#i’ve only done talking heads collages !! no paintings

[newfeeling77]

🎥🎨🖌️ i’ve actually never painted anything talking heads related wtf

#ill reblog this later its 9am all u ppl are asleep or etc #i’ve only done talking heads collages !! no paintings #i tried to do this fast just a little practice since i havent been painting. n i forgot how to do colors n shadows #the way the sketch looked it wouldve been way better for #colored pencils but i have NONE not even cheap kids ones

[deerblossoms]

it is august and i’m 20 and i think this is the emptiest i’ve felt in years. it’s crazy because objectively my life is SO much better than it once was. i should be ecstatic every day and i don’t think i care really. i got on wellbutrin and was taking that with the lexapro until they ran out and then when i went to refill them they only gave me the wellbutrin. apparently my lexapro prescription was cancelled? i haven’t had the motivation to message my provider and honestly haven’t even had the motivation to take my meds at all. probably has something to do with the emptiness! but i dread it because now that i’m not consistently on wellbutrin, whenever i take one i seem to get suicidal and have a little freakout. could be coincidence but i’m not enjoying it! my life’s had so many ups and downs over the past few months. jo and i broke up, not mutually on their part but it had to be done. i’ve thought about it so many times and i don’t think there’s anything that could’ve been done differently. i think the turning point was december when we hooked up for the first time and after that we were just fated for this. anyway, it would have happened eventually. frankly if it hadn’t, i don’t think i’d know as much about myself as i do now but i hate that jo ended up being my fucking guinea pig for self discovery. besides, what i discovered is that i really am an ass. commitment issues, not very ethical in my non-monogamy, deeply avoidant, anger issues up the wazoo, completely non-communicative, etc. kayla and i are still seeing each other and have at least talked about WHY we’re not going to call it dating. and we’re not going to call it dating! largely because i’m a complete dick who it would be unwise to officially commit to.

i hooked up with my friend recently and then got later propositioned for a threesome by said person with our mutual friend. not exactly the life i expected for myself if i’m being honest! not like i’m mad about it. everyone thinks i’m crazy sexy these days and i would be a liar if i said it wasn’t going slightly to my head. but to be honest i don’t really think that’s a bad thing i’ve felt unsexy and unattractive my whole life! i deserve to feel like the shit.

i’ve been missing margarita lately which just sucks if i’m being honest because they have too much self-respect to actually talk to me. so we can’t even be friends. which is my fault! i screwed it up and there’s no way around that. but i miss them. i’ve started cooking a little more often recently but still only my one pasta recipe. and i realized i hadn’t drawn for like 8 months so now i’m trying to get back into it. i wish so deeply i could make myself do the things i want to do. i want to paint and sketch at home and go to life drawing classes and pottery classes and take photos and make collages and make videos of things and get back into editing and learn about fashion history and clothing and learn how to sew and live a life i’m proud of and instead i’m just the most bored person ever. i practically live at the bar by my job. i’m there more than my seasoned alcoholic friend who introduced me to the place in the first place. and i’ve made some of my best friends through this and i’m not going to act like that’s not the reason i go. i go to see them! but i think i also go to avoid going home because i’m afraid if i go home i’ll do nothing and feel like shit. and so i might as well do nothing in good company and feel like my time was spent well even if it was spent at the same bar every time. i’ll be there tonight without a SHADOW of a doubt.

in positive news it turns out that HR cut my hourly by $3 about 4 months ago and i only found out last month. have been really stressed and mad for a while about it! and when i brought it up to my boss the other day not only did he profusely apologize and tell me he’d get it fixed immediately and include a few weeks minimum of retropay, he also told me he’s going to give me a $1 raise on top of my initial rate. which is SO EXCITING!!!! AND AND AND lainey’s getting married in november in copenhagen and i’m invited!!! duh. the only stressful part is getting my passport and for some reason i’ve been putting it off for like 3 months which means now i am like. super super down to the wire and i’ll definitely have to pay the extra $60 to get it expedited. which is……fine! now that i have my RAISE.

i’ve been missing my parents a little more recently. i can’t say that i know why. i’m not really missing them but i’m missing who i wish they were for me. or wishing they were the best parts of themselves, i guess. i miss drawing with my mom and goofing around and watching tv and eating snacks and going to cafes and i wish that i could go hiking with her now that there’s less tension and i have an appreciation for it. and i miss hanging out with my dad and listening to music together and taking trips and i miss when i was little and we would dance in the kitchen together and it hurts so much that i don’t get that anymore. i barely got it to begin with past like, 9. we would get along so well if they wouldn’t take one look at me and hate me. and it’s not fair because i love my parents and i can’t stand them anyway. and there is a part of me that can never forgive them for the years of abuse they inflicted on me. especially because they’re never going to understand the toll they took on me! everything’s so bittersweet these days and when it’s not it’s usually just bitter. but most of it’s bittersweet. and i guess this is a depressive episode but it just feels so boring. it’s just one big all-consuming hole inside me. sometimes i think i’d be happier in washington and then i remember how i’m actually just bored everywhere. honestly i’ll be happier once i get my license and passport because then i’ll be able to drive upstate to the apple orchards and the waterfalls and the cute little towns and the ren faire and then to canada and see everything beautiful.

[kkusuka]

Y/n and either Ushijima, Suna or Sugawara ((I couldn’t decide so you pick 😫)) put paint on themselves and then fuck on a canvas to hang up in there house. Nobody would ever know that the art they were just admiring was made by Y/n and him having seggs 😂😂

✨Puppy🤩

i’m gonna do Toshi and Rin because i couldn’t think of something for suga, if i do i might post something for him bc i really like the prompt lol

ushijima wakatoshi <3

at times he hated the fact the collage required him to take an art class. he was there on a full scholarship for volleyball, not art.

most of the time he didn’t care all that much, he could draw and use the class pastels for an hour two days a week. and he was no Picasso but he was passing so that was all he could ask for.

well that’s what he thought until about an hour ago when he remembered that his midterm, what will be 40% of his semester grade, was due in the morning. it was fairly open, only had a few restrictions, it had to be on a 36’x48’ canvas and must have a single medium, he chose paint because it seemed easy at the time.

well now he was sitting in front on the white canvas, mind completely void of creative inspiration, and he had practice in two hours. making things about one-thousand times worse was that his social media was full of women painting their nudes, a trend he knew you had tried.

“toshi? you’ve been sitting there for forty-five minutes, are you ok?”

the idea hit him like a truck, his teacher said they could do whatever they wanted and that’s what he was going to do.

“y/n? will you help me out for a few minutes?” he inquired, drawing your body into the room.

you never really knew what ushijima was thinking, his stone cold facade didn’t spare you in times like this. though you could see the burning in his eyes as he waved you over where he had gotten sky blue and violet cans of paint.

without a word, you watched had he began to tug your sweats down your legs.

“whoa! what are you doing?” he just picked up some of the paint before looking up to you.

“i’m going to fuck you on it.” his stated as if he was talking about ordering lunch. not waiting for your reply he smeared the blue onto the front of your thighs along your full legs.

“take of your shirt.” doing what he said he immediately began rubbing the paint onto your stomach, throughly coating your breasts, twisting your nipples and the skin underneath, all the way up to the base of your neck.

he turn you by your waist, pressing your body to the canvas that was hanging along the wall.

you would ask him if this was appropriate, but you didn’t have a chance before he was opening your folds and pushing his tip int your cunt.

“you’re wet already? all i’ve done was put paint on you, are you that much of an unstable whore?” his words and how unfazed he sounded sent another wave of heat down your walls. snapping his hips to your sent you furthers into the now colors portion of your art.

“toshi, not— not to hard-“ a smack to your ass accompanied with a harsh thrust your your cervix shut you up.

his dick was carving its was into your walls, you’d been dating for years but he made you feel like a virgin.

you were never out that the weight of his thrusts would rip the canvas, you worries thrown from your mind as his dick hit the sweet spot in your depths, squirting your cum into his thighs. halting his thrusts you felt a cold, wet substance drip over you back. you felt the pads of his fingers rub it all over your back before moving his hands to your hips, giving you a glimpse of the blue coating his palms.

“you don’t think we’re done do you?” he mocked, pulling you off his for a split second before pressing your back to your masterpiece, the blue joining your mess of purple, “i haven’t cum yet so out painting is not completed.”

suna rintarou <3

“there you go messy slut! go ahead rub those pretty tits on the board,” suna’s mocking words were accompanied with a flick of your clit, “you want everyone to know what we did on this don’t you?”

he had brought up the idea after seeing something like it on instagram, but he really just wanted physical proof that he was the best fuck you’ll ever get.

“rin-ri- i, please!”

“oh baby, this is going to look so pretty. i’m gonna hang it in our living room so everyone can see it! they’ll have no idea but whenever you see it you’ll remember how i fucked you dumb.” he sneered, pushing your torso further into the canvas.

his cock plunged in and out of your hole garnered with the wet slaps of skin. grabbing your hair to pull your head back he forced you to look at him as you came around his cock, him following in suit.

•••

“that’s a really cool painting where’d y’all get it?”

oh aran, why did you have to ask in a room full of people? you had decorations handing all around your house and he asks about the one thing you can’t explain without stuttering.

“me and y/n made it together, right? it was so much fun.” suna chimed from across the room where he was speaking with kita and osamu.

“yeah honey, we did!” you smiled, faking a laugh while observing the multiple disruption in the paint from where you had dropped wetness onto the board.

•

tags: @bakugos-cumsock

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #ushijima x reader smut #ushijima wakatoshi x reader smut #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna smut #suna x reader smut #suna x reader #suna rinatro #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader

[meltwonu]

| 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔦 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 |     [CHAPTER 5]     [FINAL]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x reader

this chapter’s notes; fratboy!wonwoo, dom!wonwoo, restraints, blindfolds, daddy!kink, dirty talk, sex toys, using panties as a gag, forced orgasms, squirting! 🥴💕oMG YOU GUYS I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER WTF 😭😭😭 I just wanna say thank you so much for all the love and support you all have given me while writing Caffeine and Until I Met You I really cannot believe any of this… It’s crazy to me that you guys liked this fratboy wonwoo au so much… I really appreciate it! And expect some spin off chapters in the future! I already have 3 planned ☠️ Also, I mention it all the time but I never expect any of my fics to get this much love so every time I’m just shocked 😭 literally sitting here blushing just thinking about it 😭😭💕dfsdffds Also this is almost 4500 words so… strap in 😎🥴 Enjoy the last chapter, inbox roundup tmr and I love you so so so so much 💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 COMPLETE

Wonwoo stares at himself in the mirror, lips pursed and brows furrowed.

“I don’t know.”

Mingyu and Minghao both sigh; the latter throwing his arms up in defeat when Wonwoo grimaces in the mirror’s reflection. “Hyung, you haven’t liked anything we dressed you in. Why don’t you trust us?”

Mingyu places his hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders - squeezing the padding in the blazer as he meets the older male’s stare in the mirror.

“This is a date, right?”

“I mean… Yeah? I guess?” Wonwoo mumbles, a little bit shy. “I just don’t want her to think I’m trying too hard. I’m not trying to propose to her, you know. Just trying to get in the foot in the door towards the right direction.”

Minghao steps forward, sighing and shaking his head.

“Yeah, that’s true. But also… Isn’t think your first, real, official date with her? Don’t you want it to be special?”

This time Wonwoo laughs at the pair's dramatics - already shrugging off the blazer as Mingyu’s hands fall from his shoulders.

“God, the two of you make it seem like I’ve never dated a day in my life.”

“Hyung, aren’t you also kind of acting like that yourself? You asked us to help you dress for it in the first place.”

A crimson flush paints Wonwoo’s cheeks at Mingyu’s words; lips pressing into a firm line as he avoids their shit eating grins.

Goddamn it.

“Whatever, just show me other outfits you guys have.”

Wonwoo tells you to meet him in front of the library at 10AM.

‘It’s somewhere familiar.’ He says.

You’d rolled your eyes but agreed - already standing in front of the familiar doors ten minutes earlier than your agreed meeting time.

Part of you was extremely giddy and excited and the other parts of you were nervous and anxious at what Wonwoo had planned for today.

‘Did you have any suggestions for our date?’

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek as he sends you the text - palms clammy as he sighs.

‘You should ask for her opinion, hyung. Let her know you value her!’ Mingyu had said.

Wonwoo knows that.

But he blames being away from home a little too long for his airheadedness about it all. Tells himself it’s because he was gone for so long that he doesn’t really know how to act anymore.

Deep down inside, Wonwoo knows it’s really just because you make his heart do backflips when you smile at him and he just never knows how to respond except by shooting you an awkward tight lipped smile of his own.

He’ll call you beautiful all day long and praise you until you beg him to stop but something about the candid moments in between the pleasure that are the moments that make him feel like he’s falling in love for the first time all over again.

But Wonwoo wouldn’t quite admit that to you right now.

‘What would your ideal date be, Wonwoo?’

He runs late by ten minutes.

Soft curses spill from his lips the entire time he jogs over - the flower bouquet in his clammy hand getting crushed slightly at the death grip he has on it.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry I’m late!”

Wonwoo rambles on about how Minghao wouldn’t stop chasing him with a bottle of hairspray but your shaking pupils can only focus on the poor bouquet of flowers being throttled in the midst of Wonwoo’s animated retelling.

“A--are those for m-me?” You whisper; cutting him off as his eyes flit down to his hand.

“O-oh, um, yes, f-for you…” He passes you the bouquet - a shy smile on his face when you take it from his hands.

He’d picked them out himself after deciding on his own that he wanted to do something special for you. 

Wanted it to mean something important.

“A dried flower bouquet?”

Wonwoo smiles sheepishly as he scratches the back of his head.

Was it too cheesy?

“They’re already dried so they’ll technically last forever now.”

You’re glad, for once, that you can manage to hold in the scream that almost escapes you when you look up to Wonwoo’s bespectacled face.

“O-oh… Thank you, Wonwoo.”

You want to learn about Wonwoo.

What he likes and dislikes and what he likes to do in his free time. You have a vague idea of it all, but you want to hear it from him directly. 

You want him to turn to you and openly talk to you like you’ve been lovers for much longer.

He holds your hand as he guides you through the museum, but he’s oddly quiet and aloof when you try to pull him into conversations.

“Wonwoo, I--”

“Hey look, it’s a Hannah Höch piece. She’s one of the artists that pioneered that collaging thing Mingyu likes to do.” You lose him again as he reads off a biography off the wall and you can’t help but furrow your brows at his back.

You’d ask him over lunch.

The two of you spend a good few hours at the museum.

Although, admittedly, you spend more of that time following Wonwoo around as he silently admires the pieces instead of talking to you.

But by the time lunch is rolling around, he walks you over to a small hole in the wall cafe; flowers adorning the entrance and large windows letting in the sunlight as the two of you sit in a small nook away from most of the other customers.

“So, I--”

“Wonwoo, can I ask you a question?”

He tilts his head in mild confusion at your perplexed tone. “Sure?”

It takes a few seconds of you opening and closing your mouth, unsure of where to start before you sigh.

“So… is this a date?”

Wonwoo scratches the back of his head, ears and cheeks hot as you stare back at him. “I just–I want to understand where we are, Wonwoo. Or what we are, I guess.”

There’s a sigh on his lips and out of nervousness, all he can do is readjust his glasses for the third time.

“I told you I was bad at this.”

He was nervous the entire time the two of you were at the museum and he didn’t know how to let you know so he just didn’t. 

He was hoping that he would’ve had the confidence like he usually did. 

“I’m sorry, I know, I--I should’ve tried talking but god, you make me so fucking nervous?” He laughs at his own shyness as he runs a free hand through his hair, fully messing up the styling that Minghao had painstakingly done.

“I make you nervous?”

Oh god.

“I--yeah. You really do.” He smiles genuinely at you before his shy eyes focus on the cup of coffee in front of himself. “I know it’s hard to believe, all things considered, but you really do and sometimes I don’t know how to handle myself so I just… Don’t. And I know it’s not fair and I’m super fucking aware I do it too, I just--I can be bad at words sometimes, I guess.”

You try to keep your cool as you nod; lips easing into a soft smile as you stare at Wonwoo dreamily.

You make him nervous.

Letting it go for now, you stir your drink; thinking of ways to get Wonwoo to be more talkative but not in a nervous, panicked way.

“Hey, why don’t you tell me about your semester abroad?”

That manages to do the trick as Wonwoo spends the rest of the lunch portion of your date telling you various anecdotes of his trip.

And you learn that other than the long lectures and midday naps, his eyes light up at the stories he tells you about when they were actually at the archeological dig sites.

“It was so interesting to see remnants of what used to roam the earth before we did and to see little artifacts of old cities. I could’ve spent all day out there just excavating.”

“D’you think you’ll go again if you get the chance?”

Wonwoo squeezes your hand as the two of you walk out of the little cafe - already heading towards the last destination that he’d picked out.

“It’d be nice to.” He grins cheekily at you. “But maybe next time we could go together?”

You end up having to take a taxi to get to the final location.

‘It’d be too far to walk for you, pretty baby~’ Wonwoo had cooed.

The car stops after about 35 minutes and while he pays the fare, you step out to read the sign in front of the large domed building.

‘Planetarium.’

“You okay, baby?”

“Hmm? Y-yeah! I’m just… Wow, I don’t think I’ve been here in… ever.” You laugh awkwardly as Wonwoo places a gentle hand on the small of your back.

“I thought it’d be nice and quiet. We could just... Enjoy each others’ company. And talk. Finally.”

The two of you are quiet when you walk in but Wonwoo tells the receptionist that he’s booked a private room which makes your cheeks warm up.

He’d definitely gone the extra mile.

The two of you are led to a smaller room - just enough to fit ten or so people except it’s only you and Wonwoo once the receptionist shuts the door and leaves you be.

“Shall we?” You nod as you take a seat in one of the recliners; setting your things down into the seat next to you as Wonwoo takes the seat on your other side. The two of you get comfortable as you stare up into the projected night sky - only the buzzing of the projectors in the small room filling up the silence as you start to relax.

Wonwoo reaches for your hand in the darkness and you feel yourself jolt in surprise when he tugs you a little closer to himself.

“Have you ever heard the story of the sun and moon?”

“Hmm? Which one? Aren’t there a lot?”

He closes his eyes, sighing softly as he relaxes in the darkness.

“It’s that old story about how the Sun loved the Moon so much that he died for her every night so that she could breathe. He thought she was so beautiful when she’d glow but the Moon knew their fates were decided in different paths. So the Sun would see her in passing, short glimpses, right before he disappeared beyond the horizon. It’s a romantic story about sacrifice and star crossed lovers.”

“Is that what we are?”

Wonwoo lets out a loud laugh; eyes forming crescents as his glasses slide down his nose bridge.

“No, I think our story is much more fortunate than that.”

Black is Wonwoo’s favorite color.

“A-ah, hold on…!”

He likes to take naps when he’s not working or in his classes and sometimes spends his time playing PC games with his frat brothers until 3 in the morning.

“Wo--Wonwoo!”

He doesn’t have a ton of hobbies but he’s been thinking about videography lately since Mingyu’s brought it up.

“Baby, h-hold on, I’m gonna drop you if you don’t stop flailing!”

And he’s already thinking about taking a film class next semester and maybe quitting his job at the library to focus.

He tells you his favorite hyung is Seungcheol, ‘because he buys food all the time’ and his favorite dongsaeng is Seokmin, ‘because he cries easily so you know his heart is always in the right place.’

“Okay, finally!”

Wonwoo all but kicks the door to his room open, carrying you inside before he kicks it shut.

He lays you down gently on the bed as you giggle; a gentle smile on his face when he lays down next to you.

“I don’t know why you wanted to carry me up the entire flight of stairs but thank you.”

“Think of it as my sun sacrificing for your moon.”

You roll your eyes at his sudden cheesiness and in the heat of the moment, you find yourself rolling onto your side and immediately reaching for Wonwoo’s face as you tug him into a heated kiss.

“Mmph!”

He’s taken by surprise at first but quickly melts into it himself; eyes closing and hands reaching for your body when you start to roll on top of him.

His lips are soft and his kisses slow - the taste of coffee lingering on his lips and tongue when your lips part for him.

You’re reminded of his soft and gentle touches from a few days prior when you moan against his mouth and he’s quick to thread a hand through your hair before he flips your positions so that you’re underneath him instead.

“Mmh… Wonwoo…”

He kisses you on the lips one more time before he pulls away and takes his glasses off.

“I have one more thing for you to conclude our date.”

“Oh? A gift?”

“You can say that…”

He gets up from the bed and walks over to his closet - fetching a small box that he brings back to the bed as you sit up on your elbows.

“Wait, you’re not actually proposing, are you? On the first date?” Snorting, he takes the lid off and empties the contents of the box onto the bed.

“Depends. There’s definitely a cock ring in this pile somewhere.”

‘You can use anything in this box on me tonight. I wanna give you the freedom.’

“You look… wow.”

You try your best to not go over the top with the toys but you couldn’t help yourself when you reached for the blindfold and the set of handcuffs; shaky fingers helping Wonwoo get into position against the headboard before you had locked the handcuffs into place and wrapped the blindfold around his head.

“Everything you dreamed about, baby? Having me at your mercy?” He smirks and even through the blindfold, you already know his eyes are smoldering and staring holes into you as you sit on his thighs.

“Maybe we should switch off every now and again ‘cause you look really good like this, Wonwoo…”

“Hah, well, let’s see how well you do, hmm, princess? Maybe if you do a good job, I might let you.”

Gulping, your eyes flit down his half naked body and yours before you reach for one more thing from the box; turning it on and letting it buzz to life as Wonwoo tenses up slightly.

He holds his breath and anticipates it but he’s still not as prepared as he thinks when you press the vibrator against his cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs.

“Oh--s-shit!”

The sensations feel even stronger with his eyes covered by the blindfold and his arms bound above his head and no matter how much he wants to tug against his restraints, he knows he can’t do anything.

Your mouth is agape at the way Wonwoo squirms underneath you and for a moment, you wonder if this is what he sees when you’re the one squirming underneath him.

“You’re not usually this sensitive… daddy~”

The teasing lilt in your voice has Wonwoo clenching his jaw before he huffs. “Daddy’s not used to being the one tied up, sweetheart.”

He opens his mouth to comment again, only a soft moan floating past his lips as he thrusts up against the vibrator. You don’t do anything other than hold it against his clothed cock but it’s enough for him to want to give in and switch places with you already - even though it’s only been minutes since you started.

Wonwoo tells himself control is something he needs to learn how to manage.

You can’t help but touch yourself while you hold the toy against him; biting your lip to hold in your noises when you gently run your fingers over your clothed mound.

“Sweetheart…”

“Y-yes, daddy?”

Grinning, Wonwoo can already tell by the shakiness of your voice that you’re affected too and he can’t help but want his hands roaming all over your skin.

“You should have all your fun now while you can~”

Gulping, you heed the warning in his voice as you set the vibrator to its highest setting, causing Wonwoo to let out a broken cry as the vibrations make his entire body tremble and try to shy away from the toy.

“G--god, fuh--fuck, ngh…”

His moans have your pussy clenching around emptiness and your fingertips only press harder into the wet patch of your panties at the way he tugs against his restraints.

“D-daddy… I--Can I sit on your cock now? I can’t w-wait any longer, you look so good…”

“O-oh? Watching daddy being a little bit submissive got your panties all wet, huh, princess? Are you wet enough to take daddy’s cock already?”

“Mmhmm…”

You turn off the toy and pull it away from him, watching his body go slack before you shimmy off of his lap to take off your panties.

A grin etches itself onto your face as you hold the wet material in your hands. “Daddy? Do you wanna know how wet I am?”

You can see Wonwoo’s brows furrow from above the blindfold but he nods once, lips parted slightly as he catches his breath. Goosebumps are all over his skin and he can feel you starting to grind down onto his clothed cock as your wetness soaks into the material of his boxer briefs.

“Oh, sweetheart, I--mmph!”

Giggling, you stuff the fabric between his parted lips - muffling anything he was going to say after as you grind down onto him harder. “Mmh, daddy you’re so hard… ‘m gonna make myself cum on your cock now, okay~?”

Only what you can assume are muffled curse words fall from his lips when you scoot back down to his thighs, tugging his boxer briefs down before wrapping a hand around his cock.

You lean over and let saliva drip from your mouth to the head of his cock - smearing the spit and his precum up and down his shaft as you prolong his teasing before giving himself, and yourself, what you both really want.

“Daddy, I wish you could see yourself right now~ I can tell how much you wanna feel my cute ‘lil pussy wrapped around your cock… Squeezing you and making you feel good too~”

Wonwoo can only groan around the fabric, hips thrusting up into your palm.

“And I’m so wet now too… But daddy always gets me sooo wet…” You shimmy back up his body, positioning his cock at your entrance before you start to sink down slowly. “A-ah, sliding into my hot ‘lil cunt like you w-were made for me, daddy…”

The amount of expletives Wonwoo’s screamed into the soaked material is uncountable at this point, but he says a mental prayer thanking the powers up above when he’s finally fully seated in your warmth - cock already curving deliciously into your g-spot as you mewl.

“Mmh, I could cum like this… Your cock is s-so big it’s already filling me up s-so good and--and touching all the p-places inside me that make me w-wanna cum…”

You grind atop his lap, swiveling your hips before removing your bra and tossing it off to the side. “Ngh… daddy…” Your hands roam your skin, cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples as you whimper and clench down onto Wonwoo’s cock harder.

“Nod once if you wanna see me, daddy~ Or nod twice if you wanna talk to me~”

Wonwoo grits his teeth - you could really be evil when you wanted to.

But he nods once, sharply, to let you know he’s not happy he can’t have both. You laugh softly in return, leaning up to remove the silk ribbon from his eyes.

He blinks rapidly to adjust to the dimmed room, eyes on your naked body in a flash as you go back to teasing yourself.

“Do you like what you see, daddy?”

Wonwoo gulps, this time nodding shakily as he watches you pinch your nipples and cup your breasts. “Bet you wanna touch me too, huh, daddy?” He narrows his eyes - silently telling you to watch yourself.

“Hmm… s’not as fun when daddy doesn’t talk to me too~”

You smile at him teasingly before you reach over to pull the wet material from between Wonwoo’s lips and he doesn’t waste a second before he’s chuckling - quietly yet enough to make you shiver.

“Hah, gotta hand it to you, princess...”

