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phoenixmakeswords · 5 years

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This Thing Needs A Name Ch.1

I thought I might share the first chapter of the AU I’m working on with y’all. I’m actually enjoying writing this more than I thought I would. TW: CSA mention (nothing graphic) and brief anxiety attack.

The icy December wind cuts through my clothes as I make my way down 23rd street to The Inked Moose. I hate winter. Especially Chicago winter. If I had any sense, I would’ve driven my car, but I never claimed to be smart. Ask my mama; she’ll say the same thing.

Stepping inside the tattoo shop feels like coming home. I'm more familiar with the bright orange walls, black tile floor, and lime green ceiling than I am with almost any other place in the city. The eclectic décor is mostly local artwork that’s also for sale. Herbert the moose is the exception to the rule. Sporting oversized, green novelty sunglasses, he watches over the lobby from his place behind the front desk. Mardi Gras beads hang from his massive antlers.

I'm too early. I know that. But I'm always early.

Ransom, my regular artist, smiles warmly when he sees me. He’s honestly the most beautiful man in the city. I'm not just sayin’ that ‘cause he does amazing tattoos for me either. I could get lost in those jade eyes of his. I’d love to knot my fingers in that curly black hair of his and kiss him breathless. I’d be lying if I said he isn’t in my fantasies every time I jack off.

I deal with the paperwork and browse the variety of plugs and tunnels in the display case. I could probably do the paperwork in my sleep. I don’t want to bother him while he’s working.

“You know, we’re actually needing help,” the owner, Riley, remarks casually.

“How’d you know I'm needin’ a new job?” I’ve lived here since I was thirteen but I haven’t managed to trade my New Orleans accent for that of Chicago yet.

“I didn’t. I can get you an app while you wait on Ransom. It’s not an artist’s position. You’d be the receptionist. Still interested?”

“Riley, I’d live here if I could.”

Filling out the app takes the perfect amount of time. Ransom’s finished the sketch just as I’ve finished the app.

“Like it?” he asks, toying with his blue Star of David necklace. He does this when he’s nervous. I think it’s cute.

I'm in love with it. The Falcon tattoo looks awesome!

“Let’s do it,” I grin.

I watch eagerly as he sets up. This is when my nerves really set in. He looks perfectly at home here. He hums softly to himself as he gets the inks out. He’s taped a picture of the Falcon to the cabinet so he can match the colors.

“You look terrified,” he remarks.

“I am. This is gonna hurt.” I set my glasses on the guest chair so I don’t send them flying when I take my hoodie and t-shirt off. It makes me nervous for another reason. I'm half-naked with the guy I have a thing for.

Once the transfer’s been placed and my skin’s clean, I lie on my left side in the chair, facing the wall. I have other ink. I’ve gotten all of it from him. But none of it’s been on my ribs.

“So, we might be working together?” he asks, starting his machine.

“Yeah. I'm still going to school too.” I swear I can feel the needles vibrating in my bones. It hurts! I thought it was painful when he tattooed over the tendon in my forearm on my phoenix. Nope, this is worse.

“What happened with the bakery? I thought you were happy. You good?”

“I fucked up. Yeah, I'm good.”

“What’d you do, Kris?”

“Slept with the brother of one of my coworkers. Now the guy’s bein’ a complete jerk to me.”

“You are going to get the crap beat out of you one day for that. What if the guy has a boyfriend and you don’t know it?”

“Well, I guess I'm screwed.”

He chuckles softly at that, a low rumble in his chest.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” I tell him. I'm starting to get used to the pain. I wish I could watch; watching him do the tattoo helps.

“Oh, yeah? What’s up, buttercup?” Amusement flickers in his eyes.

“I like you.”

“That’s not a question.” He sounds confused. Go me.

“How do you feel about hookups?”

He worries his full lower lip between his teeth for several heartbeats. I’ve gone too far. I’ve screwed up the one good thing I had going for me. He might never want to tattoo me again.

“Friends with benefits?” he asks quietly, wiping off excess ink and rubbing my skin with Vaseline.

“Yeah.”

“Alright, if this is fucked-up, it’s your fault. You completely derailed my brain.” He sighs softly as he touches the needles back to my skin.

“My tattoo or us?”

“Both.”

“You don’t have guys asking to sleep with you all the time?” The idea surprises me. Surely I'm not the only guy who thinks he’s hot.

“Not generally, no. Tonight?”

“Your place or mine?”

“Mine.” A slight smile plays at his lips as he works.

We both lapse into silence for a bit. I can hear Kaiden and Raphael, the other two artists, working on their own respective clients. The buzzing of the machines is a comforting sound to me. Too bad white noise machines don’t have tattoo machine noises as an option; they might actually help me sleep then. The Kids Aren’t Alright plays from the speakers and I hum along to it softly.

“So, which do you like? Top, bottom, or doesn’t matter?” he asks quietly, stirring me from my thoughts.

“Bottom, usually. I don’t mind topping once in a while.”

“That works. I’ve almost got the outside outlined. If you need a break, you tell me, alright? You know that.”

“I'm good for right now.”

“I think they interviewed your sister about being a piercer.”

“You’re kiddin’.”

“Serious as a heart attack. You guys don’t look alike.”

