everyone’s eyes follow your figure and the way Jeno had slightly placed his foot forward, debating to follow after you or not, yet he retreats to follow after Mark instead to help in the back.

You didn’t really have to go to the restroom, you just wanted to get away from the suffocating room with the three boys, for the dread that your secrets would get revealed if you weren’t cautious.

You hear the footsteps before you see him and you just knew there was a chance he would be the one to follow you.

You don’t have to turn around to confirm your suspicions, wrapping your arms around your body.

“What was that?” he questions lowly.

You groan. “What do you mean what was that? You were the one acting all cold.”

His hand reaches out to hold your upper arm, turning you to face him, except you don’t, opting to check out the floor.

“I was so-called cold,” he makes quotation marks once his hand drops. “Because you refused to acknowledge me. Do I also have to mention the way I saw you look at Jeno? Don’t think I didn’t see it sweetheart, because I did and I’m sure anyone else with two eyes could see it too.”

You shake your head, scoffing at his bluntness. “Oh, of course you would point that out, but it isn’t that deep. Don’t let jealousy cloud your vision, Yong,” you drawl and you see the way his eyes go dark. “It isn’t me you should be concerned about, when you were acting all high and mighty way before.”

He stays silent because he knew you were right, yet it does little to lessen his hard stare. “Listen you know we can’t be seen together or seen as if we know each other, it will raise too many questions.” You placed your hand on his bicep, his previous declaration about Jeno not holding any importance. Your eyes become so round and wide that he can feel his heart slightly crack. “I don’t want any of them to be upset at me or question my sensibility.”

He pursues his lips, “I understand that, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I understand and I apologize for the way I acted. I apologize for acting like an ass.” His attention moved to the floor, his strands of hair falling over his face and you let out a small giggle from his candor. 

You maneuver your hand to cup his cheek, rubbing his cheek. “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

The moment lasts for the shortest while all due to Mark’s loud voice calling your name.

“Shit,” you muttered, dropping your hand. “He can’t see you.” You push Taeyong in the direction further down the hallway, that you hoped would lead somewhere away from where Mark would reach in a few more steps.

Taeyong doesn’t utter a word and paces down the hall without so much as a goodbye, just in time when Mark squints his eyes to make out your figure, but he wasn’t looking at you, rather behind you.

He caught sight of Taeyong and you were doomed.

“Angel…” he trails off, his eyes still squinted in scrutiny. “Why were you with Taeyong?”

“W-What?” You stutter in response, swearing at yourself internally at the fact that you gave it away in just one word. Mark knew you were hiding something whenever you stumbled over your words.

“You heard me, why were you with Taeyong?”

The way he was saying the boy’s name and the implications in his pitch of voice stirred something inside of you. You needed to defend him more than yourself.

“Why can’t I?” 

He regards you with somber eyes and reaches forward to take your hand. “Angel...”

You step away from him, tucking your hands into your body. “No, answer me.”

He is startled at your seriousness and evident protest. You were never one to turn away from him.

“He’s just…” he pauses, struggling to find the right words, ones that wouldn’t destroy you. He decides against finishing his sentence, choosing the all too familiar words. “Be careful. Just be careful, angel.”

Your brows furrow and that is when you lose it.

“Be careful,” you scoff, letting your hands free from around your body. “Everyone says that. Be careful. Be careful, but of what?” You throw your hands up in the air, frustration seeping in your voice. “What do I have to be careful of Mark?”

Mark visibly winces at the sound of his name coming from your lips, you never called him that, not since you first met those fateful years ago. You called him Markie and always Markie, which is how he knew you were truly upset. 

“Tell me. For goodness sake tell me! He’s just a boy like the rest of you in this forsaken frat house of yours. So why, oh why, can’t I be seen with him!?”

You pace back and forth, clenching and unclenching your fists, trying to keep composure that you lost at the start.

Mark heaves a sigh, he knew where you were coming from, it was all too common and seeing you in this predicament made him ache more than you’ll ever know.

He whispers his next words carefully, scared at what your answer could mean when he asked. “You like him don’t you?” His eyes flickering close for the merest moment in wait. 

You resemble someone who’s deepest, darkest secret just got exposed after trying so hard to cover the tracks when he peered at you.

“I never said that.” Your clenched hands relaxed as you now nervously fiddled with your fingers.

“No and you don’t need to, but it isn’t hard to tell. I saw the way you looked at him when we came inside. After all, actions speak louder than words.”

Silence. 

The tick-tock of the clock somewhere in the hall, decreasing. 

The laughs and chatters of those in the other rooms, muffled. 

All that was heard were the steady breaths of you and Mark.

Mark disturbs the quietude first. “Angel I—”

You rapidly shake your head. “Mark…stop,” you whisper and he closes his mouth before he can finish. “Don’t try to make me feel guilty. If I like him I do, and if I don’t then you don’t have to worry. Just let me figure out things on my own.” 

You lock eyes with him, the tears prickling the corner of your eye as you stride forward. “Please…just please….let me live once on my own terms rather than your own.” You don’t lay your eyes on him again after your last words are spoken, you simply trudge away, leaving two boys who held pieces of your heart in different ways.

You couldn’t help but ponder over the words of Mark as you were plodding to the exit of the house, no longer wishing to stay because of the mess that was created all within less than an hour.

Twisting open the door and letting it shut close, believing that no one saw you leave, you were encompassed in the night. The twinkling stars overhead and the white glow of the moon shining down, the fluorescent lights of the house adding to brightness. 

Peeping at the sky, everything flooded your mind at once. 

Were you really starting to fall like Mark said? Was it really that obvious? That you had caught feelings for a boy that seemed to be off limits and that you were warned about?

Did you truly like Lee Taeyong?

Those were the questions floating around, all that you couldn’t answer because you knew you wouldn’t like the result. 

You were never good at feelings or admittance of faults, you choose to ignore them, but this was one of those times you couldn’t entirely push them aside because they meant something more. They were unlike anything ever felt and you never truly liked mystery, no matter if it drew you in. You had to figure out what was different and if it was worth the risk to take.

You didn’t necessarily find out the answers to the questions that plagued your mind when your next friendly date came around with Taeyong, this one unlike the others before, being on a Friday after classes and at a cute ice cream parlor you had found one day, nestled between a bookshop and the farmer’s mart. 

All the bad blood between you from last Friday had diminished into nothing, you forgave and forgot as he did as well. That was the only argument you ever truly had ever since your friendship blossomed, the last one you would ever encounter if you were lucky.

Stepping inside and finding a seat while Taeyong got the ice cream after asking for your order, you clasped your hands together tightly, your knuckles turning white. 

You knew what you had to do today, before your outing ended and Taeyong left till the next time you would see him. Three words that had the ability to bring people together or tear them apart.

He scraped the chair across the tile, startling you as he sat down and placed a cup of cookie dough ice cream down along with a green tea flavored one. He took the latter for himself, and pushed the other cup in your direction, the small pink spoon poking out.

“Bon appetit,” he exclaims and takes a large spoonful of his ice cream while you leave your dessert unscathed. You suddenly lost your appetite, dreading what would come.

“Hey,” he says, tapping his index finger on your hand, the cool metal of his ring causing you to shiver. “What’s wrong?”

He takes his hand back and places it on the table. You always noticed how he never initiated skinship or desired to touch like you wished him to do. If anything his touch would only linger for a few seconds, whether it be a pat on the hand or a palm on your shoulder, nothing too grand that had to bear on for eternity. 

You cleared your throat, not maintaining eye contact with him any more.. “I have to tell you something…”

He hummed in response as an indicator to keep you going.

“It’s frankly frightening for me to admit and I have no idea if you feel the same, but I just have to tell you. To get this weight off my chest, even if I am setting myself up for the worst,” you stop and reach your hand over the table to place it on top of his, being bold with disregard to your observations. You don’t even notice the way he slightly flinches, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I guess over our time of getting to know each other, something further stirred in my chest. In fact it was already there but it was more profound once I got to know the type of person you are—someone who isn’t so esoteric or unexpressive. Someone who indeed has a fragile, yet caring heart and maybe it took a slap in the face to notice, but…Yong…”

Your thumb caressed his skin as you peered at him with so very gentle eyes and his own remained stoic.

You took a deep breath—make or break. “I like you.”

He retracted his hand so briskly, it was if he had gotten burned. He rubbed at his hand, where your touch still lingered. He shakes his head rapidly, “No…No…No. You can’t…”

This is the first time he ever denied to make eye contact with you and you felt your heart shatter both at his words as well as actions.

Rejection.

You should have expected this, but your all too positive outlook on life was your downfall.

You croaked out, “What do you mean you can’t?”

You deserved some sort of explanation, he couldn’t leave you hanging.

He turned his head to finally see you and you could make out the coherent regret in his eyes, with an ounce of pity. You didn’t want pity, you wanted understanding.

“Baby…” You cower back at the affectionate name, his hands holding onto each other so tightly you could only see white. He repeats himself again, the internal battle he was having with himself unknown to you. “Baby, I’m afraid to fall in love. ‘Cause what if it’s not reciprocated?”

Another crack and a few more you would be gone, submerging yourself in tears of regret.

“B-But it is. Can’t you see? I like you and you—”

He cuts you off, standing up from his chair abruptly, the sound catching the attention of those that sat at the tables near you.

“No,” he shakes his head one more, this time calmer than the last. “No, there’s a difference. You’re infatuated with me. You just like the idea of me so don’t call me your lover, don’t tell me you have feelings for me, when you don’t even love me.”

His words were an arrow to the heart.

How could he possibly know your feelings when he couldn’t even tell his own?

His warning echoes in your ears when he leaves, the slam of the door scaring those inside the parlor but you remain unfazed. This was more than rejection, it was a declaration, a calling for lonely souls that would never find love.

After all, they say all good things come to an end and after you were sparked with a surge of boldness to confess, Lee Taeyong walked away from you, when you thought he would be by your side.

He forgets about you that day and if only it was easy to forget about him.

You weren’t as good as hiding things as you thought you were because your somber mood could be seen for miles. Mark had an idea of why you were so upset, after all he seemed to know every detail when it came to your nonexistent love life, especially since he saw Taeyong nearly every day. On the other hand, Nicole had no idea since she didn’t know Taeyong and you never told her, but she had a hunch it had to do with a boy. Whenever you were down, even in high school, it always had to be because of a boy who wasn’t worth your time as she always reminded you.

You don’t know how much time had passed since your last encounter with Taeyong, since that last fateful day. Time either went by faster or slower whenever you were sad, though more often than none it was the latter. Despite everything you still found yourself meeting up with your best friends and staying on top of your classes, pushing aside any invitations you received for a frat or sorority party when you knew you had the potential to see him there. You knew you would crumble if you did and that weakness was one you weren’t quite ready to share.

So it was Wednesday of the however many days had gone and when you were poking at your salad, refusing to eat more than a few leaves, that Mark speaks up inside the cafeteria, at your usual meet up. Only small remarks were ever made at those now, they knew you weren’t in the right state of mind to talk, but he does so anyways. 

“Angel, I’m sorry.”

His words burn a hole through your heart, of course he was, he was the one that said to be careful—him and Nicole.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you mutter angrily and swipe your backpack off the chair with your books in hand, your tray with you unfinished food in the other. You stand up and leave the cafeteria so fast it takes a while for Nicole and Mark to truly comprehend yet they don’t come after you. Some friends they could be

You dump your leftover meal into the trashcan and place the tray on the top of the metal your way out. You were more frustrated and pissed off than anything else. Today was clearly not your day, it hasn’t been in such a long time and it was why you decided to skip your last class for the day even if it would bite you back in the ass.

You had no problem getting into your car and speeding down the highway to your apartment, too gone when you arrived at your complex. You wanted to take a long awaited nap and maybe cry yourself to sleep to get rid of the icky feelings you had all over.

You stagger your way through the door after pushing it open and down the narrow hall to your bedroom. You don’t bother to change out of your school clothes, choosing to just kick off your Vans before you crash face forward into your soft mattress. Just when you are about to close your eyes you hear a knock at your door.

You hoick your head up with a groan. 

Who the fuck would be here right now?

You have no choice but to get your lazy and gloomy ass out of bed to answer the door, not prepared to see who is on the other side of the wooden frame.

You open the door to none other than Lee fucking Taeyong, in all his glory, with his smooth parted hair that fell over his forehead and his so very gorgeous face. His stylish outfit was more dressed down than ever with a simple blue Gucci hoodie, baggy blue jeans that were cuffed at the ankles, and some simple white sneakers. Yet, he looked the exact same as he did that day, no ounce of any toll the event had taken on him, but if you inspected closely enough, you could see the bags under his eyes. He hadn’t been getting much sleep and neither had you, something that made you feel a little bit better, that he had his own fair share of pain after what he did to you—the both of you.

“Oh hell,” you muttered immediately, closing the door on his face, but his foot makes contact with the door, stopping you from fully shutting the entryway.

You groan, you determine you would have to deal with him eventually so might as well get it over with. You open the door widely, ushering him in with a dramatic gesture that he has to hold back a laugh from due to your annoyance.

You close the door, locking it shut while you regard him with deadpan eyes. “Okay what the hell are you doing here? No, no…wait. How did you get my apartment number? I never told you.”

The seriousness in your gaze slightly frightens him, he had never seen you look so unlike yourself. Your features were always soft and welcoming, but now they were rough and seemed so lifeless.

He gulps, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket, his left leg moving up and down. “I asked Mark where you were…actually no, he called me. He was worried about you and wanted me to check up on you, to resolve what’s going on with us.” He waves a hand between the two of your bodies and you can’t but roll your eyes. He couldn’t even say what the matter was, he had no idea what he did wrong.

When he notices you won’t speak another word, he continues on, “Listen, sweetheart.” He notices your wince at the all too nostalgic nickname, still continuing on. “Mark cares about you, he really does and you shouldn’t ignore him. You shouldn’t push him or Nicole away…please don’t for my sake at least.”

You scoff, crossing your hands over your chest, “You’re one to talk.”

“Trust me I know but—“

You cut him off, eyes zoning in on his face, diverting the conversation another way. You still didn’t know why he truly came. “What are you doing here Taeyong?”

“I already told you—“

“No,” you cut him off once more, eyes narrowing even further, “Why are you really here and don’t say for Mark or Nicole. Why did you decide to come?”

He stutters, you never saw him stutter. He was always calm and collected, so sure of himself. “I-I just really wanted to see you…I missed you.”

Those mere words are when you burst.

“You can’t say that! You can’t. You ghosted me for days, for weeks, I don’t know how long it has been. I reached out to your friends, your fellow frat brothers to ask where you were and they always deflected, saying you were too busy with assignments, with everything else going on in your life, especially finals coming up. But I could see it in their eyes, Taeyong.”

He winces at his full name. You always opted to call him Yong or any other variation of his name, but not Taeyong.

“I could tell they were lying to me. You weren’t as busy as they said. In fact you know…” You turn your attention away to look at the clock in the kitchen. “I saw you the other day when I came out of the library. It was already dark out and you know,” you could feel your tears slipping out and the look of absolute guilt plagues his face. He never wanted you to cry because of him.  “Someone was with you, a boy, a girl, a frat brother, I don’t know, but you had this smile on your face that I could see for miles. You never smiled at me like that before and I knew in some small way that you were doing well, while I was over here beating myself about everything revolving around my stupid confession. So you know what? Don’t say you miss me when you don’t really mean it. Don’t give me too many words, too many excuses and not enough love…just…” you choke on your words, breaking down, piece by piece. “Get out.”

He looks destroyed at your last words and reaches out his hand, “I—”

You turn your body away from him, cowering into yourself.

He releases a sigh, he knew you wouldn’t budge. “Okay, okay. I’ll go.”

So he leaves, going out the front door and withdrawing from your life once more. You only wish he fought back and didn’t surrender to defeat.

But it isn’t even twenty-four hours later when Lee Taeyong comes knocking at your door another time, on your way out for your morning class for the day. He rushes in with messy bed hair, a striped black and red long sleeve shirt, baggy black jeans, and some brown Converse.

He came back for you after all and it touched your heart, mending some pieces that were broken from his own faults, even when the rest of your soul wanted you to stay mad at him.

He places his hands on your shoulder, directing your eye contact solely to him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart for what I said and how I acted. It was never my intention to harm you, but I was scared of the feelings that you voiced, the ones I wasn’t sure if I could return so I ran away from it, from you, leaving you in pain because I couldn’t admit anything to myself. I apologize and I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me.”

You could tell the sincerity in his words, how he was speaking from his heart rather than his mind. He truly was sorry and you both knew you would be all right even with a bump like this in the road. It was inevitable, everyone fought, for stupid or valid reasons, an aspect part of the cycle of life, but you could overcome that obstacle as would he. 

You took Taeyong’s hand into your own, a smile on your face, one that made him release a sigh that you weren’t mad. “I get it, Yongie. I get it and I forgive you. You did hurt me, I admit, but hey what’s life without a little woe?”

He lightly laughs and squeezes your hand, the relief noticeable in his face. “Thank you.”

“But it still doesn’t bypass the fact that I caused you distress too and I apologize for that as well. We offended each other unintentionally, but I am glad we are somewhat okay.”

He steps back from you, his hands covered by his long sleeves. “I sure hope so, but sweetheart?”

You hum.

“I can’t return your feelings. I can’t, no matter how much you want me to.”

You nod your head, your smile now sad. “It’s okay. I might want something more, but you can’t give that and it’s okay. To be in love is both a blessing and a curse. I’ll just have to live with it and learn to get over it. You can’t have control over who you fall in love with.”

“I wish I could,” he mutters.

You shake your head, “You can’t change what’s meant to be.”

His regretful eyes lock onto you when he ushers his hand out, if not lovers then there was something even equally or more so valuable. “Friends?”

You latch your hand onto his, “Friends.”

Then all is well with Lee Taeyong as you go back to your usual routine, hanging out on select days, whenever you both were free, but with the end of the December having rolled around you saw less and less of him. You were both busy with taking your finals, but he had more on his plate being a third year. It was hard to set aside time to go out or even text as he became drowned in his ever increasing workload.

You suppose that should have served as a warner because then everything goes downhill like the rollercoaster that explained your life.

Mark is the one that delivers the news at the end of finals week when you all gathered at your apartment for a much needed Disney movie marathon—the trio back again after a much stressful week. You rarely saw each other, too immersed in your studies and wants to receive high marks.

“Thank goodness hell week is over,” Nicole groans, stretching her body on the couch. “I felt like I was going to pass out by the time it was Wednesday.”

“I feel ya, sister,” you murmur, planting yourself down on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in your hands. “I was about to give up.”

Mark rolls his eyes when he sits down next to you, placing the bowl of assorted candy on the floor. “You guys are exaggerating. First year finals aren’t too bad. Just wait till next year.”

Nicole reaches over and whacks the top of Mark’s head as he lets out a whine. “Hey!”

“Shut up, you motherfucker,” she states, sneaking a hand into the popcorn in your grasp. “This isn’t about you.”

“I never said it was.”

“You always complain. Do you ever shut up?”

“Guys!” you yell amidst their argument.

“Why the hell are you attacking me?”

“Why not? It’s fun.”

“Guys!” you yell once more, your voice raising that catches their attention.

Mark sheepishly smiles at you, but not before sending a glare at Nicole, one which she returns. 

“Sorry, angel.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him. “Can we just pick a movie?”

He nods his head and grabs the remote on the glass table, opening Disney Plus and scrolling through the selection of movies.

You hear the chewing of Nicole and the clicking of the remote, filling up the quietness in contrast to the noise that was prevalent before.

You ask a question, meekly, not particularly addressing anyone in the room once Mark lands on a movie suggestion. “Do you know how Taeyong is?”

Nicole’s chewing ceases and Mark looks over at you, still holding onto the remote. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I hadn’t seen him since the week before finals. He said he would text me once it was over, but I haven’t received anything and today is the last day before break.”

You see Mark lock eyes with Nicole, them having a silent conversation that you had no clue to decipher. Nicole gives a nod to Mark and your shoulders a reassuring squeeze, allowing Mark to speak up in a whisper. “He didn’t tell you?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Tell me what?”

He swears under his breath, moving closer to you to grasp your hands. “Angel…he’s leaving.”

You try to tug your hands away, but he won’t let you go. “What do you mean leaving?”

“He’s going to the states for a master’s program at Harvard, he received a full ride to study neuroscience. He finished all his credits early so he was able to graduate this semester instead of in another year like he was supposed to. His flight leaves tomorrow morning. He wanted to get an early start to settle down and everything.”

Mark finally lets go of your hands, giving a squeeze when you pull away. Water was prickling in the corner of your eyes, waiting to be released. “W-What? Y-Your lying. W-Why didn’t he t-tell me?”

Mark tilts his head up, contemplating what to say next when you were readably getting emotional and he didn’t want to wound you further. “I’m not, angel, but I think why he didn’t tell you was because he didn’t want to upset you. You had only gotten close this year and him telling you he was leaving would give you more hurt than he ever would want you to bear, especially considering you both had a tough couple of weeks that placed a stain on your friendship.”

“T-That shouldn’t m-matter b-because doesn’t he know this h-hurts me too? Him leaving w-without saying goodbye?”

You feel the weight of Nicole’s hand on your shoulders once more, rubbing the clothed skin. “You have to know where he’s coming from love. I am sure he has a reason.”

“Yeah, a bullshit one!” you croak out, some tears cascading down your cheeks.

“Hey, angel, hey,” Mark speaks out, resting his hand on your thigh. “Calm down. I can drive you to the airport tomorrow. I know when his flight leaves. How about that? Give him a piece of your mind and a proper goodbye.”

You sniffle, wiping the tears from underneath your eyes. “Y-Yeah…that s-sounds good.”

Mark smiles. “Good. Trust Taeyong to be stupid as fuck sometimes.”

You chuckle at your best friend’s attempt to lighten the mood, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder. “You can say that again.”

The next morning you are all jitters, waking up at six in the morning sharp to drive an hour to the airport, in hopes you would arrive before his flight departs at eight.

Mark had served as a wakeup call, being on facetime as you both got ready. Nicole couldn’t join the two of you for some reason, giving the excuse that she needed to sleep in after her emotional and mental exhaustion from finals. You couldn’t complain, you needed sleep too, but catching Taeyong mattered more.

Mark kept calling you out for your nervousness, your leg moving up and down throughout nearly the whole ride and when he put his hand on your thigh to calm you in some way, you switched to messing with your fingers.

There was more traffic than you realized and Mark drove exceptionally slow to where you arrived at the airport twenty minutes to eight. You rushed between the crowds, Mark hot on your trail as you searched for the correct gate that so happened to be at the opposite end of where you parked.

You glanced at the time on your cell phone, it was now five minutes to eight and your eyes peered over the heads of countless people to look for gate C7.

Then you spotted the neon yellow sign of the gate of where Taeyong would hopefully be. You glanced at the waiting area near the gate, searching for a familiar mop of hair and superb fashion sense, though to no avail, he wasn’t there, until a voice spoke up behind you, one light, yet masculine.

“Sweetheart?”

You didn’t think twice, turning on your heels and latching your arms around his neck. He didn’t flinch away this time, wrapping his arms around your waist to hug you closer.

“You’re an idiot, Lee Taeyong. A dumb fucking idiot,” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, holding back your tears the second day in a row. “You were really going to leave without saying goodbye? Who the fuck does that?”

He loosens his hold on you and puts you at arm's length to properly take a good look at you, wiping his thumb underneath your eye at the stray tear that falls down.

“I know, trust me, I know and I’m sorry. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you that I was leaving…I didn’t want to break your heart a second time.” He gives you a sad and soft smile.

You shake your head, bringing your sleeve up to wipe at your eyes. “That’s a dumb excuse, Yong. I’m only ever yours to break.”

“I wish that wasn’t the case, my love. I don’t think I deserve that right.” 

You interlock your hands together with his, giving him a squeeze with fondness in your gaze. “You deserve everything, Yongie. You deserve the universe.”

He chuckles, letting go. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Your smile widens as you tear up once more from his words. “Guess fate made us both lucky.”

He nods his head. “Indeed it did.”

You converse further, “I’m proud of you, you know, I’m proud that you’re achieving your goals.”

“Now boarding passengers for flight 6313 to Boston, Massachusetts. Proceed to gate C7.”

His eyes widen at the announcement and he latches his hand onto your wrist to pull you into his chest one more time before he leaves, holding more tightly than he ever did, both of you afraid to let go.

Time ran out.

He whispers with his chin resting on your head and swaying your bodies back and forth, “I am proud of you too, my love.”