He doesn’t say anything more which makes you nervous so instead, you start bouncing on his lap, fingertips on your clit as you chase your pleasure.

This won’t last much longer, you think, I gotta take what I can get.

Soft mewls spill from your lips as you maintain eye contact with him and the way he just stares at you is enough to make you cry out.

“D-daddy, d--don’t, ah, look at m-me like that…”

“Like what, princess?”

You pinch your clit, eyes clamping shut when he shifts slightly underneath you.

A choked sob bubbles up your throat when you throw your head back and the pleasure washes over you - your orgasm hitting you hard as you swivel your hips faster.

“Oho, my pretty ‘lil princess is already cumming~ Your hot ‘lil cunt is sucking my cock in deeper while you cum… Don’t you want daddy to fuck you good and hard? Feel my cock fucking you so deep you feel it in your stomach?”

“O-oh, god, daddy…!” Your thighs shake as you rub quicker circles on your clit - milking your orgasm for what it’s worth before you would give back the control to Wonwoo.

“Or maybe daddy should fuck you slow… Let you feel every inch of me when I’m sliding in and out of your pretty ‘lil cunt… Make you beg for me and crave me so fuckin’ bad, just like you did to me?”

His laugh is cruel and makes you whimper; orgasm ebbing away as your fingers slow down and your hips come to a stop.

Gulping, you know the second the locks click on the handcuffs that Wonwoo would most likely make you pay for all your teasing.

But you fish for the keys lost in the bedsheets - shaky, sticky fingers reaching above the silent male underneath you as you start to undo the locks keeping him bound to the bed.

And it doesn’t take long.

“Ah…!”

Wonwoo does the rest of the work himself, tugging himself free and maneuvering you swiftly until you’re on your back; the air knocked out of your lungs at how quickly he moved.

“Daddy, I--”

The words die on your tongue when Wonwoo pushes your legs up to your chest, not even bothering to rid himself of his boxer briefs when he sinks his cock back into you.

In this position, Wonwoo holds all the control; cock slamming into your sensitive cunt as garbled noises fall from your lips.

“D--daddy, ‘m se--sensitive… ngh…”

Your cunt is like a vice grip around his cock as he snaps his hips hard and fast - this time chasing his own pleasure after all your teasing.

In all honesty, he would’ve cum if you kept the vibrator on his body any longer and he mentallly reminds himself to not let you know how easily it affected him.

“I know you’re sensitive, princess~ Which is why you’re gonna cum for me again.”

Wonwoo reaches between your bodies, rubbing quick circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb as you scream out his name.

“Oh--oh, god! Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo!”

“That’s right. Fuckin’ scream my name, princess. Who’s making you feel this good?”

“Y--You! Daddy! Fuck, ah, I--I can’t, I can’t, I--mmh!”

Wonwoo already starts to feel your body tense up with each thrust of his hips that has the head of his cock tapping your g-spot.

“You can and you will, princess.” He mutters, eyes focused on your face that contorts in absolute bliss. “Daddy wants to feel you cumming on his cock while he fucks you nice and deep. You take me so well, princess~ Fuckin’ taking all of me in your cute ‘lil cunt.”

Tears blur your vision as the pleasure starts to wash over you a second time - nothing leaving your lips except for an alternation of ‘Wonwoo’ and ‘daddy’ as your legs shake and toes curl.

“Fuck, princess…!”

Wonwoo’s cock is forced out of you as you cum hard; squirting all over his lower half as you cry out and convulse against the sheets.

The ringing in your ears is enough to block out anything he seems to say but he’s quick to wrap a hand around his cock and tap your swollen clit as he works you through your second high.

“Aww, my good ‘lil princess is so cute when she’s squirting all over daddy~ Making a big mess, too~” Your body jolts with each tap of his cock head against your clit and it only prolongs your orgasm as you thrash against his sheets.

“Da---daddy… I, hic, ‘m sor--sorry…”

When Wonwoo feels your body start to relax after a few tense minutes, he takes in your glowing form underneath him; thighs slicked with wetness and bed sheets soaked and crumpled underneath your bodies.

In a moment of gentleness, he lets your quivering legs down, fingertips massaging your tired body as he leans over you.

His lips are ghosting across your cheek as you open your teary eyes, soft cries still on your lips when he wipes at your tear stained cheek with the back of his fingers.

“You okay, princess?”

“Mm…”

“You wanna stop now? We can if you want.” His voice is barely above a whisper and the softness of it makes your body feel warm and sated when he kisses you gently. He repeats this a few more times as you catch your breath; leaving feather-light kisses all over your face as you mewl.

“You didn’t cum yet though, daddy…”

“I know, s’okay.” He smiles against your lips, “I want what you want… ‘Cause I really like you. And I’d really like to go on more dates with you, princess. And I wanna be able to tell everyone that I really like you too. And show you off to them and make them jealous that you’re mine. If you’ll let me. And learn with me.”

You giggle tiredly into his kiss, hazy eyes meeting his own.

You were happy.

And Wonwoo was too.

“Wanna start by grabbing me a glass of water from downstairs then, daddy?”

“Anything for you, my moon.”

“Does that really work?”

“What do you mean?”

“The ‘holding a cup to the door’ thing. Can you hear them?” Mingyu purses his lips at Minghao’s question.

“Not… really. Kinda just muffles it more.”

Jeonghan passes by the two currently hunched over each other in front of Wonwoo’s door; an incredulous look on his face.

“Why are the two of you listening in on them fucking? Fucking weirdos.”

Mingyu and Minghao both turn to look at the older male, lips pursed into a firm line “We’re not listening to them fucking, hyung. We’re trying to hear their conversation.”

Jeonghan laughs as he shakes his head.

“There’s absolutely no valuable conversation going on if she’s screaming ‘daddy’ so loud that Seungcheol is texting me about it from his bedroom. You should leave before Wonwoo finds out and decides to make rugs out of the two of you.”

“Ugh… Yes, hyung.”

💕

#wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #svt imagines #uimy_meltwonu #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #fratboy!svt

[wordynerdygurl]

Hello Everyone! I've been conspiring with @sammy-jo1977 to create a new series of sorts. We want to explore all those characters that started us on our journey into Fandoms, large and small.

This series will be a place for those ladies and gents who haven't had a lot of attention recently, are old favorites or the ones you can't seem to shake. If you would like to contribute a chapter to this guide, please send me a message! We want to have a full and accurate guide, so we are hoping you'll hop in with your character of expertise!

As an example, I'm posting our first story... I'd love to get your thoughts! With Love - Your WordyNerdyGurl

In The Stacks - A Rupert Giles Story

Author’s Note:  This story is due, in large part, to my beta-bestie @sammy-jo1977 and it is part of the afore mentioned series.  This character might be off television, but his fiery spirit lives on!! As always, reblogs/ shares are encouraged as are comments and love!

Pairing:  Female Reader x Giles (Buffy The Vampire Slayer Series) Summary:  You get up to mischief with the librarian, in the stacks. Warnings:  SMUT ahead.  General Buffy knowledge might help, but is not required.  There’s a moment with a bit of blood, but hopefully nothing too triggering for anyone! I hope you enjoy!

“Mr. Giles?” “Just a moment!”  You heard the clipped British voice answer before being drowned out by the heavy thumping of falling books and the rustling sound of shifting papers hitting the floor. As you stepped further into the Sunnydale High library, you weren’t surprised to see the familiar faces of Buffy, Willow, Xander and Cordelia huddled around a small table.  The friends were practically inseparable and clearly close.  You found their kinship adorable and couldn’t help smiling at the group as you drew closer. “Hello to some of my best students!  And of course, to you Mr. Harris.  How is everyone today?”

Willow, stalwart student and overachiever, smiled broadly, “Pretty good.  I did ace my math quiz and got an A on my English paper… but, well, I only pulled a B on my Bio test and I just know that I could have done better.” Offering her friend a consoling pat to the shoulder, Buffy sighed, “It’s ok, Will.  You’ll get those cells next time!” “Tune in next week as Willow passes her AP Biology test with flying colors, on ‘As Sunnydale Turns’!” Before anyone could counter, Giles came around the corner carrying a sturdy stack of texts which he dropped onto the table as gently as the large load allowed, “As always, you four are the best assistants a librarian could ask for.” “Come on Giles!  You know I only hang out here for the beautiful ladies!” Pinching the bridge of his strong nose, Rupert Giles sighed, “I am well aware of where your interests lie, Xander.” “Please, he can hardly handle being with one beautiful girl.”  That was from Cordelia who pouted prettily, her hand mirror open as she fixed her hair. “My girlfriend, ladies and gentlemen!  Thanks for that, Cordy.” Snapping the case shut, staring down her beau, she smiled, “You’re welcome.” “Uh, Mr. Giles, if I may?”  You hated to interrupt but you had come in with a purpose and you meant to see it through. “Yes, of course, how can I help?” Shuffling your feet, a bit nervous now with the asking, you smiled shyly, “I asked at the local library but they were absolutely no help.  You see, I’m looking for a specific point of reference and I was led to believe that you could help me.” “Oh!  Is it something for our Inner Vision collage boards?  I love working on mine, only… It’s not my fault that I only see dark clouds and blood when I close my eyes.” “Well, Miss Summers, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  And the best art challenges us to see that beauty.” “I hate to tell you what I see when I close my eyes.”  Xander retorted. “Ah, Mr. Harris, your collage certainly showcases your, ahem, cultured world view.” “Hey!  The Simpsons are fine art, ok?  Just because they don’t live in a museum doesn’t mean they aren’t culture.” Giles, unable to stand by any longer griped, “Xander, I am almost positive that cartoons do not count as culture.” You started to answer but Buffy cut you short, adding, “Don’t mind Giles.  If it doesn’t come out of some dirty, dusty old book it can’t be culture.” “It’s pop culture!  The entertainment of my generation!” It was your turn to cut in, turning to the tweed clad gentleman, “Actually, Mr. Giles, Xander has a point.  Cartoons and animation in general are all increasingly seen as valid forms of art.  No matter what your tomes might tell you.” Smirking a little, he appraised your answer before replying, “Be that as it may, Mr. Harris, the amount of television you consume is corrosive.” Raising his hands in defense, Xander’s head swiveled between the two of you as Willow chimed in, “Give it up, Xander.  You know you’ll never win and besides, I’m pretty sure that animation and art are different.  Wait.  They are, aren’t they?” “When I was in Rome last summer, the very attractive, very Italian tour guide told us that they’ve found painted graffiti on the Coliseum.  It only goes to prove that times change but people don’t.” “Cordy’s right!  About the art, not the dishy Italian.  And they didn’t paint it, they carved it.”  Bouncing her blonde hair decisively, Buffy made her declaration.   “Wouldn’t paint be easier?  I mean, who wants to carry a chisel in order to deface a wall?” “Oh!  Oh!  I know this!  The kind of paint needed to last for centuries hadn’t been invented yet!”  Willow, lifting out of her seat in the excitement of academic excellence, was giddy. “Yes, Willow, that is correct.  In fact, a lot of the graffiti is simple and very crude.  Mostly of the phallus, if memory serves.  I’m sure I can find a documented case in Agrippa if you’ll all just-” And you watched as everyone rolled their eyes as Giles trailed off, lost now in the hunt for a specific volume which could be sited, should further proof be needed. “Ew.  Pass.” “I’m with Buffy here, Giles.  Keep your Grecian graffiti out of my brain.” “I’ll stick with the Simpsons, thank you very much.” “Yes, well.  It’s not Grecian at all, is it?  It’s Roman-” Smiling broadly, Buffy hopped off the table, “Giles is right.  The Greeks were more into orgies!” “Buffy!”  Willow’s shocked response made you cover a laugh with a fake cough. “-Of course, cites are rare.  Very difficult to find documentation.”  Giles, typically, hadn’t given up the search. Cutting through the chatter, louder than it ever needed to be, the period bell sounded. "Ugh.  Gym class for me.  Why is this even a thing?" "I don't know Buffy, I thought you liked showing off in your little shorts and beating the boys at basketball." "Cordy, that's enough.  And while us boys do love looking at you, Buff... we don't love the beatings you regularly deliver." "Well, I have a free period Giles!  Do you want me to stay and -" Snapping shut the leather book he was gripping, Giles caught your eye and turned to the peppy student, "Uh, no Willow, I don't think so.  I believe I need to see what our Art Department is in need of at the moment." With a shrug, Willow began packing up her belongings as Xander slung his back back over his shoulder, "Will, you can come with me.  I'm going to find a nice little corner, under a tree, and sleep away my study hall." “But, I… I could help find the Agrippa?  Or… some other old Roman book?” Xander wrapped an arm around Willow and took Cordelia’s open hand, “But why do that when nothing calls?” "Another fine example of your scholastic aptitude, Mr. Harris", was your parting shot at the foursome as they walked out the door. "Well. Mr. Giles, now that we’re alone… Could I talk you into helping me out?" “Of course, of course.”  Pushing his glasses further up his nose, fixing his light eyes on yours, “What are we looking for?” Sighing deeply, knowing the chances were slim, “I was hoping we would find some examples of Pre-Columbian deity carvings.” Pausing, his look serious, Giles peered at you, “Interesting.  Anything in particular?” “Yes, actually.”  Again you flushed, more than a little flustered at what you were really looking for, “I’m researching fertility icons.” Raising his eyebrows, Giles started, more than a little outside of his comfort zone, but you had to give him credit.  He recovered from the shock rather quickly, “Oh… I… I see.  Well yes, I’m sure we can find… something.  If you’ll follow me, please.” “I’m right behind you.”  Biting into your bottom lip, you smiled to yourself.  Right behind Mr. Giles?  What a place to be.  Giles led the young art teacher through the deepest stacks of the library, pausing once or twice to confirm that she was keeping up with him.  He was ashamed to admit that he had lost travelers a time or two as he stalked through his overstuffed shelves, knowing instinctively where to find the book he needed most. For her, watching the tweed covered bottom of Mr. Giles was no hardship.  True, he was older and tad bit reserved in the best British way, yet she had the sneaking suspicion that underneath all the wool and starched cotton was the heart of a wild man poet. "Uh... just a bit further, I'm afraid.  Books like this, well, I keep them at a greater remove." "It makes sense.  Don't want the kiddos getting a hold of anything too tantalizing." "Of course not.  As you well know, they don't need much help in the libidinous response department." You chuckled softly, nodding as the air around you grew stuffier, "Too true!  You should see what some of them turn in and call art.  It would make a blind man blush." And at the mention of blushing, you were shocked to see a rosy hue grow on Mr. Giles' cheeks.  You liked it.  It reminded you of the high color in a Vermeer painting.  You couldn’t help the flutter in your belly at the thought, "Mr. Giles, have you ever seen a South American fertility statue?" "I can't say that I have... have... have you?"  Something about the idea of you examining an ancient artifact directly connected to sexual congress made his body stir.  "Hmm... Oh, yes.  I was able to study in Mexico for a semester.  Some of the art work is just incredible and the carvings, they're truly magnificent.  Carefully made.  Usually stone or..." swallowing hard, your throat suddenly dry, "hard wood." Breaking fast at the implication in your words, Giles froze in place which caused you to press directly against his broad, vest covered back.  You had a second to register the soft scent of his aftershave; something spicy and masculine, which made your mouth water.  Moaning quietly, you offered a weak apology, “Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Giles.” Offering you his profile, the bookcases too cramped for him to turn around fully, you saw his sweet smile, “That’s… that’s quite alright.  In fact, we’re here.” Stepping out of the way, you pushed back against the opposite wall, the shelves digging into your spine in the confined space.  Giles bent over, giving you a great view of his backside, as he extracted a slim book from the bottommost ledge.  When he stood up, directly in front of you, the narrow, book covered alcove caused him to stumble. Giles’ chest collided with your own, forcing the air out of your lungs.  Instinctively, you lifted a leg, curling it over the swell of one trousered hip and lifting the hem of your knee length plaid kilt.  Nose to nose in a compromising position, you exhaled a shaky breath as Mr. Giles inhaled, “Close quarters around here.” Shifting under his deceptively hard figure, it was difficult to ignore all the places that were firm to the touch, especially when you could feel so much through the thin barrier of your cotton panties.  Bracing one arm on the obliging shelf biting into your shoulder, Giles pushed back a bit, lifting his weight off of you without making any other attempts to move away.  He was so close now.  Close enough to feel your fuzzy sweater and all the soft skin that trembled beneath it.  Close enough to see the pound of your pulse in your throat.  Close enough that when you licked over your bottom lip Giles could almost taste it too.  And why shouldn’t he?  “Giles?”  Your voice was whisper soft, fanning hotly over the face of your colleague. “Uh… yes?” “I’m stuck.” Blinking behind his thick lenses, it took the normally quick witted Brit a second to process your words, “You’re stuck?” Nodding slowly, your hair curling over your cheek, “My… My skirt.  It’s… uh, caught.  Caught on something behind me.” “Good heavens!  I’m so sorry, let me help you.”  Slowly, Giles lowered your bare leg to the floor, his hand lingering for a second longer than absolutely necessary.  He was still in your space.  Still incredibly close to you. You arched away from the bookcase in an attempt to free yourself with a groan that sounded heady in the stuffy stacks.  All you managed to do was force your sweater covered décolletage into Giles’ chest.  Stammering, a wave of sweat breaking over his brow, “Allow me?” The way your skirt was caught pulled the bright plaid lower on your waist than you would normally consider decent.  It meant that you had a fleshy strip of skin exposed along your tummy and Giles raised his eyebrows by means of asking permission to touch you.  “Yea, yes.  Please!” Tentatively, gently, you felt the strong fingers of Rupert Giles circle your waist and shivered at the unfamiliar familiarity of his touch.  Your chin rested on his shoulder as he worked and you couldn’t help sighing when he opened his hands and pulled you closer.  Under other circumstances you might have misunderstood the embrace but you were both professionals.  Not that you hadn’t considered the handsome book guardian a time or two before. “I… I think we’re almost there.  If you’ll just, maybe to the right?” “Um, sure.”  Following his directions you twisted in his arms, trying hard not to tear your outfit or rub against Giles.  All the close contact and talk of fertility gods had you feeling a little aroused and it wouldn’t do for your colleague to learn that fact. With a triumphant grunt, Giles set you free, only for gravity to kick back in.  The momentum created by your falling took the gentleman and the entire Grollier’s Gothic Almanac collection with you.  A cascade of papers, scrolls and dust rained down on you both. Coughing, aware that you were laying on something softer than the floor, you struggled into a sitting position, swatting away clouds of disintegrated pages, “Rupert?  Are you alright?” From beneath you a rumbling grumble that sounded like, “Yes quite… you?” was heard.  It was then that you realized exactly where you were.  Straddling your friendly neighborhood librarian, surrounded by debris, but safe, all the same. “Oh my!  I’m so-” “No, No.  Please, don’t apologize.  I’ve been meaning to reorganize this section and well, now it seems I’ve got no choice.” “You’ve got a bump.  Right here…”  Just over his right eye a small bruised egg, the color of lilacs, was starting to rise and you gingerly touched the swelling spot. “Then it will match the one on the back of my head perfectly.” “Poor Giles!  All of this injury in the name of research!” “No one ever tells you the dangers one might encounter in the library.” His dry British wit sent you both into giggles and suddenly nothing could be funnier than the moment you were in with Mr. Giles.  Looking up at you, his fingertip traced over your cheek, suddenly serious, “I’m not the only one with a war wound, it appears.” “Oh?”  Your hand covered his as you realized that you had a small cut, bleeding just a little, over the apple of your jaw.  Smoothing his thumb over your injury, Giles soothed you, saying, “Hush now, I think you’ll live.”  And you watched as Giles sucked the drop of scarlet from the pad there, his green eyes on yours, daring you.  Something about it was so… sinful.  So dark.  So alluring. Then his lips were on yours, suddenly and savagely.  Hands, firm and capable, slid under the fluff of your sweater along your spine as you tangled your own in his dark hair.  Giles, drawing you near, was satisfied only when you were splayed over him, writhing between the piles of text and stacks of piled paperbacks, as his tongue plundered your mouth. Trapped by his bent knees at your bottom, Giles helped center you over the firmness of his excitement, teasing you as you moaned, “Oh, oh Rupert!” “Call me Ripper.”  Before the word had left your throat, Giles was sloppily kissing over your neck, sucking lightly on the skin revealed by the v-neck of your top.  Sitting up quickly, you lifted the soft sweater over your head, tossing it away from you without concern.  Like one of the teenagers you might chastise, you then hugged your lover tight, gasping when you felt the nip of teeth over your bra.  “Giles… Uh, Ripper!  Please, go easy?”  With a hard grip on your upper thigh and one hand on the back of your neck, Giles held you still, smirking, “If you wanted easy you shouldn’t have come looking for fertility icons, my dear little art teacher.  And if this particular article of clothing-” He paused long enough to pinch at your hardening nipple before continuing, “-is dear to you, take it off.” Clenching your abdominals at his crass language, more turned on that you could remember, you reached behind you.  Unhooking the pretty scrap of lace and satin, you shyly covered yourself, biting into your bottom lip, “Fine… Ripper.  Should I be worried for my virtue?” “Absolutely.”  Without waiting for permission, Giles pulled your arms away, exposing your bare body to his blazing gaze, “You have nothing to hide, you know?  You are-” “Just shut up and kiss me, Ripper.”  And he did. Grinding your hips into his, it was impossible to ignore his hardening manhood, even through the fabric of his pressed trousers.  Giles cupped your bottom, under your skirt but over your panties, bouncing you in place as if he was already inside of you.  For your part, you tried to unbutton his pin striped shirt, but the force of his kisses was proving too distracting. “Oh, dear!  Poor thing been kissed senseless?”  He was teasing and cruel, but in the sexiest possible way. Red cheeked and huffing, you nodded, “Yes… let me touch you!” “Tsk… you didn’t say ‘please’.” “Please!  Please, Ripper!  Oh god, please let me!” Unseating you slightly, Giles leaned up on his elbows, cocking his head to one side as he took in the mess he had made of you, “Go ahead then.  Unzip my pants.” “What?” Removing his glasses, eyeing you darkly, “You heard me, I think.” Swallowing hard, your hands shaking with excitement, you reached for Giles’ belt.  Watching him, and only him, you slowly slide the leather from it’s buckle.  When you popped the button of his pants and let your hand drag over his hardened length, Rupert groaned and tossed his head back, “Yes.  Keep going.” Slowly, agonizingly so, you lowered the zipper as you were ordered to do, “What now, Ripper?” “Take me out.  I want you to feel what you do to me.” “I can do that.”  You played it cool, but the saucy words being said in that clipped British baritone did things to you.  They made your thighs tighten, your belly flutter and your breath catch.   Trailing a hand over Giles' barely exposed hip, you moved closer to the prize, your prize, as it pulsed with need.  Wrapping your hand around the meaty girth of Rupert's member, you couldn't help stroking the silky hot skin, so vital in your palm.  That it caused the man beneath you to moan your name only added fuel to the fire of your desire. Slick and sorely wanting, you licked your lips, ready to savor the flavor of your book stacking beau but he stopped you, saying, "Last chance to run back to the studio." "No way… Ripper."  And you felt a rough jerk as your panties were removed by force, the air cool on your overheated core.  Another kiss, full of needful things, distracted you as Giles parted your lower lips with his nimble fingers. Pumping into you, once, twice, just to ensure that you were ready, Rupert swiftly stretched your center.  With your small hand guiding his shaft, you lowered yourself onto the engorged tower of his power, crying out a ragged, "Oh God!" You thought you were capable of handling any man, but the delicious spread Giles' fine form forced you to endure was more than you expected.  Clutching at his bunched up sweater vest, your back arched tautly as Rupert dragged your hips down onto his unrelenting hardness over and over.   In your head, a rhythmic, tribal tattoo that made you think of ancient fires and curved statues took hold and you rose and fell against Giles on the beats vibrating through your brain.  He sensed it too, alternating his stroke, slowing down and speeding up in time with the thrumming pulse only the pair of you could hear.  "I want you to cum for me.  Do you understand?  Tell me you understand." "Yes!  Yes!  I'm so close, Ripper!  So close!" "Good.  That's very good."  Tingling now, your muscles tensed, ready for the release Rupert would provide.  You flung yourself onto his swollen sex without thought or reason, merely searching for the pleasure he had promised.  His thumb, so thick, so clever, pressed against your sensitive clit and your world imploded. Rupert felt it.  The moment your body and his melded together was forceful.  It tore his pleasure from his loins in grunting gasps as he experienced your ecstacy at his hands. Limp and listless, you draped your half nude body over his, dazed and drained.  Who knew screwing the librarian would feel this good?  In your post coital haze you started to laugh.  Giles, his hands roaming over the sweat soaked skin of your back, heard your chuckles and joined in.  It was another release, of sorts, and you found it almost as intimate as the act you had just committed. Folding your hands under your chin, flashing Rupert a wide smile, "Ripper, huh?" Sliding his glasses back into place and carding a hand through his hair, Giles grinned, "Oh, uh… yes.  Ripper.  My nickname in London." Toying with the collar of his shirt, "I'd love to hear about London sometime… Ripper." At the sound of that name in your voice, Rupert flexed inside of you, "Call me that again and you'll miss last period." Gasping against him, nodding weakly, "Hmm… promise?" That made him smile broadly as he handed you back your sweater, "We can't have a repeat of last week, can we?" "It wasn’t my fault you didn't hear the bell ring, Mr. Giles!" Sitting up, you fastened your bra and shrugged into your sweater before asking, "Did you have to destroy my undies?" "I'm afraid I did.  Although I told you to remove anything dear, didn't I?" "What am I gonna do for the next hour, Giles?" Pushing his glasses up, "I would advise you not to bend over." Swatting at him playfully, you used one of the sturdier shelves to stand, adjusting your skirt and fluffing your hair.  Looking around at the absolute mess created by falling books, embarrassed, you asked, "Can I help clean this up?" "No, I don't think that'll be necessary.  After all, Willow will be in-" "Along with Buffy and Xander and Cordelia.  Got it." Standing himself, Giles chuckled as he fastened his trousers and set himself to rights, "Precisely.  Now-" he bent over to retrieve a slim volume, "- The book you asked about.  Fertility iconography in Meso-American subcultures." "Thanks.  Ya know, I always enjoy coming to the library.  I'm surprised more people don't." Walking with you, his hand on your lower back, nuzzling into your neck, "I enjoy you cumming in the library." It was on the tip of your tongue to say something fresh when the overly loud bell clanged.  Lifting up on tiptoes you pressed a kiss to the goose egg over Giles' eye, saying, "I hope that makes it feel better!" Snagging you into a tight hug, Giles stared into your eyes before kissing you deeply, "That.  That makes it feel better." And then the library door swung wide on the four students who called the library a second home, "Um… are my eyes deceiving me or is Giles sporting a black eye?  I was only gone for an hour, big guy, what happened?" "If you must know, Xander, a shelf collapsed in the back.  We were fortunate enough not to be badly hurt but, there were some bumps and bruises." "A shelf!  Oh no… which one?!" Giles turned to Willow solemnly, "I'm afraid all the Grollier’s… and most of Crentist." "On it.  Come on Xander.  You can help me sort!" "Aw, gee.  That sounds like fun." As the pair trotted off, you turned to Giles, whispering low, "Dinner?  My place?  You can tell me about London, your childhood and why you love tweed." Eyeing Buffy, who was distracted and a distraught, Giles answered, "Tonight?  Um…" "He'd love to!  Say 9 o'clock?  And, he'll bring the wine."