“I look like Mama. She looks like him.” I can’t help the extra emphasis I put on the word. It’s all caps in my head. Has been for years.

“Him being your dad?”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ perverted bastard.”

“Whoa. Chill with the ice before you give me frostbite.” He pauses to scoot closer, leaning over me as he works. I don’t know if it’s the hand a couple inches above my hip or the sudden closeness, but I can’t breathe.

“Break.” I barely choke the word out. He leans back immediately.

“You okay?” He sounds worried.

“Gimme a minute. Please.” Shutting my eyes, I try to remember how to breathe. I don’t need to have an anxiety attack. There’s no reason for me to freak out like this. It’s Ransom. He’s not going to attack me.

“You alright?” he asks gently.

“Anxiety.”

“Did I do it or did what we were talking about do it?”

“I don’t know.” It’s several moments before I can breathe again. He doesn’t complain, though. “You can go ahead.”

“Are you still liking your classes?” He goes back to work.

“They’re not bad. I'm excited to graduate, though.”

“Still planning on opening a bakery?”

“Of course. If I ever don’t want to, I'm probably an alien.”

“Do you wanna just come home with me after my shift?”

“Sounds good.”

I don’t complain of it hurting until he starts filling the tattoo in. The pain is more constant now, more of a pulsing throb in each of my ribs. I don’t ask for another break. I don’t want another break.

I exhale shakily in relief once he’s done. I hadn’t realized how tense I was until my muscles relax.

“You needed another break,” he remarks, cleaning my new ink gently. I flinch each time he touches my tender skin.

“I didn’t want one.”

“You’re impossible.” The smirk’s audible in his voice. “Wanna see it? Can I take a pic?”

It looks awesome! It looks straight out of one of the movies, which makes sense ‘cause that’s where the reference pic came from. I love it.

“You rocked it,” I grin, knocking my knuckles against his. His face lights up at the praise.

He doesn’t say anything until after he takes the picture on his phone.

“I'm glad you like it. Remember your aftercare instructions?” he says, pressing Saniderm sheets over the Vaseline-coated tattoo one sheet at a time.

“I might need an extra set of hands covering it. I think I’ve got them memorized.”

“I’ve got Saniderm at home, but you’ll have to get more salve. Not sharing that.”

“You’re willin’ to fuck me but not share your tattoo salve?” I wince as I slide my shirts back on.

“That’s what condoms are for.”

I dig out my wallet and press a fifty dollar bill into his palm.

“That goes in my new car fund,” he jokes, stuffing it into the front pocket of his tight black skinny jeans.

“I’ll be up front, okay?” I squeeze his hand tentatively. He smiles shyly in response.

I buy a couple little jars of tattoo salve before making myself at home in one of the plush chairs in the lobby. This is my biggest piece so far, so I know I’ll go through a lot of salve.

I glance anxiously at my phone once I get comfortable. I haven’t heard from my family since last weekend when I came out as gay. I’ve sent texts, but all I’ve gotten is radio silence. And it hurts. It twists inside me and wraps around my heart and digs in with little thorns until I can barely stand it. “Ready to go?” Ransom asks, startling me. He’s 6’3” and as silent as a housecat. “Sorry. Are you okay?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” I just want him to fuck me. And then on tomorrow night, Clare and I will go out and I can drink and forget for a little bit.

“You look pretty upset.” He puts on his coat and shoves a red beanie over his curly hair.

“Drop it. Okay?” The good mood I had when I got here has evaporated.

I barely say a word on the drive to his apartment. I might tell him. I might not. I’ll probably tell Clare later; I tell her everything.

“I'm not sure how you like doing this, but I wouldn’t mind spending a little time with you first,” he remarks in the elevator.

“I don’t really care for porn.”

“I was meaning dinner and talking to you. Not just screwing your brains out.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I need right now.” I sigh in relief when the elevator stops. I just wanna have sex and feel a little less shitty than I do right now.

“Are you mad at me?”

“It’s not you.”

I barely wait until he’s locked the apartment door behind us before I'm kissing him hungrily. I have to stretch to kiss him; he’s almost a foot taller than I am. He hesitates a moment before he kisses me back. His lips taste like pina colada.

“Have you been drinkin’?” I ask, pulling back. I'm not a rapist. I'm not a monster.

“Lip balm. Like it?” He guides me gently to his white couch. I don’t want gentle. Right now, I don’t need gentle.

“Yeah.”

“Kris, if this is some convoluted self-harm thing, we’re not doing anything tonight. I’m not helping you fuck yourself up.”

“I’m already fucked up. I don’t need help.” I glare at him irritably. I wish he’d quit trying to therapize me and get with the screwing.

“What changed? If you think I’m gonna spread nasty rumors or blackmail you or some shit like that, I’m not. I don’t do that.” He traces the outline of my phoenix tattoo with his forefinger.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Alright? I asked you to drop it, so fuckin’ drop it.” My voice breaks pathetically. Great. Now he’s gonna think I’m moody and pitiful.

“Are you hungry? I’m gonna eat before we do anything, okay?”

“Go ahead. I’m fine.” I haven’t felt like eating for a couple days. I should probably eat something, but it feels like too much effort.

“If you change your mind, just say something.” He squeezes my knee gently before going to the kitchen.