He doesn’t cry, but you can sense the sadness exuding off of him at the fact that he truly had to leave you behind when he was wishing he didn’t have to.

He steps back, letting go at once, his smile making you all cozy inside even with stained tears on your cheeks. “Goodbye, sweetheart. Take care of yourself for me. Take care of Mark and the rest of those obnoxious boys.”

You laugh at his use of words and nod your head, the smile on your lips wavering.

“But most importantly, don’t be a stranger,” he winks, grabbing the handle of his luggage and duffle bag as he advances forward to the gate. “Don’t forget about me,” he whispers to himself.

He is mere steps away from going through the gate when he turns his head back, giving you a small wave and you wave right back till he turns around again.

Then you realized you couldn’t leave him like that, with a small conversation, without anything to remember you by in that moment, so you run forward without thought, yelling out, “Wait!”

His eyes are wide with curiosity when he sees you run full speed ahead and you catch the front of his unbuttoned black silk shirt with gold patterns etched into the material, to pull him to a kiss.

You mumble against his lips, “Just love me once,” and he does, kissing you back with so much fervor it makes you dizzy, your heart going haywire with its frantic beats.

You don’t know how long you remain locking lips till the intercom announces overhead another time.

“Last call for flight 6313 to Boston, Massachusetts. Last call for flight 6313 to Boston, Massachusetts.  Proceed to gate C7. Proceed to gate C7.”

The announcement serves as your deal breaker for he steps back, his arms leaving your waist bare and cold. His lips are swollen pink and the black sunglasses fixated on the top of his lead is lopsided, his shirt a little wrinkly from where you held on.

You giggle at his appearance and he shakes his head, leaning forward to peck your forehead, not making a direct comment about the kiss.“Tell me baby, would you still love me even if we weren’t together?”

Your smile widens, fixing up his silk shirt, “I’ll always love you.”

You wore your heart on your sleeve for him and even if he couldn’t return the favor you knew he didn’t invalidate your feelings because candidly he returned them. He liked you as much as you liked him, but he couldn’t confess, he couldn’t proclaim the feelings that kept him up at night and made him feel whole. No, he couldn’t because he was slightly afraid of what it meant and because the timing was off when his entire future laid ahead. To him there was no point to have a relationship when he would leave almost a month later so he pushed those emotions connecting the two of you to the back of his mind for the greater good. For you to be happy with just knowing him, getting to befriend rather than longing after him when he would leave.

He would only prevent you from loving and that was something he couldn’t let you do.

Your answer to his question was the one he was looking for, the one he always wanted to hear coming out of your lips one day, for his smile is enough to set the whole world ablaze. He takes your hand to give the skin a kiss, a lingering touch of remembrance. “Perhaps I do too.”

His last words are permanently engraved in your mind for he had admitted his true feelings indirectly and that was enough. That was enough to keep you hoping when he vanished through the airport gate to go to another part of the world, somewhere where he could thrive again and live to his fullest potential. 

After all he was just a flickering flame, there one second then gone the next and not so easy to tame for flames always had the want to be free. 

Though sometimes flames are reborn, with new intentions and motivations. 

You hoped he would be too in some other life, where the two of you could have a happy ending, instead of one where he leaves you behind in the dust at the start of the finish line with a love that he couldn’t hold steady. 

[renjunfromthestars]

one last time

Pairing: Haechan + Reader

Genre: Angst, smut? suggestive, fluff, established relationship

Song recs: Lose by Niki,Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County, Sofia by Clario

Warnings: 

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary:

Sometimes, just loving each other isn’t a reason to continue being together.

or

Life consists of moments, and some people are only meant to stay in your life for a moment.

___

September (Now)

When you wake up, it’s breaking dawn. Despite the layers you’re tangled in, it’s still cold in the little one bedroom apartment you share with Haechan downtown. There’s an obscene amount of blankets for the sheer size of the bed; the air condition has been blasting too low for weeks, and neither of you have bothered trying to turn it off. 

The kitchen sink has clogged up a couple days ago, from the buildup of grease or a stray utensil you don’t know—just that the dishes have piled up, and much like the thin balance that holds you and Haechan together, are on the verge of collapsing. 

You question if he still lives with you out of fear of being alone, but you know the answer has always lied in the thin white sheets of the empty two sized bed when you wake up.

Even so, during the rare moments you wake up early enough to see him next to you, there’s an unspoken wall split down the white sheets, and you haven’t really kissed each other in weeks.

As your eyes dart around the room, what should really be considered evidence of your relationship seems old, like artifacts, untouched for centuries. The picture frame that once graced the nightstand, trapped in the crevice between the wall, the 70-millimeter projector Haechan bought you for christmas, back in the box, collecting dust and untouched. 

It’s another day, another changing of the seasons, and you’re still looking for someone to blame, but it's hard to point fingers at someone who isn’t there. 

It’s hard for Haechan to do wrong when he hasn��t been doing anything. So maybe it’s you that make the moments alone feel so long, as you find yourself waiting for just the click of the door opening, a call, a note, a kiss, anything. And maybe one day, if you try hard enough, you’ll find something out of nothing.

But right now, as you hear shuffling and the click of a door, you know he’s only leaving the apartment again. 

September (Before)

It’s bittersweet when the last hints of summer fade into fall, but when you make your way up the stairs and finally drop the boxes on the floor, you don’t mind it as much as you thought you would. 

“It’s so spacious.”

“You don’t have to lie, Channie.”

“No I’m serious.”

“First of all, you’re never serious, and second of all, it’s only because it’s empty and we haven’t unpacked.”

He seems so excited and you can’t blame him, you’re excited too. A place to finally call your own, even if it was the size fit for a Keebler elf. 

As you work on opening each cardboard box, Haechan digs in, taking your things out of the box, organizing them. When you’re finally done, you plop on the couch, resting. When you look over at Haechan he’s focused, with a little drop of sweat traveling down his face as he puts up the curtains. 

Christmas (Before)

“Well, it has character.”

“You don’t have to lie.”

The thing in question, being the little Christmas tree Haechan dragged in despite your insistence that one wasn’t necessary. It’s frail, evidenced by the way the weight of the star bends the tip of the tree, and the firs that branch out from the trunk are discolored. It’s so dry, you think, if you snap the tree in half and start rubbing the sticks together, you could start a fire. You rather not be arrested for arson, so you just sigh. It is kind of endearing, but you’d never admit it. 

“And now we wait for Midnight,” he declares, wrapping his arm around you. “so I can kiss you in celebration.” 

“I think you’re confusing Christmas with New Years.”

 “I figured you’d be difficult,” he shrugs.  “You’re always worried about something,”  he begins, rummaging in his pocket. “Loosen up it’s Christmas, our second one.” When his hand finally leaves his pocket, there’s a small bunch of mistletoe haphazardly attached to a string. He lifts his arm, and it dangles just above your heads. 

“You have to kiss me now.”

“I’d kiss you regardless-” 

“Shut up.” With the swift movement of his head, he presses his lips against you. 

It’s Christmas, and you don’t have a lot of money. It’s Christmas, but you have Haechan, and that’s all that matters. 

…

“Where did you get this, anyways?” 

Haechan scratches the back of his head. “I dunno.”

“Don’t even try lying to me, I’ll get it out of you eventually.”

“It’s not lying if I withhold the truth,” he says stubbornly, and you roll your eyes as you adjust the focus of the screen. 

“No seriously, this is a really nice projector. I don’t think we could’ve afforded something like this if we only ate rice and beans for a month.” 

“I don’t understand why it matters.” he says nonchalantly, chewing on the last of the popcorn

“It matters because rent is due next week, and we’re almost short because of the heating bill.”

“You worry too much.”

“And you worry too little” you interject.

“Not when it’s about you.” he responds, and your face softens. 

He opens his arms, and you crawl into them. You’ve been stressed with work lately, he knows.

You’ve always talked about getting a projector, and how cool it would be (“We could have movie nights!”) but knowing you, you wouldn’t ever drop money on one to buy it for yourself. 

It’s the last of his graduation money well spent, just to make you happy. 

New Years (Before)

You don’t know if it’s the twinkling lights, or the atmosphere (or the champagne) that has you feeling this way, but you’re feeling quite warm and fuzzy.

You trip and nearly kiss the floor on the way to the snack table when Jaemin catches you.

“Woah woah woah there, easy. Looks like someone’s had too much to drink.” he teases, reaching across the table to grab a napkin. Some of the champagne from his flute spilled onto your dress, and Jaemin dabs a napkin apologetically. 

Renjun glances to his side and gives Haechan a little tap, pointing to your hunched figure. Haechan sighs, and makes his way to you.

To the average bystander, it's an innocent display of chivalry as Jaemin links his arm around yours and you lean on him, searching for a place to put you so you won’t cause anymore trouble, but Haechan can’t help but feel a little, pissed off? Peeved, jealous even. 

“My dress,” you grumble, and Jaemin only laughs. “It’s okay, you still look pretty y/n. You’ve always been.

Yes, you do look pretty tonight, Haechan knows, and when you’re back in his arms, he whispers to you that you’re going home. 

...

You’re breathless when Haechan scoops your legs from right under you, disregarding the heel on your left foot you still haven’t taken off.

“Too slow.” he huffs, and you can only wrap your arms around your neck in support when he impatiently shakes your body slightly so that your shoe falls to the floor. 

When he finally makes his way to the bedroom, he plops you front first. The bed feels so comfy, but you snap back into focus when you hear some rustling, then the familiar clank of the metal of a belt hit the floor. 

When you turn around, he wastes no time kissing you, and you almost forget what you wanted to say.

“We didn’t even-” Haechan begins to slide his hand under your dress, interrupting you. “Even see the ball drop” you manage to gasp out. 

“Does it matter?” he hums. Your strapless bra is yanked right out from under you, and any resolve you had to press the topic any further goes with it.   

“It is so bad that I want to spend some quality alone time with you on New Years?”

He’s so worked up it’s almost comical, and he makes it a point to fuck you so that you’ll be feeling it for the next week, but you’re not complaining. It’s quality alone time after all. 

Spring (Before)

If  they say March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb, then your sanity must have left with it. You get a job promotion, and Haechan well, finally finds a job after months of searching. Haechan’s excited, you’re excited, money isn’t as much of an issue anymore, and you couldn’t be happier.

With your newfound responsibilities, you find that it’s hectic at work, so you’re hardly home when he is. When you are, you find yourselves  too tired to do anything but stick a frozen dinner in the microwave, and call it a night. But when you can, you try to set aside a day to eat together, to do something.

It’s difficult at first, but it’s okay, because change is arduous, and it’s okay, because  you have each other.

You try your best to call during lunch breaks, but even then, the calls get shorter, and spending time together becomes an afterthought. The time you do spend together is awkward, with strained silences in between that make you think, was it always like this before? You would almost prefer arguing- then you would at least be talking to each other.

Maybe the riff between you two goes deeper than that, then just work on the surface. It’s riddled with doubt, uncertainty. Doubt, when he says he has extra hours he needs to do at the company, uncertainty when you don’t know when you’ll see him next. You don’t need to lose your mind every time he doesn’t call, because he certainly doesn’t. He doesn’t, so you won’t. You shouldn’t have to win his love, right? because you have it. You’ve always had it.

You don’t know when it occurred to you that his laugh began to mean something more to you--but right now, you’re not so sure when you started evolving into strangers.

Summer (Before)

Spring bleeds into summer, and work lets down a little. Haechan has the day off. You let him know you’ll be coming home a little early, and you do, right before the sun sets, groceries in hand.

When you slip off your shoes and hang your jacket on the coat rack, you make your way to the kitchen. As you make your way to the kitchen, you notice the pans on the stove, and the single empty set aside in the sink.

When you make your way to the bedroom, you find him on his back, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

“Does this even matter to you, if we eat together?”

“Not really,” he shrugs.

You drop the subject.

September (Now)

Maybe at a time you felt free here, but right now, everything about the apartment is suffocating, the blankets, the air, the silence. You bring out the duffel bag you haven’t used since you’ve moved in, and begin to fill it with your belongings. You need to be somewhere, anywhere. Anywhere but here.

Dusk is transforming into evening when you finally see him. He’s leaning against the door frame, with the light of the sunset illuminating the thin wisps of hair that frame his face. In baggy sweats, and your favorite white tee of his, with the tiny hole on the sleeve from wearing it so much (because you liked it, he once said), in the rose tinted light, he’s the spitting image of the boy you fell in love with, the boy you’ve always loved, for the past year, months, weeks. But when you take the time to look closer, he looks tired, with his eyes sunken and hollow. At the edge of the room is as close as he gets, but he feels miles away

“Where did you go today?”

“I was out with a friend,” you lie. You’re always there when he comes home, and that hasn’t changed. But how else are you going to explain the traces of makeup that linger on your face, and the fact that you’re dressed? You didn’t think he’d care enough notice, let alone point it out. You look up at him, but his gaze remains on the floor, shoe digging in the peeling carpet.

When you see his jaw tense and lips begin to part, you see a glimpse of the man who used to hold on to you like you were the last person on earth; he’s lost the right a long time ago, to be overprotective, to ask about your day, like it would make any difference now. It’s when his gaze travels from the carpet, to the closet, the empty hangers, the sweater in your hands, the bag, he stops; it’s finally sinking in. 

Baggy sweats, in a white t-shirt with his heart on his sleeve. Messy hair, he looks like the man you’ve always known, always loved, last year, last month. Today, and even tomorrow when you’re on that train going far far away. If you get on that train.

Because you’ve been thinking: Is this what love is? They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, but all you’ve been feeling these days is empty. Even so, after all this time apart, you still feel the urge to kiss him. 

“Where are you going?” he looks at you, the closet, the bag.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t need to lie to me.”

The answer is in your silence, and wordlessly, he walks past you and lays on the bed. 

“Come here,” he says, and his body forms a crevice on the bed that hasn’t been there for months. 

“I don’t think I should.”

“Please,” his voice breaks, and you feel your plans begin to tear apart at the seams. “Just one last time.”

He knows he can’t stop you from leaving, it’s inevitable, an unspoken end. He can only delay it.

There's a soft crinkle as he wraps his arms around you in your jacket, tightly, almost painfully. 

“The truth is, I- I still, I-”

“I know,” you say softly, interrupting him. “Me too.”

…

When you wake up it’s breaking dawn, and you’re tangled in the arms of the only thing you’ve ever known love to be. He looks so peaceful, with the light of dawn shining on his bare face like drops of morning dew catching the sun. He’s still Haechan and you’re still you, but you know things are different now, and somewhere along the way you forgot to tell each other about it.

You hastily get your bag, leaving no room for second thoughts.

As you head out the door, you see a bag of groceries carelessly dropped on the counter, the bag broken. You see oranges, cereal, a carton of eggs all for two. You see your favorite brand of instant coffee, the one Haechan hates, but always buys for you anyway.

It’s bittersweet as the last hints of summer fade into fall, and you mind it. You mind it a lot. You know there will be a time again when everything will fit right in, but right now, everything is falling apart and you can’t look back. Maybe in a different life you both fight all day, but kiss all night. In another universe, things could still be changing too. You could be leaving this little apartment together, on a train maybe to somewhere bigger. 

September (Before)

“y/n?”

“Yes Hyuck?” you say absentmindedly, fiddling with his silver necklace as you lay on his chest. You’re both tired from unpacking, and you might be just a little late for work. It doesn’t matter, you can spare the subway fare instead of walking. 

“Where do you want to live eventually?”

“I have no idea, but I’m open to anything. I think it would be really cool to live in the city,” you ponder. “but I wouldn’t be able to live there my whole life, you know? What about you?” 

“I kinda wanna live in Utah.”

“Utah is really pretty.” you agree. “Airplane tickets are kinda expensive though, trains are cheaper, but it might take a little longer, and I don’t know if I can be in confined space with you for that long.” you tease.

“Don’t lie you love me,” he grumbles. “It just seems so great,” Haechan continues. “It’s rural and the houses are so big and-” he suddenly pauses. “What if we can’t find jobs in the same location?”

“Hyuck why are you so worried about all this? ” You can only laugh at the little frown he makes in response. “We just moved in, and all of this is so far ahead in the future.”

“I want to make your life amazing,” he announces, “I want the best for us so figured I might as well start planning now.”

You’re ready to tease him for his sudden onset of seriousness, for being so out of character. The Haechan you know doesn’t plan; he scarfs down cereal each day in the morning, and throws on the first item he sees-but when you look up at him, his eyes are filled with sincerity—He’s dead serious. 

As you sit up you kiss his forehead, cupping his face in your hands. Feeling his cheeks contract as you pull away, he purses his lips.

“Kiss me?”

“Okay, just one last time,” you laugh. “I really need to go now though.”

______________________________________________________________

a/n: I don’t know why but I’ve been writing a lot of sad stuff lately, I hope this one makes sense lmao. Let me know what you think, feedback is always appreciated

[softyoongiionly]

NSFW A-Z List (Mama Mia! Jungkook)

***This contains smut, 18+ only please***

“Aqua told me you all had some questions for me so, I had my assistant fax me the prompt and, I’m really hoping she didn’t read it because, these are filthy ha. I hope you all enjoy yourselves.” 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex):

“It kind of depends on the situation but, if I just had sex, I’m in a good mood. If Y/N and I are in the bed, I make sure I change the sheets and, I make sure she’s cleaned up and, feeling good too. Sometimes we like to talk about it. A bit of pillow talk is always great. PILLOWW TALK! Do you guys remember that song by that one dude in one direction? Great song. It’s like he left one direction and, immediately needed to say the word fuck and sing about sex.” 

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

“This is a weird question. I like my abs? I guess? I mean I spent like a million hours in the gym trying to tone up and stuff so, it’s definitely the only thing that stands out.” 

“Y/N is the by far the most beautiful woman on the planet so, it’s a little hard to pin point one specific part of her I like the most. If I had to choose, I would say her eyes. Sometimes she looks at me and, I suddenly forget all three languages I speak. She takes my breath away. Literally, who is she looking at like that? Me? Does she value my life at all? Is she trying to kill me? Probably. I love her :-)” 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person):

“Cum...I don’t really know what I’m supposed to talk about in this section so, I’m just gonna say- yes?? Is that the right answer?” 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

“One time, when Y/N was away on business, I jerked off so much in one day, I sprained my hand. I guess that isn’t dirty but, it is embarrassing. I’d probably do it again though, I’m so spoiled that I forgot what’s its like to go without sex.” 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?):

“Yikes this question is a little hard for me to answer. Before meeting Y/N, I had a lot of different partners. After finding out my half-brother tried to steal my recipe, I got really down on myself. I felt really empty and, I spent a lot of time partying and, hooking up with random people. I don’t really know how many if I’m being honest. It was a lot though. After awhile I kind of snapped out of it and, realized I needed to deal with my issues head on so, after a bit of therapy, I was doing a lot better. Sexually, I’ve had a lot of experience but, intimacy? That’s a lot newer for me. And let me tell you my dudes, nothing is sexier than being with someone who truly loves and cares for you. I don’t make the rules.” 

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual):

“Missionary. Listen, I know it’s a boring answer but, I’m a sucker for passion what can I say? I like watching her face and, seeing all the little expressions she makes, especially right when I first push inside of her. Also, it’s the best position for her to scratch up my back and, I really love when she does that.” 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc):

“I don’t really find a lot of things to laugh about during sex but, I’m sure it’s happened at some point. Sex is kind of a serious thing for me now but, I wouldn’t stay serious if something funny happened because, sometimes funny things do happen. When they do, we laugh but, then I’m right back in the moment again. Y/N and I mess around a lot in our daily lives so, I like to use sex as a way to show her how serious I am about her and, our relationship.” 

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.):

“I got laser hair removal like 3 years ago. Yes, it’s possible to get it done in sensitive areas but, it’s crazy expensive. Or so I’ve heard, I’m not gonna lie to you, my idea of expensive and, other people’s idea of expensive are probably a little different. But yeah, I got it all lasered off so, it doesn’t really grow there anymore. I keep my face shaved too but, my arms and legs are free to grow all the hair they want.” 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…):

“With Y/N, I’m a little bit of a hopeless romantic, I can’t lie. I love all of that cheesy shit. Rose petals on the bed? Yes. Wine and chocolate on the shores of our private beach? At least twice a week. Leaving Y/N little post it notes all over our villa that contain all the things I love about her? Duh. I AM A SAP. I AM A MESS. I can’t help myself. My father collects first edition classic novels and, for Valentine’s Day, I had him send me the contact of his distributor so, I could buy Y/N the first edition of The Princess Bride. It’s one of her favorites. It was only $1,400 so, I definitely got a good deal. I also had a custom gown imported from France and, a prince-like outfit made for me. What do princes even wear? What is that called? Tights? I don’t know but, I looked like a goddamn Disney prince by the time I was done getting ready. I rented a different villa out for the weekend and, my interior designer decorated it like a medieval castle. We spent the weekend playing prince and princess and, it was probably one of the best weekends of my life. So to answer your question: Yes, I am romantic.”

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon):

“I only really touch myself when Y/N is away. Her and I have a pretty consistent sex life so, we have sex almost every day, sometimes multiple times a day. I don’t really have a need for it anymore and, it doesn’t feel nearly as good as sex with Y/N.”

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks):

“I have a few. I’m really sensitive to smells so, if Y/N smells good, I can’t keep my hands off of her. She has this one perfume from Gucci that I love so much. I can get hard just from the smell; it’s kind of pathetic honestly. I love  having sex outside too. It’s a good thing we have a private strip of the beach because, if we had neighbors nearby, they would hate us ha. I have a cashmere picnic blanket that we take down there a few times a week and, we always end up making love on it. Yes, I said making love. Get over it. Oh and, if Y/N says anything about my muscles or how strong I am? Instant turn on. I think I have a praise kink? Is that what it’s called? I love Y/N’s panties too. Lace, silk, cotton, clean or dirty; I don’t discriminate, just put them in my mouth. Lol, this is getting dirty…sorry Aqua.”

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do):

“I already kind of answered this but, sex on the beach or sex on our balcony are probably my top two.”

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going):

“I feel like I answered this one too because, I just talked about my kinks but, I would say my motivation is to get my girl off right? I get off easily. I have a beautiful woman all over me, saying dirty things in my ear… I mean, my orgasm is guaranteed. Y/N doesn’t take a long time to cum anymore because; I know how to please my woman but, I still want her to feel good. I want to see her let go and, let someone else take care of her for a change. She works so hard. I want to show her what a good woman she is. I want to show her how much I love her.”

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

“Threesomes, anal and, I’m pretty sure this is everyone’s answer but, bodily fluids belong in the toilet.”

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc):

“Yes.”

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.):

“Both. Sometimes I want to draw it out and, let her feel every inch of me but, sometimes I want to fuck so hard we are both sore the next day. It’s all amazing either way.”

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.):

“I love quickies. They are great in the afternoon when she and I have things to do but, we still want each other. They would get old after a while though so, we usually do both. It’s very rare that we just have a quickie and, nothing else but, sometimes it happens. Ever since we moved to Greece, we try to always make time for each other but, we both get busy from time to time.”

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.):

“I’m game to experiment a little bit but, Y/N and I have been together awhile. We’ve tried a few different things but, sex with her is so amazing, I don’t feel the need to experiment that much anymore.”

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…):

“I can last forever if I need to. Like I said, my orgasm is an easy thing to obtain with a woman like Y/N so, my focus is making sure she’s feeling it too. I can go for multiple rounds too, I mean it’s hard not to. Have you seen her? We have sex all night sometimes. I hope she finishes her conference call soon, I’m really starting to miss her…”

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?):

“Y/N owns a very tasteful collection of dildos made out of rose quartz and jade. I use them on her sometimes between rounds but, I don’t know how often she uses them beyond that. I don’t own any toys but, I do spend quite a bit of money on new lingerie for Y/N. She has an entire armoire for all of her outfits. Oh, we have gold handcuffs too. We take turns using them on each other.”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

“Y/N has a really sensitive spot on her neck and, she’s really tender around her waist so, sometimes I come up beyond her and, brush my lips against her throat and, tickle her. She’s told me it turns her on immediately so, I like to play with her a little bit. We both tease each other a lot though, especially during phone meetings. One time, I was on a 4 way call with my investors and, she sucked my dick through the entire thing. I thought I was gonna have a heart attack but, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t cum a little harder that time. Maybe that’s another kink of mine…”

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make):

“We live on a private piece of land so; we can be as loud as we want. I’m only loud when things are getting intense but, even still I’m not screaming at the top of my lungs. She isn’t crazy loud either but, I do try my hardest to get her to scream my name every now and again. Just for fun.”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice):

“Y/N and I are in the process of buying an island in the Caribbean and, sometimes I get turned on when she talks about how much money we both have. I’m sorry, I know it’s a dick move but, it’s the truth. I donate millions to charity every year, I swear.”