Spinning on your heel, surprised that Buffy was your champion, you grinned, "Great!  Awesome!  I will see you then."

As you left you heard the bubbly blonde doling out instructions, "No Giles.  You can't wear that outfit to dinner!  You need to look nice.  Nicer than you do now.  Also, why is there so much dust in your hair?" If Giles answered you didn’t hear it over your big yawn.  You had a lot to do between now and 9 o’clock.  Rupert Giles was coming over for dinner and you could hardly wait.

------ Fin ------- I’m tagging my minxes, even though this is specifically NOT a Loki story.  I do want you guys to send me stories that might fall under the “Hot Characters” banner though!   Minxes:   @scrumptious-finicky-illusion​ @iamverity​ @mizfit2​ @sammy-jo1977​ @wolfsmom1​ @jessiejunebug​ @iluvsumbucky​ @unadulteratedwizardlove @procrastinatinglikeabitch @shxdowofdarkness​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @ahintofkiwistrawberry​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @crystalizedcaramel​ @lokislittlecorner​ @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81​ @caffiend-queen​​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​​ @jenjen8675309​​ @that-one-person​​ @roguewraith​​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @just-random-obsessions​ @brokenthelovely​ @lots-of-loki​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​

#giles #rupert giles #rupert giles x you #giles x you #hot characters you forgot about #rupert giles smut #giles smut #buffy fanfiction

[sw124]

MLC: Josie and Viper

[Symbiote Boyfriend]

She hadn’t moved all day, she barely ate anything all week, she didn’t speak to anyone for almost a month; her phone muted. She tossed and turned on her couch from time to time but mostly to keep a cramp in her leg at bay. The only time she moved from the couch was to use the restroom, if it wasn’t for Viper she probably would have trouble even moving a single finger.

“Babe, honey you need to eat.”

Josie tilted her head towards the voice, no one was in the room. Her stomach complied with the tone, it growled like a ticked off bear. With a heavy sigh she walked into the kitchen, she went to the fridge and pulled out a gallon of milk. From her back a large ocean-black tendril extended and pulled out a box of cereal and a large bowl. Josie picked up two spoons and went back to the couch, once the cereal was made the tendril picked up the remote and turned on the TV; from her shoulder a larger mass formed a head and turned to her. Large milky eyes curved upwards before leaning and gently placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

“….Thanks sweetie…….sorry about all this-“ she was silenced with a smaller tendril touching her lips.

“Babe you got nothing to be sorry about, come on lets watch some dumbass commercials and classic cartoons. We’ll deal with what happened later…ok?”

Viper nearly melted seeing her smile, he could feel that little spark of joy in her…but then get smothered by guilt again…he had to help her but problem was how.

After the seventh spoonful of chocolate cereal came a rather interesting commercial. It was an ad for the Meta Clinic and…Monster/Human couples therapy? This made the couple pause, this was…well this was new! Sure there were dating sites, clubs, cafes and speed dating for people looking for monster boy/girlfriends but now offering couples therapy?

Viper wanted so badly to grab the phone and call for an appointment but…he didn’t wanna force Josie into something like that. He’d be doing more damage then good…he’d start by talking about it.

[Two weeks later]

“Viper and Josie?” The secretary called out. Josie looked up from her phone and stood up.

“Thats us…” Viper extended his head from her back giving a nod.

“Dr. Fortune will see you now, please head back down the hall to room 7 please.”

With a nervous smile she proceeded down the hall, Vipers head gently tucked beside her..whispering soothing nonsense. This was enough to at least quell the rising panic in her chest, finally they came to a door with the number 7 on it. With a hard gulp Josie pushed opened the door…

The room was massive! It almost looked like the lobby of a hotel, hell it even had a pool in the corner of the room and a tank! The room was painted in shades of two-toned moss, the air smelled of perpetual rainfall…and lemon. It was there but didn’t overpower…the temperature was perfect.

In the center of the room were two chairs, a large love-seat sofa and a dark grey armchair. Between them was a white round table with a pitcher of water and three glasses. In the grey armchair….was the doctor they came to see.

“Ah, you must be Josie and Viper. Please come in, have a seat.”

She hesitated but…Josie complied, the love-seat felt like if jelly and clouds got married and had a baby. It was so soft and cool to the touch, best part she didn’t sink it like some other chairs. Viper loved the feeling, hell he could just imagine cuddling up with his girl on this couch watching old sci-fi movies.

“Lets get started, first can you tell me how you met an how long have you two been together?”

Josie paused…then spoke. “Well…Viper an I met via collage..we had the same class, we got paired up and it sorta started from there. We’ve been together for about…two years now.”

“What kind of class were you in?”

“It was a philosophy class, I took it cause I was curious on what made philosophy so damn interesting.” Said Viper.

“I personally took it cause I’ve loved things that sorta question the norm of society. Our project was to listen to one of the stories of Plato, we got ‘The allegory of the cave’ and write our thoughts on the meaning and reasons behind it….those were some of the best nights I ever had.”

Josie never noticed the subtle blush on her cheeks, but that smile she had told the Doctor everything they needed to know, even Viper couldn’t hide his smile.

“You and Viper have a very close relationship I can tell…however the reason why you’re here is not really about the two of you. Its the people around you, mainly family.”

You could almost make out Josie’s heart in her throat, Viper; if he had one, would have been in his as well. Dr.Fortune took a sip of water and…with a sniper-gaze they fixed on Josies eyes.

“I’m going to take a guess, stop me at any time. The problem isn’t with either of you two but from Josie’s family.”

Josie began to chew on her thumbnail, Viper was quick to pull it away as the Doctor continued.

“Your parents I will take are very strict people, perhaps even falling in line with deep religious practices but yet despite saying their ‘devout’ they continue to say and do things that go against the basic principles of their religion. Growing up they saw you as either property or a tool to get what they wanted. If you ever raised your voice in defense of yourself…you were either met with Verbal or Physical violence…”

The Doctor paused, fat tears were cascading down Josie’s face. Her breathing was labor, almost choking on some of her deeper breaths. Viper already had his tendrils wrapping around her in a tight embrace, gently whispering into her ear.

[Klink!]

Josie jumped, looking down she found one of the glasses had been filled with water…with a lemon slice in it. She looked up at the Doctor who was pouring a glass for themself.

“Take a sip, it’ll help.”

She…did feel a little parched, Viper handed her the glass, she took a few small gulps. Blinking she looked into the glass…the water tasted sweet, with the lemon slice it almost had the taste of lemonade but without the sharp zing. She noted how the water almost was coating her throat, soothing the burn forming.

“Like it? Its something I made myself for my patients, I boil distilled water and honey together an let it sit overnight in the fridge then add lemon slices to it. The honey and lemon help soothe your throat while the cold water rehydrates you.”

“Its…really good.” Josie smiled taking another sip. “Everything you said…was right, even the religion part. My parents always treated me like I was some show pony at every gathering, they never listened to me an always thought my problems were just…not worth their time.” Josie rubbed a tear away.

Viper remained quiet but nodded when she was done speaking, Dr. Fortune turned to Viper then.

“An the first meeting with her parents they referred to you as a ‘parasite’ and even went so far as to disown Josie from her own family if she didn’t breakup with you.”

Vipers eyes went wide for a moment before slowly closing…his lips curling back, showing off his razor teeth.

He hissed. “Yes, the moment she finished telling them they started calling her all sorts of nasty things and…even went so far as to say they picked out a husband for her to marry. To be honest I actually knew the guy and he…he’s rich but also a huge dick, he was the biggest bully at my high-school back in the day. When Josie refused…they disowned her and kicked us out on the streets…this was around a month ago…”

Dr.Fortune set their glass down, leaned back in the gray chair with their elbows resting on the armrests…fingers pushed together in a pyramid fashion.

“An since then Josie has received texts and phone calls demanding she breakup with you and marry this ‘dick’ all for the sake of money. I’ve seen this before and its a classic case of narcissism but also a show of parental neglect and abuse.” Doctor Fortuned leaned forward, their gaze turning sharp.

“Josie….for starters you are not the problem, your parents are stuck in a mindset that is outdated and unacceptable. You are not to blame for their disappointment, no you never were. Your parents refused to change their ways and therefore are stuck in the past. However that doesn’t mean you have to, in order to help yourself you need to first cut ties with the ‘parasite’ that is your family. Go completely no contact with them, then once thats done I want you to focus on your relationship with Viper.”

Josie blinked, eyes widening. Cut ties with her family?! How could she do that, this was her family!

“Yes I’m aware your not keen on the idea but…let me ask you something. When has your family ever done anything for ‘you’ out of love an ask for nothing in return?” Josie opened her mouth but….nothing came out…she looked through all her memories…but couldn’t find anything.

“Now…I want you to think about what Viper has done for you, who do you think is more deserving of your time an energy? A family that wants you to marry a jerk for money or the symbiote who from the moment he met you has treated you like the human you are?”

Josie sniffled….they were right, ever since they met; Viper had shown her nothing but compassion, patients and love. Sometimes she felt so guilty about putting him through her crap but…he never complained about it. She rubbed her eyes again, it was time to stop waistline her hard earned time and effort on people who didn’t love her! It was time she spent her energy on Viper and school!

Doctor Fortune smiled, the match was struck and the fire was starting to burn. Now it was time to slowly stoke the coals and make sure they never went cold.

“Your right Doctor….I need to stop waiting my time with those people…I’m thankful they gave birth to me but thats no reason to hold it over my head. I’m…I’m done with them!” Josie slapped her knee, it…it felt really good to say that.

Viper could feel the adrenaline pumping in her, yes there it was, the spunky spitfire he fell for was back an with a vengeance!

“Thats good to hear, but thats just the first step in your road to recovery. I want you to take this a step at a time, in time you may learn to ‘forgive’ your family but don’t you ever, EVER forget what they’ve done to you. If you forget then your just gonna end up falling into their grasp again. On another note as a way to help you cope and give you a extra bit of therapy I suggest taking up a type of hobby. Hobbies can help you gain a sense of control over your life.”

The Doctor paused and looked down at their watch. “Oh, it seems we’re just about done with our session. If you’d like to set up another appointment please see the secretary up at the front desk, before you go is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

Viper looked at Josie, she looked right back at him before turning to the Doctor.

“What kind of hobby should I get?”

Doctor Fortune handed them a small brochure. “Try flipping through this and see if any catch your fancy, my suggestion is find a hobby you two can do together or by yourself; its really all up to you an there are no wrong choices.”

An with that…Josie and Viper left, scheduling another appointment two weeks in advance. As they walk outside Josie looked through the brochure, there were so many hobbies to choose from..

At least she and Viper can choose together.

[I plan to do more couples, I did a Symbiote/human couple to start cause everyone is familiar on what they look like thanks to Venom. I’ll be working on more monster like boyfriends in the future. I hope you like this, I’ll be doing more of this in the future including Yandere couples. This was inspired by @semisolidmind artwork, I also wanna thank @sarabat85 for helping me out as well. My next couple will hopefully be posted very soon and was put together by my closest and dearest friend @eomlotanis who has always helped me with story ideas and character development.]

#fanfic #monster boyfriend #monster

[thewildsophia]

.The Consequences of Consuming Paint. Clone High//Van Gogh x Reader

Trigger Warning:

Referenced self-harm, Attempted suicide, Talk about self-hatred.

A/N: I know this might be difficult to read, and if you don’t feel comfortable reading this kind of stuff then I recommend not, but I really felt that this was somewhat accurate to his character. The actual Van Gogh was depressed and tried to end his life multiple times so it felt  only fitting that clone Van Gogh be the same way.

Suicidal!Van Gogh x Depressed!Reader

Word Count: 5151

~~~~~~~~~~

To put it simply, there was something wrong with Van Gogh. As of late, he seemed more irritable and tired, didn’t enjoy doing activities with you and, one of the more concerning to you, wasn’t eating as much. He was already a pretty small, thin guy, and the thought that he wasn’t eating made you worry more than normal. 

You already knew Van Gogh was depressed, it was part of the reason you became friends, but it seemed that his symptoms were getting worse. With everything going on, you were scared that he would try to do something he’d regret. 

You thought this because, like Van Gogh, you too were depressed and knew how impulsive people could become when they were hurting. 

You were currently in Painting II with him. He was getting his work done, but he was lacking the normally present enjoyment he usually had. He seemed distracted, simply idly correcting a few mistakes in the piece he had made the day before. You had tried to start a conversation with him, but it was difficult to hold it since he wasn’t really interested, only offering a few word responses. 

It left a bad taste in your mouth. Even if he wasn’t a very outgoing person, he would normally converse with you like there was no tomorrow. 

You eventually left it alone, opting to work in silence for the rest of the class. He never made an effort to talk to you afterwards. 

Class ends and you notice how slow Van Gogh gathers his things. You decide to help him, putting the paints and brushes he was using away. When you turned around you noticed that he had left before you could walk him out. 

For the rest of the day you tried to get your work done in your classes, but you just couldn’t help but wonder if he was alright. At first you were simply worried about him, but after that class you were terrified. Since you two didn’t have anymore classes after that you tried to look for him in the halls while transitioning classes, but to no avail. 

It was the end of the day and you at your lockers grabbing the books you needed to do your homework. You were planning to head over to Van Gogh’s dorm to check up on him before heading over to yours for the night. Before you close your locker, however, you felt a tap on the back of your shoulder. Turning around you were met with the blue eyes of Van Gogh. 

“There you are!” You said while closing your locker, “I’ve been looking around for you.” You finished. He looked away a moment and scratched the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, sorry. I haven’t exactly been myself lately which…I’m sure you could tell.” He said, shifting from his right foot to his left, “I’ve had a lot to deal with recently and have had a crap ton of things on my mind. I just…wanted to thank you for being by me and supporting me all this time.” 

You stayed silent; it was a technique you learned in psychology where if you stayed quiet someone would keep talking. And sure enough, he did.

“So, thank you for always being there to help me,” He looked up at you and smiled. 

But it wasn’t right. 

It seemed a bit forced and the emotion behind it didn’t convey joy or happiness, but despair and regret instead. It was a smile you knew all too well, and you had a pretty good idea about what he was planning to do. However, you decided to play dumb.

“Of course,” You started, “I’ll always be here for you, Vincent. Even if you’re at your lowest, I’ll be there to dust you off and pick you back up. I’d…be lost if something were to happen to you.” You said, hoping that your choice of words would get him to reconsider. You saw his smile drop slightly.

“Is there…something you need to talk about?” You ask after a moment.

“No, no, I just wanted to thank you for standing by me,” He said, “You were really the best friend someone could ask for.”

Were.

“Thanks,” You said, trying to ignore the nauseous feeling you had in your stomach, “If you ever need to talk just stop by my dorm or send me a text, got it?” You ask him, receiving a nod. 

“I’ve got to get going. My teachers didn’t hesitate to assignment a bunch or work.” He said turning around and walking away.

“Alright, see you tomorrow!” You shouted before he left. He only turned to look at you and smiled. He turned back around and continued walking. 

He already had his mind set.

You felt that coiling in your stomach and this time you actually felt like you were going to be sick. You gave him some time to get to his dorm -- you knew how long it took since you and him constantly walked there after school -- before you made your way there. 

You shifted on your feet a moment before giving a hesitant knock. You waited a moment before knocking harder, calling his name.

“Van Gogh? You there?” You shouted, “It’s me, Y/N.” You waited another minute before you decided that it had been long enough. You quickly searched for the key to his dorm, finding it and opening the door quickly.

The lights were off but you could see the mass on the bed that you assumed was Van Gogh. You turned the lights on and quickly made you way over to him. While running over there, a note on his desk caught your attention. 

You looked over at it briefly, only reading the first line and you quickly realized what it was. 

His suicide letter.

You quickly looked over at him, ignoring the tears that were welling up in your eyes, grabbed his shoulder and shook him. 

“Van Gogh?” You called out, shaking him a bit harder, but there was no response from him. That sinking feeling returned as you quickly removed the covers finding no blood, but instead…paint?

You looked down at your feet and saw that, in your haste, you had been standing on empty tubes of paint, most of them being yellow. 

“What did he…?” You questioned, before seeing an empty bottle of turpentine. 

“Did you…!” You asked out loud before checking his mouth and, sure enough, there was a collage of different colors. Blues, greens, purples, reds and yellows -- all matching the tubes scattered around the floor -- mashed together, illustrating his despair.

“You-IDIOT.” You shouted as you quickly picked him up, relieved at how warm he still was, and made your way to his bathroom. 

You gently placed him in the bathtub and turned on the water. You got in, sitting behind him and placing him in between your legs. You held him close to you with your left arm as you, despite wanting to, shoved your fingers into his mouth.

You hated doing this, but you knew that this had to be done. You had to get the paint and turpentine out of his body. 

It was disgusting, feeling the warm paint slide between your fingers as you pushed them even farther into his mouth. You didn’t even try to hold the tears and sobs back as your attempt to help him seemed to fail. 

“Van Gogh…VINCENT!” You sobbed into the back of his neck as you kept prodding at his throat. “PLEASE. Please. please, please, please, please, please…don’t leave me.” You cried.

“Please…I love you. I love you so much so PLEASE…stay. Stay so that I can tell you that to your face.” You were still screaming, sobbing and about to pull your fingers out in defeat before it happened. 

You felt it, warm and wet, before you actually saw it. 

A jumble of bright colors, with the distinct color of vomit, decorated your arm and was quickly dragged down the drain by the water. 

“Van Gogh…” You said, removing your fingers and listening to him cough for a moment. 

“Who…?” He asked quietly. You barely heard him over the running water. Relief quickly ran through your system, tangling with your anxiety and fear, as you wrapped both arms around his middle section, feeling him take gulping breaths of air.

“Me-It’s me. It’s Y/N.” You said while gently rocking him in the water. The paint and vomit had stained your long sleeve shirt and was most likely getting on Van Gogh’s coat, but you didn’t care. 

“Van Gogh,” You said as his breath evened out, “Vincent, I love you. I love you so damn much. Don’t…don’t leave me. Not like this. Never like this.” You said as the tears of relief mixed with the ones of despair on your cheeks. Neither of you moved or spoke for a moment before you felt his arms on your own that were around his waist. 

“Okay,” He began, his voice a lot more hoarse than normal, “Okay, I’ll stay.” He said while shifting in your arms to face you. His own cheeks, although difficult to tell with the water, were stained with tears. His face was flush and eyes red and you assumed you looked the same.

“I love you,” Were his next words, “I love you too.” You felt that coiling return and this time you didn’t ignore it. It didn’t feel bad this time, but instead somewhat enjoyable. You pressed him to your chest, embracing him tightly. He returned the favor, wrapping his arms around your neck. You heard and felt him cough a few times on you but it didn’t bother you. 

You stayed in there, water pouring over you, until your fingers pruned up and the water turned cold. When he pulled away there were paint stains on your shirt where his face had been pressed into it. You stood up, turning off the water and helped Van Gogh out of the tub. 

The two of you awkwardly stood there for a moment. Both of you were soaked to your core. After a moment, Van Gogh spoke up.

“I’ll…get us some dry clothing.” He began ringing out his clothes over the tub and, hesitantly, started to take his coat off. Upon doing so revealed the orange-cream color v-neck shirt you had bought for him. It also revealed the soaking wet bandages that covered both of his forearms. You frowned, but didn’t stare since you knew how annoying it was. 

He squeezed the rest of the water out before saying, 

“I’ll be right back.” He left the room and you stood there for around a minute before the door opened again. 

In his arms were a few towels, a plastic bag and clothing. He handed them to you explaining,

“Sorry, these were the only clothes I had that would fit you since you’re taller than me and all.” He scratched the back of his neck, “Uh, I’ll leave you to it.” He said awkwardly before leaving the bathroom again.

You hadn’t even looked at the clothes until after you had stripped down and dried yourself off. Upon inspecting them you encountered a problem.

They were short sleeved.

Specifically a short sleeved t-shirt and pair of shorts.

You felt yourself frown as you looked at the clothing and then at yourself in the mirror. You may be a lot better than you were before, but you were still very, very, self conscious about how many scars you had. You were especially worried at how Van Gogh would react to seeing them after…that. 

You had  never told him you were depressed and telling him that you were this way wasn’t exactly appealing to you.

Nonetheless, you put the clothes on deciding that revealing clothes are better than wet ones. You placed your wet clothing in the bag before making your way to the door. You hesitated a moment, before slowly cracking the door open and looking out.

You spotted Van Gogh in new clothes undoing the wrappings on his head before he noticed you peeking out.

“Do the clothes fit?” He asked, pausing his movements. 

“Yeah…” You said opening the door all the way and stepping out. His eyes widened and his shoulders slouched, his hands still in his hair. It was quiet for a moment. 

“So uh…” You started after a minute, “I guess you were bound to find out someday. I had just hoped it wouldn’t be like…this.” You said, gesturing to yourself. He looked away from you, returning to unwrapping his head bandages. Once done he pulled the bandages away, revealing his ear to you.

It actually wasn’t as bad as people had said it was. A little over half of it was gone and there was dark scarring around the edge of it, yet it still didn’t look “disfigured” per say; just different. 

“I’m not really one to judge,” Van Gogh said, pulling you out of your thoughts, “I’m sure you could tell by now that I’m no better.” He finished with a nervous chuckle. He idly picked at the bandages around his arms as he met your gaze. 

Neither of you were sure what to do, simply looking at the other wait for them to do something. 

“Here,” You said after it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything, “Let me help you rewrap everything.” You made your way over to him and sat down next to him on the bed. Hesitantly, he offered you an arm and you gently began unwrapping it. You felt his eyes on you the whole time.

It was an all too familiar sight, one that usually didn’t faze you anymore. It did this time since you knew that this was Van Gogh and that he did this to himself. You couldn’t help the tears that began to well up in your eyes, but you did your best to ignore them. It was only when one of them hit Van Gogh’s did you do something.

“Y/N?” Van Gogh asked but you held a hand up quieting him. 

“I’m fine.” You said, gesturing for him to give you his other arm. He did, and you began unwrapping that one too. You held both arms together and briefly looked at Van Gogh to see him staring directly at some of your own. 

Normally, something like this bothered you, but it didn’t this time. 

You rubbed his hands with your thumbs before you leaned down to press a kiss to both of them. When you looked up you saw Van Gogh staring at you with tears in his eyes. You took both of his hands into your own before stroking his cheek. You pressed a kiss to his other cheek before standing up. 

“Where do you keep your bandages?” You asked. 

“In my desk. Middle drawer on the left.” He answered and you made your way over there. The note briefly caught your attention before you turned it back to finding the bandages. You scrounge around for a moment before finding what you were looking for. You walked back over and set the bandages, along with rubbing alcohol and cotton pads, on the bed. You brought his hands into your lap before you got to work, first cleaning them with alcohol and covering them. You did your best to ignore the small whimpers of pain Van Gogh would make when you cleaned a particularly fresh cut. 

Once done, you threw the used cotton pads away and returned the other supplies to the drawer. You looked back over to Van Gogh noticing that he had curled up into himself, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. 

“Hey,” You said, getting his attention, “Let me cook you some dinner. You’ll feel better afterwards.” He looked away a moment before asking,

“Do you think we could cover my ear first?” 

“No,” You began and for a moment he looked taken aback, “Wait for your hair to dry first and then we’ll cover them. Otherwise the bandages will just get wet again.” He frowned, but you could tell he understood. 

“You know, I always thought you had cut off the whole ear, not just part.” You say. He looks up, “This is honestly an upgrade. In my opinion at least; it gives you character, makes you stand out in a good way.” You say while slowly walking over to him before taking him into your arms.

“Come on, don’t look so sad.” You said while laying back on the bed on your side, Van Gogh pressed against you. He wrapped his arms around you and held onto you tighter as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. You stayed quiet for a moment before speaking up.

“Look,” You started, feeling his eyes land on you, “I of all people probably understand what you’re going through. Hell, I probably know what you’re thinking right now. Probably something like, ‘What do I do now?’ and ‘Where do I go from here?’. Something like that, right?” 

He looks at you shocked before asking, “How do you know this?” It seemed that he realized the answer before you actually said it because you saw his jaw snap shut after asking.

“I…also tried to, you know, end my life. Twice actually.” You added with a nervous chuckle. “I’ve been doing my best to get better and, even though I’m not all the way there, I’ve begun to like living again. And I think that’s possible for you to achieve that too.” You look down at him and notice how the tears had fallen from his eyes, but he had a blank stare.

He was probably spaced out you figured. You knew he heard what you said but he just could really respond. 

“Listen, I know you don’t want to talk about this tonight and we don’t have to, but let me take care of you. Please?” You explain. He shifts in your arms a moment before saying,

“Alright.” You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead and, reluctantly, pulling away from him. 

“Great. I’ll cook some dinner for us.” You walked over to his kitchen to see what you could make. Upon looking around, you noticed that he didn’t have much to cook with, most of the things he had were prepackaged or frozen. 

“Wow, you’ve got nothing.” You say under your breath as you close the cabinet, “No wonder you’ve gotten so thin.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He apologies from the bed. After a moment of thought an idea pops into your head.

“Alright, put your shoes on, we’re going to my place.” You said as you made your way over to the door, grabbing your backpack and bag of wet clothes. 

“What?” He asks. 

“You heard me,” you said, grabbing his usual black dress shoes, “Dinner’s at my place tonight.” 

“But,” He said pausing for a moment, “I really don’t want to go out there with my ear…exposed like this.” You stared at him a moment while handing him his shoes.

“Look at me,” You stared, “I don’t want to go out like this either, but I was going to have to eventually. So, we’ll go out together, exposed.” 

He was quiet for a moment before he sighed.

“Alright, let’s go.” He said while putting his shoes on. The two of you walked out and thankfully there wasn’t anyone in the hallways at the moment. The two of you made your way up to your dorm, only running into a few people. Once there you set your things by the door and made your way to the kitchen. Van Gogh followed you and offered to help you, which you gladly accepted. 

You looked around to see what you could whip up quickly and decided to make a simple beef stew. You gave him a few vegetables asking him to peel them before you got to work cutting them, along with the beef, up and cooking them. You added the beef broth to everything and had to wait around 15 minutes. 

In that time, the two of you had decided to lay on your bed, holding each other ‘til the alarm went off. Both of you had gotten up and walked into the kitchen. You had Van Gogh sit while you cut up some bread and served both of you. 

The two of you ate in silence for a bit and it was nice. You were happy knowing that he was eating something, especially after having to empty his stomach like that. You also made sure he was drinking a lot of water.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Van Gogh said after a while, “I really appreciate this. And I’m sorry about what happened. About…you having to find me like that.” You felt your stomach clench at his words.

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for,” You started. Van Gogh looked as if he was going to protest, but you continued before he could, “When people are in pain the way that you are, the way that I was, they do impulsive things; things that don’t accurately reflect them. So, don’t apologize to me, there’s nothing for you to be sorry for.” You finished and he looked down at his empty bowl. 

“Are you finished?” You asked as you stood up with your bowl.     “Yeah.” He said and you took his bowl to the sink. You briefly looked over to the clock that read 9pm. You looked back over at Van Gogh, watching him idly trace the bandages on his arm. At least he wasn’t scratching them.

“Do you need any night clothes?” You asked. He looked over at you confused before answering,

“No?” 

“You sure?” You asked, “Because you’re spending the night.” You added and you smiled at the blush that spread across his face.

“I-Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to take up any space here.” He asked nervously.

“It would be my pleasure to have you stay here with me.” You said walking over to him and pressing a kiss to his forehead. You ran a hand through his bright orange hair before saying, 

“We can wrap your ear up now if you’d like. Your hair’s dry enough.” He smiled before looking you in the eye and saying,

“You know, I think I’ll leave it as it is.” You smiled before hugging and picking him up. 

“Thank God, because your hair is soooo soft.” You said as you rubbed your cheek against the top of his head. You placed him down, giggling at the bright peach color that dusted his pale cheeks. 

“Come on, I have some unused toothbrushes you can have.” You said leading him over to your bathroom. You dug around your bathroom cabinet before finding a still packaged toothbrush and handing it to him.

“Are you sure you don’t want a different set of clothes? I know mine will fit you.” You said before you exited the bathroom. 

“I’m sure, but thank you again.” You heard him shout through the door. 

You waited for him to finish. A few minutes later he walked out of the bathroom. You turned the lights out before getting into bed. You noticed how Van Gogh just stood by the bathroom door until you motioned for him to join you.

“Get over here, I’m not gonna have you sleep on the floor.” You said and he started to walk over to the bed. He slowly, almost hesitantly, got into the bed with you. He stayed close to the edge of the bed farthest from you. 

“Do you want to…” You started, opening your arms. He looked at you for a moment before quickly scooting over and into your arms. You wrapped him up in the blankets and gently rocked him when you heard him quietly cry. 

“It’s alright. It’s okay to cry,” You say as you run a hair through fluffy, orange hair, “I’ll make sure you get help, okay?” You felt him nod into your shoulder. 

It was quiet for a while, you had assumed he had fallen asleep, until he asked,

“Do they have to know?” Before you can ask who ‘they’ are he clarifies, “My foster parents. Do they have to know about all of this?” 

You knew what he wanted to hear, but you had to be honest with him. You sighed before answering him.

“Yeah, they have to know. Along with the school and your general physician,” You said and you felt his grip on you tighten.

“But don’t worry,” You said trying to comfort him, “It’s really not as bad as it sounds, and I’ll be there to help you through it.” 

“I just don’t understand,” He said, catching your attention, “Why would you try to…end your life? You’re so…perfect, I just…don’t understand how someone like you could feel this way.” You looked down at him in the dark.

“The one thing about mental illness is that it doesn’t discriminate,” You begin, “It doesn’t matter how great, or shitty, your life is; this is just something that can affect the best of us.” You explained. He remained quiet, so you decided to keep speaking. 

“Something I was told that helped me understand this is that a butterfly is unable to see how beautiful the colors of its wings are, but us as observers are able to see the colors of its wings. Using that logic, people are always able to see the good and beauty in others, but not in themselves,” You explained to him. You trailed a hand through his hair, traced his jaw and tilted his chin up to look at you, “But I’ll be here to tell you how beautiful and…and perfect you are.” 

You saw his face flush as tears gathered in his eyes. 

“God,” He whispered looking away, “Sometimes it's hard to believe that you love me.” 

You grabbed his face and quickly pressed a kiss to his lips. He was stiff before melting into your embrace. His lips were chapped, yet oddly soft and you taste the lingering tang of vomit. I was kinda gross, but you didn’t care as much as you thought you would.

It was gentle and chaste and you pulled away stroking his cheek saying,

“Then I’ll keep saying it ‘til you believe it.” And that’s what did it for him. He let out a choked cry before full-on sobbing into your chest. 

You let him and only when his crying seemed to calm down did you say anything.

“Are you feeling better now?” You asked, receiving a nod from Van Gogh, “Good. Now, get some rest. You need it.” 

“Okay.” He whispered before curling back into your embrace. You pressed him tighter to yourself, resting your chin on his head and continuing to run your hand through his hair. It was something he seemed to like since you noticed how he would lean into your hand. 

It was quiet and before you knew it you had drifted off, asleep with Van Gogh in your arms. In all the time you knew him, you never thought you’d ever have this.