I pull out my phone as soon as he’s gone. Nothing. My messages have been delivered but not answered. I feel like wrapping myself in a blanket and disappearing for a while. Maybe if I’d had some idea this was going to happen, it wouldn’t be as bad. I mean, it’d still be soul-sucking and depressing, but I could’ve at least anticipated. Instead, I’ve been blindsided.

And I feel like absolute crap. He’s nice. Like, he might be the most considerate guy I’ve been with.

“I don’t usually do this,” I murmur, snuggling against him.

“Do what? Stay the night or sleep with your tattoo artist?” He runs his fingers carefully through my hair. Like I might break if he’s anything but gentle.

“Both. I, um, I usually go home. After—After what happened, it’s hard for me to stay the night. Plus, I don’t exactly have the greatest taste in men. No offense. You’re great.” I tense as I wait for him to pepper me with questions. I don’t like talking about why I live in Chicago and not New Orleans. Why I don’t feel safe ever going back. Why I have nightmares so bad I wake up screaming. I don’t want to explain. I don’t feel like explaining. But he’ll ask, so I’ll answer.

“Is there anything I can do to make it less scary? You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

I raise up to stare at him in shock.

“You’re serious?” I whisper.

“Of course.” He brushes his thumb gently along my cheekbone.

“This wasn’t what I expected.”

“The sex or me wanting to help you?”

“The last one.” I go back to lying against his chest.

I hadn’t expected him to care about how big of a deal this is to me. It’s kind of nice.

#my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #alternate universe #original fiction #original fanfiction #lgbt romance #lgbt fiction #first chapter #kris is a mess

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taexual · 6 years

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EXO / Making up after a fight

Request: HI! I have a request for exo if that's okay. Making up after a fight. Doesn't have to be sexual or anything.

Thank you for requesting this, I hope you like it! 🖤

OTHER VERSIONS: GOT7

Warning: some strong language and sexual references

Xiumin

You had locked yourself inside of your bedroom, refusing to talk to Minseok, or even look at him. You needed some time to get yourself and your thoughts together. But although you didn’t want to see him right now, a small part of you was kind of disappointed that he didn’t come knocking on the door right after you ran into the room.

When you finally opened the door of your bedroom three hours later, somewhat ready to start talking again, you found Minseok sitting on the floor next to the door of the bedroom. He raised his head and jumped to his feet when he saw you.

“How long have you been sitting here?” you asked, surprised.

“Ever since you went into the bedroom,” he admitted, looking down. “I wanted to apologize right away but you said you needed to be alone for a while, so I didn’t want to bother you.”

It felt as though his words squeezed your heart, forcing tears to start materializing in your eyes.

“You never bother me,” you told him before throwing your arms around his neck, catching him by surprise.

Once he recovered from the initial shock, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

“I love you so much,” he said. “I’m sorry about everything I said. I didn’t mean any of that.”

You nodded, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. “Let’s never fight again.”

Suho

You had left in a blind rage. You weren’t used to fighting with Junmyeon and in all the years of dating him, you only fought a few times, and both of those times you made up right away. Which is why, when two hours after the argument started, you two were still yelling, you didn’t know what to do.

You were sick and tired of it, but you didn’t know how to put an end to this completely pointless fight, so you left. You still heard Junmyeon yell as you burst through the door of your shared apartment and headed towards your car, wanting to get away from all of it.

Junmyeon watched you go. He didn’t know why he didn’t stop yelling even though he was panicking now. He feared that you wouldn’t come back to him, but he didn’t know how to tell you this, especially, when he was so emotional about the fight.

He didn’t want you to get behind the wheel when your mind was preoccupied, though, so after a few moments of hesitation, he sprinted across the parking lot of the building and jumped in front of your car right when you were about to drive.

“Junmyeon!” you shouted, opening the door of your car in anger. “What the fuck?! I could have driven you over!”

“Don’t go,” he said, walking towards you. “Please, don’t go. Let’s forget about this. Let’s just go home and just be together.”

“Junmyeon, it’s not that simple—”

“Yes it is,” he nodded, desperation clear in his voice. “In fact, I don’t even remember what we were fighting about.”

You sighed, still not moving and using the door of the car as a shield to separate him from you.

“Y/n, please,” Junmyeon said again. “I won’t be able to take it if you leave right now.”

Suddenly, you started to feel bad for resisting his attempts to make up. After all, you wanted the fight to be over, too.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I just… I didn’t know what to do. We never fought like that before. I guess I just wanted to get away.”

“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t even think about getting behind the wheel after our fight. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you.”

This was all it took for you to take the keys out of the engine and close the door of the car, allowing Junmyeon to securely wrap his arms around you.

He exhaled a shaky breath and brought your body even closer to his. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’d never lose me,” you whispered back, not realizing that the two of you were standing in the middle of the parking lot. You both were too engulfed in the process of making up to care about anyone else.

Lay

You said some things. He said some things back. You tried to leave. He grabbed your hand to stop you. And that’s when you slapped him.

You regretted this as soon as the palm of your hand came in contact with his cheek. But it was too late. Yixing stared at you in shock, his hand immediately touching the stinging pain on the side of his face.