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words):

“I’m like 7 inches I think? When I’m hard it’s probably like 8 or 9. I’m not sharing any more than that ha.”

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

“Pretty high. Unless I’m really sick or really busy.”

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

“If we’ve been going for multiple rounds, I’m pretty exhausted by the end of it but, I don’t just fall asleep. I don’t want to leave the bed afterwards though. I just want to cuddle with Y/N until we both pass out. If it’s during the day and, we’ve only gone once or twice, I’m not tired at all.”

“Aqua wanted me to dedicate this to @gldnrecs​ and, @bulletproofbirdy​. She says you guys are the best and, apparently you have a sweet spot for me. So, I guess I’ll dedicate this to you too ha. I hope you liked it.”

[birdiepi]

after midnight (m)

~pairing: changkyun x reader 

~genre: smut 

~word count: 1k

~warnings: 18+, it’s smut lol, mild spanking, dirty talk, dom!changkyun, fluff, just both parties desperate for each other haha 

~summary: changkyun likes it better after midnight and you are more than happy to indulge him

~a/n: hi! I was listening to the new wayV album and their song After Midnight really gave me changkyun vibes~ enjoy!

He only comes to you after midnight.

He only needs you after midnight.

He only loves you after midnight.

You only call Changkyun for one reason: to know what time he’ll be coming over. Most of the time, he will say a normal point in the day or that he’ll be working for so long that if he tried to see you, he’d only make it to your front door before he has to turn around again.

However.

There are times when he breathes slowly down the phone and composes himself enough to say, ‘Be ready for me after midnight.’  

The man never gives you a chance to answer. You’re not complaining. In fact, you can’t wait. You always surprise him by wearing your skimpiest sets of nighties and lingerie sets but this time, you’re not going to wear anything. At all.

You can’t decide whether it took midnight rolled around faster or slower than you thought. Waiting seemed like torture but as soon as your phone flashed all the zeros at you, all the time spent anticipating dissipated because you were still unprepared.

Now, he could turn up at any moment.

You wrap a blanket around yourself and try to sit still, you might have a while to–

A knock echoed from the door.

You don’t breathe as you run down to hall.

He slowly turns as you open your home to him, raising an eyebrow when he sees your bare shoulders and a desperate hand clutching at the edges of the blanket.

Stepping to the side, you let him in. Changkyun closes the door for you, taking his time to lock it before his eyes land on you. His bag slides to the floor and he leaves his shoes by the entryway before he begins to approach you.

He hooks a finger into the top of the blanket, looking at you through his fringe when he says, ‘drop it.'

Your hand relaxes on its own. The blanket is no more, dropping in a muffled heap onto the ground behind him to reveal exactly what he was hoping for. You, completely naked underneath.

A low growl resonates deep in his throat as he steps back for a heartbeat.

‘Baby, there’s really no one else like you,’ he says. He’s close now, kissing beneath your ear. He takes your hand, pressing against his dick. ‘Do you see? Do you see what you do to me?’ You hold your breath to save yourself from moaning right into his ear.

Without question, he slides his fingers across your dripping hole, just to prove that he knows what he’s doing to you as well.

‘I–mm, I–’

‘You what, babygirl?’ he slips one finger inside, making you squeeze your thighs together. A heavy slap to your ass jolts you to fling your arms around his neck. ‘Let me in,’ he says.

‘I need you, ah–I can’t stand waiting anymore, please,’ you say.

‘Is that what you really want?’

‘Yes,’ you manage to choke out, his fingers travelling deeper.

‘Yes…?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Say it clearly for me, baby. Say that you want my thick, hard cock to destroy you tonight.’

‘Sir, I want y-your thick, uh, hard cock to–mphf–destroy me tonight.’

‘Good girl,’ he whispers, pulling your head back to send his lips crashing into yours for the first time tonight. He grabs the backs of your thighs to swing your legs around his waist, carrying you to your bedroom.

Throwing you onto the bed, it takes the same amount of time for your eyes to adjust to the darkness as it does for him to strip. A low moan gets lost in the darkness as he crawls over you.

‘Your skin is on fire,’ he says, pressing a kiss to your collarbone then licking a thick stripe up your neck.

You run your hands over his shoulders and up the sides of his torso, making him shiver.

‘I missed you,’ you say, almost too quietly.

He heard you.

He stops moving for moment before he lifts his hand to cup your cheek. Changkyun kisses you so gently you could barely feel it. he continues to the tip of your nose and then to your eyelids.

‘I missed you more,’ he says.

There’s no room for an argument when he turns up the heat in his kisses and holds your face hostage as he swallows all the little sounds you have for him.

His hands go down to lift your legs up, exposing your pussy to his impatient length.

It’s almost like you’re breathing him in.

‘Are you ready, baby?’

You nod, wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck.

He pushes the tip in and your breathing falters.

‘Fuck…’  

But he doesn’t stop there, he only gives you a moment to ready yourself before pushing the rest in without mercy.

I believe destroy was the word used before.

This is it.

Your hips buck to meet his thrusts and you find yourselves in a steady rhythm together. You had been on edge all day, you’re not sure if you can hold out for much longer. Your other hand grips Changkyun around his back, fingers falling into the dip of his spine.

‘Ahh, please, Sir, I need to come–’

‘Not yet, sweetheart, wait just a little longer.’ His voice is strained because, ‘shit, you’re so tight.’ He groans as his thrusts become ruthless and you have nothing left but to let the tears run from sheer pleasure.

You beg and plead but not until his thrusts become irregular, does he pull out and replace it with three of his digits.

Your back arches from the sensation, his fingers spreading inside you. His hand goes wild, leaving nothing behind but a whimpering mess.

The two of you lie together as you calm down.

‘When do you have to leave again?’ you say.

He gathers you up in his arms, drawing you into his chest. ‘I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I’m all yours, if you’ll have me.’

You’re sure he could feel you smile against his skin.

[helahades]

By the Water Fountain

(Natasha Romanova x Black!Fem!Reader)

A/N: This is my entry into @fanfictionaries trope challenge! I sort of completely twisted the prompt up. Mine was Best Friend’s Brother.

This fic doubles as a songfic for Water Fountain by Alec Benjamin.

I recommend listening to that song before reading. ( on youtube // on spotify )

Warnings: Red Room like abuse. Codependency. Trauma. Angst. Rejection. Seriously, abuse. Everyone is abused. Injury. Dissociation. Trauma.

Word Count: 3.4k

—

Under a blended peach sky, and during the in between that hangs both the sun and moon, a pretty girl is thinking about her soft and unshakable love for you.

Practice is over, and you’re smiling, looking out across the courtyard from where you sit with Natasha on the fountain’s edge.

“Do’ya ever want to get married, Natalia?”

When you say her name, it’s tangy and sharp, the Russian way, with a hint of Spanish, but gentle all the same. A drip of nectarine streams over your lip and down your chin, and you don’t even catch and cover it like you might if you weren’t high on dreams.

This dance academy seems like forever sometimes—its been years of your life since they demanded your recruitment—but you always take time to dream. If you don’t, Nat won’t, and her unspoken appreciation of your hope keeps the both of you warm.

At first, because she can’t help it, she thinks about marrying you, as if that’s what you meant.

“Maybe someday, I guess,” comes a thoughtful monotone that only Nat can conjure, “Why—you thinking about marrying Alec?”

“God no,” you huff, cuddling into her shoulder as the fruit goes bitter. She opens up to you physically in a minute way, receiving your warmth and closeness despite the neutrality of the coming breeze.

“Well...I just don’t know actually,” you continue, “The two of us fell in love way too young, you know… And I needed him then, so maybe it was more like dependence.”

Shifting on the cool stone of the fountain's edge, you are suddenly aware of the way the tights sit on the skin of your thighs, stretching with each movement.

It becomes hard not to think about the love shell you’re trapped in. Everyone at the academy has found a different way to cope, and for some, including the you of the past, that meant lying with someone just to remember intimacy.

That was before. Before you knew the meaning of the word, and before after dance practice naps in your little haven turned into kissing and heat and softness.

Some days, swaddled up and tangled with the other, you would press kisses under Nat’s jaw, where she smelled like cinnamon and flowers and fabric softener, and she would giggle like the world never gave any weight to feeling. She would dance her fingers along your spine when the peach stretched into moonlight, and the darkness would stun her into remembering you’re promised to another. Her brother.

“Sometimes, Nat…I think I love you instead, and that kinda scares me.”

You look at her, you squeeze the sour fruit.

She says nothing.

Her rejection is acid to your soul.

—

Shadows and blown glass and dried petals and the wood of your apartment at sunset.

It all runs through Natasha’s mind in a haze when she begins to think about the energy here and why she loves it, and why it feels so secret. She doesn’t go this far, but it all feels like sapphic poetry that a man might try to capture, but would never understand if he barged in here. It’s a secret world made for fond hearts.

When the both of you are here, you can pretend that your instructor doesn’t make you repeat across the floor routines til you bleed, or that you haven’t been criticized to the point of tears and vice. You shed the day together, so that when the masks go on in the morning, they aren’t shoved away by the bends of emotion. You touch and whisper and still yourselves passionately, being at one with dancing dust and ticking clocks.

Some days, you can’t explain, but she always understands, it’s easier to lie still and it feels like autonomy after a day of being forced to move. You can’t stop stretching your ankles and marking routines, and some nights you wake sobbing when the transition of a routine leaves you. But she’s here, like she always is, as you are for her.

You remind her to eat, when to stop, and when to put on clothes when the AC chill rattles too bitingly. You dream for her, until she can do it alone, and her soft grins grow into beaming cheesy smiles.

When you kiss her, she’s sweet. Her lips are plump and hydrated (because you can only stop dancing to drink water) and she makes soft sweet sounds against you that run down your throat and into your heart.

When she kisses you, she’s breathless, and she remembers all the ways you taught her to dream. She likes to hold your hand and kiss you languidly or sharply, like you have all the time, or none of it. Hands pushing up tank tops, thighs between each other, collarbone kisses, then Alec. He comes to take Nat home, to tell her it’s time to go, and he kisses you hard and scratchy before slamming the door, stealing your peace, and shattering your haven.

—

It’s not that you don’t like Alec. You did at one point, even feel in love with him. His energy is as strong as his body, and he seems to comically be everything Natasha isn’t. He fills rooms with overwhelming charm, his dancing is sharp, agile, cutting through the air like licks of flame.

You prefer to see Natasha dance in her tortured grace, she can be quick, but when allowed, her grace is slow like a bloom and moves outward from her form.

Natasha and Alec both have learned how to play this system. They’re both clever and witty, but Natasha is the best because of natural skill, while Alec is exceptional because he still runs the sibling rival race that Natasha dropped from years ago.

Alec plays everything to win, he is outwardly passionate, and to be the focus of his attentions is a life secured in… something. You love him in the way that you must love someone that is good enough, that can get you out of here.

If Natasha would say the word, you would leave him. She doesn’t hesitate because of some familial loyalty. Her brother isn’t a jerk, necessarily, just oblivious to the finer things. Nothing about the unique circumstances they’ve survived together brought them closer together as siblings. Natasha didn’t know that hurt people could heal from two into one. She didn’t know people should have someone to confide in, and you don’t really either.

Alec is just… a pleaser. A source of abject power in social circles. He rides the line of knowing how to deliver performance, but knowing which one will get the right results. He controls. And he is incredibly hedonistic. It’s hard not to compare this with how you and your best friend only try to pleasure the other. She lives for your smiles, even if they’re just chemical, and even if she has to squint for them in the moonlight.

There’s just something about having someone who knows hurt in the same way as you without explanation. You scratch a line in the baseboard by your door when one of you sprains or breaks an ankle again from the incessant repetitions forced upon you at the academy. You’re both fucked up enough to laugh about it.

You roll frozen water bottles over knots and stretch through the resistance of scar tissue. When the sky falls into the time of buttery peach, she falls into you, warm like sunset and lovers’ candles. You like to kiss between her thighs, where she smells sweet like sugar cane, even like bubbly hand soap, and you kiss the moons where her nails dug into her thighs too hard when she tried not to let the instructor make her cry. In the soft tissue of your underarms, when you fold over her, sometimes you feel the gentle drag of her body’s scattered hairs. And it’s intimate in ways unspeakable.

She’s pink everywhere. In her cheeks, in the reflection of her hair on the walls, between her thighs, and her lips. She feels vulnerable with you. It’s enjoyable in a way she resists some days. Reminds her of getting tickled. She hates it just like she hates not being able to pull the thread back that unwinds from her heart, and the way she opens when you smile at her.

It’s intimate and innocent the way you learn how another woman’s body can be different. The rounds of your nipples are wider, darker, softer in their edges. The curls of the hair on your mound roll into you, framing you, while Natasha’s aim down, straight, the way rain points down windows. Your eyes are honeyed caramel, Natasha’s are the splashes from the water fountain. You could look at each other forever. But you don't. You have class in the morning.

A frigid and grating rap of knuckles lets you know Alec is here. Shooting up, it’s a flurry of sweatpants and tossed scrunchies, a routine you and your best friend know too well. When you come to the door, he pushes in like he does, kisses you with the sharp grating of his newly shaved face. He groans into it, pulling you in with a scoop of a muscled arm. When he pulls away, your head drops. You can’t see her cat eyes, her firey hair, her composed face wearing its mask before she really should.

“Nat. Walk yourself alone, tonight,” Alec commands into the night, eyeing you with the calm and cool intent of predation, freezing the wax of your candles. The crickets seem too hush outside.

Nat makes for the door, with a face that reads as stoic to anyone who can’t read the slight upward curl of her lips. She pulls the ends up like strings, lest they melt into a grimace in front of this man made of fire.

“Are you sure”—

You knew it was futile before you began. He raises an eyebrow like you’re crazy, and she’s looking back, just for a second, eyes like oceans, before she picks up her bag and is out the door, walking brusquely across the quad.

You wish the chill had swallowed you instead. That you had slammed the door.

Motions happen.

You pull off your shirt, because he never knows how, he carries you to your little bed. His belt buckle hits the floor like a gunshot, and when he crawls over you, you stare at the ceiling.

—

“Baby,” he nudges.

When he touches you, you leap out of the fog, sleep leaving in a gasp.

He knows.

When he passed out without learning to perfectly spot during fouettés, they dumped buckets of ice water on his bare back. Poked him in the ribs for not improving his cambré. Made him balance relevé in the snow, naked, for falling out of it on an off day. You know why he’s the best. And it’s not because he wants to be.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, accent tumbling. He rolls closer to where you sit, hands pulling your waist til you’re close enough to gather in his arms. He tugs you to lie with him. It’s comfortable enough.

“Baby,” he starts again, massaging a welt on your shoulder, “we need to get out of here.”

You want to scream at how obvious it is. You think about how you’ve cried it on your bathroom floor. How Natasha would say “One day.”

“And baby,” he whispers again, soft like he can’t stop, always, every night, “we’re doing it together.”

He presses a ring into your hand. It might not fit, it’s most likely stolen. But that’s not the point.

“I love you.”

The innocence has left.

—

The sun has risen, the sky is white like it’s running off a dandelion, and you’re in class.

Rose. Roza. You’re the rose, the pretty flower, paired with fire for a man.

You’re in the middle of a showcase—new dancers, new victims watching your display, sitting in a line against the mirrors, watching your demonstration with Alec before they themselves will go on and show their best.

It’s controlled—always. Each turnout and disengagement from the floor matches a single piano note. You face away from each other, the idea being that you can only trust yourself to be on time, and that your partner must know you won’t fail. There is a lift at the end, that depends on this synchronization, and if you fall before Alec comes ready from his pirouette, you’ll surely be injured. He’s always ready, it’s hardly a worry.

Launching out of your plié, you spin like leaves in the wind, like the flower they named you. Catching his eye as he plants after the pirouette, he catches you by the hips, raising you with a press of his shoulders. A gentle wrist, pointed toes, arched back, and the silence of your peers. Nobody claps. Claps are for the surprised.

When Alec lets you down, slowly and controlled, at least fifteen seconds after the final note, you catch a red bun when your vision levels. Mask sealed.

—

“Did you get home safe?”

“We don’t have homes.”

“Clearly not,” you spit, burning with her rejection.

Her face says nothing. You can only hear the spouting, rushing water.

“Does it not matter to you, Natalia,” you question, voice breaking slowly.

Her voice never comes.

“We’re getting married—Alec and I…”

You say it carefully. Like a threat. Hoping she’ll care.

“I remember the you that couldn’t imagine that.”

“I remember the you that didn’t make me want to.”

She looks bored. Like she’s waiting through the tantrum of a child. Your heart swells. Irritated with anger. Mask cracking.

You turn the ring in your pocket, upset with letting her win. Upset with knowing this is how it ends, and that your one day isn’t together. Upset with spending endless nights growing into her, just for her to watch you leave with indifference.

Pulling out a coin, the one that matches hers, the ones that you found before the fountain, you watch where she sits. You watch until she looks at you, and slide it closer to the water. You don’t push it in.

“He says he loves me. Who knows if he means it. But he said it...and you didn’t. I can’t be here forever, Nat.”

She blinks, willing words to come, and as you walk away, they still haven’t.

The sky turns sour.

—

Porcelain. Smooth, painted baby angel porcelain. You twirl like you’re in a music box, like a spring propels you. You dance until the days blend together, and you perform for Americans. You dance until they want to take you.

The rose and the flame.

—

Your American pointes are stiff. They expect you to break in new ones. When the sky turns peach, you’re under fluorescents, twirling like the wind. Twirling for hours.

“I heard Americans smell like wet dogs.”

He doesn’t bother to be quiet, and he’s smiling with the promise of intertwined futures. It also helps that no one practices as late as you, lovers more in love with a journey to come.

“I heard they have a lot of money.”

“That, they do, Roza,” his tongue rolls Russian, and he crosses to kiss the tips of your fingers. He’s so sweet in the nights.

His hands are unwrapped, his regular shoes are on the floor. Your eyes flicker to them, disapproving, before looking at him. Regular shoes scuff the dance floor.

“What will they do?”

He pulls your arms out of third, pulls your hands into his, stroking your locked up knuckles, undoing the forced curves of your hands. He’s telling you to come with him. To rest your overworked body. There will be plenty of time to practice in America.

It’s a sweet moment, soured only by being the wrong ending, and your unfinished business.

“Come with me. It’s our last night in this stupid place. Let’s celebrate.”

You let him pull you close. You kiss him and you mean it.

“I just have one thing to do.”

—

Knocking on Nat’s door, you realize it’s the first time you’ve done so and been unsure if she would answer. It’s 2am, after all, and the words you spoke before were very final.

When the door swings open, not enough time passes for a wait. She hadn’t been sleeping. There aren’t many words. There doesn’t have to be. What would you even say, really?

You go for a hug, but closing the distance, it morphs into a kiss. A gentle one. A sweet meet of the lips. A goodbye. Then, both of you are crying. Neither of you knows enough about America, enough about life without the other...but too much about saying goodbye.

There aren’t any words because they’re the kind of words you’ve already said to other people. The words that you hate to hear, that have been wrung too many times from the back of your throat to cover the spaces between that no language can. There aren’t words to say how this sucks.

Your lover, your confidante, your supporter. You try not to think about that strange fight. You try not to think about how she couldn’t say she loves you. You both know she does. Only she knows that her love won’t save you from this place. If you leave and have a boring life with Alec in some city or countryside, at least no one will beat you again. No more broken ankles, and no more bad jokes about them.

Some place squeezes in the back of your throat, pulling at the wells of your eyelids. When she pulls out your coin, the one you left behind, she presses it into your hand, watery tears on her pink cheeks, and she looks like a peach sky. Standing together with silent tears, it’s a moment before you calm them, breathing together like you would when tears meant harder hits.

You put the coin in your bra, giggling, because there’s nowhere else for it to go. She giggles too, and it’s a stupid thing, but the thing you find, because something needs to do. Something needs to be tallied in the baseboards.

“He’s waiting for me,” you whisper in your watery voice.

It’s always like this. Someone always has to start it with a timer.

You come closer because she’s so warm.

She strokes your face, pushing back some fly away hairs.

“You’ll do amazing. Don’t mess it up there. Don’t doubt yourself. Don’t be afraid of them…”

She pauses, conducting the waves that threaten her composure.

“Don’t forget me...I won’t forget you.”

And that is the most she can give. That is her love, in different words, and that is the most she can say without you deciding to stay. You’d tough it all out with her, but it wouldn’t be right. She will make it out. You need to believe it.

You kiss her again. You hold her hands, and you walk away before more tears fall.

—

When you wake up, your back and legs ache, but the sunlight is in your bones, and your soul is light with new beginnings, and mourning like you’re already gone.

Alec made love to you last night, and you enjoyed it. Maybe… maybe there’s some understanding. Maybe life won’t be bad.

When you’re walked to the car that will take you to the plane, you pass the water fountain. The sky is blinding and empty. So is the seat that Nat usually takes. You taste nectarines.

Alec squeezes your shoulder, and you’re back in the moment. He tells you he loves you, the wind twirling around like a blessing. It feels unearned.

It’s an easy car ride, and as time clicks by on the digital clock, you recoil at the car freshener blowing into your nose with the biting freeze of the air conditioner. You can’t stop watching that clock. You take moments when you know Natasha’s alarm is ringing on her floor, when class starts, when lunch begins.

You think about what the American schedule will be like all the way to the plane. You wonder where you’ll go when the sky turns peach.

Soaring over cities, you see water. You see the glimmer of Nat’s tears, and you wonder if she’ll see the same sea when she makes it out.

You wonder if she’ll think of you too.

—

(reblogs appreciated!)

tags: @xbuchananbarnes (ty honey) @invisibleanonymousmonsters (ily) @threeminutesoflife @honeychicanawrites @sapphirescrolls @tropicalcap @mariahthelioness29 @avintagekiss24 @allaboardthereadingrailroad @venusbarnes @hurricanerin

[oyesmendes]

regrets and goodbye - luke hemmings

a/n: hello i am going to break your heart!!!! mini swearing and alot of sad angsty moments ahead. love yall!

Luke downs his first glass of tequila like its water. It doesn’t burn, just slides down his throat and he feels it course through his veins. So when the phone on the table rings and her name pops up on the screen, he thinks he’s drunk. Just like all the other drunken nights with him hallucinating her smile, her body next to him. He doesn’t pick up, just staring at it until it stops ringing and he’s left with the silence in his home. He lets another glass of the liquid slide down his throat, this time burning it along with a memory that burns a hole in his heart.  

-

Amber was pacing, a habit of hers whenever she felt stuck or frustrated, and it helped her get out of her own head. This time though, she wasn’t sure it was doing its trick. The dressing room was quiet for the first time after a show, only the low hum of the air conditioning could be heard. He could see her frustration, the way the little soldiers in her mind was working to help her find the right words. He could see the rage and sadness on her like the open book she was. Her lips part then press together before she looks straight up at him, the light in her eyes no longer there.

“I was just your half time entertainment wasn’t I? Not even worthy enough to be a trophy you can put on your shelf.” Disappointment. Sadness.

“I didn’t say that, Amber-“

“You didn’t have to say it. I should’ve known from the way you treated me.”

“From the way I treated you? I put you up on a fucking pedestal, Amber! You were more than a trophy.” Was he being serious right now? A fucking pedestal? Fire burned in Amber’s chest and she finally snapped.

“Then tell me why the fuck was your tongue in Kayla’s mouth last night. Tell me why the fuck did you take her back to your hotel room?” Anger. Pure rage. Luke froze in place, his eyes widening when he realises that she knows. She didn't want to call him out, but when he pulls her aside and tells her they were over on the last night of the North American leg of the tour, her mouth runs before her brain could stop it.

“Yeah, I knew. Saw her crawling out your room this morning, don’t tell me she was there to help you pick out an outfit for the radio show at 4AM. I’m not a fool.” He doesn’t say a word, just hangs his head low and sighs. Amber scoffs.

“You should’ve just told me, Luke. The truth is always better than a lie.”

-

He wanted to say he was sorry, tell her he didn’t mean it. That he was so stupid for choosing this route to break up with her. He never did anything with Kayla that night, she just listened to him talk her ear off about Amber and then told her to leave. Luke loved every part about Amber. The way she’d smile at him when she spots him staring at her during soundcheck, how she concealed her squeals when he tickles her side while passing her in the hallways. The way she would heed to all his requests about keeping it low-key, so much so that only the boys knew about her. she was his everything, and he would never compare her to a trophy. To him, she was a fucking goddess - the most magical woman he has ever seen. She was a goddamn dream that he never wanted to wake up from.