~~~~~~~

You woke up the next morning sometime around 8:30am. Classes start at 8:45am but you didn’t make a move to get up or to wake Van Gogh up. You simply stayed there with him, stroking his hair again. 

Seriously, that may have just become your new favorite activity. Running your hand through his soft, bright orange hair, feeling the weightless locks slip in between your fingers. 

You were the only one awake for a few minutes before Van Gogh slowly opened his pale cyan eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. He looked up at you and smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself at the dopy look on his face. His smile vanishes, however, as he quickly asks,

“Shoot, what time is it?” He sits up in the bad and makes a move to leave but you grab him by the shoulder, stopping his movements. 

“It doesn’t matter, we’ve got the day off.” You say while pulling him back into you.

“What are you talking about,” He begins, letting himself be pulled back into your embrace, “It’s a Thursday.” 

“Maybe so,” You start, sitting up in bed with him, “but we have some things to…workout.” You finish, rubbing the back of your neck. He shifted in your arms before say,

“Okay.” 

The two of you talked it out, he explained everything that was happening and why he did what he did. In turn, you gave him a run down about what the two of you would have to do now. You also explained how he might have to spend some time in a physical and then mental hospital due to the severity of everything that transpired. 

When you were done explaining everything, he was silent, most likely processing things. 

“I know that this is a lot to be introduced to so fast. Honestly, I wish I had known the first time what was going to happen with me.” You added with a slight chuckle to try and ease the atmosphere. I didn’t work seeing as Van Gogh seemed as tense as he was before, “Look at me.” You told him, and he did.

“Listen, I really wish I could say that this will be an easy thing for you to do, because it won’t be. I’ve been getting help for over a year and a half now and I still struggle sometimes, but I’m so much better than it was before,” You explained and, for once, he seemed interested, “I still don’t love myself, but I definitely don’t hate myself anymore, and that’s something I want you to be able to say about yourself. Because I love you, and I want you to be able to love yourself.” 

You watched as tears began to well in his eyes. He quickly lunged at you and pressed his lips against your and morning breath had never tasted better than in that moment. You were momentarily taken back at his boldness before kissing him back with just as much intensity. 

When he pulled away you could see the tear tracks on his face and feel the cooling of his tears on your own. 

“Thank you,” He said, “I love you. I love you so damn much Y/N.” He finished, cupping your face in his petite hands. You smiled, pressing your forehead to his and cupping his face. 

“I love you too, Vincent Van Gogh.” You said and you ignored the ache in your cheeks as your smile widened when his face broke out in the lovely peach color. You pressed another kiss to his lips, one he quickly reciprocated. You pulled away, getting out of bed and stretching.

“Come on,” You said looking back at him smiling, 

“I believe we owe your foster parents a visit.”

#clonehigh #clone high #clone high van gogh #clone high vincent van gogh #clone high x reader #van gogh x reader #clone high van gogh x reader #thewildsophia writes

[softyoongiionly]

La Grande Maison: A Mystery in Three Acts 🎠

The rooftop is your safe haven. It’s your escape from the woes of the world below and, you and your best friends take every opportunity you can to visit this special place. It’s here that time slows down, that all your problems seem to fade away...

But when one of you goes missing, not even the rooftop can save you from the nightmare that has yet to unfold. 

Pairing: Jimin x Reader (but also this one is mainly about good ol fashion friendship)

Genre: Mystery/Thriller

Word Count: 25k 

Warnings (please read me!!!): angst (like seriously chief this one is ROUGH), alcohol use (not excessive), drug use (not excessive), violence, mentions of murder/crime/kidnapping, swearing (excessive), mentions of death, character death (not major), SMUT (18+ only please). 

A/N: hello yes. It is me. This one is ALOT my friends. Like holy freaking heck. I am honestly so incredibly excited for you to read this and, I can’t wait to see what you think of it. It’s my actual baby and, I’m kind of nervous cause, I’ve never written a fic like this before so, I really really really hope you like it. If you do, please let me know, feedback means everything to me. 

Please Note: Bolded text indicates when characters are speaking Korean

Regarding Taehyung’s French scenes (yes our boy is fluent in french in this fic), I did my best. My french isn’t perfect so, if there are mistakes I am super sorry. 

Please please please let me know if you liked it!

I love you all so much, please enjoy.

Act I- Sur La Grande Maison

The rooftop is a place you often end up.  

It’s a little cliché, you think: a bunch of misfits corralled onto a dodgy high-rise building in the middle of the city, cigarette smoke wafting in the air.  

But you and your friends aren’t delinquents.  

The worst any of you has ever done is get a speeding ticket and that only happened because, one of you had dared Hoseok to go over 100 miles an hour on the highway: Hoseok never turns down a dare.  

But no, the rooftop is a quiet place despite the shady motel it rests upon and, it’s a place you and your group of friends cherish for different reasons  

Jin likes it because; he can spot new street food vendors from the massive height of the building. He’s made all of you try some interesting shit but, most of the time, it’s delicious.  

Namjoon has perfect view of the river and, sometimes he separates from the seven of you to write poetry while gazing down at it.  

Yoongi doesn’t always join you but, he finds himself dragging himself out of the house to listen to the underground rappers that perform in the club next door.  

He thinks he can do better.  

He’s probably right.  

The rooftop gives Hoseok the space to dance; he doesn’t have it downstairs in the room he rents and, he can’t afford a practice room. So, he brings out his old speakers and amuses the rest of you while he moves fluidly around the concrete.  

Taehyung loves to paint the skyline and, the roof allows him a view that he can’t get anywhere else. He’s painted it a hundred times but, he hasn’t used every color; not yet at least.  

Jungkook brings his dads old polaroid up every time you guys meet. He takes unflattering pictures of all of you and, you know it’s just for fun but, what you don’t know is that he’s made a collage on his wall of all of them and, he smiles at them each morning as he heads to work.  

And Jimin well…  

Jimin has a lot of reasons why he loves the rooftop:  

His friends of course; he can’t imagine his life without all of the late nights/early mornings he’s spent huddled up with his best friends, laughing so hard he can’t see straight.    

The view is amazing, it makes Jimin feel like he lives in a penthouse despite him working three minimum wage jobs just to keep a shitty roof over his head.  

But all of those things pale in comparison to his favorite thing about the rooftop: you.  

You’ve been friends since high school but eight months ago, he started realizing that the little crush he had is actually full-blown LOVE and, that he should probably tell you soon before he loses his shit.  

Luckily for him, you reciprocated.  

It wasn’t easy at first, Jimin’s a jealous man and, he let his trust issues get in the way but, after a few stupid fights, he decided he needed to grow up and knock it off.  

The rooftop saw it all, the fights, the making up, the making out and, one night when everyone fell asleep, Jimin made you cum three times underneath the blanket the two of you were sharing.  

It’s a little filthy he knows but, he gets kind of primal around you, he wants everyone to know you’re his.  

But he knows when it’s appropriate to do so and, he’d never try to control you.  

Unless you two were in bed together then, there are times when you give him that control.  

He always brings you down nicely though, he always kisses your forehead...  

You think you might fall in love with him a little more each time.  

“Y/N?”  

A voice brings you out of your thoughts and, you look up across the makeshift bonfire to see Hoseok smirking knowingly at you.  

“There’s an old mattress over by the chimney if you and Jimin need to relieve yourselves...”  

There is a small echo of laughter that moves through the group and, you cock your head in confusion, “What are you talking about?  

Jimin throws a cigarette butt at him, wrapping an arm around you, “Fuck off. She doesn’t realize she does it...” You feel him tuck a bit of hair behind your ear, smiling fondly at you, “Don’t worry about him, he’s just mad he doesn’t have a girl looking at him like that.”  

You turn towards the rest of your friends, “Wait what do you mean? What did I do?”  

With chaos in his eyes, Jin takes the cigarette Namjoon passes to him before nodding to you, “You were eye fucking your boyfriend.”  

“Shut uuuup.” You answer immediately, burying your face in Jimin’s neck which prompts a pleased round of laughter to move past his lips.  

You didn’t realize you were doing it but, you don’t protest his observation.  

It’s been nearly a month since you’ve had a night off, meaning you’ve gone without your boyfriend’s touch for way too long.  

He tugs you closer to him and presses a kiss to your head whilst everyone else laughs at your expense.  

As the night breeze rushes in to move between the eight of you, Jimin holds you even tighter, tugging the old knitted blanket around your body.  

“Give her a break, she’s been without dick for a long time...it’s been like a month since we met up.” Taehyung interjects, taking a drag of the cigarette before passing it to Jungkook.  

Cigarettes are nearly $10 a pack, so they share one at a time and, pitch in when the supply runs low.  

You don’t smoke but five of them do and, you’re kind of thankful your boyfriend isn’t one of them.  

“So? Do you guys not meet up in between? Y/N has a studio, plenty of privacy...” Jin waves his hand between the two of you, judgement in his eyes.  

Jimin tenses up beside you, not really enjoying the way the conversation has shifted, “We both work 3 jobs hyung, you know that.”  

“You’re right. Sex is probably quite straining for you...” Jin smirks, enjoying the annoyance in Jimin’s eyes.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin’s eyes are narrowed and, you are quickly coming up with a plan to distract your boyfriend from Jin’s teasing.  

His not exactly a good candidate for roasting; he’s far too sensitive for that.  

“You know cause it’s...” Jin positions his fingers in such a way that suggests that Jimin has a small dick  

“Jin-” Namjoon groans in warning but, Jungkook and Hoseok have already started snickering.  

You expect your boyfriend to pop off, guns a blazing, eyes alight with offence but, instead he just smirks.  

Letting his hand curve around the ball of your knee, he says something that nullifies Jin’s insult,  

“You don’t have to have a big dick to be good in bed hyung...”  

Jin isn’t phased and he raises his eyebrows as he holds the cigarette to his lips, “That’s something people with small dicks say.”  

Hoseok and Jungkook snicker again, enjoying the drama and Taehyung grins from behind his phone, shaking his head.  

Jimin’s smirk widens as his hand continues to trail up your thigh, “Do you think I’m bad in bed?”  

His question is spoken into your ear and, his breath against your skin causes a shiver to run through you.  

“No.” You giggle, leaning into him and, he’s quick to tighten his grip on you, his lips quickly finding the side of your head.  

“Now, Y/N...every good relationship is built on trust. You two will never last if you continue to lie.” Jin’s laughter escalates to a full-blown windshield wiper volume and, surprisingly enough, it’s Yoongi who shuts him down  

“Your fiancé made you sleep on the couch with me the other night because, you were too drunk to get it up so,” Yoongi tilts his head as if he’s wagering two options, “you're not really in the position to be talking shit.”  

Everyone’s face turns up in surprise as Yoongi, or Mouse, as they like to call him, puts Jin on blast without even looking up from his phone.  

“Mouse just ended your whole life bro.” Hoseok cackles, throwing back a bit of vodka as Jungkook leans into him with the weight of his laughter.  

Jin waves him off like the unbothered king he is and, gestures to the vodka bottle in Hoseok’s hands, “Mouse’s have tiny dicks too so, he’s just jealous.”  

Namjoon literally cringes in his seat, looking at Jin with incredulity, “Mice not mouse’s...”  

Taehyung laughs at that, leaning forward a bit to warm his hands around the fire. He looks exhausted but, then again, so do the rest of you.  

But it speaks volumes doesn’t it?  

That you’re all hear together, on your only days off, soaking up every bit of time you have.  

Roasting aside, anyone can see that there is nothing but love between the eight of you.  

If you had it your way, you’d spend every night up here.  

Jimin reminds you with his lips, just how long it’s been as he places a few kisses against your cheek, “Come play with me.”  

You giggle, turning in his grip to meet his grinning face, “You sound like the twins from The Shining...”  

Jimin’s eyes wrinkle with his laughter but, he’s quick to place a searing kiss to your lips along with another sinful phrase, “Please? I haven’t seen you naked in a month.”  

You shake your head, tucking hand behind his neck to pull him closer to you, “I’ve sent you nudes...”  

Jimin’s quick to kiss you again but, his lips pout further and, you notice the scent of after shave lingering around his face.  

That shouldn’t turn you on but, for whatever reason, it does.  

“Yes you did and, trust me when I say, I put them to good use-” He kisses you again, nudging your nose as he does, “but I want the real thing.”  

“Let’s go then.” You whisper against his lips  

He kisses you once more before, getting Hoseok’s attention, “Yah, I need your key.”  

Hoseok lives on the 8th floor of the motel you’re currently loitering on and, his room is a place you and Jimin often end up during nights like these.  

Most people would be weirded out by it but, for you guys, it’s normal.  

You don’t bat your eyes at the seedier sides of life, you’ve all lived through it in some way.  

Hoseok just smirks, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, “Stay off my bed unless you plan on inviting me this time.”  

Jimin just flips him off, grinning fondly at him before taking your hand and, tugging you towards the door.  

“Don’t be too long, we wanna play poker!” Jungkook calls after the two of you and, although Jimin has a mission in mind, he responds anyway.  

“With what money?”  

“We’re playing for bragging rights obviously, that shit means more to you heathens than actual money.” Namjoon smirks, taking a swig of the vodka before passing it to Yoongi.  

“That doesn’t apply to me; I would sell all of you for an even $500.” Yoongi remarks, taking a big gulp and, bearing his teeth as it burns his throat.  

The rest of you just laugh but, before you can add your two sense, Jimin is tugging you behind the door.  

He has you pressed up against it immediately, his hands finding your waist whilst his plush lips kiss you with everything he’s got.  

You’re quick to reciprocate as your hands slide around the curve of his neck. Delicately, your fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck and, it spurs Jimin on even more as he groans into your mouth.  

“Christ, what are you doing to me?” He laments against your mouth, causing laughter to bubble past your lips, “It’s not funny...” He laments but, he’s grinning as he does, walking you backwards towards the elevator, “I’ve only been kissing you for ten seconds and, I’m already so hard.”  

You tug him through the elevator doors the collar of his t-shirt all while trying to keep your lips connected, “Should I only expect you to last for ten seconds too?”  

Jimin grunts in protest, his brows furrowing cutely as he shakes his head, “Don’t make fun of me, I missed you...” He whines playfully, smirking when you hitch a leg around his waist.  

“I missed you too.” You breath and, you always marvel at young Jimin can make you feel.  

You’re fully grown, sexually active adults and, yet here you grinding into one another like a bunch of hormonal rookies. The denim of his jeans pressing against the soft cotton of your panties hits you right in the pit of your stomach and, you’re honestly a little shocked by how wet you are.  

Jimin slides the key card through Hoseok’s door several times before it finally works.  

This motel is not a featured business on Yelp.  

“Fucking door- ugh Jesus I don’t know how he gets this open when he’s hammered.” Jimin laughs, pulling you close to him as soon as he shoves Hoseok’s door shut.  

“I have found him sleeping in the hallway before.” You point out but, the importance of your reply dies on your tongue when Jimin steps back to pull his shirt off.  

You don’t hide your reaction either, letting your eyes wander over the masterpiece that is Jimin’s body.  

He’s slightly tan from his days working at the pool, his sinewy muscles protruding tastefully against his smooth skin; it’s enough to make you drool.  

But to center yourself, you comment on something tangible before you literally start begging for him,  

“Your tattoo is healing nicely.” You nod your head to the black ink scrawled across Jimin’s ribs  

The word ‘nevermind’ has never looked so good on someone's skin before.  

He just smirks, “Yeah, it’s still a little sore though.”  

“Oh?” With a tilt of your head, you let your eyes scan over it again, “Should I kiss it better?”  

Your question doesn’t get answered because the next thing you know, Jimin has you on the couch, sat astride on his lap with your shirt half way up your torso.  

“I want you naked- I don’t give a fuck if they’re waiting on us...”  

All you can manage is a nod and, Jimin quickly tugs your shirt over your head.  

He connects his lips to the crook of your neck, sighing into your skin as if the taste alone soothes him.  

“You missed me too right?” He mumbles causing you to gently tug on the black tendrils of his hair so he’ll face you.  

“Of course.” You peck his lips once before pushing him back against the arm of the couch, “See?”  

Jimin nearly busts right there when you lean back to pull your skirt up, exposing the dampened material of your panties.  

Your boyfriend has a panty fetish that nearly warrants concern. For months, he would beg you to leave your panties with him after the two of you had sex until finally; you were down to your last 8 pair.  

He bought you more of course but, that didn’t stop him from begging all over again.  

“Fuck these are my favorite...” He winces at the sight, letting out a shaky breath before his darkening irises find yours again, “Leave them on.”  

You smirk, letting your skirt down and, pecking at his lips once again, “I thought you wanted me naked.”  

He bites down on your bottom lip, pulling it for a moment and, letting it snap back in place,  

“I changed my mind. I wanna cum all over these pretty little panties you’re wearing instead...”  

Jimin makes good on his promise.  

Sex with Jimin is something else.  

The pleasure he brings you is so intense it’s almost painful.  

It’s almost painful because, you hardly see each other and, if you had it your way, you’d be in his lap all the time.  

But, life doesn’t work that way.  

So, you take what you can get.  

He makes you cum twice on his dick, with his thumb pressed firmly against your clit.  

He whispers dirty secrets in your ear and, somehow manages to make you feel both filthy and beautiful all at once.  

Prodding another weakness of his, hickies, you help him reach his own release and, within 10 minutes he’s attaining the orgasm he’s been craving so desperately.  

“Fuck, I missed you so much...” He croons into your neck, nuzzling his nose there for a moment as you run your fingers through his hair.  

“I missed you too.” You smile, kissing the shell of his ear  

The two of you stay like that for a moment, kissing on one another, relishing in your reunion.  

When the time is right, the two of you will share a place one day but, for now, you have to continue working hard and saving money for the things your future.  

And speaking of making money...  

Your phone buzzes in the pocket of your skirt and, you sadly drag your attention away from your boyfriend to see a text from your boss at the nursing home  

Xander: Christian called out tonight :/  

Xander: you want to work a double?

Night shifts pay time and a half and, it would be another 8 hours on this next paycheck...  

It’s like a punch to the chest really.  

Because, you have to leave.  

One your one night off in nearly a month.  

You feel like crying but, you know that’s ridiculous.  

Jimin’s face falls as he sees the text on your phone but, he knows that his disappointment will only make you feel guilty and, he really doesn’t want that.  

So instead, he curls a finger underneath your chin and, kisses you with a tenderness that he doesn’t often display.  

Not that he isn’t sweet with you, it’s just that his lips are sinful and, normally they are working you into a frenzy.  

The time you two have together is so limited that everything always feels so rushed but, in this moment, he takes the time to kiss you slowly.  

And as he brushes a thumb across your cheek, he makes a promise to you, “I promise, we’ll get our break someday and, when that day comes, I’ll be kissing this pretty mouth of yours every chance I get...”  

You smile, leaning into his hand, “I’ll make you breakfast every morning…and we can decorate together our place together and-“

Jimin interrupts your fantasy with a kiss, grinning fondly into your lips, “Anything you want.”

You wrap your arms around him once more, tucking your face into his neck, wishing desperately that you can stay here with him all night…

“I love you.” You whisper into his skin  

“I love you too.” He replies, kissing the side of your head

Jimin walks you downstairs to the exit of the motel and, he tries his best to swallow his disappointment.

Your car is in the shop so; you’ll catch the bus right up the street and, try to remind yourself why you’re working so hard.

With a tight and lingering embrace, Jimin says his goodbyes to you, pecking your lips a dozen more times.

“Text me when you get home tonight…” He requests with a soft voice and, you nod, kissing him once more before stepping outside.  

Jimin leans against the stained glass, watching you with love in his eyes as you turn to wave frantically at him.

It brings a giggle to his lips as he waves back, feeling an ache in his heart as you disappear into the crowd of people.

Jimin knows he’s never loved another person the way he loves you.

He knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

But what Jimin didn’t know is that the agony of watching you leave after only a short time with him is nothing compared to the pain he has yet to endure.

Because tonight is no ordinary night.

Tonight, is the night you go missing.

Kosei Police Station, Thursday 6:24am

It’s been 54 hours since your friends heard from you.

Xander called Jimin, your emergency contact, when you didn’t show up for your shift Monday night.

The group promptly blew up your cell phone, trying any means necessary to reach you.

When there was no reply, they showed up to your apartment and much to their horror, the property manager has no recollection of you returning home.  

“How long has she been missing?”

Jimin wants to scream at the uninterested clerk behind the desk.

He wants to scream in general.

The police station should be in full chaos at the news of your absence.

They should be on the phone with every available resource, repeating your name and details over and over.

But it’s not.

It’s eerily calm and, he doesn’t understand why.

“The last time I saw her was on Monday. She was supposed to work that night but, her manager said she never showed up.”  