You covered your mouth with your hands. “Yixing, I’m so—”

“No,” he shook his head. “I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t,” you said, coming closer, to pull his hand away from his cheek so you could take a look at it. “No one deserves to be slapped. I’m so sorry. Does it hurt a lot?”

“It—uh, it stings a little,” Yixing said but you could tell that he only said that to make you feel better.

“Come to the kitchen,” you said pulling his hand. “Let’s put some ice on it.”

Yixing obeyed and followed you into the different room.

You had completely forgotten the reason for your fight, as you opened the freezer to get a bag of frozen peas. Carefully, you sat Yixing down and placed the frozen bag over his wounded cheek, refusing to let him hold the ice and holding it for him instead.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” you told him for the twentieth time. “I swear I’m never hitting you again. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay,” Yixing said, already hurting to see you in so much pain about this. “I provoked you. It’s my—”

“It’s not your fault!” you interrupted him a little louder than you intended. “Violence is never the right answer and I cannot believe I did that.”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad anymore, Y/n,” Yixing said. “So, please, stop beating yourself up about it.”

“I can’t,” you said, biting your lip. “I just hit you.”

Yixing wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling your body closer to his.

“I love you,” he told you. “And I know you would never hurt me intentionally. You lost control because of the argument that I started. I understand. And really, maybe this was the only way to put me back to my place.”

“No, Yix—”

“Shh, stop, don’t say anything,” he cut you off. “Let’s just forget about this and go cuddle in bed.”

“Okay,” you said, giving in. “Just let me hold this on your cheek for a little while longer, okay? Do you want me to make you dinner after?”

Yixing smiled at this. “I forgot how much I love it when you take care of me.”

Baekhyun

You knew he was doing a collaboration with a new up-and-coming female artist. And you knew that music was the only thing between them and yet whenever you read articles or tweets by his fans, you were becoming more and more worried.

Your worries especially escalated when he got home at 3am one night. When you asked him where he was, he admitted that he stayed for drinks with his singing partner.

“Oh, so you had a date,” you said, not realizing how petty you sounded.

Baekhyun tried to defend himself but you weren’t hearing anything.

“You’ve been out with her more times this week, than you’ve gone out with me in the three years that we’ve been together,” you told him.

“That’s not true—”

“Yes, it is,” you didn’t let him finish. “But don’t get me wrong, I don’t care. The only thing I expected from you is to just tell me if you lost interest in me.”

“Lost interest in you?” Baekhyun half-asked, half-laughed. “Is that what you think?”

“Well, the only interactions between us these past few weeks were about the weather,” you stated angrily. “So, forgive me for starting to think that you’re no longer into—”

You didn’t get to finish the sentence because Baekhyun was suddenly pushing you against the wall, knocking all breath out of your chest.

“Baby, if you say that I’m not interested in you one more time,” he said in a deliciously threatening tone. “I might just have to punish you for spreading lies.”

You raised your eyes to meet his and bit your lip, forcing his gaze to drift down. “I’m sorry, I just got the feeling that you no longer want me.”

Smirking at your obvious challenging tone, Baekhyun pushed himself closer to you so he could whisper in your ear. “Cancel your plans for the next few days, baby girl. I’m about to show you how much I want you.”

Chen

Every fight left you both stressed. It could have been a small argument about whose turn was it to do the grocery shopping, and yet both of you got scared that the other one would want to break up.

So, you two rarely fought. You tried to solve every argument with as little yelling as possible. However, that proved to be more difficult with time. The number of those civil arguments grew greatly, and both of you reached the point in your relationship where you disagreed about something at least five times a day every day.

The realization that your relationship was going south scared both of you so much that one day the two of you decided to just sit down and talk it out.

Both of you agreed that maybe the reason why things haven’t been going so well lately was because you bottled your emotions up instead of actually letting them out, whether in the form of yelling or maybe even throwing things around the room.

“So, do you want to flip over a table or something?” you asked, forcing Jongdae to laugh for a good minute.

“Not really,” he said once he recovered, brushing the tears away from his eyes. “But, really, though. I think we’re both adults and I think we can handle a fight or two because I’m sure we love each other too much to let it get out of hand.”

You nodded, agreeing with everything he said. “You want to do a practice run?”

“What do you mean?” Jongdae asked, a little confused.

“Well, it was your turn to go to the store this week…”

Jongdae groaned at this. “Now I do kind of want to flip a table.”

Both of you laughed at this.

“We can go shopping together,” you said, then. “Oh, crap, did I just solve the argument before we got a chance to yell at each other?”

Jongdae laughed at this again. “Finding a compromise is a good way to end a fight. We can throw furniture around later. Maybe when we’re doing something else.”

“What do you mea—” you started to ask but then realized, and felt the warmth spread to your cheeks. “Oh.”

Chanyeol

When Chanyeol was on tour, you guys rarely fought. The peaceful part of your relationship continued the next few weeks after he came back from tour. However, as soon as you got used to each other again, the arguments began.

You were frustrated because he was never home. He was angry because there was nothing he could do about that. Both of you were left upset after you realized that this was a fight with no solutions.

You sat on the different ends of the couch, refusing to look at each other but not wanting to leave yet in case one of you came up with another argument to prove your point.

“I am going to leave again soon,” Chanyeol said quietly, breaking the silence.