But he had to. Throughout the whole 6 months of sneaking around, Luke couldn’t give her what she gave him. After his previous relationship, everything in him was drained. He couldn’t give back and he found himself just taking whatever she gave him. He didn’t give himself time to heal from the past, just dove all in, battered and wounded by his ex. Amber didn’t mind though, she loved Luke for who he was. Yes, she was hurt that they couldn’t even stay in the same hotel room for a night, tired of hiding their relationship in front of the tour crew. But to her, Luke was worth it, even in his darkest hour, he was enough for her. Until he wasn’t.

The moment he decided to let her down in the most hurtful way possible, Luke lost it all. He managed to put out that seemingly permanent flame that burned in her chest, and darkness collapsed all around them.

His phone rings again, and he doesn’t answer, doesn’t bother to look. The caller leaves a voicemail this time, which Luke decides to listen to after another glass of tequila and his breath hitches at the sound of a sweet voice.

“Hey Lu,”

Amber.

She laughs dryly, and he can hear the sound of her fingers tapping against a surface.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this, I think I just wanted to hear your voice. But I guess you don’t.”

I do. I fucking do. He whispers under his breath.

He hears shuffling again and he imagines her on the couch, trying to find a good spot. Luke thinks she’s going to hang up but she doesn’t. He hears Amber take in a deep breath and it felt as if someone was pushing Luke’s head under water.

“You know, I found myself when I was with you. I thought someone could finally see me, understand who I was and loved every inch of me - the good, the bad and everything in between. I was all in… but I guess you weren’t. I feel so fucking dumb, Luke. You, you made me feel like I was on top of the world when I was actually falling down the tallest building in the world. And now I’ve hit the ground. Hard.”

There was a long pause, only her breathing could be heard.

“I-I love you, Luke. I never found the courage to say it first because I was never sure if you felt the same. Guess it doesn’t matter now. Anyway, I’ve handed in my resignation letter to Paul, I won’t be joining you guys on the next leg of the tour. I’ve recommended a replacement, Alex, he’s a friend from college, a real talent. I think you guys will like him a lot. Goodbye, Lu.”

"No" He gasps, hand clutching the edge of the table. No no no no no.

The line cuts dead and the silence in the room couldn’t be more deafening. He wants to say he loves her, he wants to tell her he needs her. But now she’s leaving, trying to pull herself out of his life for good. Luke scrambles to call her, fingers pressing too hard on the screen. He’s crying now, the phone ringing for way too long before it reaches her voicemail.

“Hey it’s Amber, sorry I can’t get to you right now, but leave a message and I’ll try to call you later! Or maybe I won’t, who knows?” The beep tone goes and Luke opens his mouth to say something but only a loud cry comes out. He ends the call and his hand drops to his lap. It was a few seconds before he feels his phone vibrate in his hand,

Amber: Don’t hurt the next girl, don’t hurt her like you did to us. I love you, Lu. Take care.

-

She takes a good look at the message one last time, her thumb hovering above the send button before firmly pressing down on it.

“You’re really going to do this huh?” Calum asks as he pulls her in for a hug.  

“Took me a while, but I have to.” Amber zips up the last of her suitcases, Calum, Ashton and Michael helping her carry her stuff to the front door.

“You don’t have to, just stay with us on tour. We’re so busy you barely even see us anyway.” Michael argues.

“It’s the risk of seeing him, Mikey. I can’t be tip toeing around you guys when my job involves dressing of you guys and occasionally doing the glitter on your face.” They don’t argue, just helping to load the things in the car quietly.

“We’ll miss you, kiddo. He’ll miss you.” Calum hugs her again after she squeezes Michael tightly.

“You guys take care of him for me okay? And take care of yourselves, I love you guys.” Amber blows a kiss to them before getting into Ashton’s car. He offered to drive her to the airport, since they’ve grown so much closer over their love for yoga and anything to do with the arts. The car ride was initially silent, until Amber plugs in her aux and plays the playlist she created for him. All the songs that described her love for him in one large playlist. ‘Black and White’ by Niall Horan plays in the background, and Amber thinks of the day they were both alone in the tour bus, a rare moment for them two, so it was easily her favourite. She remembers dancing and jumping about in the small space with Luke. She lets herself get lost in those moments, until Ashton’s voice brings her back to reality.

“Hey, I know you gotta go, but all the way to New York? You look like you’re avoiding the plague, Amber.” They both let out a laugh, Amber rolling her eyes playfully at Ashton.

“You know its not intentional, my next job just so happens to need me there. And I’m not staying forever, just a couple of months. You know how I am with winter.”

“Absolute trash.”

They arrive in the carpark of LAX and Ashton helps to unload her luggage. He doesn’t send her off to the gate, lest any of their fans see her with him. He hugs her tightly, rubbing large circles on her back. Amber wills the tears not to fall when it suddenly becomes real for her, she’s leaving. After working all these years with bands and artists in LA, she’s leaving that all behind because of one man. Ashton pulls away, kissing her forehead softly before letting her go.

“Take care of him for me, okay? And take care of yourself too, I know how you are when you go into dad mode.”

“I will, and I’ll make sure I take care of him till we see you again. Then, you can take care of him yourself.”

Amber grins, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over. She doesn’t know if she will ever see him again, not after all this. The boys she will definitely keep in touch with, they were some of her closest friends. But Luke? She kisses Ashton on his cheek when he squeezes her arm. This was it, she’s saying goodbye and off to a new city to start her new life.

[smolbeandrabbles]

Music - Martin x Reader (Untogether)

@happyskywhale @wltz-bby​ #MendoTagSquad. GIF CREDIT: X

Sequel to I’ll Name The Dogs

Author’s Note: @mandy23b​ - For reference, I chose “the nearest surface in one of your apartments” 😏😏😏

This one feels like its been in the back of my head a very long time but just needed the right kind of push to put it onto paper! Or mix of ingredients... either way I found them all!

Here’s another pops up on shuffle when writing and immediately latch onto it song! (Until I had a last minute song change but decided to keep some of the original lyrics!) Music - Kelsea Ballerini Losing Sleep - Chris Young

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the writing and the reader (and the dog OC I suppose!)

Premise: ‘What’s the best record you’ve ever had sex to?’ An interesting question, with undoubtedly an interesting answer. Should Jake, Martin’s newly adopted puppy, allow you to test it for yourselves...

Words: 5155

Warnings: Swearing / Sexual Banter / Sinday/Sunday Smut

_____ Feels like the radio when your tires roll into my drive Then my heart stops, like a beat drop It's a symphony when you sweet talk Make this quiet town, feel electric, loud When the lights going down Every word out of your mouth Is like music When you look at me like that I lose it My name on your lips, wanna replay your kiss When I wake up, and lay down, and stay up and make out We're not saying nothing But it's feeling something like music Before I knew your love Even with the volume up, it was silent then And now you're walking in the room all kind of smooth, like a violin Everybody else is white noise So talk to me, cause your voice Is like music Your song on my skin is like Ah-ah-ah-ah So play it again just like Ah-ah-ah-ah Your song on my skin is like Ah-ah-ah-ah So play it again My whole heart's listening to your music ---     You know That I love you, let me show you We don't need to dream at all Baby so Fall into me Let me breathe the air you breathe I can take you anywhere you want to be When it comes to us Every single touch is something special... Yeah we're winning, we're losing When we're losing sleep --- You could already hear Jake’s excited barks as you pulled up to the front door of your boyfriend’s house. And yes, you did officially get to call him that now. Martin still came down to volunteer with you, and as frequently as before – so you were glad to see it wasn’t just your influence working there. You managed to keep it at least semi-professional, but it was also fairly obvious that you were a couple; and it was commented on often. Still, once other people working with you got wind that he was a painter – if they didn’t know already from seeing him work around here – his schedule was suddenly filled up with “Oh! Martin! Could you just do this!” and, given his charm, he got pretty well paid for it. Everyone loved him, and missed him when he wasn’t around almost as much as you did. It was all good for him, and you thought considering his previous relationship much needed. Also, as if the entire shelter wasn’t enamoured with Martin’s presence alone, last week he’d come jogging up to the counter and wanted to run a plan past you – “Do you think my band and I could throw a benefit concert-!?” “A what-?!” You raised an eyebrow, head tilted. “A benefit concert.” He indicated around, getting a little more excitable, “For the shelter-!” You only chuckled at that, “Martin, you’re such a babe!” Of course you thought it was a great idea, only that he should probably talk to the owner about it to get the go ahead. (No doubt she would say yes – but you were happy he was getting back to his music. You were happy to listen to him write every weekend if that’s what he wanted to do.) To which he grinned, and was about to sprint off to find her, before you pulled him back, leaning across the counter for a kiss. That was strategic, he’d only been here 30 seconds and already a couple of girls hanging around the front desk were making eyes at him. Martin’s enthusiasm only gained confidence with that, “Later Y/N!” You let him go with a smile and wave to match his; “Don’t forget there’s the big charity dog walk next week.” “Oh I know! “BYOD-!” He laughed, calling back as he ran through the reception door; “You know Jake is my secret weapon-!” That much was true. If it wasn’t everyone fussing over Martin, it was everyone fussing over Martin with Jake. You chuckled, leaning on your hands to watch him go; still in those tight white shirts, you could see those well-defined shoulder muscles and the curve of his back. You sighed gently and your eyes flicked to the girls still watching him – you couldn’t help your triumphant smirk, because it didn’t just happen here, you’d seen girls give him the same looks as you wandered hand in hand through town. An extraordinary thing to watch, in all honestly; you weren’t sure if you’d ever been with anyone that elicited that response. Martin had the look, and the style, and the attitude for it though – he never wanted the attention, but the way he was demanded it. Plus it shouldn’t surprise you, cute guy with a cute dog…? And he was yours now! You exited your car about the same time Martin opened his front door, and Jake scurried across his driveway; “Go get her!” Was said with a laugh “Oof! Okay, okay!! I missed you too!” You giggled, his paws up on your legs immediately, stooping to pet Jake before he ran back at Martin’s whistle, “How are my favourite trouble makers!” “A’right! Waiting impatiently for you!” He grinned, greeting you with a kiss, “You’re a little late.” “Ah! But the traffic was bad, and I brought treats.” “For me, or the dog!” “Uh, both of you!” You nudged Martin playfully at the very idea that you wouldn’t bring them both something. “Oooh! What are we so honoured with-!?” “Donuts!” “Fuck off-! Seriously-!? Did I ever tell you you’re the best!” He threw his arm around your shoulders, closing the door, “JAKE! We’re getting donuts!” Jake yapped excitedly as you walked through into the living room. “Coffee?” Martin enquired, as Jake tailed him through into the kitchen, leaving you to settle down and unbox everything, “That’d be nice, thank you.” “You’re welcome…!” He called. Then two seconds later, and more hushed, “Yes! Yes! I know! C’mere!” “Are we walking into town or--?” You barely finished your question before you were met with loud excitable barks, “Hush! Not yet! Calm down. Go sit with her. I know, it’s very exciting-!” Silence for a moment, “Go on, go sit with Y/N!” Then louder and to you, as Jake padded back through and sat up on the couch patiently waiting to be smothered in cuddles, “Don’t say that word-! He goes nuts!” “Noted!” You giggled, scratching Jake behind his ears, “He’s a good boy-!” Martin wandered back through, with a sigh, “He’s taking my spot!” You laughed as he set your coffee down and sat next to Jake, “Seriously, man, she’s my girlfriend – are you gonna be my wingman or cockblock me, we talked about this.” The puppy yelped and decided to lick Martin’s face instead, “Ah! Yeah-! Okay!” He chuckled, “I love ya too, bud! But it’s her I’m tryna kiss-!” You covered your mouth but couldn’t help your giggle, “Aw! He just wants love!” “He’d have you believe that I didn’t give him any!! Jake, c’mon, down!” He obeyed, earning a kiss from you; to which you of course received kisses back as you fussed him. With your attention fully on his dog Martin scoffed, folding his arms; “Oh my god, this is unbelievable!” You could only laugh again, then straightened up, “AH! But I love both of you!” “Trust me, he’ll take full advantage-! Jake, come here, sit.” Martin selected a treat as Jake obediently did so, “Good boy!” He held it out for Jake to take from him and petted his head, leaving Jake to wander off to his bed in the corner of the room. Martin beamed after him before kicking back on the sofa with a donut of his own; “AH! My girlfriend is the best, and so is my dog!” For a moment you regarded him, having just been the one complaining about Jake receiving all the attention, but decided to let it go with a roll of your eyes. You sat back with him, cuddling into his chest with your coffee, and watching Jake lie down quietly with his treat, before Martin wound one arm around you. “He is a good boy. You’ve done really well with him!” “Mhm…” Martin took a bite, “Mmm! These are good!” then swallowed, “He’s getting better. You make him too excitable, that’s my only problem.” You scoffed, “I think he has every right; he did get us together-!” Martin looked thoughtful as he ran a hand through your hair. “Yeah I’ll give him that.” Then turned to you with a smile. “However, maybe you’re giving him a little too much excitable energy about me-! They do say dogs are just like their owners!” Martin’s eyes narrowed slightly; “Are you saying it’s my fault!?” “I dunno, dog whisperer…” You took a sip of your coffee, “What’s your verdict?” His next bite was mused for a while, and he kept his eyes on you, “Well, damn, stopping him might be hard-!” Martin leant in, pulling you tight to him, kissing your face everywhere he could reach, whilst you giggled and tried to protest as best you could without spilling coffee all over him; “MARTIN! MARTIN! GET OFF!!!” Jake barked happily from the corner at the two of you laughing, which only made Martin laugh harder, and you thinking you had a case in point, before the two of you settled back into the couch together. Martin patted his lap and Jake bounded back to you, hopping up to lie on him. “Ah. See. What are we even going out for…?” Martin rubbed your back, “It was your idea!” Then you frowned, realising that beyond walking somewhere, there was no concreate plan that you knew of, “Actually, yeah babe, what did you have in mind?” “Oh…” Martin took his hand in yours lacing your fingers, before kissing them, and held the back of your hand to his lips whilst he thought, “There’s a little record shop I always wanted to take you to, even before we were together… I thought we could go buy some records?” “To listen to together?” “Mhm….” He looked back to you with those big blue eyes – puppy dog eyes if ever you’d seen them. Aw, Geez, they really are as bad as each other! “How far is it?” You nodded back to Jake – he had done extremely well, and you knew that Martin was also taking him to training classes. You knew they were helping each other out, and that only made you beam more. “It’s uh… a decent W A L K… He can’t go in, that’s the only problem, but then we can find a nice outdoor café… or park he might like-” You very nearly rolled your eyes at the phonetic spelling but noticed that Jakes ears did perk up instantly at both words “-Then we can come home. Should wear him out. He’ll enjoy not being around the same block or route too, I think.” “Okay…” You cuddled back into Martin for a moment, and he rested his head on yours, “Just let me enjoy time with my boys whilst I finish my coffee-!” Martin laughed; “Y/N! We are literally gonna hang out all day!” *** You were pleased to see that Jake was walking nicely, either at Martin’s heels, or between the two of you – to which you received a knowing look – but he rarely tangled his lead. Martin supposed the only habit he did have was running off to investigate things and sometimes whilst doing that he would pull, but Jake was still a puppy and Martin knew he’d grow out of the yanking – but he’d always be curious, some dogs just were. You made the record store in good time, and Martin found some shade to tie him up in, kneeling down; “Alright Jake, you be a good boy okay, we’re not gonna be long I promise. Sit and be a good boy for me.” Jake did so, tail wagging obediently, and Martin gave him a treat, “That’s my boy!” Then took your hand, “I mean maybe we can trail run this and think about coming back, I…” “Hush…” You kissed his cheek gently, “You’re a sweetie and you care about him, we don’t have to spend hours in the store and we can always come back, don’t worry about it.” Pink dusted Martin’s cheeks, “Well, let’s see how we do right now, huh?” as far as he knew you might have hated the store and never wanted to come back! Martin’s arm curved around your hip and you nodded, reaching out to pat Jake’s head goodbye; “Let’s go!” It was a tiny store, and you’d describe it as cramped, but it worked with the whole aesthetic, and every shelf was neatly arranged. Everything was very easy to find. Although you’d entered together, Martin and you perused the shelves alone. You weren’t sure what you were really looking for, but there was a lot of rare material in here, ranging from the plain obscure to new top 40 records in vinyl form – it was certainly making a comeback. Breathing new life into niche stores like this. As you kept flicking through the records you suddenly smirked, and slid one out, flipping it over to the track listing, biting your lip your smirk became a sly grin. “Hey, Martin!” “Mhm?” He turned back to you from the other side of the store, expression almost unreadable at the mischievous look on your own face. “What’s the best record you’ve ever had sex to?!” Your guess would be something very obscure and Australian – you knew his music taste by now. But you’d let him answer. He immediately spluttered, before laughing; “Well, what’s yours!?” “You’re not gonna answer me-!?” Martin shook his head, still laughing, “Oh God! I can’t believe you-” You flipped the record back to show him the cover, “Woah, fuck, really-!?” “Yeah - you have no idea…” He raised an eyebrow, impressed, “Okay… let me see if I can find… mine…” He pondered around the stacks for a minute, before thumbing through a couple, “AHA. Bingo.” Pulling one out and turning it to you, You couldn’t help but be a little surprised, and laughed, “Oh my god you’re such a cliché!” “OH come onnnnnnnn!” He very nearly whined, but was about to explain why it was undeniable, “This voice? – Baby, you need to try it!” You bit your lip through your smile again, the movement of your head daring him to say it. Martin caught on, and suddenly his smirk became wicked; “Well, should I get it and should we test it out!?” You were cackling before he even pointed to yours, “I don’t mind testing twice!” You left the store two records heavier, but not another word passed between you about it. Although a multitude of giggles did – before Jake started barking like he hadn’t seen either of you in years. “Oh God-! Okay, we’re back!” Martin untied his leash, “Come on, let’s find you a nice park, huh?” He barked again, paws up on Martin’s thighs and pawing at his jeans, “Yes, puppy I know! I know!” He held his hand out for yours and you laced your fingers together, before he pulled you in. Looping his arm around your shoulders, Martin kissed your forehead, “Let’s go-!” *** It was a few more weeks before you actually got to test the records out, but Martin had them balanced on top of his player ever since he’d got home. You were sitting on top of his kitchen counter, listening intently to his record of choice and deciding that cliché didn’t even cover it. Still, it was nice to watch Martin dance around the kitchen making coffee and sing softly to it. You could listen to him sing all day, and often asked him to sing a little louder when he was trying to sing under his breath. ‘Well I don’t wanna bother anyone!!’ ‘Are you KIDDING-!? With your voice-!?’ - this was a popular conversation track when you volunteered together. Nothing really changed. By now you’d been bestowed a key to his house, and you’d been here a little while longer than he had, hanging with Jake. Martin had been out painting all morning, but his afternoon was clear, and he was back. Paint covered pants and all, one clean white stripe across his left cheek that you couldn’t take your eyes off – and he’d allowed you to put a record on, as celebration of his return, whilst he made himself a coffee. The usual small talk passed between you as you sipped your own drink. You couldn’t help your eyes tracing his body – those damn tight white shirts were about to drive you insane and this one seemed even tighter than usual, allowing you to see the outline of the necklace he always wore but you’d never seen, his hair was still a little mussed from being tousled by the wind, he had a soft smile on his face and his eyes were brightly accented by the sunshine streaming in through the window. Ugh; it was almost painful. Martin turned to you, and your look was inescapable – he titled his head inquisitively, “What?” You blinked slowly, taking another sip, and whether it was the music, or you wanted to confess, or just a mistake, you ended up spilling those words from your lips “I just… I’ve always thought you looked really sexy in those pants - especially with paint all over them, and I mean, oh my god can that shirt get any tighter!?” You weren’t sure if Martin was looking at you like that because it was sinking in, or whether he was making sure you knew what you’d just said. He glanced quickly to his record player, and then smirked; sidling over to you he took one more sip of coffee before setting it down behind you, pushing his body between your legs; “Well, I could always just take it off?” His voice was low, and he placed his hands on your thighs. Blush set in on your cheeks and that immediately had Martin grinning again, his eyes looked between yours, before he leant in to kiss you. You couldn’t help but very nearly throw your drink down, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to pull him closer. His hands moved from your thighs to your back quickly, and he slid your body over the counter to get your hips against his. You groaned gently into his kiss - despite knowing it was on purpose - and you instinctively ground against him, running your hands into his hair, arms tight around his shoulders, legs winding around his waist. Martin bit your lip; kisses fervent and a little on the rough side, releasing you to trail them down your jawline and neck. That only made you grip him tighter and sigh for every kiss he planted. Your breaths were already shallow and as you inhaled, all you could smell was his skin; clean sweat, fresh wood and paint, the warmth of summer changing into autumn – and as Martin worked his way back to your lips you couldn’t help but smile again at that streak of paint. “What?” You brushed your lips to his, and your fingers over it; “I think you missed a spot.” “There’s paint on my face?” “Mhm.” He grinned, “Well, that can’t be helped. Is it as sexy as the paint on my pants-!?” You laughed, “Why don’t you kiss me again and find out?” “Oh?” Martin wasn’t about to refuse you that and once again those kisses were fiery; and you wondered why the hell you’d never made-out like this before now. He tasted like coffee and chocolate, faint traces of mint lingered – either from brushing his teeth or the gum he kept in his car for ‘emergencies’; you weren’t sure what he meant by that, but you did know that if you ever asked for any the answer was “NO.” This time you nipped his lip, hands wandering under his shirt and up his back, sure he’d said ‘I’ but why couldn’t you take it off? He growled against your kiss, and in response his hands slid up under your skirt. You came to the realisation that your joke about testing the records out was about to become reality, and you suddenly wished you’d said something about how fucking sexy he was in paint flecked overalls a long time ago. There was a small yap from behind you and you broke apart slowly, making Martin sigh and turn around. You had to tilt your body to see Jake sitting a few steps behind you, eyes wide, looking at you both with nothing but love. Martin looked back to you; “Can you believe this-!? I told you!” You giggled, “Okay, I think now I believe you.” Then again you did remember his comment about cockblocking and almost snorted. Martin gave you a short, chaste kiss and left your legs – the absence of his body nearly had you whining. “No, bud, seriously, I love you but not now!” Stepping around him, Martin walked over and opened the back door. “OH! That’s so MEAN!!” “C’mon Jake, get some exercise outside, boy, c’mon!” Jake just stared at him, making you begin cackling again. Martin placed his hands on his hips; “No, seriously, outside! C’mon, c’mere!” He opened the treat box and Jake was immediately on his feet, “Come on-” Martin stepped out and you heard him run off the decking and onto the back lawn, making Jake bark happily and chase him outside, before you heard; “Good boy! Go get it!” Five seconds later Martin was back and had the back door shut and locked, you were still laughing, “You’re so bad-!” “Oh! You think that’s funny-!?” “It kinda is-!” Martin tsked, “Well, if he lets us get away with this, I’m sure he can have as many rewards as he wants.” “Get away with this?” You were still amused as he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again, harder this time. Your legs pulled him back to you, and your hands were running to his button and zipper rather than bothering with his shirt this time. “You took my offer to test this records out a little too literally, huh, Y/N?” His voice was husky and it drew a shiver delightfully down your spine. “You’re the one who said get away with this.” You smirked, tugging him back to your lips again until you were breathless, his hands back under your skirt and pulling your panties down your legs; “Don’t act like you don’t want it.” “Mmm…” Martin went for your neck again, voice low and growling in your ear once more, “I don’t think you realise how long I’ve wanted it.” That did make you blush, and for a minute you pulled away from him, and suddenly he softened, “…Oh…Oh! I- I’m sorry.” Your mouth was still open a little in shock, and you gasped; “MARTIN! Why didn’t you just say so!!” He laughed, pushing your skirt further up your thighs, and placing your hands back on the opening of his pants you kissed his neck; “Well I just did, didn’t I?!” Martin didn’t have to say more than that for you to shimmy his pants off his hips, as yours hit the floor, before you pulled him closer, hand slipping into his boxers as his tongue slipped back into your mouth. Martin groaned softly as you wrapped your hand around him, moving your fingertips teasingly he released you from his kisses. Hands either side of you he bit his lip, his back bent, body leaning into you – and you didn’t think it fair that your vocalist wasn’t about to be very vocal. You started to pump him, nice and slow, and you got to smirk as you watched the tension through his arms. Martin tried to hide that, lips to your neck again – but his kisses were messy at best, and as your thumb circled the tip he did shudder, and he finally elicited the growl you wanted to hear – reverberating wonderfully against your skin - as his hips jerked against the motion. You couldn’t help your tease of; “Good boy.” and the shot of confidence you felt at the way his cheeks flushed red. You picked up the pace, expertly sliding his boxers down his legs as you did so, giving him a groan of your own. Fuck, was this man built well. You were well aware of the pool of heat now throbbing between your legs – and moaned again as your imagination ran wild. God you wanted him so bad, and Martin needn’t have told you he did – you could see that. His hips jerked again, and this time Martin cursed – and the growl of your name made you grip him a little too hard. “FUCK-! Y/N-!” Both of you shuddered suddenly, and he took to opportunity to gain control again – hands in your hair as his lips caught yours. Tipping your body back meant you had to release him and steady yourself against his counter with a gasp. But he ground his hips into yours, this time deliberately, and it was almost unbearable; the flash of ecstasy making you whimper his name.