Jimin doesn’t recognize his own voice.

He feels like he’s outside of his body.

“Mhm…” The man drone behind the glass, casually typing a few things into the computer, “And what was her name again?”

Jimin’s blood boils over and, thank god for Namjoon because, he immediately intervenes.

“Y/N Y/L/N. She’s __ years old, she has __ hair, __ eyes and, she was last seen at the Paybrook Motel, Monday night. This isn’t like her to disappear. What is your protocol for these kinds of things?”  

The man enters the information before shrugging at Namjoon’s question, “Uh we’ll send a squad car out to do some ground work but, uh honestly most cases like these are resolved pretty quickly, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

Taehyung arches a brow, leaning in towards the bulletproof glass, “You wouldn’t- you wouldn’t worry too much about it? Our best friend is missing…”

The man nods immediately, as if he’s amending his mistake, “Of course, I just mean- she’ll probably turn up you know, most people do.”

Jimin’s eyes are stinging, he’s trying his best to keep it together but, the fluorescent lights are blinding him, the stale scent of old coffee makes him want to vomit, he feels like he’s losing his mind.

“Y/N isn’t most people…” Jimin spits, his eyes honing in on the man, “She wouldn’t just vanish like this, something must have happened to her, this is an emergency. Why aren’t you sending someone out right now?”  

“Sir, this is the inner city, no offense but, people like her disappear all the time…”

Jimin’s eyes narrow, “People like her? What the fuck does that mean?”

“Jimin.” Yoongi murmurs, wrapping an arm around him and urges him away from the desk before things get out of hand.

Surprisingly, Jimin follows but, not without sending a warning glare towards the clerk.

Long story short; the police are no help.

They don’t understand the gravity of the situation.

They don’t seem to grasp the pain the seven of your friends are feeling.

Even if they did, it doesn’t appear that they would care either way.

But the thing is, your friends are used to this.

They are used to being let down by the people who they’re supposed to trust.

Their hardships cultivated a unique ability within them each of them.

And that ability was to fend for themselves.

So a plan is made to spread out and search for you on their own.  

With heavy hearts and fire running through their veins, Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung and, Jungkook leave their responsibilities behind to search for their best friend.

Act II- Sous La Grande Maison

Jimin- Chillzzz Ice Cream Parlor, Black Swan Brewery and Pub, Cozy Acres Retirement Home  

Thursday 7:38pm-10:01pm

Jimin spent most of the day retracing your steps like a mad man. He went back to the motel and, walked along the path you would have taken to the bus stop, he showed your photo to every person who would give him the time of day. He spoke with subway drivers, businessmen in suits, homeless people but, no one spoke up, most of them wouldn’t even look at him…

He cried beneath the awning of the motel, not even noticing the judgmental looks that were thrown his way.

For good measure, he calls you and texts you another 50 times as he tries to swallow the acidic taste of fear crawling up his throat.

Where the fuck were you?

He visits your boss at the ice cream store but, she says she hasn’t seen you since your shift Monday morning.

He makes his way to the dive bar you wait tables at but, they have the same story except they haven’t seen you since Sunday night.

Everyone at both locations says the same thing though…

“It’s so unlike her you know? To just disappear.”

“I really hope nothing happened to her.”

“Whatever you need, just let us know.”

Jimin feels like he wants to pass out.

He feels like he’s been dropped in the dead center of a nightmare.

But, he knows he has to act quickly

The city has a habit of swallowing people whole and, he’ll be damned if his girlfriend falls victim to its clutches.

He makes a final stop at the retirement home you work in to speak with Xander.

Xander shows his concern for you in a big way; it makes Jimin slightly uneasy.

“Oh my god what are we gonna do? The police aren’t on it? How are they not taking this seriously?

“Jimin, we have to find her man, I would be devastated if something happened to her.”

“She’s my best employee, she’s absolutely precious…”

Jimin has half a mind to tell him to ‘shut the fuck up’

This is his girlfriend.

His everything.

Not Xander’s.

But Jimin knows he’s sensitive right now and, Xander’s behavior is a nice change of pace.

At least he gives a shit.

With all of his leads coming up dry, he decides to visit the one person who just might be able to help.

Someone who always assured him that they would be there should he need absolutely anything.

Someone who just might have the means to operate above the incompetence of the police department.

“Come here.” Lady’s voice is tender and, reassuring as she quickly pulls Jimin into her chest.

He collapses into her arms, an abrupt sob leaving his lips as he clutches the satin of her blouse.

Lady is a special person.

Jimin started working as her pool boy just over a year ago and, she quickly welcomed him into her life.  

She was becoming the mother Jimin never had and, in this moment, in the wake of his misery, he needs her more than ever.

“I don’t understand-“ He cries into her neck, her perfume is far too strong for his liking but, he remains close to her anyway, “Where is she? She never does this, she always gets back to us I- fuck…what if something happened to her? What if someone ki- ki…oh my god.” He wants to throw up, he can’t even get the word to pass his lips because, the thought of you being harmed literally sickens him.

“Shhh shhh shh, honey it’s ok, just breathe for me alright? Just breathe…” She coos, rubbing his back gently, her face tight with sadness, “I already have my guys working on it. They got started this morning once the news broke. I’ll put flyers up at the country club as well; everyone I have at my disposal is out there looking for her alright?”

Jimin just nods, he isn’t able to say much through his tears but, her words do calm him slightly.

Lady has resources that Jimin doesn’t have and, for the first time, he is going to accept her help.

She’s offered to assist him many times in a myriad of different ways:

Rent money, tuition assistance, money for textbooks, a new car…

But Jimin’s turned them down all the same; he never wants to feel like he owes someone for something.

He accepts the free food and, the occasional fancy clothes she gifts from her deceased husbands closet and, if anyone thinks of judging him for strutting around in dead guy clothes, Jimin would promptly remind them that he is wearing Gucci and, they are not.

This time though, Jimin doesn’t protest; he will take all the help he can get from anywhere he can get it…

“Let's get you a cup of tea or something, c’mon...”  

Lady ushers Jimin to the rich color of her lignum vitae dining table and, she even ensures she pulls out a chair for him to rest easy on.  

Jimin practically slumps into it, his body helpless.

Lady already had a pot ready for him and, although Jimin tries to act like he doesn’t enjoy it, she knows Lavender is his favorite...

“The police have her vehicle information in their news report, I’ll have my guys searching for her civic in no time.” She murmurs, pouring his tea and, eyeing him carefully.

Jimin winces, watching the steam rise from his cup, trying to hold onto reality, “Her car is still in the shop.”  

“That’s right my goodness,” Lady puts a hand to her chest, shaking her head,  “Do you think the person who cut her cables had something to do with this?”  

His heart sinks but, he hesitates a moment before responding, dread filling his chest once again, “I- I don’t know maybe? It’s not impossible. It’s been in the shop for the last two months though, it wouldn’t make sense for them to wait so long. Oh god, unless they have been watching her? Do you really thinks that’s possible?”  

She brings him into her arms again, the pads of her fingers rubbing gently against his lower back, “There are sick people in this world Jimin. But I promise you honey, we are going to do everything we can to bring her home.”  

Jimin leaves Lady’s house with a slightly better outlook.

Slightly

You are still missing of course but, at least he has someone powerful on his side.

Lady is an incredible person and, without her, Jimin thinks he might lose his mind.

Jin- The Night Market, Friday 8:22pm  

You all like the rooftop for different reasons, Jin likes it for the landscape of the night market: The neon lights illuminating the different food carts, the bustling movement of all of the patrons eager to try the next deep fried delicacy. As he walks along the wet cement, he smiles to himself, remembering all the times he used to drag the seven of you down here. He always saved his tips from the restaurant, and once a month, he would splurge, buying everything in sight. The complaints would soon cease as he shoved fried cheese in your faces, the desire to eat like royalty overcoming the group. And you would, you’d eat until you couldn’t walk anymore and, Jin would feel warmth blooming in his chest as he watched all of his friends, whom were more like family, eating well. He’s the oldest, he would think, it was his job to watch over the people he loves. It’s in this moment, as he’s reminiscing that he feels despair tear through his heart.  

He had failed.  

Because, one of you were gone.  

One of you weren’t safely tucked under his mother-goose gaze.  

Your smile comes through his subconscious then and, it feels like a thousand tiny needles scurrying up his cheeks to prick at his eyes.  

You always laughed at his puns, no matter how stupid they were

You always tried whatever food he put in front of you, no matter how strange or spicy it was, you’d humor him.  

With a heavy hand, he wipes the tears from his eyes before they can spill over.  

He doesn’t have time for pain right now.  

Because, tonight he’s at the market for different reasons.  

Tonight, he was here to investigate.  

The Night Market vendors are an interesting crowd, most of them were older, just trying to make ends meet by selling their creations but, there were a few newcomers that Jin’s noticed over the years.  

They were lured in by the neon, the paper lanterns, the money…  

They didn’t understand the culture of this place and, Jin resented them for it.  

“Yah! You’re the money man yeah? Are you buying me out tonight? Where are your friends?”  

Jin is forced out of his inner thoughts and, he meets the eyes of an older gentleman who owns the Mandu stand; one of his favorites.  

“I’m not here for much tonight, my friends are busy but,” He selfishly scans the selection of dumplings, plump and ripe for the taking. He points to a pork and vegetable one to the right of the case, “I’ll take one of the pork ones for the road. Is it ok if I ask you a few questions?”  

The man wrinkles his brow in confusion, “Me? I guess so, what can I do for you?”  

With a deep sigh, Jin pulls out his phone, with a photo of you as his home screen. He swallows back the bit of misery in his throat as he sees your face, before showing it to the vendor, “This is my friend. She went missing three days ago and, she was last seen up on that rooftop over there, “ He gestures to the motel, “She left alone and, she would have walked right past here on her way home. Did you see her at all?”  

As he pushes his glasses up his nose, the man squints at the photo, trying to make sense of it. After a moment, he shakes his head.  

“Sorry. I haven’t seen her.” His eyes flit over the image again, a bit of darkness lingering in his eyes, “Pretty little thing though…”  

Jin immediately rips his phone from the man’s view, disgusted at his comment but, he doesn’t want to make a scene and risk his line of information being cut off.  

“Thanks. If you remember anything let me know. I’ll be around for a bit.”  

He grunts in response, his interest waning as another customer walks up to his stand.  

Jin feels an immense amount of frustration; why the fuck does this man think its ok to gawk at you despite what he’s just told him?  

Does he have no heart?  

Raking his hand through his hair, Jin takes a deep breath. He doesn’t have time for his emotions right now, he needs to push forward.  

He moves throughout the stands, showing your picture to every familiar face that will give him the time of day.  

The chorus of no’s that echo back at him, slowing chip away at his resolve and, he feels himself growing desperate as he nears the end of the market.  

He hates how suspicious he feels.  

He hates that this place, which is home to so many happy memories, is now shrouded with a kind of darkness that he’s only ever read about in books.  

He feels sick with the thought of coming back without you; he doesn’t think he ever would.  

There is a few stands left, which Jin moves through without success before he finally reaches the Tteokbokki stand.  

It’s his favorite and, normally he’d be shoveling an entire tray of it into his mouth.  

But tonight, the smell of the sauce makes his stomach turn.  

“Excuse me, have you-“ Jin begins wearily but, he’s quickly cut off by the man beneath the umbrella.  

“You’re here about the missing girl right?”  

The man’s brow rises but, it does nothing to smooth out the valleys of wrinkles between his eyes.  

“I am…” Jin crosses his arms, reluctant to continue the conversation as the man smirks salaciously in his direction, “How did you know?”  

His smirk grows when he holds up a yellow walkie-talkie, “Word travels fast. I’m guessing you’re here to ask me if I’ve seen her and, I would tell you that I have but, unless you have something to offer me. I’m afraid that’s all I plan on telling you.”  

Jin’s face immediately flushes red. Anger floats up beneath the surface of his surprise but, he knows that if he reacts in the way he that wants to, the man will shut down.  

“What do you want?” He mutters through the tension in his jaw.  

The man’s gaze travels over Jin’s figure before settling on the pocket of his jeans, “Buy me out for the night and, I’ll tell you what I saw...”  

A quick scan of his cart shows Jin roughly 3 dozen trays of Tteokbokki. Even if he had an appetite, he doesn’t have the stomach or the means to consume that much food, nor does he have a way to get it back to his apartment.  

“How much is your cart worth?”  

The man tilts his head, squinting his eyes in thought, “Well, its 3 for a tray and there’s 47 on the cart…you do the math.”  

Jin finally does send a glare towards the man; enraged that he’s capitalizing off of his grief but, he types in the calculations none the less.  

“$141…” He concludes, showing him the number on his cell phone, “I don’t have that much.”  

With a shrug, the man gives Jin a look of faux disappointment, “That’s a shame, I guess my memory is a little hazy then. Maybe I saw her, maybe I didn’t-  have a good night.”  

“Wait- please I…” Jin takes a deep breath, pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket, “I only have $100 right now but, I can get more. I work at the sushi restaurant up the street, I’ll bring you all of my tips for the next week.”  

The man eyes him suspiciously, mulling over his offer, “The next two weeks…”  

Jin’s never been so angry in his life and, part of him wants to flip over his cart and, leave him to clean up the mess but, he knows he has to bargain with him.  

He has no other choice.  

“Fine.” He throws the money onto the counter with a stern look, “Keep the food, just tell me what you know.”  

The man takes his time, counting the money greedily, smirking with satisfaction as he tucks it into his shirt pocket.  

“I saw your friend leaving that motel you always hang out at. The one across the street-“ He nods to the ratty building, “She left and walked along the road for some time before a man approached her.”  

Jin’s heart picks up, “A man? What man? What did he look like?”  

“I didn’t get a close look. He was tall and dressed in some fancy ass suit. They walked together all the way up the road until I couldn’t see them anymore. She didn’t look uncomfortable; in fact…it kind of looked like she knew him.”  

As the man tells his story, Jin writes all of the details down in his phone but, the last bit confuses him.  

He didn’t know you knew anyone that owned a suit.  

Suits are a luxury that neither he nor any of the other guys can afford.  

So who were you with then?  

“That’s all? Anything else you remember?”  

The man shakes his head, “That’s all I got for you. Thanks for the cash, I look forward to seeing you again with the rest of it.”  

A chorus of snickering comes with his last comment and, Jin finally decides he’s had enough of him.  

With a roll of his eyes, he walks away, leaving the hustle and bustle of the night market to slowly fade behind him as he makes his way up the street.  

He begins typing a message to the group chat, informing everyone of what he found.  

He sees your icon at the top of his screen whilst he does and, it triggers the tears collecting in his eyes to finally spill over.  

Namjoon- The Marquee River, Friday 9:54pm  

Namjoon loves the rooftop for the view of the river. He loves the way the sun and moon expertly change the color of its surface from a crystal blue in the daytime to an inky black in the evening. He loves the way people congregate around it. It’s such a stark contradiction to the city. Everyone always looks so happy and so patient with one another. Families are sprawled out on picnic blankets, friends are laughing and sharing homemade dishes, lovers walk along the river holding hands…  

It’s a magical place.  

Well, at least Namjoon thinks so.  

The boys tease him for it, they call him Namstradamus and, say he concerns himself with hypothetical situations far too often.  

But you get it though.  

You’ve sat with Namjoon on many nights while he smokes a cigarette, watching the interactions with the same fondness he does.  

You laughed as he did little voices for the people he saw and, listened eagerly as he created stories for each of them.  

You told him he should be a writer and Namjoon felt a satisfaction that his imagination could entertain you.  

Deep down, being a writer is something he’s always dreamed of.  

He wishes he was on the rooftop with you now, laughing and bullshitting.  

He wishes he could see your smile when Jimin shouts a raunchy compliment your way and, makes a comment about how Namjoon is trying to steal you from him.  

Its all for fun though.  

Namjoon doesn’t love you like that but, the way he loves you makes tonight’s task so much harder.  

He loves you like a sister and, his sister is gone.  

Vanished.  

And he has to figure out why.  

Namjoon is wearing his father’s coat; it’s the only thing warm enough for this weather he tells himself but, really he wears it because it’s the nicest thing in his home.  

It makes him feel capable, even though he’s never felt more inadequate in his life.  

There isn’t many people left at the river tonight, the cold weather is keeping everyone inside along with the news of your disappearance.  

Namjoon has someone in mind though.  

Someone who is always here: the groundskeeper.  

Namjoon notices him emerge as people begin packing up their things but, he doesn’t approach him just yet.  

He stands back and observes his behavior, carefully planning what he needs to say.  

But, Namjoon doesn’t get much time as the groundskeeper has noticed him too.  

“What is it you seek madam? I can do anything…anything you wish.”  

The voice of the groundskeeper is ominous; it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention but, his words confuse him even more.  

“Uh excuse me, I’m really sorry to bother you but, I was wondering if you’ve seen my friend. She went missing a few nights ago, I have her picture here…” Namjoon goes to pull out his phone but, the man stops him with a laugh.  

It’s not a pleasant sound, it’s crazed and dismissive, it doesn’t mirror the laughter he normally hears from the river.  

It makes his stomach turn.  

“I know what the princess looks like madam, I’ve seen her looking down at me many times.” The moonlight shines upon his face then and, it’s enough for Namjoon to make out his features.  

He looks filthy, skin alight with grease, hair matted with the same substance, his eyes are blue and unfocused. A giant scar interrupts his features and, Namjoon does his best to remain composed despite his appearance.  

“So have you seen her? She would have walked right passed here on her way home.” He flashes the picture towards him anyway but, it only prompts another ridiculous laugh from him and, Namjoon feels himself growing irritated.  

“Yep! That’s the one! The princess marked for slaughter, oh but she runs from her fate doesn’t she? She runs and runs and runs runs…..she runs a lot. It’s no use madam, you’ll always catch her in the end.”  

As he hears the word slaughter, Namjoon feel his blood boil over and, he quickly grabs the snickering man by his shirt, “What the fuck are you talking about?”  

The man falters with a gasp but, his laughter continues, his breath fowl and unkempt, “She is gone forever. Left to destiny…left to rot…”  

Namjoon feels his heart jump in his chest and he tugs at the man’s shirt again, harder this time, “What do you mean gone? Did you do something to her? If you touched her, I swear I’ll fucking kill you, my friends and I will tear you apart!”  

Tears don’t aid in Namjoon’s attempt to look tough but, he can’t help himself.  

His grief is unbearable and, all this man can do is laugh…  

“I have nothing for you madam…what’s done is done.” He seethes, bearing his grimy teeth as he smiles  

“Why do you keep calling me madam? You know who I am, you’ve seen my friends before. What the fuck is wrong with you?”  

The man responds by placing a dirty hand against Namjoon’s cheek, leaning in towards his ear, “You are…a work of art madam, it was a pleasure to serve you…”  

With this, the man shoves away from Namjoon’s hold and rushes back to the trashcan, muttering to himself all the while.  

Namjoon feels unsafe around him, especially as he notices how empty the river has become so, he decides to get out of there.  

He wipes his tears as he moves through the trees back towards the noise of the street.  

There is nothing but utter anguish inside of him now.  

One of his best friends is missing and, his only lead is a raging lunatic.  

He sends his findings to the group chat anyway, praying that someone has more information than he does, praying that this nightmare will come to an end. 

 Yoongi- Ginseng Night Club, Saturday 12:04am,  

Yoongi hates clubs. There’s too many people, they’re too loud, everyone is drunk and stupid. He doesn’t really see the point in them. However, Ginseng has a vibe he can appreciate. It’s a little more laid back, a little less expensive and, it’s major upside is its showcase of underground rappers. Yoongi’s never had the courage to get up on stage but, he likes to listen from the rooftop. He judges the contestants from a far because, let’s face it, most of them are trash but, he enjoys their enthusiasm. Some of them are actually pretty good though and, a lot of times Yoongi has to swallow the avarice he feels when he hears them. He can rap too but, the only people who know about it are his friends.  

They tell him he’s good enough to make it big but, Yoongi never believes them.  

He misses freestyling on the rooftop though and, tonight he’s missing your reactions in particular.  

You were always pushing him to perform and one day, drunkenly, you had managed to convince him to promise you that he’d perform at Ginseng on his 26th birthday.  

That date is steadily approaching and, although he was terrified of keeping that promise, he desperately wishes that were the reason he was pushing through the crowd at Ginseng right now.  

But it isn’t…  

Tonight, he’s here to deal with bleaker matter: your disappearance.  

Ginseng is cheaper for a reason and, that reason happens to be the crowd.  

It’s known for its cast of shady characters: drug dealers, con artists, underground fighters, etc.  

He thinks it’s a little pointless, walking into a room full of potential criminals, hoping one of them has the heart to spill any information regarding his missing friend but, he had to try.  

Yoongi decided on all black for the evening; it makes him feel bigger and, prepares him for the onslaught of human interaction he’s dreading.  

Immediately, his chest is met with the hammering base from the speakers, whilst his nose is met with the stench of cheap liquor and, all eyes are on him.  

He’s an unfamiliar face in a club that profits off of regular attendees but, he swallows his anxiety and, soldiers on, heading straight for the bar at the back of the club.  

“What can I get for you?” A short haired woman barks over the music,  sending a mild glare Yoongi’s way.  

He notices the tattoos adorning her neck and arms and, he feels intimidated by her presence but, he responds none the less.  

“Whiskey neat.” He mutters, sliding a ten her way and, she eagerly strips it from the counter, shoving it into the register.  

“You’ve never been here before.” She notes dryly, grabbing a bottle of Jack from the shelf.  

Yoongi nods, shifting on the barstool, “Yeah, I’m here to see if anyone’s seen my friend. She disappeared on this street the other night…”  

The woman smirks, nodding her head towards the crowd of people, “Do these people look like they’d be up for snitching?”  

He glances back momentarily, “No but, I thought I’d try anyway. I have a picture of her…” He pulls out his phone, flashing the image of you towards the bartender.  

She gives it a once over before shaking her head, “Haven’t seen her. I’d remember her if I had. Girlfriend?”  

“No…” He clicks the side of his phone, shutting the screen off, “Do you know if I could talk to someone who comes here a lot? Like a regular or something? I’m not trying to cause trouble but-“  

“These people aren’t gonna tell you shit unless you speak to Jaebeom first and, I don’t know if he’d be willing to talk to scrawny little thing like you.”  

Yoongi has to swallow back the feelings he gets from her insult, feeling smaller and smaller under her gaze.  

“Who’s Jaebeom?”  

“The owner.” She pushes the drink Yoongi’s way, spilling some of it onto the dirty countertop, “He only does business in Korean…”  

“Call him up then,” Yoongi retorts sternly, growing annoyed with her attitude and the carelessness with his liquor, “, that’s my native language. Or tell me where he is…”  

“He’s a busy man… I don’t know if he’ll have time for you…”                  

“Ask him anyways.”  

There’s a bit of a stare off lingering between the two of them but, Yoongi doesn’t falter, his confidence waxing.  

He’ll be a dick if he has to, he doesn’t care; he has to figure out where you are.  

She rolls her eyes, grabbing the receiver from underneath the bar before muttering something into it. Something causes her to raise her brows in surprise and, she looks a little disappointed as she passes the receiver to Yoongi.  

He takes it, holding it up to his ear,  

“What do you want?”  

Moving the receiver to his lips, he responds clearly, trying to mask his nerves, “My friend is missing and, I want to know if you’ve seen her. Or if you know anything about her disappearance.”  

The man chuckles deeply on the other end of the line, “Am I a suspect?”  

“Everyone is. But I’m not a cop; I’m just here to see if anyone has seen anything.”  

“And the police? Do they know about your little friend?”  

Yoongi grasps the receiver firmer, attempting to amp up his toughness as he responds, “The police are fucking useless. Look, just let me show you here picture, if you haven’t seen her, I’ll leave.”  

There’s only a bit of silence but, it’s enough to get his heart racing before he finally gets a reply, “Second floor, room 632. Don’t make me wait for you.”  

Yoongi obliges, pounding his drink and rushing off to meet the man behind the voice.  

Jaebeom seems to tower over Yoongi despite the mere inches he has on him and, he looks more intimidating than Yoongi ever could.  

Three facial piercings, arms wrapped completely in tattoos, loose tank top adorning his muscular figure; if Yoongi were in a different world, he’d be wishing he was meeting this stranger in his room for different reasons.  

“Let’s see it then…”  

Yoongi shows him the photo of you and much to his surprise, Jaebeom nods, pointing a finger towards it, “I’ve seen her before, not recently though. She came in a few months ago and bought a bottle of Midori from me. She’s your girlfriend?”  

Yoongi shakes his head, “No, she’s with my other friend but, you’ve seen her? Did she come in alone?”  

The room smells of marijuana and as Jaebeom lifts a joint to his lips, Yoongi can see why.  

He nods, blowing out a billow of smoke, careless to where it ends up, “She was alone yes, I didn’t speak to her much. She was polite, left me a tip, batted her eyes a bit and left. She’s cute, it’s a shame she’s taken.” He smirks, lifting the joint to his mouth again, “Both literally and figuratively….”  

Yoongi takes a deep breath through his nose, attempting to calm down, “You haven’t seen her since?”  

“No. Honestly, why are you here? Do you really think my guys are into kidnapping? There are plenty of hot woman downstairs. No one is looking to steal. You’re on the wrong side of town for this shit. “  

“What do you mean?”  

“I mean,” Jaebeom flicks the ash onto the floor, nodding to the window beside him, “You should be asking questions in the Upside. They hunt poor bitches like that for sport.”  

Yoongi’s anger floods his brain before he can process everything he’s said, “Watch your mouth. She has a name and, I suggest you learn it before I-“  

With a puffed out chest, Jaebeom steps toward Yoongi, “Before what huh?”  

Yoongi moves back, shaking his head, “Nothing I-“ He sighs, holding his hands up, “I’m sorry. I’m angry, its been a long week. My friends and I just want her home.”  

Jaebeom deflates a bit, scanning over the smaller man in front of him, “My sister disappeared two years ago. Same street. Like I said,” Jaebum plops down in his arm chair, sadness flashes through his eyes, “You’re in the wrong part of town…”  

He nods, biting his lip at Jaebeom’s admission, “Did they ever find her?”  

“They might have…” He takes a hit of the joint, blowing it out with a scoff, “if they fucking looked.”  

Yoongi’s blood runs cold then, seeing the similarities between the two situations.  

No one cares about the people who disappear from this part of town.  