“I know,” you replied.

“Will we have this same fight after I return?”

“Probably.”

Silence settled in the room again.

“Do you think we’ll ever figure out what to do so we wouldn’t have the same fight over and over again?” Chanyeol asked a few minutes later.

“Probably not,” you said, sighing. “The only option to prevent this from happening again is to brea—”

“Don’t you dare say it!” Chanyeol said, jumping up from the couch suddenly, and forcing you to flinch. “I don’t even mind the fighting as long as we’re still together.”

“Well, that’s it, then,” you shrugged your shoulders. “We’ll keep fighting about the same thing because we’re too stubborn to put an end to this relationship.”

“I’m fine with that,” Chanyeol said, sitting back down on the couch. “And we’ll figure out what to do eventually. Because I don’t think breaking up would be the solution to this problem.”

A small smile appeared on your face. “You don’t?”

“Of course not,” he said, scooting closer to you on the couch. “In fact, I think breaking up would cause even more problems because then I’d be suffering without you. At least, now I get to suffer with you.”

You laughed, realizing how messed up his logic was, but still choosing to roll with it because you loved each other too much to let this go.

D.O.

“Oh, so now you’re going to ignore me?” you yelled at your boyfriend who was on his way out of the room.

“Yeah,” he replied. “You have a problem with that?”

“I do, actually,” you shot back. “How about you stop acting like a child and actually sit down to talk to me like an adult?”

“I can’t talk like an adult,” Kyungsoo said, crossing his arms. “I’m a child.”

You groaned. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Oh, I’m so many things!” Kyungsoo said, his voice rising a few octaves so he could imitate you. “You’re such a child, Kyungsoo! You’re unbelievable, Kyungsoo! You’re a pain in my ass, Kyungsoo!”

“You are all of those things,” you said, glaring at him. “And you’re a huge asshole on top of that.”

“You know,” Kyungsoo’s voice returned to normal, but his pupils were now dilated. You watched carefully as he made his way towards you. “That is not at all what you said last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh? Well, let me refresh your memory then,” he said, stopping dangerously close to you. “You told me how good I made you feel. You told me how good I was to you. No, actually, if I remember correctly, you told me I was the best you’ve ever had. And I think our neighbors can vouch for that.”

You watched him with your jaw clenched. “Fuck you, Kyungsoo.”

“Yeah,” he said, slowly licking his lips in anticipation. “Fuck me.”

Kai

He had locked himself in your bedroom, purposefully locking you out. But this wasn’t the first time he did that. He tended to always give you the silent treatment whenever you really pissed him off. And most times, you were just as pissed off, but this time you realized that the fight was your fault. You caused it, you provoked him, and you made him slam the door of the bedroom right in your face.

So, you waited for a little while – giving him a chance to cool down – before you knocked on the door.

“Let me in, Jongin,” you said, knocking again since he didn’t react to the first knock. “I’m sorry. Please, talk to me.”

Silence.

“Jongin, come on,” you continued. “I miss you.”

You heard shuffling behind the door. He must have stood up from the bed but he still hadn’t come to the door. This was a good step forward, however.

You decided to continue. “Baby, please let me see you. I don’t even remember what you look like anymore.”

Silence again.

“Jongin,” you said. “I said I’m sorry. Please, let me in.”

“What’s the password?” a childish reply reached you from the other end of the door.

You smiled despite his immature approach to this situation. You knew very well what the password was.

“I love you,” you said.

You heard the lock of the door turn and finally, you entered the bedroom to see Jongin standing in front of you with a small victorious smile on your face.

“I love hearing you say that,” he said, letting you know that the anger he felt after the fight was already gone.

Sehun

The first fight you had with him was the most stupid thing on the planet and yet as you stood outside of the shopping mall, you couldn’t help but feel angry.

Sehun had forgotten you at the store. He literally got into his car and drove away while you were stuck looking for him all around the shopping mall, thinking he got lost or something.

Sehun, however, found this hilarious. He laughed the entire ride back to the mall after you’d called him in distress.

When he finally came back to pick you up, you were fuming. You climbed into the car, tied the seatbelt, and refused to even look at him.

“Baby, come on,” Sehun said, still trying to control his laughter. “I’m sorry. I swear I don’t know how this happened.”

You glared at him. “Yeah, and you feel really bad about it.”

Sehun bit his lip, feeling a little guilty for wanting to laugh at a situation that obviously upset you so much.

“Come on, tell me what to do so you’d feel better,” he asked.

“How about remember that you have a girlfriend?”

He had to grip the wheel tighter so he wouldn’t start laughing again. “Y/n, come on, seriously. Do you want to stop by for ice cream?”

“So you could forget me again? No thanks,” you shot back.

“I’m sorry!” Sehun exclaimed. “I swear this will never happen again. Now let me know how I can make it up to you.”

“First of all, stop fucking laughing,” you said, after having noticed that he was biting his lip to prevent laughter. “I swear, I’m never going shopping with you again.”

“No, Y/n, come on, I said I was sorry,” he said desperately.

“You don’t look sorry.”

“What, you want me to beg you for forgiveness?”

You stayed quiet for a second longer than necessary and that was enough for Sehun to actually realize that maybe he underestimated your anger.