This time Martin smirked, he could feel just how wet you were and he didn’t see the point in denying either of you what you wanted the most. Snaking his hand between your bodies he slid one finger tentatively into you, you moaned against his lips again, this time your fingers tangling in his shirt, gripping him so tight he could feel your fingernails digging into his skin. “That’s it, baby…” He murmured, grazing his lips across your cheeks as you buried your face in his chest to suppress your moans – to no avail, of course, and Martin chuckled, because all he wanted was to hear you. You pushed against his body in an attempt to escape his fingers; the pleasure was intense and you didn’t want to climax for him too early; but he’d inserted a second finger and his thumb was now paying close attention to your clit; “Oh-! God. M-Martin-!” He chuckled, “Don’t worry, Y/N, I want you just as bad…” Your hands released the back of his shirt, only to yank him into another hot and heavy kiss by the front of it, less talk more action. Your next sentence was both demanding and breathless; “God, I am begging you! Fuck me to this album on your kitchen counter, or so help me! Martin!” He raised his eyebrows with a smirk, “I thought you’d never ask!” In one quick movement, he withdrew his fingers and pushed into you. You both immediately groaned at the feeling, and your legs latched around him again – you had a feeling you had used the right word; this was about to get very messy, very quickly. Neither of you were going to last very long, but it was gonna feel SO good. Martin kept good pace; fingers gripping your hips so hard you thought he was bound to leave marks, but your body was already singing – and when your lips weren’t locked with his, you were eliciting the most gorgeous little sighs; Martin got to keep all of those to himself. You got to give yourself a little ego boost, thinking of all the girls you’d seen staring at him who wished they’d get anywhere near close to doing this. “AH-!” Your legs tightened around him, moving him closer as every thrust pushed him deeper into you, and he hit your sweet-spot, “Yes-! Martin! Oh! Baby, don’t stop! Please!” He almost told you he had no intention of doing so; opting to nip the top of your ear instead, which sent another shock to your system – senses on overdrive. Your muscles continued to clench around him, and as you got tighter his breaths got shorter; because damn did you feel good. “Y/N-!” he panted it, and more than once – sure, he’d had sex plenty of times before this (and to this album, but not recently!), yet he wasn’t sure the last time it’d felt this good. Not to be so complete with someone – no matter how quick this was going to be. Martin could already feel the beads of sweat gathering on his forehead, and your sighs were getting short and sharp – but he wanted you to finish together. He gathered your hands in his, squeezing tight as he threaded your fingers together. “Martin- I-!” He nodded, because he also knew that much just from the feel of you; “Uh huh-!” And so you came together – and you were right, it was hot and heavy. Your breathing was shallow and you had to fight yourself panting too hard, as your body relaxed. Every point of you feeling that ecstatic high. He pushed his forehead to yours gently, breathing just as hard, and not wanting to lose that contact; his body shook and Martin very nearly laughed, before kissing you again – sweet and gentle. “Y/N… I… Geez, I love you, babe.” You could swear that the fact that you felt tears spiking was to do with your high and not his love confession but who knew, in all honesty. “Oh, oh Martin! Baby, I love you too!” You pulled him back to you, for a kiss even sweeter, before pressing a tender one to his forehead and wrapping your arms around him. “Are you cryin’?” He teased, and you could almost have punched him for it. “NO! I’m happy-!” But Martin laughed, his hands rubbing your back soothingly as you nestled your head into the crook of his neck, regulating your breathing once more. He hummed softly to the record again for a few minutes, as you carded your fingers through his hair sitting there in blissful silence, then grinned; “You know, we still have a whole other album left over there, if you wanna go again…” You snorted, still catching your breath, “Oh god, will you at least give me until the end of this one-!?” Then you sat back, unravelling yourself from him; “…Why waste it all at once?” “I suppose you have a point,” He kissed you again, pulling his coffee back from behind you; surprisingly no one had knocked it and spilled it all over the counter. Martin took a sip and put it down again. “Mhm, warm enough.”  Sliding it away from himself he added, “Well worth wasting a cup of coffee for.” “Gee thank-” You paused and fell silent, catching a glimpse of the back door over his shoulder and instantly freezing. “What?” He half turned, still between your legs; “OH. Shit.” He covered his eyes for a moment – of course, sitting there obediently waiting to be let back in, with his tail wagging, was Jake “You don’t think he…” Martin couldn’t finish the sentence without and embarrassed chuckle, “Oh, okay – I’m not living this down.” “Well he can’t remind you of it – you got that in your favour.” “No, but YOU probably will-!” You held your hands up to protest innocence; “I’m party to it, why would I-!?” He shot you a look, swivelling around and then promptly tripping on his pants, now halfway down his legs. Martin steadied himself and you couldn’t help but giggle, he scowled, bending over to pull then up and you bit your lip through your smirk, unable to resist. “You know, again, maybe you just wear really nice figure hugging jeans but – damn you have a nice ass.”  Then Martin tripped again over his own feet, waiting a few seconds for you to get your giggles out, before turning; “You are privileged to see it-!” “No doubt-!” You grinned, but Martin strode back across his kitchen to you, gathering your panties from the floor as he did so, before giving you another harsh kiss – you groaned again, not quite as down from your high as you thought. His blue eyes were intense, but mischievous as he pulled back, and his smile triumphant; “Thought I could shut you up!” “You should be so lucky to hear my voice!” You gave as good as you got, shimmying your underwear back up your legs. “Ah, now that I do know.” Martin smirked, kissing you once more before stepping away from the counter, “Especially when it’s sighing my name like that.” This time you did blush; “Oh! Shut up and let your poor dog in!” --- Thank you for reading-! 😘💙

[resurrectionrpg]

Good evening, villains and victims! We’d like to kick the weekend and the opening of the roleplay off by getting to know your characters with an honesty weekend! You do not have to participate, but we would love to meet your characters, and for you to take the chance to have a little inbox fun. Please ensure your inboxes are open and your blog is not dash only.

This will go from now until Sunday at 12AM EST. If you’d like to post intros now, please do so! Otherwise we expect intros by Monday. 

We have some memes and starters under the cut, but please feel free to reblog whatever you’d like!

                                 DIALOGUE/SENTENCES

VICTIM → VICTIM

❝ I dreamed about this guy [ player insert ]. ❞

❝ What’d he look like? You get a look at him? ❞

❝ Well then how can you say somebody else was there? ❞

❝ You could just see the cuts happening, all at once. ❞

❝ What do you mean all at once? ❞

❝ I probably could’ve saved her if I’d moved sooner. ❞

❝ There was this guy who had knives for fingers. ❞

❝ You’ll feel better as soon as you sleep. ❞

❝ You better tell me, cause now he’s after me! ❞

❝ Feel better?! You call this feeling better? ❞

❝ Avoid everything happening to me by just getting good and loaded. ❞

❝ He can’t get you because mommy killed him. ❞

❝ I take back every bit of energy I ever gave you. ❞

❝ Do you have any idea what that means? ❞

❝ She’s already fucked up, so leave her alone. ❞

❝ What? What are you talking about? ❞

❝ Just don’t fall asleep. If you die in your dreams, you die for real. ❞

❝ You think you can bring the dead back to life? ❞

❝ He brought us here so we could remember what he did to us. ❞

❝ I want you to go straight up to bed, okay? ❞❝ He’s not after us because we lied - He’s after us because we told the truth. ❞

❝  You know what they say, kemosabe, in Hell, everybody loves popcorn.   ❞

❝ We’re gonna be in here a long time. ❞

❝ There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about that night. ❞

❝ Where did you hear that? ❞

❝ So what did you do? Did you call the police? ❞

❝   I’m gonna teach you something. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.   ❞

❝   You know, all in all, you’ve had a pretty good run.  ❞

❝   You must’ve known it all had to end somewhere - might as well be now.  ❞

❝ Next time, we go someplace else. ❞

❝   This is crazy, sitting here and waiting to be attacked.  ❞

❝  I told you already, I don’t why they let me go! They just did.  ❞

❝  Sometimes I can still see their face whenever I close my eyes.  ❞

❝ Grab anything that might make a good weapon. ❞

❝ Somebody should make a run for the car. ❞

❝ No, no, no! We can’t go out there! ❞

❝ Come on, it’s the only way. ❞

❝ Whoever’s the fastest runner, who is that? ❞

VILLAIN → VICTIM

❝ We weren’t hunting, we were protecting you! ❞

❝ You’ll understand how it feels to never fail to protect them. ❞

❝  You know what they say, kemosabe, in Hell, everybody loves popcorn.   ❞

❝  Oh, don’t you cry! I’ve killed a million times before.  ❞

❝ Did you know…that after the heart stops beating, the brain keeps functioning for over 7 minutes? ❞

❝   I ain’t no fucking clown.   ❞

❝ Ooh, sounds fun, but it’s a little fast for me. ❞

❝ I’m your boyfriend now, ______. ❞

❝ It hurts, doesn’t it? That’s because you’re in my world now, bitch! ❞

❝ I had to keep you awake long enough so when you finally slept, you’d never wake up again. ❞

❝ We’re gonna be in here a long time. ❞

❝   I’m gonna teach you something. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.   ❞

❝   Do you really think I give a fuck?  ❞

❝  what’s the pointing in kidnapping if you aren’t going to do any killing?  ❞

❝  i usually like to get to know my victims a little before i kill them.  ❞

❝   I’m not crazy; I’m in control!  ❞

❝   I’m not here to brighten your dismal day; I am here to end your miserable life.  ❞

❝  You may think this is a one time thing but I promise, I will kill again.  ❞

❝  Come out, come out, wherever you are! You can’t hide from me forever!  ❞

❝  there’s no turning back now! there’s no one coming for you, except for me!  ❞

❝   You know, all in all, you’ve had a pretty good run.  ❞

❝   You must’ve known it all had to end somewhere - might as well be now.  ❞

❝   You can all count yourselves lucky you got fucked by the best!  ❞

❝   In exactly one hundred and twenty seconds, we shall begin.  ❞

❝   All you have to do is survive twelve hours.  ❞

❝   What I do? Unfortunately for you, I do real well!  ❞

❝   I am certainly not here to elicit an amused response.  ❞

❝   Murder school is now in session.  ❞

❝  you know what they say, once a killer, always a killer.  ❞

❝   I am here to end your miserable fucking life.  ❞

❝   I’m sending you straight to the fucking pearly gates with a first class ticket.  ❞

❝   I came to get down and dirty. Oh yeah.  ❞

❝   Look what the fucking cat dragged in!  ❞

❝   Death has come to sing it’s quite song, run and hide for it won’t belong!  ❞

❝   Is it hunting time now?  ❞

❝   I guess I should really put you out of your misery.  ❞

❝  You can run but you can’t hide! I’m going to find you and kill you!  ���

❝  See, I’ve stalked you for sometime before finally snatching you up!  ❞

❝  I didn’t want to kill you when I brought you here, but now, I have no choice!  ❞

❝ I’m gonna kill your whole fucking family.  ❞

❝ I want you to see what happens to heroes…  ❞

GENERAL

❝ I didn’t want you to remember! I wanted you to forget! ❞

❝ I didn’t want to remember! I wanted to forget! ❞

❝ They’re…they’re repressed memories, from a terrible, terrible time. ❞

❝ There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about that night. ❞

❝ You said that… You said that we didn’t know each other. ❞

❝ Don’t pretend you don’t know, because you do. ❞

❝ Your mind was just playing tricks on you. ❞

❝ He kept repeating it over and over again.. ❞

❝   I’m gonna teach you something. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.   ❞

❝   There’s only four things you need to know about this career.   ❞

❝   Do you really think I give a fuck?  ❞

❝   I always thought I’d appear rather pretentious with a pipe.  ❞

❝   You know, all in all, you’ve had a pretty good run.  ❞

❝   You diggin’ what you see, pops?  ❞

❝   I mean no disrespect, but was not the question.  ❞

❝   See you later, Popeye! I’m gonna go get me some spinach.  ❞

❝   I don’t wanna be here! They make me be here!  ❞

❝   You and me, we’re the same! We’re the same!  ❞

❝    What the fuck is going on? Do you see anything?  ❞

❝   Look what the fucking cat dragged in!  ❞

❝   I’m so flattered you remember me.  ❞

❝   Don’t worry, ______.  It’s always somebody’s fault.  ❞

❝  Do you think that this killer is working all alone?  ❞

❝  How hard is it to catch a killer? ❞ ❝  I don’t want you out at night in this town, roaming around.  ❞

❝  I can’t believe they’re withholding information about that murder.  ❞

❝  Wait, you mean you don’t know? Do you live under a rock?  ❞

❝  I can’t believe I’m still living in this fucking town.  ❞

❝  Why are you so paranoid and scared all of a sudden? It’s just the police.  ❞

❝  Ever since this recent murder, you’ve been super paranoid.  ❞

❝  Please, hurry back!! I’m afraid I might not ever seen you again when you leave.  ❞

❝ Man she really fucked him up good huh? ❞

❝ I knew you were into some sketchy shit! ❞

❝ This wasn’t a random attack! Our family’s being targeted. ❞

❝ Why would anybody do this? ❞

❝ Oh my god, what is happening to us? ❞

❝ I don’t see anyone. Do you see anyone? ❞

❝ Why are you calling me a low life? I’m just trying to help the situation. ❞

❝ What you just said. What was that? ❞

❝ Is there something else you wanted to say to me? ❞

❝ I can’t believe you’re in on this. ❞

❝ Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?  ❞

❝ What the fuck is your problem?  ❞

❝ Here’s the list of names I need you to run down for me.  ❞

❝ That’s a funny-ass name.  ❞

❝ If you want special favors you gotta give me something in return.  ❞

❝  I tried to walk the line but now I realize there is no line.  ❞

❝ I can’t fucking wait! You want it? Here it is, come and get it.  ❞                                

                                       SYMBOLS/GAMES

SEND  💋 FOR MY MUSE TO REVEAL A SECRET

SEND ¿ FOR A MEMORY MY MUSE HAS (optional: OF ___)

SEND MY MUSE “👀 + A QUESTION” AND THEY’LL HAVE TO ANSWER WITH 100% HONESTY

SEND  ✄ FOR A FAVORITE MOVIE OF MY MUSES

SEND  ✚ FOR ONE OF MY MUSE’S MOST PRIZED POSSESSIONS

SEND  ✿ FOR A HAPPY MEMORY MY MUSE HAS

SEND ♬ FOR A CHILDHOOD HEADCANON

SEND  ☼ FOR A DREAM HEADCANON

SEND  ✜ FOR A FEAR HEADCANON

SEND ☠ FOR A DEATH HEADCANON

SEND ◊ FOR A HEADCANON OF MUN’S CHOOSING

SEND  ♤ FOR SOMETHING MY MUSE DISLIKES OR HATES

SEND  ★ FOR A TALENT HEADCANON

SEND  △ FOR A SEX HEADCANON

SEND  ⊗ FOR SOMETHING MY MUSE HAS A PHOBIA OF

SEND  ⭐️ AND I WILL GIVE A FACT ABOUT MY MUSE

SEND [BRAGGART] FOR MY MUSE TO BRAG ABOUT THEMSELVES

SEND  👀 FOR MY MUSE TO TALK ABOUT THE ONE THING OTHERS HAVE THAT THEY DON’T

SEND [ENVIOUS] TO FIND OUT WHAT MY MUSE GETS JEALOUS OVER

SEND [VENT] FOR MY MUSE TO RANT ABOUT SOMETHING/THAT GETS THEM RILED UP

SEND [CHILL] TO FIND OUT HOW MY MUSE CALMS DOWN

SEND [RELAX] TO FIND OUT HOW MY MUSE RELAXES

SEND  💏 TO FIND OUT ABOUT MY MUSE’S FIRST KISS

SEND 👶 TO FIND OUT ABOUT MY MUSE’S CHILDHOOD

SEND [FAMILIAL] TO FIND OUT ABOUT MY MUSE’S RELATIONSHIP WITH THEIR FAMILY

                                   QUESTIONS/DEVELOPMENT

Do you hurt people without consideration?

Does it ever get tiring, keeping so many secrets?

Are you scared of letting others help you?

Do you jump so quickly into relationships only to leave just as quick?

Do you need other people’s approval?

Do you believe in yourself?

Do you not think you’re worth more?

Do you like to feel broken or have you just learned to live with the pain?

Are you afraid of your flaws?

Do you fake your confidence so people can’t see how self-conscious you truly are?

Have you ever stopped to think how others feel when you leave them behind because you got bored?

Do you claim to be innocent when you are guilty of much pain and abuse?

Can you live independently?

Do you jump into relationships before you are even aware of what love is?

Do you ever take responsibility for your own actions?

Do other people’s opinions matter much to you?

Do you have to win every argument you get into?

Will you ever be able to fully show another person your flaws and insecurities and realize they still love you?

Do you see emotions as a vulnerability?

Are you so proud and mighty that you must go through life without ever letting others help you?

Are you incapable of realizing you aren’t perfect?

Do you try hard to make sure nobody ever finds out who you really are?

Does your social appearance dictate how you live your life?

Do you think you are only worth love if you conceal your true self?

Do you hide your loneliness behind your humor?

Do you expect people to be honest with you?

Do you expect people to be honest with you, even if you lie and deceive them?

Do you have to one-up people every single chance you get?

Do you ever take other people’s feelings into consideration?

How narcissistic are you?

Do you need to be better than everyone?

Is it hard for you to express your emotions to others?

Do you let others walk all over you?

Will you ever let other people see who you truly are?

[bazzybelle]

Carry On Countdown - Day Eleven

Notes: So… I wrote this story (the first half) during one of my spirals. Go find my WLW fic if you’re that curious, I don’t want to word-vomit about my mental health again. I had originally wanted to just keep the first half, but @fight-surrender helped me to find a little hope (some that I was missing, to be honest).  

Lyrics/title are from the song “Let It Be” by The Beatles. This is my favourite song and never fails to help me cry out my emotions and help me calm down when I’m too in my own head. It’s what’s playing in the background, as I try to make sense of the jumbled words/emotions bouncing around up there. 

Also, a disclaimer, I am aware that everyone’s experience with depression is different. I am coming at this fic based on my own personal experiences and spirals. 

All my love go to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for talking me through this fic and encouraging me to post it despite its grim tone; to @fight-surrender for listening to me during my thought spirals and for being a beacon during my dark moments (also, for giving me the idea to add some hope/reflection into the story); and to my husband who makes me tea when I’m sad and doesn’t push me to talk about my sadness and has been nothing but supportive though my journey of returning to writing. 

I’m also gonna give love to @giishu and @f-ing-ruthless-baz because my newfound friendship with them has given me life. Thank you.

I’m working at being ok. Love to you all. Be kind to yourselves and to each other. 

If you’re going through a hard time, I send you love and support. My inbox is always open to talk/cry/laugh about stupidities. 

TW: Depression, thoughts of worthlessness. Suicidal thoughts.

Day 11 Prompt: Angst Day

Title: Let It Be

________________________________________________________________

When the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me. Shine until tomorrow, let it be.  

SIMON

It’s better if I lay here on the sofa. 

That way, I can’t muck up anything more than what I’ve already mucked up.

It’s better if I lay here on the sofa. 

That way, I don’t have to see the looks of pity and sadness on Baz’s and Penny’s faces. That way, Baz won’t have to look at me and realize that I’m not worth his time. I’m not worth anyone’s time.

It’s better if I lay here on the sofa. 

That way, the constant light and hum of the television can help numb me of whatever I’m feeling inside. 

Useless, wasted, worthless…

A fraud, a phony, a fake. 

The colours outside my window turn from orange to yellow, to white. Then back to yellow, and orange, and finally to the deep blue of night. The cycle repeats day after day after day. I run the risk of losing track of time completely, if Penny and Baz weren’t here all the damn time.  

And they are always here. 

Always hovering, always asking me questions, always trying to get me to talk. 

I don’t want to bloody talk! I want to sleep. I want to be alone. I want to disappear and no longer burden anyone. 

Maybe it would have been better if the Humdrum had finished me off completely. Maybe it would have been better if I wasn’t around. Penny would be in America, with Micah and Baz would be moving on with someone more worthwhile. They would have moved on and found their place in this world. A world that I no longer belong to. A world that I never really belonged to. 

It was all really a lie, wasn’t it? A beautifully crafted, perfectly executed lie. I was never meant to exist in the World of Mages. I am and have always been, just a Normal. Everything that I felt during the last 8 years of my life have been a part of that elaborate lie.  The happiness, the power, the sense that I was a part of something amazing. All of it was a lie. 

The friendship I felt with Penny, the love I felt with Baz; also lies. Those are the lies that hurt me the most, because they are persistent. They didn’t go away like the other lies. They didn’t go away with my magic. They didn’t go away when The Mage and the Humdrum were defeated. They didn’t go away when I failed to save Ebb’s life. 

Instead, they stick around because they pity me. They stick around because they both made promises to me, and they don’t wish to break them. They stick around because maybe I make them feel better about themselves. If Penny or Baz have an off-day, well, at least they aren’t like me. At least they have their magic and at least they belong somewhere. No matter how much the world hurts them, they will never be as fucked up as me. 

I can hear them now, in the kitchen, making some food. They’re always making me food, trying to get me to eat something. Just the thought of eating something makes me sick to my stomach. The smell is nauseating. I haven’t been able to keep anything down for very long. I mostly just eat the crisps I buy from the corner store and wash it down with some cider. Penny has nagged endlessly at me that I cannot sustain myself on a diet of crisps and cider. It was annoying at first, but now I’ve learned to drown her out. 

A small voice inside is telling me that they’re doing it because they’re concerned for me and that they just want to help. I shut that voice up and insist that they see me as so pitiful that I can’t even cook for myself. 

They’re probably right. I’d probably just end up setting the flat on fire. Let’s hope Baz isn’t nearby if I ever do attempt to cook for myself. 

I know what will happen next. They’ll finish cooking whatever it is they’re cooking. One of them will sit at the table and do schoolwork while eating. The other will sit down on the sofa’s armrest and try to get me to eat something. Then they’ll switch places. That goes on for about a couple of hours, until the food’s gone cold. They’ll then wrap the food up and finally leave me in peace. They’ll study together for a few more hours until Baz decides he’s had enough and leaves for the night. Penny will usually go to bed once he leaves.  

It’s at this time, where I finally get off the couch. I will walk to the balcony of the flat and just stare outside at the other buildings, the sky, the people, and the ground below. I will lean my body halfway over the edge and just stare at the ground below. I’ll stare and I’ll think and maybe I’ll push myself a little further over the edge. Maybe I’ll bring myself closer to the ground this time. Maybe I’ll finally have the courage to let go. Maybe I’ll finally have the courage to finally let Penny and Baz free from ever worrying about me again. 

Or maybe I’ll be a coward and make my way back to the couch. More likely, it’ll be that outcome because I’ll think of their faces and how I just want to see them for one more day. 

But, who’s to say really?

“Snow? Would you like some of this fettucini? Bunce has tried a new recipe and she’s convinced it’s good enough for Ramsey. I personally think she’s daft.” 

So Baz has the first shift today. Very well then. 

Here we go.  

*****

I close the notebook and take a deep breath. The entry I’ve just read was from a very dark moment in my life. Or rather, it was a recollection of a very dark time in my life. I had written it at the suggestion of my therapist. He suggested that I start keeping a journal as a way to track my thoughts. That way, it would be easier for me to isolate the negative thoughts in my head. The belief was that, by isolating my thoughts, it would become easier to challenge them. By writing them down, they become tactile. By becoming tactile, they become easier to fight and replace with more positive thoughts.