He leaves Jaebeom’s room, feeling worse than when he had arrived but, he reports his findings to the group chat anyway.  

Maybe Jaebeom was right, maybe him and his friends were looking on the wrong side of town…  

Jungkook and Hoseok- The Paybrook Motel, Saturday 7:07am  

Jungkook and Hoseok are newer to the harshness of the city. They come from sweet families, with good intentions. The lack of financial resources is compensated with a lot of love and encouragement. Their lives were similar: simple and sweet. They didn’t have too many run ins with childhood trauma or absent parental figures; they loved their home life, probably to a fault.  But given their lack of money and their love of their friends, they also found reasons to love the rooftop. Hoseok uses the concrete as an affordable practice space and Jungkook uses the view as the main muse for his photography.  

You’re running through their head as they approach the motel.  

Hoseok feels a pang of sadness in his chest as he remembers all the times you would cheer him on from your lawn chair, calling him the b-boy of the year, smiling from ear to ear even when he fucks up his choreography.  

Jungkook remembers showing you an album he made of the summer the eight of you had. He remembers you growing teary eyed as he neared the end and, telling him what an amazing photographer he was. He swallows back his tears, gripping Hoseok’s hand as they approach the entrance to the motel, taking a deep breath.  

“Maybe we shouldn’t-” Hoseok looks uneasily toward their connected hands, his teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “I just don’t want them to say anything to you.”  

Jungkook looks down, his chestnut irises narrowed in confusion, “But, we’re just friends hyung...”  

Hoseok nods, sending a sweet smile towards his pure friend, “I know Kook but, they don’t know that. I promise I’ll hold it as soon we leave ok?”  

And Jungkook really has to act like this doesn’t further his misery, sniffling once as he finally nods, pulling away from his best friend, naïve to his reasons for ending their platonic affection.  

Hoseok pats his arm before swinging open the stained-glass door to the motel, allowing Jungkook to step in front of him.  

There is a woman sitting behind the counter, staring intently at her computer screen, not even bothering to look up at the two men that have just entered.  

“Good morning.” Hoseok sends a watery smile her way, which she doesn’t reciprocate.  

In fact, she doesn’t even look his way but, instead she shoves a piece of paper across the wooden countertop, “Fill this out, there’s only two rooms available- “ At this point, she does eye the two of them with a judging glance, “single beds only.”  

“We don’t need a room mam we-” Hoseok begins, feeling rather annoyed but, Jungkook cuts him off and, practically shoves his phone over the counter.  

“This is our friend, her name is Y/N and, she went missing four days ago and, the last place we saw her is here. Have you seen her? Do you remember if anything suspicious happened?”  

Jungkook’s voice is reedy, full of desperation to the point that he grows a little out of breath.  

Hoseok had a plan with a little more finesse but, he knows how desperate Jungkook is to find you.  

He feels the same way...  

The woman looks affronted by his sudden outburst but, she glances at his phone anyway. It’s only for a moment before she brings her attention Hoseok’s way, not bothering to address Jungkook.  

“Nope. I’ve never seen her, sorry.”  

The dismissiveness in her tone surprises Hoseok. He was expecting her to keep her responses to a minimum but, her lie takes him back.  

“Wait are you serious? I live on the 8th floor, my friends come in here all the time. There’s no way you’ve never seen her before.”  

He steps closer to the counter and, the way the woman looks up stirs something inside of him.  

It’s unsettling and insidious.  

It’s as if she’s deceiving them and, she wants them to know she’s deceiving them.  

“I’ve seen you here before,” She shrugs, conceding with part of his point, “but I’ve never seen her. Although, I’m surprised she doesn’t rent a room here too, she looks like the type.”  

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Hoseok feels the venom in his tone and, although it’s unlike him to lose his temper, something about this woman enrages him.  

“Hyung please...” Jungkook’s soft plea paired with a hand to his lower back is enough for Hoseok to back down for the moment but, his nerves are still alight with suspicion. “Mam, we’re really sorry, we’re just worried about our friend. She’s been missing for a while and the police aren’t really doing anything. Are you sure that you’ve never seen her?”  

The woman seems to soften a bit momentarily but, as something on her computer seems to move suddenly into her view, she toughens up again, shaking her head.  

“Never. Is there anything else we- I can do for you?”  

Hoseok grits his teeth, restraining his urges to throw her glass of iced tea into her face.  

“No, I guess not.”  

She offers a thin smile, that doesn’t reach her eyes, “Have a nice day then. Thank you for visiting The Paybrook Motel.”  

Before Hoseok can throw an insult her way, Jungkook offers a pleasant goodbye before practically dragging his hyung out of the lobby.  

“Yah! Why were you so easy on her? She’s obviously lying! Did you see the look on her face? She knows something Jungkook, I’m telling you she does...” Hoseok is ablaze with frustration, moving quickly to the end of the awning that decorates the front of the motel.  

He’s waiting for Jungkook to join him but, instead he sees his friend moving aimlessly towards him, tears in his eyes.  

The sight makes Hoseok’s heart ache.  

“Hyung...don’t you get it? No one wants to help us.” His voice is wavering through his sadness, doing it’s best to keep afloat, “Even if she knows something, she doesn’t want to tell us. The police won’t help, the signs we put up are all in the sewer by now- no one gives a shit that she’s gone.”  

At this moment, Jungkook breaks down, his tears finally streaming down his face. He stops in the middle of the walkway, disregarding the confused looks from the patrons heading into the building.  

“Shit Kookie, don’t cry ok?”  

Hoseok rushes over to him in the midst of his hypocrisy, because he’s crying too.  

He hasn’t cried since you disappeared but, seeing his best friend break down and, knowing that life would never again be the same crushes him in a way he can’t handle.  

“Come here...come here. Hyung is here ok? Ok? We gotta pull it together.” He sniffles, pulling Jungkook into his arms, placing a kiss on top of his head.  

Jungkook doesn’t let up and, continues to cry silently into Hoseok’s t-shirt.  

“I just want her to come home hyung...”  

Hoseok nods immediately, tilting his head back to slow his tears. It’s a useless endeavor but, he tries anyway until a man’s voice interrupts their moment.  

“I saw her.”  

Hoseok and Jungkook are quick to pull away, turning their attention towards the voice in question.  

It’s obvious the man is a security guard of some kind but, Hoseok has never seen him before.  

“Excuse me?”  

The man nods to the rooftop, “I saw your friend the night she left here.”  

Hoseok approaches the man, noticing the way he seems to shrink away from his presence, “What did you see? Did you see anyone with her?”  

He nods, “Yeah, that small dude you hang out with, the messy hair...he was wearing a yellow shirt?”  

Jungkook moves to stand behind Hoseok, “That’s her boyfriend. He’s one of our friends too, he walked her out that night. He came right back up though, did you see anyone else?”  

The security guard smirks, “Hm that’s interesting.”  

Hoseok narrows his eyes, “Why?”  

The guard nods to the street parallel to the conversation, “Because she met up with someone else...”  

Jungkook and Hoseok make eye contact then, a bit of shock running through them.  

“Who was it?”  

The guard chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, his indifference insulting the two of them, “Listen, I’m new around here alright?  I don’t know names or shit like that, I just know that after your friend was kissing on one guy, she met up with some dude in a suit, you can do with that what you will but, that’s all I got for you.”  

“Jin hyung said something about a suit too.” Jungkook mutters beside Hoseok prompting a nod from him.  

“Thank you. We appreciate it and, uh listen if you hear or see anything else. I’m on the 8th floor. Room 26.”  

The guard nods, tipping his hat toward the both of them, “Will do. Be safe out there, this city is uh, an interesting place.”  

As the man moves back towards the motel Jungkook turns to Hoseok, bewildered by the information they’ve received.  

“Hyung do you-” Jungkook hesitates, the words not wanting to leave his tongue, “-do you think she left on her own? She wouldn’t do that right?”  

Hoseok keeps an eye on the guard as he disappears behind the stained glass, a sick feeling looming in his stomach.  

“No Jungkook, she wouldn’t.”  

Taehyung- La Petite Galerie, Saturday 12:46pm  

Taehyung's been painting since he was a child. Adopted into a French family, he learned his two favorite crafts from an early age: painting and charisma. He was the star of his elementary school, wooing his classmates with the use of his second language and, wooing his teachers with his painting abilities. Consistently, he placed first in his school’s art fair. He was labeled as a prodigy and, selected for all of the finest performing arts schools in the city. However, prestigious art schools come at a price his family couldn’t afford. So, he had to stay behind with the rest of his classmates, whilst his parents begin saving money. He’s so thankful that he did though because, high school is where he met his second family. The family who he’s met on the rooftop since he was 15 years old, the family who’s helped him through his darkest days, the family who’s recently been torn apart...  

He’s missing you as he walks into the gallery.  

It’s one of his favorite parts about the rooftop along with the view of the city skyline.  

You and Taehyung have sat together many times, admiring the well-dressed people walking into the gallery.  

You would always say that they were simply apart of a different world and, that you never hated them for their riches.  

Taehyung admired that about you because, he wishes he could say the same.  

But, he knows he’d be lying.  

One day, Taehyung had been brave enough to come into the gallery and, he actually made friends with the owner.  

Taehyung makes friends with everyone.  

But this woman, Clementine, had a particular soft spot for his French abilities and, gave Taehyung discounted admission for all of his friends.  

Eventually, Taehyung brought the eight of you in with him and, much to his surprise, you all enjoyed yourselves.  

He remembers that day as he steps under the warm glow of the gallery lights...  

Jin made puns about the paintings  

Namjoon endlessly dissected the potential meanings behind them  

Yoongi had admired them quietly, murmuring observations that no one could hear  

Hoseok laughed way too loud at the statue bestowing a marble penis  

Jungkook kept to Taehyung’s side as he expertly explained the stories behind the artwork  

But the image that hurts Taehyung the most is the way you looked at Jimin as he stared in awe up at the paintings.  

Taehyung had never seen someone so enamored with another person before and, he realized why so many artists use love as their muse.  

He felt happiness in his heart that you and Jimin were so happy, so much so, that he didn’t even bother thinking of his own romantic future.  

He was content.  

His family was here, admiring art in their own way, just as it was intended.  

A bit of panic rushes through him at the thought of never having you all together again.  

But determination comes along with it, reminding him why he’s visiting the gallery today.  

“Excusez-moi, j'ai rendez-vous avec Clémentine aujourd'hui (Excuse me, I have an appointment with Clementine today).”  

The woman behind the ivory desk smiles pleasantly at him, “Ah oui Monsieur Kim, asseyez-vous et je sais qu'elle est arrivée.” (Ah yes, Mr. Kim, have a seat and I’ll let her know you’ve arrived)  

He bows his head slightly, sending a tight-lipped smile her way, “Merci.” (Thank you)  

Taehyung takes a seat on the upholstered chairs near the entrance, thankful that the crowd level is mild today. It’s unexpected for a Saturday but, he doesn’t complain, he doesn’t think he can handle excessive human interaction.  

He waits for roughly 10 minutes before a nimble woman with auburn hair comes bustling out of the back room, arms opening wide as soon as she sees him.  

“Taehyung, ma chérie viens ici, viens à Clémentine...” (Taehyung, my darling come here, come to Clementine)  

Her pink lipstick accentuates the pout in her lips as she ushers Taehyung into a tight hug, her fake breasts providing very little comfort but, he accepts her affection anyway.  

He needs it.  

“Bonjour Clementine, (Hello Clementine)” He pats her hips respectively, smiling warmly as he pulls away, “Merci de me rencontrer... (Thanks for meeting me).”  

She scoffs, waving him off as she eagerly pulls him into her office, “Non-sens, je n'accepterai pas de gratitude de votre part pendant cette période.” (Nonsense, I will not except gratitude from you during this time)  

Taehyung offers her a half smile, adjusting his coat and stepping through the archway.  

Clementine’s office is tasteful, covered in various shades of pink and her most favorite pieces she’s hand-picked from the gallery.  

It’s a little loud for Taehyung but, he agrees that it’s uniquely Clementine and, he feels content enough in her presence to deal with it.  

She rushes around her desk, plopping down on her pearl encrusted office chair, “Asseyez-vous ici mon doux garçon...” (Sit here my sweet boy)  

Her face stays firm with pity as she places her manicured fingers on the marble, “Dis-moi, ont-ils entendu quelque chose?” (Tell me, have they heard anything?)  

Taehyung left posters at the gallery the day after you went missing and, Clementine was all too eager to post them all over the building’s exterior.  

He shakes his head, settling into the crushed velvet beneath him, “Non. La police n'a rien. J'ai peur qu'ils ne la recherchent même pas.” (No. The police have nothing. I’m afraid they aren’t even looking for her.)  

With a tsk of her lips, Clementine shakes her head, “Inutile.” (Useless) She spits the word, leaning back into her chair, “Avez-vous trouvé quelque chose? Je sais que tu as dit que tes amis regardaient.” (Have you found anything? I know you said your friends were looking)  

“Nous avons entendu quelques choses, mais nous n'avons pas encore beaucoup de pistes. On se retrouve demain soir pour faire un plan.” (We’ve heard a few things but, we don’t have many leads. We meet tomorrow evening to make a plan.) He feels the disappointment in his heart, wishing he was giving her a different answer, his predicament leaving him helpless.  

“Desole.” (Sorry) She replies, pouting her lips and tucking her auburn hair behind her ear, “C'est dégoûtant de voir comment cette ville est dirigée.” (It’s disgusting how this city is run.)  

A humorless laugh leaves Taehyung’s lip as he nods, “Oui. Oui ça l’est. C'est pourquoi je suis venu vers toi clémentine.” (Yes. Yes it is. That’s why I came to you Clementine.)  

She looks a little flustered by his comment, scooting closer to the edge of her seat, placing a hand to her chest, “Moi? Qu'est-ce que tu as besoin de moi?” (Me? What do you need from me?)  

Taehyung feels a little dirty at his next move but, he does it without a second thought.  

Smiling, he extends a hand towards Clementine, catching her gaze with his, “Nous venons de mondes différents oui?” (We come from different worlds, yes?)  

Against her better judgement, Clementine places her hand timidly atop Taehyungs, nearly shuddering at his warmth, “Oui, mais ça n'a pas d'importance.” (Yes but, that doesn’t matter)  

Taehyung pretends to be surprised by her answer, “Non? Pouvez-vous voir au-delà de cela?” (No? Can you see beyond that?)  

She leans towards his voice, allured by the way it caramelizes in the air around her, “Je ne vois pas ces choses. L'argent, la couleur, l'âge, ce n'est pas important.” (I don’t see these things. Money, color, age, they aren’t important)  

If he were in a different situation, he would notice the ignorance in her statement. But instead, he begins rubbing his thumb over the back of her knuckles, smiling prettily all the while.  

Clementine is melting beneath his touch, her body subconsciously slouching in her chair.  

“Vous vous souciez de moi malgré ces choses, n'est-ce pas?” (You care for me despite those things, don’t you?)  

Eagerly, she nods, licking her lips before tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, “Oui mon amour.” (Yes my love.)  

Taehyung  leans closer to her, mustering up the best smolder he can manage, “J'ai besoin de savoir ce que vous entendez dans votre monde chéri.” (I need to know what you hear in that world of yours darling.)  

Bless her, Clementine really is doomed.  

“Mon monde? Que voulez-vous dire?” (My world? What do you mean?)  

Taehyung delights in her confusion, taking a moment to seal the deal as he raises her knuckles to his lips, “Vous êtes au country club de Chamomile oui?” (You are in the Chamomile Country Club yes?)  

As he asks his question, he presses a few kisses to her skin, keeping eye contact with her all the while.  

Clementine lets out a shaky breath, placing her free hand to her chest, “Mon dieu...” (My god...) She mutters under her breath, fanning herself before responding to his original question, “Oui, Je suis.” (Yes, I am)  

He grins, still kissing over the expanse of her knuckles, “Dites-moi, entendez-vous quelque chose d'étrange lorsque vous assistez?” (Tell me, do you hear anything strange when you attend?)  

“Étrange?” (Strange?)  

“Oui, etrange. Quelque chose que vous n'êtes pas censé entendre.” (Yes, strange. Something you are not supposed to hear.)  

Clementine’s eyes shoot back and forth across the room, looking unsure of her response, “Mon amour, tu sais que je veux t'aider mais je déteste les potins. C'est désagréable.” (My love, I really want to help you but, I hate to gossip. It’s distasteful)

Taehyung pretends to smile fondly at her, stopping at her middle finger, dragging his lips up the length of it, “Il n'y a rien de désagréable chez toi bébé.” (There is nothing distasteful about baby) As he gets to the base of her hand, he parts both her middle and ring finger before licking right between the two digits suggestively, “En fait, je parie que vous avez un goût incroyable.” (In fact, I bet you taste incredible)

Clementine’s pink lipstick is smudging with the amount of times she’s licked her lips but, she does it again anyway for good measure.

“Vous avez une langue en argent Taehyung, prévoyez-vous de l'utiliser sur moi?” (You have a silver tongue Taehyung, do you plan to use it on me?)

The deep timbre of his chuckle sends goosebumps up Clementine’s spine and, her body is stretched across her marble desk in a rather uncomfortable way but, she doesn’t care.

All she wants is Taehyung.

“Voici ma proposition: vous utilisez votre langue pour parler et quand vous aurez terminé, j'utiliserai la mienne pour goûter.  Comment cette sonne?” (Here is my proposal: you will use your tongue to speak and, when you are done. I will use mine to taste, how does that sound?)

Clementine’s legs part subconsciously beneath her desk, the pink satin of her underwear stained with her arousal.

With her hand still in Taehyung’s grip she clears her throat, tilting her head innocently, “Le Country Club, que tu dis?” (The country club, you say?)

Taehyung smirks, sending a nod her way, “Oui.” (Yes)

“Je me souviens avoir entendu quelque chose de mal le mois dernier.” (I do remember hearing something wrong last month)

He kisses the back of her hand sweetly before returning it to the desk and, allowing her the proper head space to recall information.

Because, who in their right mind would be able to tell a story whilst Taehyung was kissing on them like that?

Clementine seems to deflate a bit, attempting to compose herself as Taehyung gestures for her to continue.

“Quand j'étais dans le salon de thé, je pouvais entendre les costumes parler de quelque chose qui me faisait un peu peur.” (When I was in the tea room, I could hear the suits talking about something that scared me a little)

Taehyung’s brows furrow, “Les costumes?” (The suits?)

She nods, biting her lip in hesitation, “Oui, c'est ce que les membres appellent les propriétaires du country club.” (Yes, this is what the members call the owners of the country club)

He’s watching her intently, nodding as she explains, “Qu'est-ce que tu as entendu?” (What did you hear?)

She seems to crumble under his gaze like a paper swan; torn between her desire to please him and her desire to remain proper.

“Mon amour, c'est vraiment une chose terrible…” (My love, it’s really a terrible thing…)

Taehyung’s quick on his feet, taking her hand yet again, throwing a yearning look in her direction, “Clémentine, s'il vous plaît ... mon cher ami est absent. Vous pourriez être le seul espoir que mes frères et moi ayons pour la ramener à la maison en toute sécurité. Quand elle reviendra, je te couvrirai de mille baisers pour te remercier de ce que tu as fait.” (Clementine, please…my dear friend is absent. You could be the only hope that my brothers and I have for bringing her home safely. When she returns, I’ll cover you with a thousand kisses to thank you for what you have done)

Clementine sighs dreamily, her hand limp in his grip, her legs parting further at the baritone in his voice,

“Un millier?” (A thousand?)

Taehyung gives her a thin smile, “Un millier. Maintenant s'il te plait, ma rose, dis moi ce que tu as entendu.” (A thousand. Now please, my rose, tell me what you heard)

Clementine shrinks again, looking warily around the room before she finally answers, “Je les ai entendus parler de meurtre.” (I heard them talking about murder)

It’s then Taehyung feels the hot fiery sting of fear stabbing its way into his gut, “Meurtre?” (Murder?)

She senses his uneasiness so; she tightens her grip on his hand as she continues, “Ils ont dit qu'ils prenaient le travail d'un homme important qui allait au-delà de ce qu'ils avaient fait auparavant. Ils étaient inquiets de se faire prendre.” (They said they were taking a job from an important man that went above and beyond anything they’ve done before. They were worried about getting caught)

Taehyung shakes his head in disgust, hoping desperately that you aren’t connected to the conversation she heard.

“Quoi d'autre?” (What else?)

Clementine shakes her head, “C'est tout ce que j'ai pu entendre, mon thé est arrivé pendant leur conversation.” (That’s all I could hear, my tea arrived during their conversation)

Taehyung holds back his anger as he’s reminded of the kind of person Clementine really is.

She’s sweet sure but, she’s tragically selfish.

She’s well off and, only cares for matters that concern her; otherwise she is uninterested.

All he can muster is a tight lipped smile as he suddenly stands from the crushed velvet, “Je vois. Merci de votre temps, appelez-moi si vous vous souvenez d'autre chose.” (I see. Thank you for your time, please call me if you remember anything else)

Clementine rises with him, rushing around her desk, “Tu es en train de partir? Je pensais que tu resterais un moment, tu ne devrais pas être seule en ce moment chérie.” (You’re leaving? I thought you would stay a while, you shouldn’t be alone now honey)

Taehyung gives her the fakest smile he can muster, brushing his thumb across her rubbery cheek, “Je reviendrai te voir. Merci pour votre aide, vous êtes un saint.” (I’ll come back and see you. Thank you for your help, you’re a saint)

She rubs her face against his hand like a cat in heat and, whines for him in a similar fashion, “Mon dieu, nous sommes comme Romeo et Juliette…” (My god, we are like Romeo and Juliet…)

He’s disgusted by her lack of awareness but, he plays the part anyway, tucking a finger underneath her chin, “La séparation est une si douce douleur.” (Parting is such sweet sorrow)

With a brush of his lips against hers, he quickly departs, leaving Clementine alone with her desire.

Taehyung rushes through the afternoon crowd of the gallery, feeling grateful for the crisp air that greets him when he pushes the doors open.

His mind is racing; this is the third mention of the suits and, although it isn’t much, it’s the only solid lead the seven of them have.

They need to re-group as soon as possible because, the likelihood that they fill find you alive wanes with each hour that passes.

Taehyung feels horrified at the thought that passes through his brain:

What if they are already too late?

Act III- Tuer La Grande Maison

“Jungkook, pass me a cigarette…”  

Jimin mumbles from across the fire, the light drained from his eyes.  

Jungkook’s first instinct is to question him; Jimin quit smoking two years ago.  

But, he stops himself just as the words crawl up his tongue and, instead he nods silently.  

“Here you go.” He practically whispers, passing the cigarette to Hoseok who then moves it around the circle.  

“Thanks.”  

There is a stale bit of silence that rushes through the group and, everyone seems to look at Jimin to start things off.  

But Jimin doesn’t look up, he just uses his shaky hands to light his cigarette. He takes the first inhale, his eyelids flutter as the nicotine infiltrates his senses.  

Through the smoke, Jimin shoots a dead gaze across the circle, “I have nothing else to report. Lady says she has her best guys on it but, I don’t think it matters…”  

Yoongi interjects, “Aren’t you wondering about the suits? I mean they have to have something to do with this. It’s not a coincidence that three of our sources mentioned them…”  

Jimin lets a humorless laugh leave his lips, “The suits,” He shakes his head, “They sound like a bunch of fucking DC villains.”  

Namjoon and Jin exchange something wordless between them before Jin decides to speak up,  

“Jimin, I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for all of us but, we need to keep at it. We have good information; we just need to keep digging.”  

Jimin feels his eyes burn with the promise of tears but, he just doesn’t have it in him to cry right now.  

He’s too exhausted.  

With another drag of his cigarette, he meets his hyung’s eyes with a hopelessness that shakes Jin to his core, “We don’t any money hyung, that’s all this town cares about. Maybe that’s all she cared about too…”  

Yoongi is known for his tepid disposition.  

He’s known for being the careful one, the collected one; so much so, that in high school Jin and Namjoon used to call him Mouse and, sometimes they still do.  

But right now, Yoongi is angry and, he’s not angry for the same reasons he was yesterday…  

“What are you insinuating?” Yoongi’s tone is clipped and, the intensity of his stare is enough to garner Jimin’s attention.  

He flicks the ash onto the ground, “I’m just saying…maybe I should consider the possibility that she left town on purpose.”  

“You should consider?” Yoongi bites back and, the tension between the two men immediately disperses throughout the group.  

Jimin glances to the side before looking back at Yoongi, “Yes. It’s been almost a week. The police aren’t interested in finding her, no one seems to want to speak more than they have to and, the only lead we have is that she met up with some man in a suit. According to all of your reports, she looked comfortable with him. So, what if she was? What if she was tired of being in this filthy fucking town?” He scoffs, bitterness in his tone, “I wouldn’t blame her honestly, I just wish she would have disappeared before making me fall in love with her. That would have been nice…”  

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”  

Yoongi stands up, another rare occurrence, and glares at Jimin over the fire, “Do you realize how selfish you sound? You aren’t the only one who lost someone Jimin, she’s like a sister to us. She’s not the type of person to just run away from her problems and, you should be ashamed of yourself for suggesting that she’s that much of a coward.”  

Jimin is a respectful man, he honors the age hierarchy amongst his friends but, he disregards formalities in this moment and fights back.  

“She isn’t a coward. It’s a brave move to leave your family behind to pursue a better life, I just wish she would have left a note or something.”  

“Jimin,” Namjoon interjects, trying to keep the peace as he places a hand on his thigh, “Y/N didn’t run away. She wouldn’t do something like that. C’mon you know her right? She loves you, she loves all of us.”  

Jimin crosses his arms defensively, “Did she? I mean…from what I’ve gathered Namjoon, you don’t abandon the people you love. But she left me anyway…”  

Yoongi moves closer to him, throwing is own cigarette into the fire, his brow furrowed with his growing frustration, “Why do you think your relationship with her is more important?”  

Before Jimin has a chance to respond, Yoongi interrupts him.  

“Because you two fuck? Is that why?” He glares at his best friend, with a level of fury that stifles Jimin’s martyrdom, “She taught Jungkook how to drive, she stayed up with Jin and Namjoon for six weeks straight when they were studying for their exit exams, she took Hoseok to work for months while he was saving up for his car. She gave up her studio for Taehyung’s family and, slept in her car while their house was recovering from last year’s flood. She- “ Yoongi starts out with a strong voice but, it slowly begins to falter as he gets to his addition to the list. His black hair moves fluidly with the breeze and, he looks away from Jimin. “She was there the night I- when I was…”  

The sentence is loaded and, thankfully for Yoongi, he doesn’t need to complete it.  