“We’re going to the animal shelter,” he decided. “I’m getting you a dog.”

“Sehun, you can’t get me a dog every time you fuck up,” you said, groaning.

“Yeah?” Sehun glanced at you and he could find excitement in your eyes, despite your hardest attempts to look unfazed. “Watch me.”

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theredpendulum · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1: Welcome

“Alright, that’ll be thirty-four eighty-one. Go ahead and insert your card.” My smile is getting tired. I hate this town.

The middle aged white woman at my register has already snapped at me twice in the last two minutes, and I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m having violent thoughts.

She swipes her card, and I repeat to her that it has to be inserted since it’s a chip. While she reads the LCD screen she opens and closes her lips like a sixth grader, mocking me for speaking. Once the transaction processes, I wish her a good day, and she leaves the store in a flurry of leopard print leggings and Barbie-pink cowgirl boots.

“I hope your car’s heater is broken, you smooth-brained troglodyte.” I whisper through my grinning teeth quiet enough that she can’t hear me.

“I hate customers.” Jeb pulls his pocket knife out to open a fresh box of plastic bags to reload his station. It’s chipped here and there along the blade, and the handle has a long thin crack going down the left side. I hate that I’ve worked here long enough to be familiar with that stupid knife.

“Me too. At least we’re getting paid.” I shrug.

Jeb nods while distractedly cutting small notches in the edge of the now empty cardboard box, and his eyes look unstable. Distant, and turbulent.

“You should put your knife away before Aubrey sees you have it out.” His eyes roll back into his skull.

“Whatever.” He mutters and stabs the box. Lifting the box like a slab of ham on a carving fork, he begins to carry it to the back. I watch him go for a moment to make sure he actually closes his blade. He does.

Working with Jeb is like… well he’s a 16 year old boy. That should be sufficient information. He can be funny, and friendly, and bizarrely entertaining, and just the worst sometimes. Today feels like an off day for him. I wonder what went wrong in his morning. Maybe Henry dumped him. They’ve been having drama lately. I should ask. There’s only about five customers in the store right now, and they’re all still milling around aimlessly so we probably have a minute or two to chat. I can see him coming back over. His eyebrows look like they weigh a hundred pounds each.

“Hey.” I tap my fingers on the counter.

“Hey.” He’s got a rubber band in his fingers. He’s twisting it and squishing it into a wiggly blob of dusty red rubber.

“So… How’s Henry?” I bite the inside of my cheek. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

Jeb looks up at me like I just gave him socks for Christmas.

“He’s fine.”

He sucks his teeth, and stretches the rubber band across his hand, and aims at me. I flinch, and he pulls a half-dead smile. He switches his aim to the ceiling, and lets go sending the rubber band into the brightly colored foil snow man above our heads. I catch it, and toss it in my drawer.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“I’m taking self-protective measures.” I wink and aim finger guns at him. “Pew pew.”

The rest of the day goes by just as boring and frustrating as usual. A man asks me if my hair is a wig, a woman tells me that her apples are apples, and a child asks me if I am pregnant. I’m...definitely not. When 10pm finally makes it’s blessed arrival, Jeb and I wish our last customer a good night, and then play Mother Mother from my phone while we wipe down the registers and sweep the floor. My feet feel like ground beef. My shoes are coming off.

“It’s a sin that these stupid Christmas decorations are up already. We literally just had Halloween. The Spook Gods are gonna be displeased by Craig’s heinous actions.” I enter my employee code, and take my till out of the drawer.

“Yeah he’s gonna get hexed or something for sure. We have witches in this town, you know. Henry told me.” Jeb sticks his broom between his legs, squats, and cackles.

This makes me crack up. I’m glad today hasn’t completely beat the immaturity out of him.

“You look like Discount Harry Potter. And they’re not that kind of witch. They just like collecting crystals and wearing black.” I walk past him into the manager’s office to count up my till. Jeb makes fart sounds to himself to the rhythm of the music and resumes sweeping.

“Hey Aubrey.” I sit down at the desk, and start punching numbers. “It’s all wiped down out there.”

“Cool. Thanks.” My Manager has drifted off to another universe. The sounds of some kind of puzzle game beep and boop from her phone.

*fwAHP*

“OW. WH?!”

Jeb cackles at the doorway at having successfully hit his target. I look down at the desk in front of me and see the rubber band.

“I should’ve put that in my pocket, you wiener.” I rub my forehead, and wish Aubrey a good night.

Jeb waves to me as he walks out the door. “G’night, Marlo!” he crows.

“Night, Jeb!” I half heartedly salute him, and sit down to put my sneakers back on. I would just carry them, but I remember seeing broken glass outside when I got here.

By the time I have finished tying my laces Jeb has driven away, and Aubrey has made her way to the door.

“Let’s go.” She motions for me to follow.

I flop my bag onto my shoulder, and step out the door. She turns the key, and gives the door a test tug to make sure it’s secured.

“Hey have a good night.”

She gives me a tired smile, and a wave before climbing into her car and pulling away. I throw up a peace sign and head to the back of the lot towards my beat up 2001 Honda prelude. There’s duct tape on the back bumper from a hit and run that happened four years ago. I still haven’t gotten around to replacing that yet… I should do that at some point… I’m so tired. I open my door and climb in. I want nothing more than a hot drink, and some me time. My legs are numb from standing up all day.