I thought it was all bollocks at first and was not very good at tracking my thoughts. That is, until one of my intrusive thoughts settled into my brain and would not leave. It sat there and festered and festered, until it completely took over. That day, I nearly returned to the sofa and threw away everything that I had worked so hard to achieve. That day, I looked at Baz, and thought about the ways he would be better off without me and that maybe I should end it right now. 

Instead of giving into my dark thoughts, I asked him if he had an empty notebook and a pen I could borrow. And because he is an absolute intellectual wanker, of course he had a spare notebook in his bag, as well as a burgundy pen (Baz likes to use non-conventional writing tools. He’s currently very excited about using fountain pens). I could tell from his eyes that he wanted desperately to ask me what was wrong. I gave him a sad smile and sat down at the table and began to write. 

I wrote and I cried, and I thought back to that dark, depressing part of my life. Baz had made me some tea and sat down next to me, rubbing my shoulders and grabbing my hand when I needed it. I continued to write as he brought me some food and reheated my tea when it got cold. I cried, as he held my hand and ran his thumb over my rough knuckles. When I was done, I closed the book and let him hold me. I let him hold me while I cried onto his expensive shirt. 

I now look at the entry and think about how far I have come since not only the day I wrote the entry, but also the time where I felt no hope. It’s been almost seven years since my last year at Watford, and I can’t believe how different my life has been since then. It hasn’t been easy and I still slip up from time to time. 

My notebook has grown into a collection, spanning throughout my experiences volunteering with displaced youth, throughout my work as a counselor, and throughout my decision to go to University, specializing in Psychology. I turn to the framed diploma on the wall (Baz had wanted to get the most distinguished looking frame; I veto-ed it right away considering it was just an undergraduate’s diploma), and to the acceptance letters in my hand. I had gotten accepted into a Master’s program at both University College of London as well as Cambridge fucking University. 

Imagine… Me, Simon Snow attending a University as prestigious as fucking Cambridge. 

Cambridge.

I haven’t yet told Baz about my acceptance letters, but I have been talking about and stressing over this application process for nearly all of last year. I had gotten the letters this morning and I was planning on waiting until he got home before telling him. 

Baz.

I think about Baz and how far we have come as a couple. When I think back to how we went from enemies, to lovers who could not communicate, to now being a healthy stable relationship. I can’t believe it sometimes. We do slip up and we do fight occasionally (rarely… if ever at all), but we always come back to each other. We needed some help in learning how to bridge that gap in communication, but after a lot of work, I think we’re starting to get to a point where we’re just happy together. The doubts about us barely linger in my mind anymore. Now, I just want to focus on making sure that Baz feels happy and secure with us. I do that by letting him know that I love him and care about him and that I will always be there for him. 

We had been living together for almost a year (Penny had moved in with Shepard, after convincing him to stay in London -- like he was EVER going to leave Penny, the man is mad about her) (Baz’s aunt moved in with a Normal woman she had been seeing for years, so she wasn’t upset by the loss of a flat-mate) and I would say the biggest challenge has been learning how balance giving space and receiving love and affection. I would say that we’re not doing too shabby.

As if my thoughts summon him, Baz steps through the threshold of the flat, groceries in his arms. “Hello Love. How was your day?” He asks me. I love it when he calls me that… Love. I’m his Love, and he is mine. I smile and blush. It makes me happy that even after all this time, Baz can still make me blush like this.  

“Hey babe… I uhhh… I have umm... some news.” Baz raises an eyebrow at me. He places the bags on top of the kitchen counter and walks over to me. He places a kiss on my head, when he notices the letters on the table. His eyes widen and he grabs both letters from the table. 

Baz is quiet. I start picking at my cuticles and my leg starts to bounce. Baz looks at me, and it can only be described as a look of complete adoration. Seven years ago, I would have hated that look and fought it. Now, I smile back at him and grab his hand as I nod at him.

“Simon…” he breathes out. He settles slowly into the chair next to me. He looks at me and back to the letters. He gives my hand a squeeze and lifts it up to his face. He gives it a small kiss and nuzzles it softly. “Love, I knew you would make it in… Bloody Cambridge. I am so proud of you, my darling.”

I blush and momentarily look away from him, before I remember that it’s alright to feel vulnerable and that I’ve earned this moment of bliss. I look back at him and I can feel a few tears in my eyes. Baz cups my face in his hands and draws me into a deep kiss. I grab onto his face and I take in everything about him. His scent (still the same combination of cedar and bergamot that he’s always had), the cold of his hands, the softness of his lips. The light hum of his voice as he takes me in as well. He breaks our kiss and places another one on my forehead. 

“Bloody Cambridge…” I gasp out, shaking my head. I still cannot believe it.

“Love… You’ve earned it!” Baz is running his fingers through my hair. I tip my head towards him, enjoying this calming touch.

“Can I handle it?”

Baz barks out a laugh. “You’ve killed a dragon during first year. You defeated a chimera during our fifth. You graduated Uni with honours! You can handle anything and everything!”

“But it’s so pretentious…” I make a face and stick my tongue out in disgust. Honestly, the thought of being surrounded by people who were probably more pretentious than Baz (wait… that may not be possible, no one is more pretentious than my posh boyfriend).

“Simon…” Baz raises an eyebrow at me. “I think you can handle a few pretentious snobs. You won me over without even trying.”

“I’ll be so far away.” I move closer to him and wrap my arms around his waist. Baz pulls me onto his lap and I settle into the crook of his neck. I nuzzle him a little and think about how crazy I’ll be without him near me everyday. 

“I’ll come visit. Crowely, maybe I’ll even move there with you until you’ve done your Master’s.” Baz is lightly scratching my back and I let out a tiny moan. I fucking love it when he does that. I pull away from him for a second and wrap my arms around his neck. I stare into his stormy-grey eyes. 

“I’m fucking terrified.” I whisper. 

Baz’s lips curl up into a gentle half-smile. He trails his fingers over my arms. “And that’s alright. We’ll figure it out.”

“Together?”  

“Together.” 

Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah let it be. There will be an answer, let it be. Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah let it be. Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Fri 8 Mar

Louis promo, day two, stunt time. Are we surprised? Some are, some are not. The Dan Wootton interview came out and yeah, anything you might have imagined being in there, it is and it’s worse. But is it a smoking gun proving once and for all that Louis is straight, Freddie is his large child and Eleanor his future wife? I mean...

Let me say first and foremost that it's unpleasant to deal with and if you're feeling upset or anxious, that's totally valid! Trying to reconcile multiple versions of reality and receiving contradictory information from someone you trust is a serious mindfuck and not okay and it's very reasonable to feel bad as a result- it does not make you a bad fan or weak to have these feelings! Please be gentle with yourselves. For me, it helps to analyze and approach the situation logically so let's look at this whole mess. First of all there are two different reasons people are upset-- one is the fear that Louis is telling the truth about everything, the other is being sure that he isn't but having gotten hope up that he wasn't going to have to lie anymore. The first then- was Louis straight all along, is the kid his, does he think larries are crazy, etc? The problem with this scenario is that it's all or nothing- like if you believe him today you have to believe, right out of the box, that he and Harry were never together, and that truly strains the bonds of reality. For me, that's quite a bit harder to swallow than believing that a gay musician might exist and be closeted and lie. I don't have room here to go through everything piece by piece but plenty of blogs are doing that, and there are plenty of plot holes to chase down (the mysterious disappearance of Danielle is especially entertaining, as always), but I think this one major thing is the weak thread that when you pull it, the rest unravels. As for that, the one thing that he doesn't go full anti on in the podcast? Harry. On that subject he says only how good his album was, how much he respects him, that their relationship is one of mutual respect, and how much their relationship has matured. He also talks about how important it was to have the support of his significant other when Jay was dying and while he says he's talking about Eleanor, it's worth mentioning that 1) they theoretically weren't together then 2) she wasn't in the country and 3) Harry was verifiably around (much as he is right now for Louis’ release time). A few other quick takes, sorry for everything I have to leave out- he goes hard on Elounor but is quick to shut down the idea that they might be getting married, the Zouis stuff sucks but wbk this is what it is but he does say he doesn't know if a 1D reunion will be OT4 or OT5 when it for sure happens in the future, and the only actual conspiracy he addresses and denies is that Freddie is a doll.

Anyway moving on to the second issue, that Louis is still having to do this and that the baby narrative is alive and well in the year of our lord 2019, yeah. It sucks. So what is happening? Why is this still happening under the new team and should we hate them now? No! Everything we've seen still stands, they're doing great work for Louis, our boy is releasing his music and it's being appreciated and it's a wonderful thing. ONLY this media outlet is asking about or reporting on this stuff. One other interviewer mentioned Freddie VERY briefly in passing and Louis chose not to acknowledge or respond, and that's it. But Louis is still with Syco, with Simon Jones. And Simon and Dan Wootton are very close, as in personal friends, and SJ loves this narrative, and Wootton loves getting exclusives and he loves this narrative. Is Syco punishing Louis? Are they just very bad at their jobs? Whatever reason, Simon Jones is in charge of UK press and this is definitely him. So are we seeing a clash between the teams? Some interpret the LTHQ tweet (basically, “SOOOOO how about that single??”) shortly after the interview dropped as evidence of this. 

Others point to this morning's weirdly timed emergence of 40 seconds of unseen footage from the most iconic of Larry moments, the Paris Valentine's day interview, after 7 years in a vault. What is up with that? An archive coincidentally deciding to capitalize on Louis’ publicity for clicks now (but not any other time in the last seven years)? SBB in action? Louis’ new team feeding both sides of the fandom at once and trying to keep two grenades in the air without fumbling either? His clever new team subverting the narrative of the old team who still hold sway? Regardless it's cute AF, do recommend. The site suggests there might be 7 more minutes of footage available for a price but it isn't clear if that's more unseen footage or the aired parts. It also isn't clear to me why no one has bought it yet if it's really for sale but maybe they're just closed on the weekend or something.

Moving on (can we please?) my lord, there's so much else to cover. Two Of Us spotify vertical video is out, Jordan Green did an amazing job and it's really lovely, we're absolutely spoiled for video content and we don't even have the main music vid yet. So much unreasonably pretty Louis. Oprah fucking Winfrey is out there promoting Two Of Us! She lists it as NUMBER ONE in a list of songs for Mother's Day that will make you smile which, okay ouch? I don't know about that? But still, WOW. There's a giant billboard of Louis in Times Square!! Amazing. The song is still at number one worldwide (suck it A Star is Born)! A new Louis song has been registered and it's the one he co-wrote in the Secret Genius sessions- could this be the previously mentioned next single? Could they be planning on doing back to back single releases BE STILL MY HEART. LT19 indeed! Louis will be on Graham Norton's radio show Mar 23! Liam posted about Two Of Us! And in the thanks…I guess… column, James Corden and the guy from The Wanted let us know how much they liked the song.

Currently, Louis is out on the town with the usual public event gang, including Eleanor. Ping pong was involved.

AND sorry to relegate yall to a note at the end but, hi Harry, we miss you! He tweeted for international Women's Day, “thank you to all the wonderful women of today yesterday and always“ and followed some badass professional women on IG. Niall also tweeted, “love to all the amazing ladies out there” and took questions on IG, as usual answering candidly and openly and still somehow providing very little information. It really is an amazing talent he has, when he's old enough and finally ready to be president of Ireland it will serve him well in his political career. He does stoke the flames for the new material a bit, saying he's written 40 songs since Jan(!) and that Red Rocks footage is coming.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

The gone but never forgotten queen; Brian May x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well for those who have enjoyed the first couple of parts to “Soulmates through music” I hereby am proud to announce that I have not one but two that’s right TWO chapters for you all. So here my lovely darlings in the long awaited part 2. 

Now just be warned THERE IS SOME ANGST HERE. I tried to do as much medical research as I could so if there is anything I got wrong about it, please please please please please PLEASE inform me, especially if you yourselves suffer through this condition I have written. Other than the swearing contained in here and the angst, there’s nothing else really to be said about warnings. I hope you all enjoy this my darlings and be on the look out for pt.3 coming up shortly :)

Links to other parts.

Part 1     Part 1.5     Part 3       Part 4

Queen Taglist:

@geek-and-proud

__________________________________________________________

*1979*

It was the end of yet another show.  A stage handler handed me a towel and I wiped my forehead and dabbed my cheeks wiping the sweat that was pouring off my face.

“(Y/n) darling you were fantastic out there!” I heard Freddie’s voice praise me as I felt him tackle me from behind in a hug. I laughed and patted his hand as I said.

“Hey just doin as you taught me Fred.” I felt him kiss my cheek and that’s when Roger’s voice piped.

“Oi Brian, I think your wife’s replaced you with Fred!”

“Fuck you Taylor!” I cried out.  He stuck his tongue at me and I flipped him off meanwhile Brian and Deacy soon came into the view and I left Fred’s embrace and went to my husband’s and we kissed each other and I said to him.  “You know you’re the only guy for me right?”

“I would assume so my love.”

“You are never doubt yourself. To me you will always be my Emperor penguin.”

“And you’re my empress penguin.” We kissed each other again as Roger said again.

“God I can’t take this mushy gooey shit another second.”

“One day though Rog you’ll get that girl and then it’ll be our turn to make fun of you.” Brian said as he turned towards the blonde drummer.

In our dressing room we were all back in normal clothes and I was wiping away the makeup from my face when Freddie said.

“Come on darling we’re gonna head on over to the pub around the corner.”  I stopped wiping my makeup away for a brief moment and said as I turned towards the guys.

“You all go on ahead, I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You sure (y/n)?” asked Deacy.

“Yeah. Don’t worry guys I’m fine, now go on I’ll literally be right behind you.”

“Okay if you say so.” It was then Freddie, Roger and Deacy left the dressing room and headed on down to the pub we had passed on our way here.  I turned back towards the mirror and looked down at my hands and rubbed my left wrist as I could feel the numbing pain once more.

I felt two hands rub up and down my biceps and a kiss at my temple.

“Your wrists again dear?”

“Yeah, they’re even more numb than the last show we played at.” I felt Brian take one of my hands as he came around and knelt down beside me.  His long, calloused fingers very softly stroked my hands I turned to look at Brian and he kissed the underside of my wrist up to my palm before saying.

“Perhaps you should take a break from tomorrow night’s performance.”

“Brian this is the 12th show I’ll be missing of the tour. The press is starting to get on my ass on why I’ve been skipping shows, already spilling out lies about me.”

“Darling you know as well as I that the press always want to rile any famous face up, just to get us to really start something and make us seem the bad guys here.”

“I know, god why must they be so horrible to people?”

“That’s a question I wish I had an answer to.” He placed his hand against my cheek and said as he stared into my eyes, “But seriously, as your husband I insist you take tomorrow night’s performance off. Doctor’s orders.”

“But I don’t want to let the guys down. I feel like now I’m just being dead weight by skipping all these shows.”

“You know that they’d never think of you so lowly. They adore you, and they’re worried about you just as much as I am.”

“Well don’t. I think I’m just overexerting myself with all this new music we’ve been creating. Trying to improvise on how certain songs that don’t really need keyboard accompaniment would sound.”

“Just need a bit more rest, give your hands and wrists time to heal.” He finished for me.  I smiled at him and he softly smiled back.  “C’mon, let’s go home.”

“What about the guys?”

“They’ll be fine, you’re my number one priority right now.” Suddenly I was picked up bridal style. I let out a soft shriek and laughed as I said.

“Bri, my legs are fine it’s just my wrists that hurt.”

“But you have been standing all night long, your feet must be killing you my love, the least I can do it give you a lift to your carriage.” I laughed as I shook my head at him and said.

“You silly penguin.”

“Ahh but your silly penguin.” He said as his forehead touched mine, our noses just barely grazing each other’s.

“Yeah, my strong emperor penguin.”

“My beautiful empress penguin.” We Eskimo kissed each other and not once separated until we threw our heads back (think of it like the two penguin love gesture that they do when they nuzzle each other and shake their heads as they throw them back).

The next day while Brian had gone to rehearsals I stayed at the house with the kids and my mum who wanted to visit her two favorite grandchildren.  Almost a year ago, Jimmy had come into the world out of nowhere but we’re ever so grateful for our little boy, and of course little Chloe adores her brother. Even at only a year old she always want to be around him, they take naps together, they play together, eat together, swing on the swings together.

I just hope as they get older it’ll stay that way and that we don’t have to deal with any sibling drama.

Currently I was just fixing up the kid’s lunch as it was getting close to their lunchtime according to the schedule that Brian and I had agreed to while my mum entertained the kids.

“So how have things been going between you and Brian dear?” I heard her ask.

“Great mum. He’s still as humble as the day I met him, I can’t say the same for Roger though.” I teased.  “Okay give me my children mum, it’s lunchtime.”

“Okay my little duckies, you both ready for lunch? You both ready for lunch?” I could hear Chloe babbling cutely and Jimmy clapping his hands.  My mum soon came into the kitchen with both my kids in each arm and I cooed out as I reached for Jimmy.

“You ready to eat my little man huh? You ready to eat?” But as I went to pick him up by his underarms, I felt this sudden shot of agonizing pain.  It was like having a hammer suddenly slam right on your hand without warning or receiving an electrical shot times 50.

I cried out in pain which had my mum worried scared.

“Oh my god (y/n) baby what is it? What hurts?” With all my screaming and crying, it made the kids start to cry too.  My mum set the kids down in their chairs and came over to me and took my hands and placed a bag of frozen peas over them as she tried to soothe me.

Within fifteen minutes after icing them and finally getting the kids to calm down, the shocking pain was gone and replaced with the normal numbness.  My mum sat on the couch feeding Jimmy now after just feeding Chloe.

“How long has this been going on for?” I didn’t answer her.  “(Y/n) (m/n) May you tell me right now or so help me—”

“I don’t know mum, truly I don’t.” Actually that was a lie.  But I’m always been such a convincing person that I can make a lie sound like the truth.

Hell if I’m being honest, I think this pain first started the night Brian, Roger and I met Freddie.  The pain started up around then, it came in short intervals then it wouldn’t happen again for another few months or so.  But it truly started to get this bad shortly after Jimmy was born and of course Brian being the clever person that he is, saw right through my lies and I told him about the pain I’ve been experiencing.

“(Y/n) sweetie I really think you should see a doctor about this.”

“I have mum, the medics always tell me just to ice it, have it be supported at night and hope that it goes away.”

“Well what do those concert medics know? What I just witnessed it seems like they don’t know shit.”

“Mum!”

“I’m sorry but it’s true. I’ll make you an appointment with your father’s physical therapist and see what he says. I’ll even come with you.”

“No mum don’t. I’m not a little girl anymore that’s scared to go to the doctors. I can do it myself. I’ll find someone else to do this, besides somehow the press got a hold of where dad’s therapist clinic was and I don’t want to be bombarded with their bull.”

“Okay darling, promise me you’ll call me and tell me what the doctor will tell you.” My mum asked as she placed a hand on my cheek.

“I promise mum.” I rubbed her arm and kissed it and she wrapped her arm around me and I lay my head on her chest as she kissed the top of my head.

That night I lay there on my empty bed wearing one of Brian’s nightshirts wishing that he was here with me.  Truth is, I’m terrified about what I will find out.  I don’t know if this is some type of new cancer or if something else is truly wrong with me and I could be dying.  I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want to leave Brian, Deacy, Rog, Freddie or the kids this soon.

I gripped Brian’s pillow and softly cried into it trying to imagine being in Brian’s arms hoping that would bring me comfort but unfortunately it didn’t and I ended up crying myself to sleep.

The next few days were a blur as I tried to find myself the perfect doctor that wouldn’t spill the beans to the press about what I will find wrong with myself.  It was hard trust me, but I managed to find a perfect candidate; Dr. Stephen Matthews a PCP and neurologist.

I called his office and told him who I was and told him that if I were to meet him then there has to be utter secrecy of what will be discussed between us.  I wanted it to be just him and me in the room at all times, locked doors, blinds shut, everything.  

Amazingly he agreed to the terms and told me that his job was not only to diagnose his patients but also ensure the secrecy of their diagnoses.  It was then I made an appointment with him first thing the next morning.

At 4:30am I woke up and stood in the bathroom getting ready for my appointment.  After getting some makeup on, I then bumped it up a notch and put my hair in a tight bun before placing a wig cap over my head.  Once I had hidden all traces of my normal hair strands, I reached for the short asymmetrical pure black bob wig that sat right there on a mannequin head.

Just to fool around with the press, I still kept in touch with an old friend and my former roommate from University, Nadia Romanoff who was into theatre specifically hair and makeup and let me tell you she was amazing at it.  So amazing that she immediately got hired for the London Shakespearean theater to work for them, now she’s in the film industry in America.

Free of charge and as sorta payback for making me her guinea pig for most of the term that I was there, I had asked her if she could hook me up with some different wigs to which she replied.  So the 10 wigs I keep stored away with my concert attires, are all wigs personally made by her, made from real human hair donated from barbershops for purposes such as Nadia’s.

I placed the wing on top of my head and messed around with it and brushed it out until it looked like I had a completely different hairstyle, especially since I was known for my long (h/c). So with this hairstyle I would just look like another person.  I sighed deeply as I stared at myself in the mirror.

After dropping the kids off at Brian’s mum’s place since she was always an early riser than my own mum was, I drove to Stephen’s clinic. As the sun was starting to rise, I entered inside the clinic and walked down the silent hallway until I reached his office.

We then began doing various tests and x-rays on both hands and of course like all doctors he asked me the basic questions. When did it start? How long has it been going on for? Did I have any family history with this kind of pain, etc.

And it was then at 7:15am when Dr. Matthews came in and sat down in front of me with a file in his hand and he told me exactly what it was that was causing my wrists and hands so much pain.

CTS. Otherwise known as Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.

Having not heard of this before the first thing I asked him was how long I’ve got to live.  To which he answered that it’s not cancerous or even dangerous, but it’s apparently when there’s a pinched nerve in the wrists are blocked which is why I’ve been experiencing the numbness.

He said sometimes it is caused by over stressing of the wrists whether it was due to sewing, manufacturing, writing, or in my case, piano playing.  He also said some contributing factors to CTS was due to fluid retention during pregnancy or menopause.  He even mentioned that it’s not uncommon because women were three times more likely to get diagnosed with CTS than men were, so he assured me I wasn’t the only woman he’s diagnosed with this problem.

“Do you understand Mrs. May? The—way we go from here you can either continue home remedies such as icing and supporting it as you sleep along with some medications and some braces, or we could operate.”

“What would the operation entail?” I asked him.

“Well it wouldn’t be too excessive, just enough for a neurosurgeon to just cut the ligaments to relieve the pressure, no overnight stay required. But due to the severity and the amount of wait time you’ve had to get this checked out the surgery would pose an even greater risk than had you’d been diagnosed a few years ago.”

“What would happen to me?”

“There’s—a risk of potential nerve damage. There could be a high chance of you never being able to control your fingers specifically your thumbs, index and tall fingers. The choice is all up to you, I’m only just explaining the risks that could happened should you choose the surgical path. If not then it’ll just be home remedies and prescribed medication for the rest of your life to help with the numbness and the pain from spiking up as you had told me about when you tried to pick up your son.” I nodded my head and I asked him.

“Can you give me a couple of days to think it over?”

“Of course, for now I’m going to give you a pharmacy address for where you can pick up your wrist braces, then once you’ve reached a decision call me back and we can discuss on where we go from there.” I thanked him for his time and I walked down the hallway toward the exit.

Just before I could walk out the door, I soon heard someone say to me which echoed through the still empty hallway.

“Dynamite with a laser beam.” I stopped in place and turned to see a woman around my age with a brace on her wrist too.  The corner of my mouth lifted as I responded back to her.

“Guarantee to blow your mind.” Her eyes widened and I smiled softly at her and held my index finger to my lips telling her not to give away our secret.  She smiled at me and I walked out of the clinic and drove back to my step-mum’s house to pick up the kids and take them home.

A week passed and I still hadn’t come to a decision just yet.  I still wore the wrist braces but I was still on the fence about going on medications for the rest of my life or risking a surgery that could mess up my nerves forever.

As I was rocking Jimmy for his afternoon nap, a knock was soon heard at the door.  Jimmy grumbled and fussed at being woken up just as he was about to fall asleep. I sighed heavily vowing to kill whomever it was that was at the door for waking up my stubborn boy.  I reached the door and opened it and I was shocked to see just who was standing on the other side.

“Tim?”

“Hey (y/n), been awhile, hadn’t it?”

“Yeah uhh—” I didn’t know what to say to him.  It’s been god I don’t know almost ten years since I’ve spoken to my brother and now all of a sudden here he is at my doorstep.