They all know what he’s talking about.  

Jimin feels an enormous amount of guilt wash over him as he sees his calm and collected hyung, fight the tears in his eyes.  

“Just because she’s your girlfriend doesn’t mean you get a bigger stake in grieving over her, she’s important to all of us, not just you.”  

The heaviness is enough to crush the seven men sitting around the fire.  

Yoongi is frozen in his spot, staring down at Jimin with the authority of the second eldest but also, with the desperation of a friend in need.  

Jimin finally lets the sting win and, the tears fall unceremoniously down his cheeks as he tries to meet Yoongi’s gaze.  

“I’m so sorry hyung.” He’s ashamed of his behavior and, he expects Yoongi to scold him further but, instead he kneels down beside him, placing a firm hand on his leg.  

“We are going to find her.”  

It’s all he says but, it prompts to Jimin to pull him into a hug and, the two of them share a moment before Jungkook says something that shifts the course of the evening.  

“Hyung…” He begins, looking up from his phone, “How does your friend know what kind of car Y/N drives?”  

“My friend?” Jimin sniffles, wiping his tears with the back of his hand, “What friend?”  

Hoseok looks uneasy beside Jungkook as well, staring intently at Jimin as he awaits for an answer.  

“Lady. The one you work for, how does she know what kind of car Y/N drives.”  

Jimin just shrugs and, with a nod he requests another cigarette as Yoongi returns to his seat,  

“She said it was in the news report the police published. I thought it was weird too especially since her car’s been in the shop but, the police have access to that kind of information so it makes sense.” He replies with a narrowed gaze, jerking his chin in his direction, “Why?”  

“There’s nothing about her car in the papers.”  

With Jungkook’s response, time almost freezes as a few members of the group seems to realize something dreadful.  

“Wha- How do you know that?” Jimin hasn’t caught on yet but, he knows his friends well and, there is a change in their posture that he notices, “Why does that matter?”  

Jungkook turns his phone in Jimin’s direction as a demonstration and, his voice begins to shake with his realization, “I searched everywhere hyung, it hasn’t appeared in a single article. How would she know something like that? Her car has been in the shop for two months…”  

Jimin’s reaction is immediate denial but, something crawls up his throat; something he doesn’t want to acknowledge.  

“Are you really thinking Lady had something to do with this?” He guffaws, taking another hit from his cigarette, “You know she’s like 70 right?”  

“Have you ever mentioned that she drives a civic before?” Hoseok chimes in, a look of concern on his face.  

Jimin shrugs, annoyed by their inflated reactions, “I don’t know? I wouldn’t remember telling her something like that but, I wouldn’t doubt if it came up especially when her cables were- “ His mouth parts then, cutting off his own sentence, “When her cables were cut…”  

“What are you talking about?” Yoongi pipes up and, everyone seems to lean towards the center of the circle subconsciously, growing closer without even realizing it.  

“When I was…” Jimin’s eyes are lit up with a thousand emotions as he tries to gather his thoughts, “When I was talking to her about Y/N she asked me if I thought it was the same person who cut the cables on her car. But-  I don’t remember telling her why Y/N’s car was in the shop.”  

“Why didn’t you tell us this?” Hoseok rushes out, nearly tripping over his words.  

“I- I didn’t make the connection, I just thought she was trying to help… oh my god.” Jimin brings his watery gaze around the circle, “Oh fuck. Do you think she knows? Do you think she knows what happened to her?”  

“Jimin…” Taehyung finally breaks his silence, “I think she is what happened to her.”  

And he wants to protest, because Lady is like a mother to him. She’s always there, helping him through his difficulties; she even gave him advice on how to confess to Y/N properly…none of this makes sense.  

“Think about it,” Taehyung continues, “She’s the wealthiest person in town, she knows everyone, she’s always checking up on you…don’t you think it’s a little odd that she’s so involved?”  

“I don’t know, I just thought she had connections, that’s why I went to her in the first place.”  

Jimin feels weak at this development and, Jungkook quickly takes his hand to soothe him.  

“What are we waiting for then? Lets go.” Yoongi stands with a firm look of determination but, Namjoon stops him.  

“Wait, we can’t just go busting into an old woman’s house and accuse her of kidnapping our friend. We have to have enough evidence…”  

“We have enough evidence.” Hoseok inserts, wearing a similar expression to Yoongi, “And old woman or not, if that bitch has our friend-“  

Jin comes through, intervening as things get intense, “Namjoon is right. We can’t do that. Look at us, she’d get one look and, call the police and, then we’d be the ones in handcuffs.”  

“Hyung, we literally just established a solid reason to be suspicious of someone.” Jungkook asserts, confusion evident on his features.  

Jin rolls his eyes, “All we’ve established is that Jimin may or may not have told her Y/N’s cables were cut. Lady owns half of the city, she’s more than capable of finding out what happened to Y/N’s car. This isn’t a lead, it’s odd yeah but, it’s not enough to accuse her with. She probably looked into Y/N’s vehicle information as soon as she went missing...”  

With Jin’s reasoning in place, the group seems to deflate a bit and, Jimin feels slightly relieved that he doesn’t have to suspect yet another person he’s supposed to trust.  

“I don’t know.” Jungkook’s small voice asserts, “I still think it’s weird.”  

With pursed lips, Hoseok nods along with his statement, looking longingly at the now empty back of cigarettes, “I agree.”  

“We don’t have to drop it completely, if anyone has any ideas on how to figure out more information, we should do that. Every lead is worth pursuing.” Namjoon murmurs  

“What do you think we should do?” Jungkook’s Bambi disposition is privy to Namjoon’s opinion and, he often turns to him in times of stress.  

“I have an idea.” Yoongi speaks instead, running his hand over the back of his neck, “I think I need to go back to the club. Jaebeom said the police might have found his sister if they had bothered to look for her, it kind of made me think that he had an idea of where she ended up...”  

“I’ll go with you.”  Jimin replies, throwing his cigarette into the fire  

Yoongi shakes his head, “I should go alone. He was kind of an asshole when I went the first time, I don’t even know if he’ll talk to me again.”  

Jimin chews on the inside of his cheek, wanting to protest but, he trusts Yoongi’s judgement.  

Besides, he can’t handle anyone’s attitude right now.  

“Anyone else think they need to revisit their leads?” Yoongi surveys the circle with cat-like precision, already crafting his future conversation with Jaebeom in his mind.  

Namjoon has glanced towards the direction of the Marquee River several times now and Jin, who is so tuned in to his mannerisms, notices.  

“What is it?”  

Namjoon purses his lips, “I think I need to speak with the groundskeeper again…”  

Hoseok wrinkles his nose in disgust, “The crazy guy with the bad breath?”  

He sighs, finally pulling his attention from the direction of the river, “What if his rambling actually meant something? He kept calling me madam…”  

“Namjoon,” Jin begins, placing a hand on his thigh, “he’s obviously sick, he didn’t even know who you were. How are you supposed to get anything meaningful from this guy?”  

“I don’t know. But, I think I should try…”  

“I’ll go with you hyung.” Jungkook vows, his eyes wide with his faith, “If that guys tries anything on you, I’ll kick his ass.”  

Jungkook’s very serious statement elicits something that the rooftop hasn’t heard in a while: laughter.  

They all laugh for a moment, basking in the tiny bit of innocence still left in their complicated world.  

And as the laughter dies down, Taehyung offers a sentiment that they can all agree on,  

“Let’s go find our friend.”  

After a few more cigarettes and a swig from Hoseok’s bottle of vodka, they all part ways.  

Namjoon and Jungkook head to the Marquee River whilst Yoongi prepares himself for a second visit to Ginseng. Jin and Taehyung head back to the night market to see if any of them have more information and, Hoseok finally convinces Jimin to get some rest.  

He’s been up for three days straight but, he hasn’t slept a full night since Tuesday.  

It’s hard but, after a bit more vodka, he finally passes out on Hoseok’s sofa.  

His torn between wanting to dream of you and, praying that he won’t.  

He wants to see your face but, fuck, it hurts so bad to do so.  

Namjoon and Jungkook- The Marquee River, Sunday 5:49pm  

Thankfully, the sun is just on the brink of setting when Namjoon and Jungkook arrive at the river. On Namjoon’s last visit, the moon was out and, very little people were left which left him more vulnerable. Now, not only does he have daylight on his side but, he also has a very vigilant and very protective dongsaeng to keep him company.  

“I’m just gonna stand back and, let you do your thing hyung but, if things get a little heated…I got your back ok? You just say the word and I’ll lay him out.” Jungkook vows, puffing his chest out as they approach the area Namjoon last saw the groundskeeper.  

He chuckles, patting Jungkook on the shoulder, “Thank you. I appreciate you coming with me. We shouldn’t be too long, especially if he starts rambling again.”  

Jungkook just nods, keeping close to his hyung, resisting the urge to hold his hand.  

He really wishes platonic hand-holding was more acceptable.  

Namjoon tenses up as he spots the groundskeeper near one of the trash cans but, he takes a deep breath and jerks his head in his direction, “There he is…”  

Jungkook nods, his expression tightening a bit as he prepares for the worst.  

“Hello?” Namjoon calls out tentatively  

The groundskeeper is dressed in slightly cleaner coat but, Namjoon still tenses up regardless.  

“Good evening gentleman.” The man turns around, smiling brightly, a rake grasped firmly in his hand, “What can I do for you?”  

Namjoon is confused.  

Is this the same man?  

He looks the same but, cleaner?  

And he isn’t laughing...  

What the hell is going on?  

“Uh good evening um...” Namjoon’s eyes flit to Jungkook, “Do you uh- do you remember me?”  

The man cocks his head, narrowing his eyes for a moment before shaking his head,  

“No, I’m so sorry I don’t. Have we met before?”  

Namjoon nods immediately but, for a moment he wonders if the experience he had the other night was some sort of stress induced hallucination.  

“Yeah, I came here the other night. I asked you if you had seen my friend?”  

For good measure, Namjoon holds up his phone, showing your photo and, the man pushes his glasses up his nose and leans in.  

He still has the scar but, his face isn’t greasy.  

His hair is combed to the side and, he doesn’t smell like slow death.  

Namjoon’s heart picks up at the thought of his own sanity slipping from him until the man finally seems to remember something.  

“Oh my-” He pulls back and shoots a wary look Namjoon’s way, “I do remember you. My goodness, I am so incredibly sorry, I probably scared the daylights out of you.”  

Namjoon’s polite nature causes him to chuckle uneasily but, he keeps his distance, not fully trusting this guy’s demeanor.  

“Yeah you uh, you definitely did. So uh...”  

The man cuts him off, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I suffered a head injury two years ago. The damage to my brain causes brief bouts of psychosis and, unfortunately I didn’t have enough money to refill my prescription.” The man extends his hand towards Namjoon and Jungkook, “My name is Nestor, please forgive my behavior. I can imagine it was quite shocking...”  

Namjoon and Jungkook were raised to be polite men so, despite their hesitation; they shake his hand, bowing their heads as they do.  

“I see. I’m sorry to hear about your accident.”  

Nestor chuckles and, something flashes in his eyes that Namjoon can’t quite decipher, “Oh it was no accident son, I was attacked.”  

Jungkook narrows his eyes and, although he claimed he wouldn’t speak, his curiosity gets the best of him, “By who?”  

Nestor looks to the side for a moment before glancing back at them,  

“I can’t remember.”  

“That’s awfully convenient.” Jungkook can’t help but observe with a pouted mouth and, Namjoon lightly smacks his chest.  

“Sorry but, you don’t remember?”  

Namjoon’s intricate brain is searching for ways to connect the dots but, the man is offering him very little information.  

“No, the doctors said I was attacked and, left for dead. I suffered damage to my hippocampus and, this caused a pretty bad episode of amnesia. I couldn’t remember who I was or how old I was, the only thing I could remember is my cat’s name...” He chuckles and, the clouded film over his eyes adds to the pain that flashes through them, “Which is quite funny you see because, my cat’s name is Cognac so, when I kept asking for Cognac, the nurses would try and explain to me over and over that I couldn’t have alcohol in my state.”  

Jungkook and Namjoon offer their condolences in the form of breathless laughter but, their level of empathy quickly absorb Nestor’s sadness.  

“Anyway...” Nestor gestures to Namjoon’s cellphone as a means to change the subject, “I have seen your friend before but, I don’t remember the last time I saw her. I’m terribly sorry...”  

Jungkook pipes up, “It’s ok sir, we understand, your hippo is damaged, that’s not your fault.”  

Namjoon’s mouth opens in disbelief and, he wants to correct Jungkook’s mistake but, he has more important matters to attend to.  

“I hope this isn’t too much for you but, the last time I was here- “ He hesitates, glancing over at Nestor, “-last time I was here, you kept calling me madam. Is there any significance to that?”  

“Oh...” Nestor chuckles, tucking a bit of his gray hair behind his ear, “I’m sure I was talking about my wife. It’s common for me in those episodes to ask for her. She passed away two years ago.”  

This is something Namjoon has been waiting for.  

Two years ago, this man was attacked.  

Two years ago, his wife passed away.  

Two years ago, Jaebeom’s sister went missing.  

There must be some correlation.  

“It was lovely meeting you gentleman. Unfortunately, I have to get back to my duties,” He gestures to the multi-colored leaves littered on the ground, “, these leaves aren’t going to rake themselves.”  

Namjoon understands of course and, they quickly shake hands again but, just before the two men turn to leave, Jungkook’s randomized curiosity strikes again.  

“What happened to your cat?”  

Nestor seems to search his brain and, his features almost crumple with a bit of desperation,  

“I don’t- I don’t remember.”  

Jungkook just nods, offering him a small smile before him and Namjoon move through the trees towards the street.  

Yoongi- Ginseng Night Club, Sunday 8:37pm  

As Yoongi enters the club for the second time, he carries himself much differently. He ignores the looks from the patrons littered on the couches, he ignores the bass vibrating in his bones, he ignores the jabs from the bartender as he asks to speak with Jaebeom.  

His anxiety is replaced with determination.  

When Jaebeom swings open the door a second time, he’s toned body is only covered by a pair of jeans.  

With another joint between his fingers, Jaebeom smirks down at Yoongi, “Are you here for business or pleasure?”  

Yoongi shamelessly allows his eyes to move over Jaebeom’s figure, admiring it but, also noting that his skin is littered with more than just tattoos.  

Nail marks run down the length of his abdomen, purple bruises congregate on the left side of his neck and, his lips are swollen with evidence of kissing.  

“Looks like you’ve had enough pleasure for the evening.” Yoongi notes in Korean, forcing his gaze away from Jaebeom’s body, “I need to ask you a few more questions.”  

Jaebeom’s smirk never falters as he pulls the joint to his lips. With a jerk of his head, he ushers Yoongi inside, shutting the door behind him, “Make it quick, I have company coming…”  

Yoongi wants to make a comment but, he knows it’s not important enough so, he starts with his first question, “I know this might be hard to talk about but when I was here last night, you said something about your sister going missing.”  

A noticeable change runs through Jaebeom’s body as he takes his seat, “Yeah, what about it?”  

“I thought it was odd that they-  my friend and your sister,” He elaborates, “went missing on the same street and the way you spoke about it, it was like you knew something about where she went…”  

Jaebeom tenses up with the subject change but, he sees something in Yoongi that he likes, there is an honesty to him that Jaebeom fucks with, “I have a feeling, yes, but I could never prove it.”  

Yoongi offers silence as a way to encourage him to continue and, Jaebeom obliges despite his hesitation.  

“Her and her boyfriend used to come in to the club every Thursday night for Happy Hour. They had been dating for a while and, things seemed to be going all right. But one night, she came in alone and I asked her where he was and, she told me they were taking a break.” Jaebeom’s expression shifts again and Yoongi, being the empath that he is, senses the onslaught of negative emotion. “She wouldn’t tell me what happened. She just kept begging me to stay out of it and, she made me promise her I wouldn’t confront him. He came in to the club later that night and, some of my guys told me they got into a huge fight-“  

Yoongi interjects, “Did you see anything?”  

He shakes his head and, before he elaborates, he takes another hit of his blunt, “No, I was up here doing a deal but, the next thing I know, my friends are coming up here and, telling me that my sister ran out of the club, crying and shit. I tried to call her, I even went out on the street and, asked everyone if they saw her but…” His voice tightens before he blows smoke from his lips, “…nothing. I blew up her phone for the rest of the night but, she never responded. I went to the police the next day and, surprise surprise, they were fucking useless. They kept saying that ‘girls like her runaway all the time’ and ‘she’ll be back before you know it.’ I was so angry. I couldn’t believe they didn’t care. I did the same thing you and your boys are doing, I started my own investigation and, I didn’t get very far until, I found her cell phone in the club’s dumpster.”  

Yoongi surprise is evident on his face and, it prompts Jaebeom to comment on it,  

“Yeah I know right? You’d think that would have helped but, it only made everything more complicated. I looked through her messages to try to figure out what happened and-“ He blows a heavy breath between is lips, shaking his head, “Her boyfriend was cheating on her but, it was with some old chick, like his boss or some shit…I don’t know.”  

“His boss?”  

He nods, “Yeah, he worked the Upside as a pool boy.”  

Yoongi’s heart drops then, down to the pit of his stomach and, he literally feels the sweat collecting in the wells of his palms.  

“A pool boy?” He has to clarify, just so he’s sure he heard him right  

Jaebeom nods and licks his lips, “Yeah, my sister found out he was fucking her; at least that’s what I got from her texts.”  

“My friend works as a pool boy too. It’s his girlfriend that missing.”  

Jaebeom’s brows rise before shaking his head, “Shit…” He takes another hit, “That’s a hell of a coincidence.”  

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”  

Yoongi and Jaebeom regard each other for a moment before Jaebeom’s mouth turns up in a smirk, “I guess you have an old lady to visit then. If you see my sister’s boyfriend, slap him around a little bit for me heh…”  

Jaebeom seems to gulp the pain he feels down his throat before finishing off the blunt and throwing it in the ashtray.  

“Wait, did he disappear too?”  

He nods, “Haven’t seen him since that night. I just assumed he was living the high life, I mean, I don’t blame him…I’d suck on some old lady titties too for that kind of money…” Jaebeom quickly replaces the blunt in his hand with a the bottle of beer he had sitting on his side table. He takes a swig before holding out to Yoongi, “You want some?”  

Yoongi doesn’t understand his attitude towards his sister’s disappearance. If he knew where her boyfriend was, why wouldn’t he go talk to him?  

But he takes the offer, throwing back a bit of stale beer, letting the slight warmth from the alcohol soothe the rawness in his chest.  

“Why didn’t you go up there? If that’s where he is?”  

“I don’t have contacts up there. There was no way they’d let me in, look at me…” He chuckles, gesturing to his rough appearance, “Besides, I don’t know where that bitch lives and, honestly, it’s probably for the best. I don’t know what I’d do to that guy if I found him…”  

A few more words are exchanged before Yoongi decides he needs to leave; he has a lot to report and, he feels as though time is running out.  

As he’s moving to the threshold of the door, Jaebeom get his attention.  

“Hey-“  

As Yoongi turns around, Jaebeom leans forward in his seated position, placing his elbows on his knees, “What’s your name?”  

Yoongi’s lips twitch, “Yoongi.”  

Jaebeom grins, nodding his head in consideration, “Yoongi. Alright then, well if you ever want to take a night off from your detective work and, uh you know,” He nods to the bed, “have some fun, you know where to find me.”  

Desire stirs in Yoongi’s stomach and, he’s flattered honestly, that such a handsome man could take interest in him but, he knows he couldn’t take a night off if he tried.  

He’s got a friend to find.  

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He sends a smile towards Jaebeom, bowing his head slightly, “See you around.”  

“I hope so.”  

The information they have accrued is once again exchanged amongst the group and, there is only one conclusion that everyone continues to arrive at:  

They have to get inside Lady’s house.  

So, putting their heads together they concoct a plan that just might work.  

The plan is simple.  

Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung will take Lady up on her offer of a home cooked meal.  

Thankfully, Taehyung’s closet is full of clothes that look far more expensive than they actually are; working at a thrift store has its perks.  

Jimin is dressed in a gray and black suit, covered in a gaudy brocade pattern.  

Jungkook choses a floral blazer and black slacks, complete with a simple white button up he borrows from Taehyung’s father.  

Taehyung donns something slightly less subtle; a black and silver blazer with a similar brocade pattern to Jimin’s suit jacket.  

They take time on their hair, doing it up as if it were each of their wedding days.  

When it’s all said and done, the three men walk out of Taehyung’s room looking like they came straight out of Interview with Vampire.  

Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon and Jin are dressed in all black.  

They will serve as a distraction during dinner to enable the younger men to explore the property undisturbed by Lady’s security guards.  

It’s not an easy task but, they are more than ready to attempt it.  

An invitation to dinner is of course incomplete without a gift for it’s lovely host.  

Tonight, a bottle of champagne is clutched in Taehyung’s grasp as he strolls up the cobblestone walkway.  

However, this champagne is slightly modified to fit this evening’s itinerary.  

“Doxepin, it's what I take for insomnia. This shit is strong, I only have to take one and, I’m out like a light in 30 minutes...” Yoongi had explained, pushing his prescription bottle towards Taehyung, “Slip that bitch 3 or 4 and, she’ll hit the floor. When she wakes up, just tell her she passed out for a few minutes…”  

And so it was.  

Lady's home is massive.  

It’s the biggest house the men have ever seen.  

Jimin has stood in its immensity before but, Jungkook and Taehyung are almost disgusted by its grandeur.  

The white paint seems to stretch upwards for miles, the greenery of the vines decorating it in such a way that it almost looks serene.  

Nothing could be farther from the truth.  

The lawn is immaculate.  

Carefully trimmed hedges sculpted to perfection line the walkway that leads to the dark oak that encompasses the front door.  

They aren’t here for a lovely dinner inside this massive house.  

The true nature of their visit is simply to gather more information.  

They aren’t sure how but, Lady is connected to your disappearance.  

Tonight, they will gather enough evidence to warrant an investigation.  

Maybe then, the city below them will finally pay attention to their cries for help.  

Lady doesn’t greet them at the door but, another intriguing person does.  

“Noah...” Jimin greets the suited man with a smile that is far too sweet.  

But he delights in the man’s surprise and, Jimin connects another piece of the puzzle.  

Noah is a classmate of theirs.  

He was fortunate enough to land a job in the Upside after graduation.  

He was fortunate in that his family had money and connections that pushed Noah ahead of his fellow alumni.  

Noah knew you well.  

Noah is dressed in a suit.  

Noah works for Lady.  

It seems there is a connection but, instead of pummeling Noah like he wants to, Jimin simply bows his head as he steps through the threshold of Lady’s home.  

“Wh-What are you guys doing here?” Noah stutters, trying desperately to compose himself.  

Taehyung offers the same smile adorning Jimin’s mouth, “We’re here for dinner. What are you doing here?”  

It’s a loaded question and Noah knows it but, he’s helpless to act on this knowledge because, he is required to treat Lady’s guests with respect.  

“I work here.” He mutters, gesturing towards the dining room, “She’s uh...she’s right in there.”  

“Aren’t you going to offer to take our coats?” Jimin feigns innocence, nodding to the coat rack beside the door.  

Noah nods and with shaky hands and, he accepts each of the coats before hanging them up.  

“Enjoy your evening gentleman.”  

The three of them walk away with a sense of satisfaction but, they are also sick with the knowledge of where one of their former friends ended up.  

Money can create the most dastardly of monsters.  

“Oh my goodness you’re here! Come in, come in.”  

Lady appears at the archway, dressed in a red satin gown, her grey hair piled elegantly atop her head.  

Time has been kind to her, Jungkook thinks, she doesn’t look 70.  

But then again, age seems to be less of an issue when you have millions of dollars at your disposal.  

“Lady these are my friends, Jungkook...” He gestures to the man on his right, who bows respectfully offering a boyish smile.  

“Thank you so much for having me Lady Noona, you have an incredible home.”  

Lady is already flustered; she can’t believe Jimin has friends as handsome as he is.  

“And Taehyung...” Jimin continues, smirking at Jungkook’s acting skills.  

Taehyung, takes her hand, keeping eye contact with her and lowering his lips to her knuckles, “Enchanté, votre maison est belle oui mais pas aussi belle que vous.” (Enchanted. Your house is beautiful yes but, not nearly as beautiful as you.)  

Lady’s face rushes red and, she giggles like a demented schoolgirl, fanning herself as Taehyung releases her hand.  

“Oh mon dieu tu l'es aussi. N'hésitez pas à continuer...” (Oh my goodness, you are too much. Please don’t hesitate to continue.)  

“My lord Jimin, you didn’t tell me your friends were so handsome and, that one of them speaks French- “ She eyes Taehyung teasingly and he responds by winking.  

“He was adopted when he was younger by a French family, he actually doesn’t speak English very well.” Jimin lies, strolling into the dining room and, beginning his search for something incriminating.  

She nods, her eyes alight with intrigue, “I see well,” She leans into Taehyung’s frame, lowering her voice slightly, “Ne t'inquiète pas je n'aurai aucun mal à communiquer avec toi.” (Not to worry, I’ll have no trouble communicating with you)  

Taehyung chuckles at that, bringing his lips to her ear, “Bien sûr, vous en avez déjà dit beaucoup.” (Of course, you have already said so much)  

Lady is floored and, enlightened with desire.  

So much so, that she arranges for Taehyung to sit right beside her.  

The dining table, Jimin remembers, is smaller to create a more intimate setting.  

Jimin takes a seat across from Lady who sits at the head of the table whilst Jungkook and Taehyung settle into the two middle chairs between them.  

The first course is a salad topped with fancy ingredients the men barely recognize but, they dive into it anyway as Lady begins the conversation.  

“Any word about Y/N?” She ventures solemnly, giving her best look of concern.  

Jimin smiles, saccharine as ever, “Nothing so far but, I’m sure your men will give me an update soon.”  

Lady nods mid-chew, pouting her lips slightly, “Of course sweetheart, they send me updates whenever they have something.”  

Taehyung interjects, “Ne parlez pas encore d'elle, ça ruine mon humeur. Je t'ai apporté quelque chose. L'homme du magasin a dit que c'était sucré, peut-être que nous pourrions l'avoir avec un dessert?” (Don’t talk about her yet, it ruins my mood. I brought you something. The man at the store said it was sweet, maybe we can have it with dessert?)  