Suddenly, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Warm air is being blown onto my skin from behind. I’m not alone. Horror injects itself into every cell in my body in a single millisecond.

“Welcome.”

A voice like a creaking floorboard rasps behind me. My keys fly out of my hand, and I lurch out the door. I leave it hanging open and run towards the store front. “HELP!!! HELP ME!!!” I scream as loud as my panicking heart and lungs can muster. I don’t slow down. I slam into the front door, and grab the handle. I desperately tug, but the dread is only getting stronger within my body. I know it’s locked. I watched Aubrey lock it.

I turn too look behind me to see if anyone is chasing me. No one. Nothing there. There isn’t a living thing in sight. There are tears running down my nose. I can’t breathe right. My lungs are twitching and lurching like beetles turned onto their backs. I stand still clutching my sleeves for a moment. It’s completely quiet. The moon lights up the lot with a cold distant glow. The moon is usually comforting to me, but right now it feels menacing.

What do I do??? ….911! I’ll call the cops!

I scramble to get my phone, but I quickly realize that it is sitting hostile in my bag on the front seat. Whoever is in my car has everything. My phone, my wallet, my keys, …I’m dead. I’m so dead. My eyes shiver and start to squeeze out sharp cold tears.

“Crap.” My voice cracks as it shudders back and forth. I can feel my knees wobbling, my back muscles twitching. I have to decide on something to do. My feet sting. I can’t stand here at the shop door all night. I step slowly towards my car. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe it’s just exhaustion. I know I can have an elaborate imagination. I might be freaking out over nothing.

“Hello?” I call out.

Nothing.

“HELLO?!” Louder.

Nothing.

I walk closer and closer to the dangling door. It looks like a dislocated jaw. I hate this.

I hate this.

I hate this!

I HATE THIS!

“If there’s anyone there, I’ll beat the- the SHIT out of you!” I yell at my car. I ball my fists up, and raise them to my chest.

Nothing. Not even a rustling.

“I’m serious! I’ll end you!” I say with a little less conviction.

“This is your last chance! h-Here I come!” I step slowly towards my car and look into the back window. I don’t see anyone. My car is completely empty except for my bag which lies undisturbed on the seat. My keys are still on the floor. Frick. I’m not okay.

“Get home. Get in, get home, get in. Just get home.”

I get into my car as fast as I can, and shut and lock the door in one motion. My head on a swivel, I stick my key in and turn. The engine makes a wheezing warbling sound and then sputters into a steady hum. That’s not normal. I don’t have time to worry about that right now. I speed out of the parking lot like a squirrel on caffeine. My leg won’t stop bouncing as I drive. It still feels like someone is in the backseat. I check the rear view mirror a thousand times in the fifteen minutes it takes me to drive home. At the first stop sign I reach I stand on the break, and crane my neck back to check the floor in the back in case someone is crouching down back there. There’s nothing. I’m still scared. What if I’m being followed?... I can’t think about that. That’s too scary right now.

I pull into my driveway, and sprint to my front door. Feeling paranoid now I jiggle the knob to make sure it’s still locked since I left it this morning. It is. I unlock it, go inside, and slam the door behind me. I lock the knob and the bolt. I can’t stop shaking. Everything hurts. I might vomit. I turn on the lights to my living room and kitchen, and grab a chef’s knife from the block. I carry it with me to the pantry and retrieve the kettle and a box of red raspberry leaf tea. I need to calm down. This is the part of living alone that seriously sucks sometimes. I have no one here to watch my back if something happens. I need a dog or something. A really big dog.

I make my tea, and sit down at my computer. I load up Pitchfork, Cottage Simulator. The wholesome artwork and cute villagers in my little pixelated mountain town will hopefully at least bring my heartrate down. I work on my little carrot garden, trade some wool for a fish at the little market, and get started on decorating a new room in my cottage. The next several hours melt away into the night. Eight-bit guitars and hot herbal tea are really great for anxiety attacks.

Lying in bed, my room feels crooked. The energy is bad. My body is a lot more calmed down, but my brain won’t settle into place. I really wish I had a dog…

#horror #creative writing #fiction #mac omer #the red pendulum

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stevecanmakeanythingnerdy · 5 years

Text

Battle #18

The Motels: S/T (Side 1)

Vs.

The Twins: Passion Factory (Side A)

The Motels: S/T (Side 1)