“Can—I come in?” he asked.  Normally I would’ve declined this offer but I knew I had to be the adult here, we’re both grown ups now and it’s time to bury the hatchet. Plus he came all this way and it’d be rude for me to just throw him back out on the street.

“Sure, yeah please come in.” I opened the door further for him and led him inside.

We now sat in the parlor and I handed Tim his coffee just like how he liked it; black no sugar.  He set the mug down after having a sip and I held Jimmy close to me trying to get him to go back to sleep.

“Which one is this?” asked Tim.

“This is Jimmy, your nephew. Chloe is currently napping right now. But you can look through that album under the table at Chloe’s baby book.” He nodded and took Chloe’s baby book out and began browsing through it.  He softly smiled and said.

“She looks just like you did when you were first born.”

“That’s what mum said.” Silence rang through the room and that’s when I said, “Tim not that I don’t appreciate you coming here but—why are you here?”

“Mum told me about your diagnoses that your secret doctor gave you, that CST.”

“CTS.” I corrected him.

“Right. Back when I got into Humpy Bong our pianist was diagnosed with it as well, completely ruined him. So much so that he thought he had no meaning left and he actually overdosed. When mum told me that you had it I—I just wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna…..you know.”

“Tim…..”

“I know that I haven’t been the best brother to you, hell I was a total wanker to you growing up. Pushing you too hard, I feel like this is my fault and I just….”

“Tim stop.” I told him.  He looked up at me and I sighed deeply before saying calmly, “I don’t want you to feel guilty or anything. There’s no reason you should even feel guilt. Well I could let you but I’m a mother now and I want to teach my kids that holding grudges never solves anything.” Tim choked out a laugh and I continued, “But what I do ask of you is that you don’t feel sorry for me, okay? I don’t want any sympathy or frowns or even tears about this. Stuff like this just happens, and for women it’s more common why that is I have no idea. Wish it didn’t but it does for whatever goddamn reason.”

“I want to make things right between us. So if you need anything, and I mean anything at all. You know you can always call me, right?” I smiled softly at him.

Seeing the soft look in his eyes, that’s all I’ve ever wanted from Tim.  His acceptance and the true love of what an older brother is.

“Thank you Tim. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to here you say those words.”

“I should’ve said them to you from the beginning. I failed you as a brother, but I want to make things right now. Will—will you give me another chance?” I looked at my brother and softly smiled at him.

Suddenly the front door opened again and I heard a familiar voice call out.

“Darling we’re home!” Soon the boys came around the corner of the house and when they saw Tim, both Brian and Roger were shocked to see him after all this time.

“Tim.” Muttered Brian.

“Brian, Rog, long time no see huh? Good to see you all have made a good name for yourselves.” Answered Tim.

“He’s not bothering you, is he (y/n)?” asked Roger succumbing to his protective instincts that he’s had towards me.

“Calm down Rog, everything’s good. I invited him over, felt like he deserved to meet his nephew and niece. A visit that was long overdue, right Tim?” he turned toward me and he went along with it.

“Yeah. But I don’t wish to impose any longer, I’ll see myself out.”

“Nonsense. I’m just about to start dinner, why don’t you stay?” I said to him.  Tim looked at me unsure but I gave him an assuring look telling him that there was no way he was getting away that easily.

“If that’s alright with you lads.” It was then Brian spoke up.

“I don’t mind. You did come all this way, plus you do deserve the chance to meet your niece and nephew face to face. Where’s Chloe at love?”

“She’s napping, though it is around the time she should be waking up. Why don’t you go get her Brian?” He nodded then went upstairs to go get Chloe.

“I can take him if you’d like (y/n).” said Deacy.

“Thanks John.” I handed him my son and I went over to the kitchen and that’s when Freddie and Roger came in and they asked if I needed some help.

I asked Fred to help me with some of the cooking while I had Roger set up the table.  After that boiled egg incident at Ridge farm, I vowed to never let Roger near a kitchen stove ever again so setting up the table is what he’ll be stuck with.  Once the pasta was ready, we all set down to a family dinner and I was told by the guys that they officially had a week break to rest up before they would head to America to finish up the tour.

So throughout the night it was spent just catching up and for the first time, Tim and I began to connect with each other as brother and sister.

Later that night after everyone had left the house and Brian went to bed, I silently slipped out of the bed and headed into the kitchen to make the phone call that I had been denying myself.  I held the phone to my ear and waited for it to ring before finally I heard his voice on the other line.

“Dr. Matthews it’s (Y/n) May. I’ve made my decision.”

A few days later with the help of Dr. Matthews, he gave me the prescribed pills that I would need to take twice a day one in the morning and one at night before I go to bed.  I kept the pills hidden so well that not even Brian would be able to find them or even suspect anything. The American tour dates were fast approaching so after the boys had their week’s rest it was time to get back in the game, and this time I was tagging along with them once more.

We were currently rehearsing “We are the Champions” and I was at the piano.  We were at the second chorus and I was doing good so far, the boys giving it their all and Freddie singing his heart out almost as if this rehearsal room was full of people instead of just us five.  

But by the second transition when the chorus needed to repeat, my wrists flared up even with the braces on and I missed a key. Which caused me to slam down the left side keys of the piano before leaning my head against my hands and holding them together trying to get the pain to stop.

“Yep, let’s call it.” I heard Deacy say as everyone stopped playing and agreed.

“Sorry. I played like shit.” I complimented as I shut the lid protecting the keys.  “You boys are lovely, sounded good.” I told them as I spun around from the piano bench as I saw the boys packing up their stuff.  “God if Elton heard me play like that he’d slap my hands like a Catholic professor.” Which made the boys chuckle.

“No worries darling, we’ve still got three days till we head out for America.” Freddie said as he took a sip of his beer.

“We’re in a good place love, your hands just need a bit more rest. That’s all.” Brian said as he stood before me and took one of my hands and stroked the brace. “How ‘bout when we get home, I give your wrists the proper massage, hmm?”

“Sounds divine my love.” I said lovingly to him. He smiled softly and pecked my lips before joining the guys in the back.

“You fancy a drink Rog?” I heard Freddie ask.

“Yeah there’s that’s new pub they just opened that I’ve been wanting to check out.”

“Can I come?” Brian asked.

“(Y/n) can, you cannot.” Deacy answered.

“Yeah exclusive invite only.” Said Roger.

“Sorry darling reservations in advance, (y/n) got hers in before you did.”

“Okay screw all of you. I see how it is.” Finally I decided it was time.

“Before we leave; do you all have a second?” I said as I stood before them and looked at my four boys.

“Of course darling, what’s up?” asked Brian. I took a deep breath before stating bluntly and right then and there.

“I’ve got CTS.” Everyone looked at me confused as Deacy questioned.

“What’s CTS?”

“Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.” It was then the expressions on Freddie’s, Roger’s, Deacy’s and Brian’s turned to shock.  “It’s when my wrists suddenly flare up in numbness or pain, that’s why my piano playing has been shitty lately, and the reason for the pain I’ve been experiencing these past couple of years.”

“(Y/n) dear I—I’m so sorry…..”

“Freddie stop. Don’t you dare.”  I looked down at my wrists before looking back at the boys and said, “Right now, there’s only 7 people who know about this, okay just 7. You four, my mum, brother and of course Dr. Matthews. Now I don’t want to hear any sympathy, see any frowning or bitching about how I should continue to take breaks. Because all that’ll be is just wasted time, time that I can spend playing alongside my boys.”

Each of them looked at me with faint tears in their eyes or looks of awe.

“This tour means everything to me now, because—I’ve come to the painful decision and it kills me to even say this but I know that if I continue to deny my health, then I’ll never use my hands to even be able to hold my children or any future children I may have.” I now stood by the piano stroking the smooth, cold black top, I took a deep breath and announced, “By the end of the year, I’m resigning myself from the band.”

At that announcement, the boys looked at me in shock.

“But until then, I’m not going to be what the press will refer to me as in the future. The “female shadow”, the “Forgotten Queen of Queen”. No, I decide who I am. And I’m going to go out being what I was born to be. A pianist, who deserves to be amongst the greatest piano players in history. Beethoven and Mozart, those classical bitches haven’t got a thing on me. (Y/n) (m/n) May.”

My boys looked at me with sad smiles, eyes of amazement and gentle nods.

“You’re the true queen of Queen (y/n).” said Roger softly.  I smiled and lowered my head and said.

“You’re damn right I am. We’re all queens. But you’re right, I am the true queen out of all of us.” The boys softly laughed and I told them.

“Now you all just give me time to get these bitchy little wrists back into shape, and we’ll make sure that any other tour you four will continue on in the future, won’t compare to the one we’ll give them in just three days.” They all nodded.

I walked towards them and we all got into a group hug and couldn’t help myself.

“And even though you four are crying like little girl scouts, I still love you boys.”

“Alright enough of this!” Proclaimed Freddie.  It was then they tried to re-masculate themselves up by talking about how many drinks they were gonna get.  I then cried out to them that there was nothing wrong with being sensitive but they elected to ignore what I was saying and tried to be “real men again”.

That night as I was getting into bed, I stared at my left wrist brace and sighed solemnly when I felt a pair of arms wrap around me.  A mess of soft curls tickled my neck as I felt kisses going up my neck.

“Have you taken your pills for tonight darling?” Brian asked.

“Yes mum.” I teased him.  I turned to face him and he looked down at me solemnly.  I looked up at him and said, “I thought I said I didn’t want to see any frowning about this?”

“I know I’m sorry. I just—I just wish I could take this pain away from you. I’m your husband, I’m supposed to protect you from everything.”

“You know I can take care of myself.”

“I know. But still I wish I had seen the signs. I could’ve….”

“Brian, none of this was your fault. You didn’t give this to me, things like this just—happen. And I wish it didn’t happen to me, but I pushed myself too far to achieve the dream and now I’m paying the price for it. The only one who should be blamed is me.” He stroked my cheek with his thumb and I leaned into his palm.

“You don’t have to be strong right now.” He whispered.  I looked up at him and just one look into those blue eyes broke me.  Tears ran down my face and Brian pulled me close to him and for the first time since my CTS diagnoses, I finally released all the anger, pain, heartbreak and sorrow I had built inside of myself.

I maybe acting crazy right now, and you all maybe thinking why go back and forth between acting so strong and talking so big, to breaking down like a child in my husband’s arms.

Well I’m finally in the prime of my life of a successful career, I’ve finally reached my dream of becoming a kickass pianist for the hottest band in the world.  But now it all came crashing down with this diagnosis and because of my arrogance and ignorance, I’ve costed myself this dream.

And to a pianist not being able to play the instrument they were born to play, that’s a fate worse than death.

Brian spoke not a word because at this point no words could heal the anguish that I was feeling inside at this very moment.  All he did was hold me as tight as he could, allowing me to release my pain in any way that I wanted to.  Eventually I had managed to vent myself out to the point of exhaustion.

Brian adjusted himself on the bed but not once broke his embrace on me.  He stroked my hair and I felt a kiss at the crown of my head and the last thing I heard him say before I fell asleep.

“You’re a fighter my love, my proud fighter.”

The tour in America continued as planned.  When it came time for the concerts, Fred actually sat beside me and the two of us would play a song together and if a pain flare grew too much for my braces, then I would stop and allow Freddie to continue, and when I felt lime it I’d come back and he’d back off and go back to doing his thing on stage.

In a way it worked out wonderfully, almost like it was a complete rehearsed tid-bit of us playing together then allowing one or the other to play solo before coming back as a duet.

All too soon, the year was coming to an end and not only that but it was also the end of another decade.  The 70’s after tonight would forever be behind us leading us into the 1980’s and god knows what was going to happen then.

I was currently sitting down with Miami as well as mine and Brian’s personal lawyer.  I had officially agreed to give a public statement of my condition to the public just so that way everyone knows about my CTS and the press don’t make up some bullshit story of me causing drama for the band just because I’ve decided to call it quits.

“Okay so Mrs. May you have officially agreed to point out that ‘I (Y/n) May have chosen to resign myself from the band Queen due to medical reasons. I wish to bring up the fact that I have been diagnosed with Carpal Tunnel Syndrome and that is my sole reason for leaving the band’ is that correct?”

“Yes Graham, that is correct.”

“You also wish to ‘ensure that this has nothing to do with creative differenced. This is solely for my health and for the benefit of the band.’”

“Yes.” I answered bluntly as I rubbed my right wrist. He wrote down a few more things and he said as he closed up his file.

“Okay, that’s that. This will be released to the press first thing in the morning.” I didn’t speak another word to him as he left leaving me and Miami alone.

“You sure about this love?” he asked me.

“If I keep pushing myself at this rate, I’ll risk an even greater risk of my CTS flares. It’s for the best, and I don’t want to bring Queen down because of it.”

“Okay, we’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you all, promise me you’ll take care of them for me Jim. You know how they can be.”

“You have my word, it’s been an honor seeing you perform (y/n).” He held out his hand and we both shook on it and said.

“Thank you for being probably one of the nicest lawyers we’ve ever had.” It was then I kissed his cheek and hugged him and he instantly hugged me back.  He patted my back and I held him tighter.

And just like Graham said, at the start of the New Year, the news was eating up my departure from Queen like wolves on a carcass. Every single news channel was talking about it, the tabloids blew up pictures of me along with the boys as a ripped up image representing me splitting from the band to make it seem more dramatic than it was.

The paparazzi were circling outside just waiting for me to come out just so they could hound me with questions.  I couldn’t even take my children out to the backyard to play outside or swing on the swings with them without risking them being exposed to the wolves outside.

I heard the door open and quickly shut and heard Brian’s voice say.

“Bloody hell they just don’t know boundaries whatsoever.”

“They never have darling, trust me remember that one bastard who actually managed to cup my arse that one time in Preston?”

“Boy do I. Roger and I nearly killed him right then and there for doing that to you.” He closed the blinds and sighed exasperatedly as he sat down beside me on the couch.

“Do you think I did the right thing?” I asked. Brian looked at me and I continued, “Releasing my leaving to the public? Did I do the right thing?”

“You did what you felt was right darling, it’s better they know it’s for a medical reason rather than whatever bullshit drama they can think of.”

“But I feel like I’m just causing more drama for you and the boys. I never wanted that to happen, I mean some of the tabloids are saying that I left because of my ‘womanly drama’ what the fuck is wrong with them?!”

“I wish I knew but (y/n) look at me,” I turned to him and I felt him grip my hands tightly yet lovingly in both of his and felt his thumbs stroke the back of my hands and along my wrists as he said, “Just know that the lads and I know the real truth. That we first heard it from you first about all this instead of reading about it in the tabloids. And fuck what some of them are writing, fuck them. Because they don’t know what you’re going through right now. But I do, so does Deacy, Roger, Freddie, your family. And that’s enough.”

“How did I ever deserve you Brian Harold May?” I asked. He smiled and pressed his forehead against mine as he said.

“Actually it’s the other way around my love.” I smiled as he brought his nose against mine and we Eskimo kissed before doing our little penguin nuzzle.  He then kissed my forehead and for the rest of the morning we just cuddled on the couch.

Later that day it was almost sunset and I was just setting Jimmy down for bed when I decided to just sit around and wait for Brian to return back from the studio.  I tried to find something to watch but all I could see was my face up on almost every bloody channel.

So I gave up on TV and just settled for a movie instead, I popped in Star Wars when I heard the door open and I heard Roger’s as well as Freddie’s voice.

“My lovely darling!” Freddie’s voice cried out. I shushed him and said.

“Fred I just put Jimmy and Chloe to bed.”

“Oh sorry dear, hope I didn’t wake the mini penguins.” He apologized. I rolled my eyes and that’s when I noticed the presents, in Freddie and Roger’s hands, a cake in Deacy’s and a bottle of champagne in Brian’s.

“What’s all this?”

“Well we’ve talked it over at the studio today and we felt like we needed to properly give our true queen of Queen a farewell party. Just to make sure she is never forgotten by the band, nor will she ever be forgotten.” Said Roger.

“So we cut rehearsal time today and we went out and got you these,” Freddie said as he gestured to all the things they bought.

“We tried baking a cake but we should’ve known that you are the true baker of the band, so we had to resort to a store bought cake.” Said Deacy.

“Awww you guys…..I can’t believe you would do this for me.”

“Better believe it darling. Though we still expect to see you at some rehearsals, still go to our concerts to support us and weekly updates on your recovery.” Fred said as he came up and wrapped an arm around my shoulders bringing me close to him.

“When I can find time in my busy schedule, you’ve got yourself a deal Mr. Mercury.” He gave me a one armed hug and kissed my temple and soon the celebration began.

The whole night was spent drinking, chatting and I was given special gifts from the guys.  Freddie had bought me a new jacket he had seen at the store and thought one person had to have it, Roger gave me the new David Bowie vinyl that I have had my eye on but never had the time to buy it, Deacy got me the new Elton John vinyl and he even got to have it signed by Elton himself.  It read.

My lovely (y/n),

Even though your CTS has stopped you in your tracks, never lose that passion for music. You are a firecracker and a worthy apprentice. Thank you for all that you’ve taught me and may our paths cross again soon.

Love and kisses,

Elton.

I got a little tear eyed and made a note to myself to give Elton a call later and tell him thank you for the lovely message. And Brian my ever so lovely spoiling husband gifted me with a brand new necklace with matching set earrings.  He also promised me another gift but that was for after the boys left to which the guys all gagged and mocked Brian.

I wiped away a tear falling down my face and that’s when Deacy noticed and said.

“What’s wrong (n/n)?” The guys turned their attention to me and I sniffled and said.

“Nothing. It’s just….I love you guys so much, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” They all awed at me and brought me in the middle of a group hug and that’s when Brian said.

“Better get used to it love, because even though you’re leaving the band, you’ll always be stuck with us.”

“I can live with that.” I chuckled as the guys hugged me tighter.

My name is (Y/n) May, from 1968-1979 I was a rock star.  In 1970 I became the pianist and keyboardist for a group that changed from Smile to Queen all thanks to Freddie Mercury.  Through Queen I wrote many great hit songs;

Keep yourself alive (co-written with Brian May)

March of the Black Queen

Killer Queen (music by me, lyrics by Freddie)

We will rock you

Somebody to Love

It was also through Queen that I met the love of my life and the father of my children.  It was through Queen I got to confess my love to Brian and thanks to that, I will teach my legacy to my children.

For I maybe gone from the band, but I know I will never be forgotten.  The true queen of Queen.

[glitterisevil-blog]

What Christmas Means to Me

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year” or so the song goes. But not if you’re someone who has mild Aspergers, OCD, or an awkward combination of the two. Even as I write this I’m acutely aware that I’m about to make myself sound like the biggest arsehole known to mankind, but I wanted to share this post to give people a bit of an insight into the way my brain works, and so that when I’m being particularly “un-festive” in the run up to Christmas, there’s a bit more understanding around why. I’m not just being a twat, I’m really not. There are elements of it that I genuinely struggle to cope with.

 Anybody with an Autism Spectrum Disorder or anyone who has a family member on this spectrum will know how difficult certain life situations can be. I’ve read about families who can’t have a Christmas tree, or can’t unwrap presents because they have children with severe Autism who find the whole thing far too stressful. 

Now, at no point here am I implying that this is my situation, nor am I looking to enter into any sort of woe-off contest with any readers of this post. This isn’t about me wanting sympathy; it’s about being able to express my feelings. Year after year I’ve been labelled a Grinch because I’m not skipping through Tesco whistling Jingle Bells whilst cheerfully stockpiling boxes of Quality Street, nor will you find me watching Muppet’s Christmas Carol the minute that Bonfire Night is done with. And I need to explain why…

 As long as I can remember I’ve found the concept of ambiguity quite stressful, and I detest having a lack of control over things. Everyday stuff that most people do without a second thought can cause me untold degrees of angst.

For example, imagine I had to park in a car park in an unfamiliar town, in order to catch a train somewhere. It wouldn’t be enough to just turn up and park there, oh no. I’d need to look online to see how many spaces the car park had to evaluate my chances of getting a space. I’d then need to understand the payment system in advance. Do I take a ticket and pay upon exit? Or do I pay upon entering? If so, will they take my card or will I need coins? Does the car park have a one way system or not? If that car park is full, where is the nearest back-up car park and what’s the distance from the train station? Should I just assume the worst and leave the house twenty minutes earlier than planned in case I need to use that back up car park and then have to walk to the station to get my train on time? It’s unlikely that I’d sleep particularly well the night before the journey either, with much of this going around in my head.

And inevitably, I turn up with plenty of time to spare, grab a coffee on the platform, and catch my train, just like all the normal folk. Everyone just assumes I’m really organised. It takes a lot of cortisol for me to appear this organised.

 So, onto Christmas…descending on us each year like a giant, expensive, tinsel-covered cold sore that we all felt erupting but had no power to stop. Here’s the bit where I make myself sound like a moaning, ungrateful bastard as I list the things I can’t cope with about Christmas. To all those “Buddy the Elf” types amongst you – pin back those pointy ears and brace yourselves….

  Christmas cards

I can’t even express how delighted I was a few years back, when the trend to donate to charity rather than send Christmas cards became a thing. I seem to recall that there may have been some actual air punching involved! Perhaps I’d now be spared the ordeal of cards infiltrating my home over December, sneaking in slowly and nestling themselves Trojan horse style between the electricity bills and bank letters. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to see as many of them lying there on my doormat alluringly, expecting to be unsheathed, admired and displayed in my home for all to see. Well no, I’m not spared that ordeal. Because the majority of people will still send cards, because they think it’s nice for me to receive a card, assuring me that they really want me to have a merry Christmas.

 Someone should pass an Act of Parliament that forces manufacturers to make Christmas cards a uniform size, shape and colour, and then perhaps I might have a chance at a merry Christmas. As it goes, I spend most of December putting them up and continually rearranging them in some semblance of size and shape order, until a new one appears in a random colour or format (a fucking purple star shaped card this year – seriously?!) and throws the entire display into chaos. Don’t even get me started on cards with glitter on FFS.  If you want me to have a merry Christmas, just tell me via text, email or Facebook and then I’ll know that you really mean it.

 Christmas trees and decorations

One day I will live in a mansion that could easily be the main feature article in Ideal Homes magazine. It will have a lounge the size of a church hall, with sleek polished wooden floors that would be the envy of any bowling alley. This lounge will contain nothing but a large sofa, a wall mounted television, a coffee table, and a textured rug. When this day comes, I might consider the concept of a massive, brightly coloured, flashing Christmas tree encroaching on my space. Whilst I live in a modest house, with a small lounge, that looks like an overflow warehouse for Toys R Us due to the amount of baby-related shit that already takes up an entire corner, I’m not entertaining one.

Based on my feelings towards a tree, I’m sure you don’t need me to explain why I won’t drape tinsel round my windows, or have a 2ft high, battery operated snowman in the house that talks to you each time you walk past it.

 Presents

This is the bit that carries the most immense guilt for me because it’s the part I really wish that I could enjoy. Those amazing people that you love dearly and who love you back, have taken time out of their busy week to spend their hard earned cash on choosing a gift for you. They’ve taken the knowledge that they have about you - the colours you like, the interests you have, your shoe size or body shape – and have used it to select a gift that’s just for you. That’s just lovely.

Except its not lovely if you’re me. Because now, a collection of unfamiliar items that I didn’t need or ask for have invaded my “safe space.”

And as well as now having to find homes for all these items, I’m also expected to show delight and gratitude to the giver of each item, and make up nonsense along the lines of “wow I’ve wanted one of these for ages!” when presented with a fucking spiraliser. This, my husband tells me, is what polite and normal people say at Christmas when presented with a gift.

Spoiler alert: I’ve not wanted one for ages, I’m sorry to tell you that this is a barefaced lie. Had this been the case I would already own one, as by now I would’ve identified some deep, primal urge to carve courgettes into the shape of spaghetti, and then trotted along to John Lewis to buy whichever gadget best made this happen.

So we can all safely assume that the fact that I didn’t already own a spiraliser means that I didn’t really want a spiraliser. But that’s a moot point because now I have one. And I have to store it somewhere in my house logical enough to convince the giver that I will use it (like the cutlery draw) and not somewhere unconvincing (like the wheelie bin) but each time I go to get a fork from the draw, seeing that bastard spiraliser sat there taking up space will remind me that I’m a horrible, ungrateful person who doesn’t deserve nice people in my life.

Now, gift cards are great, because they mean that I am in full control of all the purchases that will come into my house, and such purchases will cross the threshold following a great deal of prior consideration like whether they are needed, where they will live, and how they will be used. The beauty of the gift card is that if it happens to be for somewhere that I won’t ever shop, then I can simply choose not to use it, or re-gift it to someone who will. Yes, gift cards are good.

 Food

Franz Kafka once said that so long as you have food in your mouth, you have solved all questions for the time being. So based on this logic, during the month of December I must have solved more questions than The Beast, The Governess, and The Dark Destroyer from The Chase put together, because I literally DID NOT STOP EATING.

Food and drink are my Achilles heel, cheese especially so. Wine definitely. So having copious quantities of them around the house within easy spreading and pouring distance makes for a very difficult and uncontrolled time of year for me.

If I could merely enjoy them for what they were, and worry about the weight gain in January like everyone else does then it wouldn’t be as stressful. But that’s not how someone like me works, with my daily (sometimes twice daily) weigh ins, or my need to exercise excessively at the gym to erase the calories from a “bad” food day. Food should be enjoyed and respected. It should be shared with friends and family. It should be fuel for exercise. Food should not take the form of a tin of Roses, shovelled with wild abandon into your mouth, one after another, until you feel so violently ill that you have to put yourself to bed to resist the urge to throw them all up and start again like some sort of Roman emperor.

My unhealthy relationship with food can pretty much be kept in check from January to November because at no other point in the year do people find it acceptable to bring home a 24 pack of mince pies every time they nip to the garage for diesel. At no other point do we give ourselves carte blanche to get as fat as we want because we’re supposed to “eat drink and be merry” at this time of year. The entire concept of excessive Christmas eating, for me, dredges up far too many demons that I’d rather not face. Except not only am I expected to face them, I’m expected to welcome them in, pour them a Baileys and offer them a Ferrero Rocher because these demons have Christmas fucking jumpers on. It’s bollocks.

 So there you have it, a little glimpse of what it’s like to live inside my head over the festive period. And nobody needs to remind me of how unbelievably lucky I am to have these “problems” at Christmas because I already know this to be true, which only serves to compound the feelings of guilt that I feel when I read some of this back.

Next Christmas my son will be 18mths old and will want the WORKS! A huge tree adorned with glittery ornaments, Santa’s “snowy” footprints stomped out in the lounge, gaudy stockings hung up on the fireplace. So it’s possibly time I addressed all of these issues. Or at least some of them. I draw the line at tinsel.

[meerkatheart-blog]

Sp, Fantasy AU stuff. This was suppose to be a quick drabble, but ended up being a fucking 8 page nightmare. It’s pretty simple and a little lazy since it’s like 1:30 am and I need sleep.

But yay~ our first intro to Tucker. We learn a little about him and some of his powers. He will be developed as this goes on. My sweet baby, hope you guys like him.

“Did you hear that?”

“Mmph, hear what?”

“Singing”

The princess, well former princess anyway, was wide awake. Again. It had been yet another sleepless night. One could expect that with what all they had been through. Life had not been terribly kind to them in the past years. Her brother groaned in response, obviously trying to get some kind of a night’s rest.

“Lark, I have told you thousands of times, you are hearing things, try to get some sleep. We need to get moving tomorrow.”

Insulted, Lark stuck to her statement “And I’ve told you, I hear singing. I heard it last night too.” She looked out in the direction the sound had come from “It was the most beautiful singing I ever heard.”

No response.

He was tired. The long trek had been hard enough. The Queen’s, the false Queen’s, men had tracked them town by town. They would not rest until they were dead, as long as they breathed, they were her biggest threat.

The only hope for them now lay in the next region, somewhere far off enough to where they would be considered too far to look for. And by all unhappy circumstances, her brother had managed to sprain his ankle in their latest escape.They needed all the rest they could get. But that singing, she had heard it several times.

A voice, which she did not recognize but felt so familiar to at the same time, singing in a tongue she did not understand. Yet she could sense its meaning. Lark tried to lie down again, tried to drift off to sleep. Maybe she really was just dreaming.

There! There it was!

She sat straight up and reached out for her brother, then decided against it. He needed to rest.

Lark quietly stood up, listening. The singing appeared to be coming from the south. It didn’t sound very far at all. Maybe, just maybe she could catch a glimpse of its owner.

Her captain, bless his heart, had taught her a few things about tracking. She had sharp ears and could easily sense out the direction of where the sound was strongest.

As she crept closer and closer through the woods, she could see a clearing up ahead. A lake was visible through the brush, light reflecting off it’s blue surface. The singing was its strongest here. Carefully, she knelt down at the very edge of the brush.

By the very edge of the lake, a hooded figure sat on its knees by the water. The body was small and shrouded in a dark cloak that twinkled like a starry night. From behind it was difficult to tell, but it appeared to be bent over in a prayer-like position. One thing was clear, this was the singer.

The voice was indescribable. It was harmonious and beautiful, like the sound of music at a carnival in the summer, the pipes and strings coming together in perfect unison with the whistles of birds and light hearted villagers. Yet, the song was also very disturbing and sad, the noise wind makes through a hollow forest in the dead of winter, or the mournful chorus at the funeral of a loved one. Lark found herself both entranced and unsettled by its haunting tune.

“It seems I have an audience.”

The voice snapped her out of her hypnosis. She crouched further back to hide.

“I know you’re there, dear thing.”

The voice itself was gentle and light, but very melancholic. It was the voice of someone who knew there was good in the world, but had witnessed very little.

Regardless, it seemed to know she was there.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t hurt you even if I could.” A hand reached out to its side, it beckoned her forward. “Please, come out.”

Well, she could run, but…did she really want to. Whatever it was would only follow her. Then she could really end up in trouble. Slowly, she exited the brushwood. Stepped out into the clearing cautiously. Not wanting to get too close to the hooded figure just yet.

“Come now dear child, step closer, I don’t bite I promise.”

Carefully, she approached the figure by the lake. As Lark neared them, it was clear that it was some kind of person. Well, she figured that much out already. But, they indeed were very small, probably chest high to her if they were to stand up.

She reached the figure, they spoke to her again. “Please, sit next to me.”

Lark, too far to go back now, knelt down beside the hooded figure. Slowly, she faced it.

Their gaze was still on the lake. The hood carefully hid their face. The cloak itself now seemed to be a deep, rich purple color, the edges embroidered with intricate symbols that she could not place. The cloak glittered like the stars in the sky. The only thing visible was the hands, pale and thin with slender, delicate fingers.

“I’m..I’m sorry I disturbed you.” Lark said, deciding to try and get off on the right foot with her new ‘friend’.

“Oh it’s alright. I don’t mind at all, I think it’s a lovely night for company.” She could not place a gender to this voice whatsoever, or an age. It did not sound female, male, young, or old. It sounded, sad. That was the only really fitting word for it. It sort of drifted everywhere, like music.

“I heard your singing” Lark said, looking back at them “Your voice is, marvelous. What were you singing about.”

They sounded pleased “Oh, thank you. Your voice too is lovely.” The hooded head tilted upwards “I was singing a song of praise to my mother-goddess, thanking her for this perfect night.” They had so much passion in their voice as they said this, for as soft as their voice was.

“That’s so…lovely.” Lark said, wanting to be polite. But she wasn’t being very polite, not introducing herself. “Well, I suppose I should tell you my name, I’m…”

Soft laughter cut her off. The figure shook a little with its gentle chuckles “Oh I know who you are, Princess Lark of Boreatis. Sister to the true king.”

Lark lost her breath, her throat dry and eyes wide. “How..” she whispered

“Your highness..” the hooded figure turned and faced her for the first time “…nothing hides from my kind.”

If she had not been shocked before, she was now.

The face itself was as pale and slender as the hands. The nose was dead center and sloped slightly upwards. The lips were thin and pale, the chin small and rounded. What hair was visible was the same color as sun dried straw. But what was most apparent, was the silver strip of fabric that covered the eyes, a signature trait of a particular race of magical being.

“You’re a Seer!” she gasped, softly.

They nodded. “Indeed I am.”

“But..but…” she stammered, a little spooked “..we all thought you went extinct years ago. I…I thought….”

“You mortals think so much, it’s rather precious really.” The seer said, with a soft sort of affectionate tone to his voice. “You all think yourselves up in a real fit you do.”

Lark gathered her wits. She had just followed a strange singing voice to a mysterious lake in the middle of nowhere, and now she sitting within breathing distance of the first Seer that had been seen in these lands in centuries. What a night so far.

“Oh it’s still young yet, my lady.”

Lark was a little caught off guard, and then she remembered “Oh right, you guys read minds.”

“Well…” the Seer shrugged “..yes, indeed we can. I can look into your thoughts and your dreams.”

“And, you can see the future, right.” Lark asked, turning more into their general direction.

At this, the Seer seemed to recoil slightly. At first, she was afraid she had offended them. But after a while, the Seer answered “Yes, indeed. I can look through the fabrics of time. It is my better known ability”

Lark bit her lip, carefully wondering how she was going to answer this. She had seen how they had reacted when she had mentioned seeing into the future, she didn’t want to upset them. It was clearly a touchy subject. “Well, I say that because, there…I was hoping you can tell me….”

The Seer cut her off with a raised hand. Then they looked straight up at her, the lake glinting off the silver blind-fold. Then they turned their hand, palm upward and gestured for her to take their hand.

She was cautious

. “Come now…you want to see, let me show you.” With a deep breath, she took their hand.

Together, they stood up. The Seer’s purple cloak parted slightly, revealing the comfortable traveler’s wear it wore underneath it. Their hands were soft and held with the lightest touch, fingertips barely grazing the skin on her wrist. One foot in front of the other, they began to lead her into the lake.

Lark was frightened at first. Then quickly realized that the water never reached past her waist, no matter how deep it seemed that they were getting. That and, her clothes didn’t feel, wet. The Seer definitely knew what they were doing.

“You may give me a more familiar gender if you would like. I have none myself, but whatever is more comfortable for you.”

“Oh well…what do you prefer.” Lark asked, still wanting to be polite. It would make things a little less awkward.

“Well, I suppose male is the one I’m most often assigned as. So, male will work.”

They, he, lead her to the very center of the lake. The moon was almost directly above them. It felt so close that you could have reached out and touched it.

“What are we doing?” she asked him

“Showing..” was all he said. Then he waved one hand out over the lake.

Before her, colors and lights collided on the surface of the water. In it, she could see moving pictures of people she knew and things she had seen. As well as things she had never seen, and people she had never met.

Then, a face she knew so well, and loved so much. Fox. His ginger hair and battle worn face. She felt tears trickle down her cheek. He was alive. “Oh Fox, my darling, oh my…” tears dripped onto her hands. Oh he was alive.

“Yes my dear, he is alive and relatively well. He misses you dearly.” The Seer said kindly.

Lark gently touched he Seer’s shoulder, the purple cloak was thick and soft as velvet “Oh, how I would give anything to see him again.”

He touched her hand gently and said “I make no promises, but…if the stars are in our favor, and they usually are…I do believe there will come a day where you are back in his arms.”

She looked to the Seer, hopeful. Lark felt her heart lighten at these words “You…you mean it.”

The Seer nodded “Yes. On the good name of my mother-goddess, as long as everyone plays their part perfectly, things will be set right.”

The colors faded from the lake, and the Seer began to lead her out of the lake. Lark was about to ask him what he meant by playing her part, when she saw Donaugh by the edge of the lake, watching her will wide eyes as she climbed out of the water, accompanied by a Seer.

“Oh Donnie.” She said, in a sort of dream-like state “He’s alive! My captain lives. I can rest peacefully now.”

Donnie was not listening; he was staring speechlessly at the magical being in front of him. His father had told tales of Seers to him when he was a boy. But…they were just…he had sworn that they did not actually exist anymore. “Your…your..”

“Your hurt.” The Seer spoke plainly. Without even noting the flabbergasted expression, the Seer carefully set the prince down on the ground. There, he examined the prince’s wounded ankle.

“You’re a Seer.” Donnie finally spoke

“I’m glad to see you found your voice, your majesty.” The Seer said politely, not facing him. Slender fingers carefully examining the sprained joint.

Lark knelt down beside the magical being and watched him work. Then she asked, after a while “Can you..can you fix it?”

The Seer prodded a little while more, before saying “Yes, it’ll be easy enough. But I’ll need your help.”

“MY help?” Lark asked, a little stunned “What do you need me to do.”

The Seer looked in her direction and said “I need your dreams, your thoughts; it’s how I charge my energy. Please…” he held out his hands “..I won’t hurt you.” Lark looked at him, then at her brother (who shook his head), then back at the Seer. With a deep breath, she gathered her courage and leaned her head forward into the Seer’s grasp.

His fingertips gently touched her temples, his forehead rested against hers. She could feel him, the nightmares and fears being gently pulled from her mind and into his. “That’s it my dear, give me your fears and sorrows, they’ll do me more use than you.”

Once he had enough, he pulled away and put his hands up to the air and he said “Sweet mother Lillarouga, gentle goddess of the final world, I come to you with the strength of a grain of sand, help me heal this child of this un-kind world”

He placed his hand on Donnie’s ankle, and he sang.

As he sang, the joints in Donnie’s ankle began to glow a brilliant purple. Mending together in seamless perfection before their eyes. When all was done, the Seer exhaled and rubbed his cheeks in his hands.

Donnie was in shock “That’s just like new…” he turned to the Seer, as Lark helped him to his feet “…thank you.”

“Oh no matter.” The Seer said, standing up himself. Lark smiled, looking down at the kind being.

“Sorry to sound so needy, but..” she asked “…you wouldn’t happen to know somewhere safe we can stay for a while do you?”

The Seer looked up at her and said “Yes, there is a nice town a little ways from here. Lapshad it’s called, it’s far outside the borders of the kingdom. It’ll give you everything you need. I’ll lead you there.”

The Seer began to lead them back to where they had set up camp.

Along the way, Donnie asked “Is she..alright.”

The Seer looked back at him. There was the kindest, knowing smile on his face “The one you speak of is indeed alive.”

He turned back to keep walking “She will be the key to seeing you back on the throne, I too will have a part to play, we all will. But I will tell you one thing for right now.”

The Seer turned back to the prince and said “Two trees of life have come together in forbidden love…and now a flower blooms from their entangled branches.”

Then he kept going on, leaving the prince to wonder just what the hell he said.

[doomedandstoned]

Life Disintegrates

A Chat with Goya's Jeff Owens

~Interview and Concert Pics by Leanne Ridgeway~

                Before we get to the new tidbits, how are you and how are you digging the new Goya line-up?

Hey! Things are going great.   We just got done with a short hiatus from shows to record our new album, and we’re getting back into the swing of things.   I started Goya when I was in a different band, because I wanted to do something a little heavier and a lot slower.   Nick joined a couple of years later and Sonny joined up last year.   The first time I met Nick was actually the first time he came to jam with us.   Sonny had filled in at short notice on a tour with us in 2014, and we’re very happy to have him as a mainstay, finally.   It’s been a long time coming.

For several releases you’ve worked with Laney Oleniczak in creating album artwork -- all gorgeous collaborations, by the way.   Are there other artists whose work you drawn inspiration from?

Yeah, Laney did a great job on the Nothin’ but Dead Stuff 7” and Obelisk.   Nothin’ but Dead Stuff is definitely one of my favorite covers of ours.

Hunter Hancock has been instrumental in crafting the imagery of Goya.   He painted the cover for 777, and designed one of our earliest and best-selling t-shirts.   We enlisted his artistic talent once again to do all of the art and layout for Harvester of Bongloads, which was definitely the right choice.

As far as other artists, there are honestly too many out there to put in a concise list.   If I had my druthers, we would have Skinner and Arik Roper doing artwork for us.   Maybe one day!

Last October, Goya self-released a battering four-song EP Doomed Planet through your own label, Opoponax Records, along with three other releases -- all in 2016 -- and now the new LP, Harvester of Bongloads, which just released.   How much pressure do you put on yourselves to record new music?

We’re always trying to move forward.   Usually, by the time we have a release out, we already have three or four new songs we’re working on for the next one.   Honestly, this is the first time that hasn’t happened.   We literally have zero new material at the moment.   There’s still a chance that that will change, though!

All that being said, we don’t really put pressure on ourselves, per se; we just work on new material as it comes.   I think we all (“we all” being musicians) probably enjoy working on new music the most, so that’s the main pressure.   We just want to keep having fun.

Harvester Of Bongloads by Goya

Do you and the other guys have a disciplined method for writing new material or do new songs grow fluently from a jam session?

I am a songwriter at heart, so usually I have everything pretty fleshed out by the time I bring it to the band.   Sometimes I’ll even record demos on my own and send them out.   Things do tend to take on a life of their own, of course, when other minds get involved, which is great.  I suck at drums, so when I record drums for a demo, there are a lot of things I can’t do.   And with the bass, Sonny and I have a similar bass style, but he definitely plays some things differently than I would, so it really helps to create a sound that is nothing like what I would have done on my own.   Now that the band is caught up with where I’m at writing for the first time ever, I’m excited to see where things go!

What do you personally consider to be the most insightful moments while writing and recording Harvester of Bongloads, and what is your favorite moment on the album?

To be honest, I think that there is a lot about this record that is the most dumbed-down, primitive version of Goya, so I’m not sure there is a moment that I can consider to be extremely insightful.   One thing I can say is that "Omen" took four years to write and it only truly started to come together in the month or two before we hit the studio.

We were still tweaking things on that tune in the studio, in fact.   There is a lot of that song that is very different from the way we were playing it a year ago, and it is much better for it.   Originally, the bass and drums were doing the exact same thing the guitar is doing in the beginning of the song, and it was super boring.   I have some demos of it, and I cringe when I listen to them.

At one point, I talked to Sonny and told him that he should write a more engaging bassline, one that Nick could write a drum part to.   Once they got their parts together, it allowed me even more freedom in my part.   Then I started to write additional parts that went with some of the stuff they had added to the song.

The lesson there is that a three-piece is best when everyone is doing their own thing that is engaging, but still goes with what the other two are doing. I hesitate to call that insightful, because it’s sort of a, “Well yeah, duh!” statement.

As far as a favorite song, I think we all like “Disease” the most, though I really enjoy the “Fade Away” section of “Omen,” as it’s the only time we’ve done something like that so far.

Back to the Opoponax Records label, for a minute.   Would you share the story on why you started our own label?   How do you balance the scale in being both the owner of a music business and a musician?   Is it easier or more frustrating to be the one in control of the result?

There isn’t much of a story to why I started the label, honestly.   It was out of necessity.   I wanted 777 to come out on vinyl.   I looked into how much it would cost, realized I could afford it at the time, and started Opoponax Records.

Opoponax is a really small operation, so it’s not too difficult to manage.   I don’t even think of myself as a business owner, to be honest.   I still have a day job, and that is the most difficult thing to balance in the equation.   The hardest thing about balancing Opoponax and Goya is worrying that an unruly customer is a Goya fan.   I’m sure fellow record label guys will know what I’m talking about when I say that some customers can be rather difficult and demanding.   I’m kind of a take-no-shit type of person, but I also want to keep people happy, especially if they’re fans.   That being said, when someone is being a real asshole, I’m not going to cave in to their bullshit, and I imagine that makes Goya lose some fans here and there.

There are obviously things that are easier and things that are harder in taking care of a release 100% on my own.   Overall, I think it’s easier, as I enjoy retaining control over the art and packaging as it is.   We’ve had some stellar-looking releases come out from other labels that I’m very grateful for, but to say that everything has always gone 100% smoothly with them would be a lie.   We’re definitely on good terms with every label we have worked with, but there is always some level of compromise when you work with a label.   Whether or not the compromise is worth it always comes down to what the label can offer that I can’t do myself.

At this point in the game, I feel that I can do anything the labels we have worked with so far can, but I am hopeful that the next Goya record (whenever that happens) will be with someone who can bring something new to the table.

Opoponax Records also just released their first non-Goya record with the new Toke 12”.  Do you plan to expand the label’s distribution roster or was this a one-time thing?

It wasn’t a one-time thing.   I have a Grey Gallows release coming out this year, as well (hopefully in April).   However, I am very picky about what I will put out, mostly because I can’t afford to do much.   I started this label to release Goya records, so I have to make sure that nothing I put out is going to hold up the Goya release schedule.   2017 is already booked solid, in terms of what I’m putting out, and I’ve had to turn down a few people.

I actually just turned down a release today that I would have loved to do, simply because it would have held them up for a long time.   Nobody wants their record put out a fucking year from the day they make an agreement!

I’ve wanted to run a record label since I was young, and I’m finally doing it.   I hope things continue to go well and I’m able to sustain this for years to come!   Perhaps one day, Goya will be on a better label, and I’ll be able to put out only other bands.

Goya is heading out shortly for an “East Coast Weekend Disaster” tour with Aneurysm, Toke, and several other bands (which us North Eastern people are thrilled about, by the way). What are your touring plans beyond these dates?

We have a West Coast tour this month. Other than that, that’s all we are really able to talk about. We definitely plan on hitting it harder this year than we have before and harder every following year.

What’s been the best show you’ve play so far with Goya?

Psycho Las Vegas, hands down.   Crowd response played a huge part in that.   There really is nothing like being in a room full of people that are all there to have a good time, and are really enjoying themselves.   When the crowd has energy, it’s really easy to feed off of that energy, and it helps our performance a lot.   The Vinyl stage at Hard Rock Hotel is a killer venue, as well, and we had people running sound that did a terrific job.   We’re so grateful that we were afforded that opportunity.   We would be more than happy to do it again any time.

What about the worst, or the strangest, experience you’ve had at one of your own shows?

Hmm, probably a show with Slow Season in Tucson at The Bashful Bandit.   That was a few years ago and surely the show would do better now with both bands playing there, but it was a total ghost town, and felt kind of awkward.   We really like Slow Season, though, so at least we got to hang out with them and watch them play!   Always a pleasure.   Get back at us in a few years and we’ll probably have a worse story!

On a personal note, I know you’ve made the choice, somewhat recently, to go sober.   Many folks find that a difficult thing to maintain, particularly in the music industry and the "stoner rock" realm.   How has this lifestyle change affected your perspective on your music and goals for Goya or Opoponax Records?

It honestly hasn’t affected those things much.   Before I quit smoking, I had already decided that we were going to make Harvester our last weed-worship album, but also make it our best one.   I have a desire for things to mature.   That desire is evident on Obelisk, where there is not a single drug reference.   Another thing that has changed is the Opoponax Records weed-a-gram logo.   But, again, that is something that I had already wanted to change back when I was still smoking, so it really is all coincidental timing.

I went sober during a bad breakup.   I was absolutely crushed and incapacitated for about three days, and it was the first three days I had been sober in a while, so I figured I would just ride it out.   I say “sober,” but I really was only smoking weed.   I’ve never been a legitimate addict.   I just realized that I was always irritable when I couldn’t smoke, mostly because I love smoking so much, so I figured that if I cut it out entirely, I wouldn’t be as irritable.   The jury’s still out on that one, to be honest.   I think I’m just a pissed off dude, in general.

If funds were no object and Goya had their pick of active bands to play with, where have you always wanted to play and who are the bands you want in the lineup?

Roadburn is probably at the top of that list.   Touring that whole area of the world is definitely a goal.   There are so many bands it would be great to play with, big and small.   High on Fire, Valkyrie, Metallica, Sleep, Ozzy, Baroness, Soundgarden, Iron Maiden, Orchid, and on and on.

How do you think venues, labels, and bands could work better together to get a solid crowd turnout and record/merchandise sales?

As far as labels, just promotion in general.   Strong internet presence seems to be the name of the game right now.   For bands, I think just doing your best all of the time with everything you do, as though every time you play your instrument, it will be the last time, because one of those times, it definitely will be!

What is the most important thing a newer band should do to get themselves heard?

Put out an album on vinyl, and contact as many blogs as possible with a free digital copy and all of the release info.

Massive thanks, Jeff, for taking a few moments to visit with the Doomed & Stoned readers -- and, of course, to Goya for kicking our eardrums into oblivion!   Parting words?

Don’t let people waste your time.

Follow The Band.

Get Their Music.

Goya On Tour

If you’re lucky enough to be where Goya is playing, get your ass to a show!

March 9th – The Flycactcher - Tucson, AZ March 10th – Yucca Taproom - Phoenix, AZ March 11th – Soda Bar - San Diego, CA March 12th – Complex - Glendale, CA March 13th – Elbo Room - San Francisco, CA March 15th – High Water Mark - Portland, OR March 16th – Funhouse - Seattle, WA March 17th – The Shredder - Boise, ID March 18th – Club X - Salt Lake City, UT March 19th – Beauty Bar – Las Vegas, NV March 20th – The Green Room – Flagstaff, AZ