The first incarnation of The Motels (yes, there were two) formed in Berkeley, California in 1971. It lasted a few years and even had a record contract offered, but the band rejected it and disbanded. Then in 1978, Martha Davis and lead guitarist Jeff Jourard (formerly of a pre-fame version of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers) decided to reform The Motels. Extensive auditions resulted in a new line-up of the band being formed, consisting of Jourard's brother Marty, who played both the saxophone and keyboards, Michael Goodroe on bass, and Brian Glascock on drums. This history would seem to be a recurring theme for the group. As is often the case of a professional working band, line up changes are common. The band reached most of its success in the early To middle 80s, as they came into the spotlight thanks to MTV with both “Only The Lonely” and “Suddenly Last Summer” in heavy rotation. This album is the band’s first. It does show a bit of maturity (for a debut-probably largely due to the bands pre-history) but still smacks of a rookie debut. It’s a mixed bag of sounds and styles with very little direction and guidance. Side one begins with “Anticipating”. A slow start, but showcasing Martha Davis’ unique, smokey voice right away. Decent rock and Missing Persons level structure. Something lacks though, there is no punch. “Kix” follows and is certainly a better choice for number one in my opinion. A punkier edge, including elements of Heart with this one. It’s more cohesive and more driven. “Total Control”-which was actually a single off the album- is a slow jam. Building riffs and such, but it never really pays out. The seeds of the band’s future success are certainly there. I even hear hints of a Quarterflash vibe. “Love Don’t Help” is also slower and more confined. Trying really hard to be soulful. There is difficulty in describing this but it isn’t bad, just unnecessarily funky. Rather weak. “Closets and Bullets” is the closest thing to the future version on the band. Most indicative of the sound they would eventually adopt. Better and best bluesy solos with light new wave action. The Cars-like in nature with driving solo work (#seewhatididthere). This was actually the first single, but it flopped. I am not sure why, because in my humble opinion it is the best tune. At least on this side. If I remember correctly, side two is much better.

The Twins: Passion Factory (Side A)

The Twins are a German synthpop and new wave duo. They were popular (possibly) in Europe during the 1980s. Their successful singles include "Face to Face - Heart to Heart", "Not the Loving Kind", "Ballet Dancer" and "Love System” though NONE of those appear on this, their 1982 debut Passion Factory. It was very difficult to find any information on this band, but as usual I let my gambling instincts take over. When I saw it, I was immediately drawn in by the Kubrick/Clockwork Orange-esque art. It seemed German (check) which means brilliant or weird, probably both. It seemed new wave or electronica (check) based on the time frame, and because of those two things it seemed there would be a good chance I would enjoy it (double check!). Oh, also it was 50 cents, so...I mean, right?!!? Well, now I am very glad I forked over the fifty cents and very sad I couldn’t find much on them, because they were pretty great. Apparently they still play too! She thanks to internet nerd-dome I have been able to piece together that this is their first effort. Another rookie debut! Unlike the previous effort by The Motels though, this is a well polished gem from beat one. It is new wave tea steeped in electronic worship. 2 (presumably) German dudes-one on percussion and one on “compurhythms”. No shit, that’s what the jacket says. Well, sign me up brother, because I want to play compurhythms too! Dark, dreary and gothic at time, but happy, upbeat and upscale at others. Rich with Devo-like vocals and Tubeway Army-like synth work. Do I even need to spell it out?!? It’s F#$*%&+ FANTASTIC!! “The Passion Factory” (appropriately) starts it off. I am not even joking when I say, if your eyes were closed you would think it was a Gary Numan outtake. Sick compurhythms and parallax syntax! Killer harmonies seal the deal. “X-Ray Eyes” May end up as my favorite (but hell, I haven’t even heard Side 2 yet...let’s not jump to conclusions). This jam has keyboard SFx all over the place with great builds and a catchy follow through. It’s midi-fi heaven. These guys did their kraftwerk (#seewhatididthere). “Satellite City” is slower and more picturesque. There are beautiful floating bass keys and more math like precision. Well, crap. We are only 3 cuts in and I’m in love. “Runaway” punks it up a little. Tempo is elevated to times two. That is to say it is slightly faster than the previous offerings. Still present are the catchy riffs and flashy fills and fringe. For a 2 piece this band has a very full sound. A more introspective take on this one, perhaps. The final track (nooooo!!!) is “Electric Bats”. Yes BATS, not beats. I think this literally may be a Numan cover, but a quick check of the liner says otherwise. Well, an homage or borrowed riff at the very least. Also, ROBOTIC VOICE Y’ALL!!!! Independent hi-fives all around. It’s subdued so it’s basically BG noise thus making this effectively an instro outtro. I think it is an absolutely fair and accurate description to say this is Gary Numan’s “Cars” reinterpreted five times. And each one is DELICIOUS!! Wow. I am truly impressed by this. And you know what? Hi-five to past ME. For having the insight and knowledge that future me would really dig this! I don’t know, I think I see playoff predictions for these dudes...needless to say, great stuff.

The Motels are not just a place you stay, but a band that plays early 80’s radio rock with a new wave angle! Who knew! They burned 135 calories in 19 minutes over 5 songs on their debut. That equals 27.00 calories per song and 7.11 calories burned per minute. Also, they earned 10 out of 15 possible stars. The Twins are not just a baseball team in Minnesota, but a synth-pop band that is now one of my favorites! Also debuting their goods they burned an impressive 187 calories over 5 songs and 24 minutes. That is 37.40 calories burned per song and 7.79 calories burned per minute. The band earned 13 out of 15 possible stars. The Twins clearly have a passion and it’s manufactured in their factory through compurhythms! Today’s winner are The Twins!!

The Twins: “X-Ray Eyes”

https://youtu.be/4h2jHG2D0N0

#Randomrecordworkoutseasonsix

#Randomrecordworkout

#randomrecordworkout #randomrecordworkoutseason6 #80s music #80s #vinyl #records #80's music #the twins #the motels #suddenly last summer #synth #synthwave #synth pop

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