This surprises Lady of course but, as Taehyung hands her the bottle of champagne adorned appropriately with a twist off cap; She smirks salaciously and nods.  

“Tout ce que vous voulez...” (Whatever you want...)  

Taehyung arches a brow, leaning in towards her once more, “Tout ce que je veux?” (Whatever I want?)  

This is part of the plan of course, to disarm her and, Taehyung is doing an incredible job.  

“Oui.”  (Yes.) She practically coos in response, shameless to the presence of the other men.

He chuckles darkly and, beneath the table he places a hand on her thigh, “Et si je te veux pour le dessert?” (What if I want you for dessert?)  

Jimin wants to hurl a little bit because, although he can’t understand what they are saying, he knows something inappropriate is going down.  

“Jimin, your friend is going to make me misbehave.” Lady giggles, licking her lips as she eyes Taehyung hungrily.  

He plays it off though, this is part of the plan.  

“I’m sorry about him. He’s a shameless flirt.” Jimin chuckles lazily, eyeing Jungkook from over his water glass.  

“No apology needed.” She smirks, flushing a further shade of red as Taehyung sends a wink in her direction, “Now, tell me Jungkook, what is that you do?”  

Jungkook smiles brilliantly, looking eagerly at her, “I work as a paralegal for a law firm a few cities over but, on the weekends I work as a personal trainer.”  

The lie is so well executed, Jimin and Taehyung want to cackle but, they hold it together, sticking to their script.  

“Oh that is so impressive. I hear Law careers are increasing by 18% over the next 5 years, it’s an incredible industry to get into.” She compliments, stabbing more of the lettuce onto her fork.  

“I’m glad you think so Noona, I can imagine someone as successful as you has a lot of wisdom for someone like me.” Jungkook’s Bambi eyes are on full display as he stares longingly in Lady’s direction, licking his lips.  

His words have a double meaning and, Lady knows it, she wonders how she got so lucky to have two handsome men flirting with her.  

“I know my way around sure,” She remarks with a smile, “I can introduce you to some of my colleagues, many of them work in your prospective field.”  

“Really?” Jungkook beams, “That would be an honor Noona, thank you so much.”  

Lady nods and places a well-manicured hand over his, “Of course, any friend of Jimin’s is a friend of mine.”  

She turns to Taehyung, who hasn’t taken his eyes off of her, “Et vous, quel est votre métier?” (And you? What is your job?)

Taehyung pouts slightly, eyeing her in a way that suggests embarrassment, “Je suis un artiste. Je vends mes tableaux. C'est un travail très difficile mais, je l'aime tellement, je ne peux pas imaginer faire autre chose.” (I am an artist. I sell my paintings. It’s a very difficult job but, I love it so much, I can’t imagine doing anything else.)

Lady melts at his words, a longing sigh leaving her lips, “Bien sûr. C'est tellement admirable que vous poursuivez ce qui vous passionne.” (Of course. That is so admirable that you pursue what you’re passionate in.)

Taehyung smirks, eyeing her as he takes a sip of his water, “Merci. Je suis curieux maintenant, de quoi êtes-vous passionné?” (Thank you. I’m curious now, what are you passionate about?)

Before she can answer, the second course is served: roasted beef with a béarnaise sauce on a bed of microgreens.

Rich people shit, Jimin thinks but, he smiles graciously none the less.

He isn’t hungry, he hasn’t been hungry for the past week so, he pushes the meat around the plate as he continues to survey her dining area.

There is nothing out of place but, then again, he isn’t sure what he’s looking for.

The only thing he can do is wait for dessert…

Once Lady is out, they will be able to search for what they need.  

“Lady, do you live here all alone?” Jungkook feigns concern, tilting his head.

She smiles sadly and nods, dabbing her lips with a silk napkin, “Yes I do. My husband, Nestor, died two years ago of an aneurysm.  I’ve been alone here ever since, well minus my guards of course. I’m sure you saw them outside but, they don’t live here full time.”

Jungkook has to stifle his shock.

The name Nestor, isn’t a common one.

In fact, he’s only ever heard it once before...

Jungkook kisses his teeth, pouting his lips slightly, “Oh noona, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

She pouts too, mirroring his expression, soaking up all of his sympathy, “That’s alright dear. I manage just fine, I have to admit though, it’s so wonderful having company. It gets lonely up here.”

The youngest smirks, “Oh of course Noona, I can only imagine…” He places a hand on her thigh beneath the table, rubbing gently over her dress, “A woman like you should never be lonely.”

Jimin and Taehyung have to physically repress their reactions to Jungkook’s acting abilities; it’s a side of him they have never seen.

Anger is something Jungkook doesn’t encounter very often.

But as he looks into Lady’s face, he feels rage coursing through him.

Because, he knows she isn’t genuine.  

He knows there is something off about her.  

Jungkook would normally never dream of harming another person but, when his friends are getting hurt, his morals begin to loosen.

“Oh my, you boys make me feel young again.” Lady chuckles before taking a bit of her beef, “You know…I have the resources to assist you, I tell Jimin this all the time but, he’s just so modest.” She winks at him and, Jimin pretends to shy away from her compliment, “I could really help you with your chosen career paths. Taehyungie,” She turns to him, flashing the pearl white of her dentures, “Ma sœur Clemtenine possède une galerie au centre-ville, je suis sûr que je peux lui faire acheter une partie de votre art. Je sais que j'aurais certainement adoré en acheter ...” (My sister Clementine owns a gallery downtown, I’m sure I can get her to purchase some of your art. I know I’d certainly loved to buy some)

Taehyung’s stomach drops at her statement but, he remains composed and arches his brow, “Clementine? C'est un nom tellement intéressant…” (Clementine? That is such an interesting name…)  

Lady giggles once again, “Oui, nos parents étaient des gens excentriques.” (Yes, our parents were eccentric people.)

“Ils étaient probablement beaux aussi…” (They were probably beautiful too…)

Taehyung winks again and, he must admit, he’s getting off on how easy she is to trick.

She fans herself through her uneasy giggle, nudging his knee with her own, “Oh arrête de me flatter, je suis sérieux, je pourrais vraiment t'aider” (Oh stop flattering me, I’m serious, I could really help you.)

Taehyung pretends to be touched as he places a hand to his chest but before he can reply, a loud voice rings in through the intercom above the dining table.

“Mam this is Noah. There is a disturbance down at the main gate, we have to leave to go check it out, are you alright in there?”

Lady rolls her eyes, unbothered, “Of course Noah, I’m with my friends. Go take care of it, update me when you’re done.”

Anxiety swims into the stomachs of the three men; phase one is complete.

The guards are due to be distracted and, all they can hope is that Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon and, Jin stay safe in the process.

“Is everything alright?” Jimin tilts his head, glancing towards the speaker.

She smile reassuringly, waving him off, “Of course, this happens all the time. It’s probably just the homeless, poor things, they beg at my gate sometimes. I don’t engage with them though, as much as I want to help, I don’t believe in handouts you know? It teaches them nothing.”  

This both confuses and enrages Jimin all at once.

She has no problem offering her resources to the three of them because, lets face it, it’s obvious she is partial to their good looks.

But he’s disgusted with her way of thinking.

Everyone deserves a fair shot.

He can’t understand how people, especially fortunate people like Lady, could have this outlook.

But then again, without the abuse of the working class, how would people like her make all of their money?  

“I’ll drink to that.” Jimin smiles, raising his glass and, the rest of the table follows suit, sipping from their crystal goblets.

Then, something peculiar happens…

Beneath their feet, against the expensive lacquer on the wood varnish, there is a banging sound.  

Lady tenses up but, deflects immediately, her surprise quickly smoothing out of her features, “Forgive me, I’m having a wine cellar built beneath the dining room, they’ve been measuring all morning so, it looks like they are getting started on the construction.”

Jimin’s expression shifts and, he stares across the table like a snake honing in on his pray, “Oh? That’s so weird, I didn’t notice any construction trucks outside.”

Lady smiles gracefully, “They have been working for quite awhile, part of their team left to gather more supplies. I’m so indecisive, I changed my mind about the interior several times…” She turns to Taehyung, feeling uneasy under Jimin’s gaze, “Que pensez-vous du marbre noir?” (What do you think of black marble?)

Taehyung’s eyes light up, “Ah, marbre noir? Excellent choix, si séduisant.” (Ah, black marble? Excellent choice, so seductive.)

She entangles her fingers with his beneath the table cloth, shooting him a suggestive look that makes Taehyung sick to his stomach, “Oui, vous l'êtes…” (Yes, you are.)

All Taehyung can manage is a smirk and, a thumb over the back of her knuckles.

His patience is running out.

“L'heure du dessert?” (Dessert time?)

He nods to the kitchen and, Lady immediately blooms with excitement.

“Oui, oui…” She smiles, craning her neck towards the kitchen, “We’re ready for dessert now, what’s taking so long?”

Crème Brule is served alongside a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream and, Taehyung whispers something in her ear about her being similar to the French dessert.

With flushed cheeks, Lady giggles (for the millionth time) and, begins eating.

“Chérie, es-tu prêt pour le champagne que j'ai apporté? Il ira bien avec ce dessert…” (Darling, are ready for the champagne I brought? It will go well with this dessert…)

With her approval, Taehyung pours the bubbly liquid into each of the flutes, smirking devilishly at his friends as he does.

Taehyung watches her like a hawk and, picks up her glass, getting dangerously close to her as he lifts it to her lips, “Boisson. Dis-moi ce que tu penses.” (Drink. Tell me what you think.)

Like saucers her eyes widen and, she’s so enthralled with Taehyung, she doesn’t notice another round of banging beneath the floorboards.

But the rest of them do.

Her eyes flutter as she sips some of the bubbly liquid but, Taehyung isn’t satisfied.

“Ah ah…Avale tout pour moi.” ( Ah ah…Swallow it all for me)

She obliges, practically spluttering at his double entendre.

“Bonne fille.” (Good Girl) He chuckles darkly, his heart thumping in his chest, he likes this.  

He has to admit.

There is something so satisfying about fooling an opponent.

He’s turned on by it.

She gulps as she continues to stare at him, completely captivated.

“C’est delicieux.” (It’s delicious) She finally manages, dabbing her lips with the silk once again.

“Tu fais un bon show…” (You put on a good show) He remarks, smirking before pretending to sip some of his own champagne.

There is a bit of silence that moves throughout the table before Jimin takes the reigns once again,

“Lady, I really appreciate you having us tonight. We needed a night off; things have been so difficult lately.”

Lady immediately smiles, forcing her eyes away from Taehyung, “Of course sweetheart. You know I’m always here for you.”

Another sound is forced against the wood below and, for whatever reason, this startles Lady.  

“Goodness, they are loud…” A nervous laugh leaves her lips and she attempts to stand up before faltering a bit, eyeing Taehyung immediately as she seems to stumble.

Taehyung reacts, standing with her and, holding onto her waist, “Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas chérie?” (What’s wrong darling?)

She mumbles something incoherent which prompts a sadistic grin to appear on Taehyung’s mouth, “Vous sentez-vous un peu endormi?” (Do you feel a little sleepy?)

She nods, clinging to him helplessly as he guides her to the settee beneath the window,

“C'est bon chéri, dors pour moi. Je promets que je serai là quand tu te réveilleras.” (It’s ok darling, sleep for me. I promise I’ll be there when you wake up.)

Lady’s eyes are growing heavier when Taehyung lays her down and, as he does, he places a kiss atop her forehead, “Si jamais tu le fais…” (If you ever do…)

Her eyes widen at his threatening tone but, before she can process it fully, she passes out in his arms.  

Taehyung, Jungkook and, Jimin all look at each other for a moment before, they spring into action.

They shove the dining table aside, disregarding the sound of the expensive china as it crashes to the floor.

There is a Persian rug that covers the sound and, that is quickly shoved aside to reveal something that makes their stomach turn.

Because, beneath the dining table, there is a cellar door.

Jimin swallows his fear and with shaky hands, he leans down, “Hello?”

Silence.

He tries again, his chest numb from the force of his beating heart, “Is there- is anyone down there?”

Nothing.

Jimin frantically looks for a way in but, the hatch is sealed with a padlock.

“It’s locked, we need a way to-“ He begins but, a voice interrupts him.

A voice he is longed to hear for what seems like eternity.  

“Jimin?”

The men look at each other with such heightened emotion that it could power the entire city.

Because, that voice belongs to you.

“Y/N? Baby? Oh my god…” He clutches the wood, banging on it without a reason why, “Baby? Is that you?”

Down in the cellar, beneath the big house you were taken to, you begin to cry at the sound of your boyfriends voice.

You must be dreaming you think.

He can’t be real.  

Is it possible?  

Is the nightmare finally over?

“Jimin!” You cry weakly, using all the strength you have.

The woman who forced you down here hasn’t fed you since your arrival.

She’s just left you down there, along with the rest of her secrets.

The room you’re in isn’t very big.

It’s constructed crudely and made of stone.

There are only two things to keep you company:

A pile of bones and, a pile of money.

When the woman laid you beneath her home, she said only one thing to you,  

“You will die down here. You will die beside the life you will never have and, while you do, I’ll make sure he gets everything he could ever want.”

Jimin chokes back a sob as he pounds against door yet again and, he doesn’t notice that Jungkook is already scanning the room for solution.

“I’m right here baby, I’m right here, I’m going to get you out ok? Just hang on…”

You cover your chapped lips with the palm of your hand, sobbing into it.

You couldn’t believe it.

He found you.

He actually found you.

You didn’t know how and, it didn’t matter.

You just want to go home.

“Jungkook and Taehyung are here with me, we’re going to get you out!” He calls and, as if on cue, Jungkook appears beside him with hammer, “Watch out.” He grunts, determination in his eyes, “Y/N! I’m gonna break the door in ok? I need you to move aside so you don’t get hurt!”

You laugh in disbelief at the sound of your friend’s voice, “Use that brute strength of yours Kookie! Show that door who’s boss!”  

He chuckles at that, tears collecting in his eyes, “I got you Noona, just make sure you’re not in the way!”

Taehyung is smiling too, trying not to lose it at the sound of your voice.

He keeps a careful eye on Lady, who is still passed out on the settee.

If he hated her before, he wants to kill her now.

Taehyung knew she was involved yes but, he never suspected she had you locked in her fucking cellar.

Jimin is itching to get you in his arms, he wants to claw through the wood himself but, instead he stands back and, lets Jungkook hack away at the cellar door.  

You can see it.

The expensive wood slowly splintering above, light pouring in through the jagged cracks.

The only light you’ve had down here is a single bulb hanging from the ceiling.

It’s been torture.

But, none of that matters to you right now.

The only thing you can focus on is the sight of your boyfriend’s face as he tears the remaining wood away from the frame.

“Jimin…” You whimper, ignoring the weakness in your body before crawling your way up the stairs, wanting nothing more than to be in his arms.

Jimin breaks down, reaching out for you…

You’re still in the same outfit he last saw you in.

“Baby, come here…come here…” He pulls you into his arms, his body shaking with his cries as he holds you so tight, it’s almost painful, “I got you, I got you. You’re safe now, you’re safe…”

You’re face in his neck, sobbing whilst your fists clutch his blazer.

You don’t fully understand what’s going on, or why they are here dressed like little princes.

But, you’re not in the headspace to ask.

You just want to stay in Jimin’s arms and, never let go.

“We’re so sorry…” Jungkook sniffles, wrapping his arms around you and Jimin.

Taehyung follows suit, letting his tears fall, “We’re going to make sure they pay for what they did to you.”

Time seems to stand still as you relish in the affection of the people closest to you.

“Don’t ever be sorry. Look what you guys did…you found me. You saved me.” You whisper weakly, your face remaining in Jimin’s neck.

“Jimin? Taehyung? What on earth is going on?”

The sound of her voice makes your blood run cold…

Lady is sitting up, disorientated but before she has a chance to process what’s going on, Taehyung grabs the carving knife from the dining room table and holds it up to her neck.

“Funny, we were going to ask you the same question.”

Lady’s mouth parts in shock, her eyes widening in fear, “I- I-“ She glances around the room before she spots you and, her heart stalls, “I can explain…”

Jimin wants to freak out on her, he really does but, he doesn’t want to let go of you.

“Lady…” He spits from the floor, setting his piercing gaze on her, “Why the fuck is my girlfriend in your cellar?”

She hesitates and, Taehyung can tell she’s looking for a way out so, he presses the knife into her skin, “Answer him.” He hisses through his teeth

Jungkook stands as well, prepared to back him up should he need it.

“Jimin please, you must know. I was only looking out for you…women like her, they ruin men like you. I was trying to protect you.”  

“Protect me?!” He barks, shaking his head in disbelief, “By murdering the only woman I’ve ever loved? By putting my friends and I through the worst week of our life?!”

Taehyung holds the knife steady as he jerks his head towards her, “Stand up…”

She obliges, mouth parted in disbelief, her hands up in front of her submissively, “You’re working three jobs to support yourself, I’ve been trying to help you but, I knew you wouldn’t accept it unless you had no other choice. I knew she…” She sends a glare your way, “…would always be in your ear. She was all you ever spoke about, I needed to get her out of the way so, you could start focusing on you.”

“She has a name you crazy bitch…” Jimin lets out a humorless laugh, helping you to your feet, “She has a name and, a life and, people who love her and, you…” He points a finger in her face, “…you tried to take that from her. How many people have ended up in your basement huh?! How many lives have you ruined?!”

Her expression shifts to one of pure malice, a devilish smirk appearing on her lips, “Why don’t you ask your little girlfriend?” She turns her gaze towards you, “Tell him, tell him how many skeletons you found beneath my house.”

This angers you.

Initially, you didn’t understand.

You didn’t understand the significance of running into Noah that night.

You didn’t understand why he offered to call you a Taxi.

You didn’t understand why the driver intentionally missed your turn.

And after you were knocked out, you didn’t understand why you were brought to this place.

The big house.

But now, it makes sense.

This pathetic excuse of a woman, gets off on kidnapping the less fortunate.

She breeds new monsters in the process, taking their loved ones and capitalizing off of their grief.

She takes them in and, turns them to stone.  

“You wanted them to think I was dead…so you could convince them to leave their lives behind.” Your voice isn’t a hundred percent but, your gaze is steady as it pierces into her.

She chuckles despite the knife being pressed to her throat, “Hmm so it does have a brain. I knew I couldn’t convince Jimin to work for me unless I broke his heart first. Men are much easier to manipulate when they feel like they have nothing left.”

Taehyung practically snarls, “Let’s waste this bitch, we can tell the police that-“

Lady’s cackle is abrupt, her eyes crinkling with delight, “The police! Ha! The police work for me, why do you think they never looked for your little friend hm? They knew where she was, I pay them a pretty penny to keep their mouth shut.”

Another almost cartoonish voice interrupts the conversation as it crackles over the intercom, “Mam is everything alright in there? We heard a commotion.”

Shit.

It’s one of the guards.

Jungkook is prepared to fight, he looks around for a weapon and, grabs the hammer from the floor.

“Noah! No everything is not ok! It seems as though my guests have overstayed their welcome…” She seethes before another smile appears on her lips, “Kill them…”

Jimin grabs you immediately, pushing you behind him and, Taehyung’s grip tightens on Lady’s waist, keeping her in place.

“Uhhh yeah I don’t know who the fuck Noah is but, uh-  oh wait! Yah, Hoseok! Isn’t Noah the one you hit with the Range Rover?”  

The voice morphs again and, you actually laugh at the sound of Yoongi’s voice echoing through the speaker.

“Holy shit…” Jungkook chuckles in disbelief

“That scrawny little blonde dude??” Hoseok’s voice literally warms your heart as it reaches your ears, “Yeah he’s out like a light sorry, anyone else you’d like to speak to?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Lady hisses, panic settling into her senses, “I’ll have the police here in minutes, you’ll be thrown in prison for the rest of your lives!”

“Ouch, we were afraid you’d say that. See, but the thing is, we destroyed all of your fancy ass cameras but, we left the audio running so…” Jin’s voice chimes in next, explaining her demise, “the only thing the police will hear is a taped confession, you wrinkly ass bitch. And let me just say my dear, you look like your pussy is covered in dust and, that’s why you’re going down, all because you thought you might get some dick...pity.

Jin’s insult causes laughter to move through the four of you and, you can’t help but, feel moved at how dedicated your friends are.

“You filthy bastards, you better get your grimy hands off of my cars before, I add grand theft auto to your long list of charges.”

They laugh hysterically on the other end of the line before; Namjoon speaks up, “Ok boomer.”

In the next moment, Lady takes advantage of the distraction and, quickly lunges at you, her hands going for your neck but, before she can reach you, she’s knocked out of the way by Jungkook.

It’s an instinctual reaction but, it does the job

Because instead of landing on you, Lady falls down the hole in the floor to the cellar.

The four of you rush over to the entrance to see her body laying still at the bottom of stairs.

There is a bit of silence before you speak up, staying close to Jimin, “What do we do?”

He smirks, wrapping an arm around you, “Leave her. Let her die alone with her all nice shit.”

Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon and, Jin rush in finally and as soon as they spot you, they sigh out in relief.

“Oh my god.”

“You’re ok.”

“We knew we’d find you. Fuck, we missed you so much.”

“If you ever get kidnapped again, I will beat your ass.”

You just smile, giggling at their comments, holding them close.

“Thank you for looking for me. I love you guys so much.”

Yoongi nods to the cellar door and, him and Jimin exchange glances, “Here.” Yoongi tosses him a small black hard drive which Jimin catches seamlessly, “Throw that down there too. It’s the audio from tonight…”

The rest of you aren’t sure how they managed to do it.  

But, those questions are reserved for later.

Right now, you just want to get out of there.

Jimin smirks, standing over the edge of the hole in the floor before dropping it in, relishing in the sound it makes as it clatters down the steps.

“Should we call the police?” Hoseok asks, slightly breathless from all the excitement.

“Why would we?” Yoongi grins, shrugging his shoulders, “Girls like her disappear all the time…”

“Good point.” Jin nods returning his grin, and everyone’s eyes are still trained on the hole in the floor.

You aren’t sure if she’s dead but, you’re hoping she isn’t.

She deserves to spend the rest of her life suffering for what she did to you, for what she did to so many others…

“What happened to the guards?” You ask, lacing your fingers with Jimin and, he responds by tightening his grip on your hand.

“We knocked em out. They’re tied up in the garage.” Namjoon remarks coolly

“Let’s get out of here. We need to leave town for few days until the police figure everything out.” Taehyung says, finally dropping the knife to the floor.

“Good thing we have a ride then…” Hoseok holds up the keys to the Range Rover and, the eight of you are giddy with the promise of freedom.

Jungkook stays close to Namjoon and, as rest of you exit the house; he spots movement in the corner of his eyes.

Near the coat rack, sits a long-haired white Persian cat.

Jungkook can’t help himself.

If he isn’t going to kill this terrible woman, he’s at least going to take her cat.

Hit her where it hurts you know?

“Hyung…” He stops Namjoon and, he looks confused for a moment until he spots what Jungkook is pointing out.

Jungkook doesn’t wait to reach out to the furry creature, “ Here kitty kitty.”  

The cat rubs against his hand, tiny purs erupting from it’s mouth and, Jungkook smiles as he takes it into his arms.

Namjoon smirks fondly at the two of them before his eyes light up when he sees the name engraved on the cat’s golden collar.

“Cognac.” He breathes and, he and Jungkook share a moment as they exit the house.

The eight of you pile into the Range Rover, with Jin in the driver’s seat and, immediately, you find yourself beside Jimin.

“I thought I lost you…” He whispers desperately, placing a few kisses to your lips.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper back, smiling into his lips before leaning forward to make an announcement to the rest of the car, “Hey guys uh…I think I have a way we can leave town for a bit.”

“How?” Hoseok furrows his brow, leaning around Jimin to see you.

“With this…” You grin and, from the middle of your bra, you pull out several bundles of money, each of them labeled $20,000.

You left the bones in the cellar for the police to find.

But the money?

The money, you took with you.

The police wouldn’t need it for their investigation right?

The seven of them look at you in shock before Yoongi lets out a sound you’ve never heard him make before; it’s pure unfiltered joy.

“Oh fuck yeah…”

Plage de Maeva, Tahiti- Two Months Later

Justice came in pieces.

It started with Cognac and, the massive fortune Lady left behind; both of which were returned to their rightful owner, the man at the river.

Then came Jaebeom; the eight of you dropped off a few thousand for him at the club, along with your findings.

A different precinct responded to the distress call from Lady’s home.  

She survived the figurative fall yes but, the fall from grace that would soon follow completely destroyed her.

She was brought in on 9 counts of first degree murder, 7 counts of kidnapping, stalking, conspiracy to commit fraud and, a myriad of other charges.  

The suits were brought in as well and, suffered similar fates.

Between them, 293 years of prison was to be served.

The staff at the motel, the patrons of the Chamomile Country Club and, even Clementine herself were all publically humiliated when the news broke of Lady’s true nature.

She had been paying them all for their silence.

No charges were brought against them but, their statuses as pariahs seemed fitting enough.

The news came to all of you quite late because, you were far too busy enjoying your own personal victories…on an island called Tahiti.

520,000 was certainly enough to get you out of town and, by the looks of it, you may never return…

“Every second, every minute, man I swear that she can get it Say if you a bad bitch put your hands up high, hands up high, hands up high Tell 'em dim the lights down right now, put me in the mood I'm talking 'bout dark room, perfume Go, go!”  

Yoongi’s voice echoes loudly with the help of his microphone as he raps the lyrics to a rather befitting song by Kendrick Lamar.

It was karaoke night on the rooftop of your resort and the eight of you, along with your loved ones are enjoying every second of it.

Hoseok rushes on stage with Yoongi, laughing as he does, “I recognize your fragrance (hol' up!) You ain't never gotta say shit (woo!) And I know your taste is A little bit (mmm) high maintenance (ooh) Everybody else basic You live life on an everyday basis with-“ He holds the mic out and, the rest of you scream the lyrics with beaming smiles.

“POETIC JUSTICE, POETIC JUSTICE- IF I TOLD YOU A FLOWER BLOOMED IN A DARK ROOM WOULD YOU TRUST IT?”

Jimin is behind you, with his arms secured around your waist, giggling through the words.

He’s euphoric at the moment, he’s never been so happy in his entire life.  

Namjoon hits the stage next, and the song continues with the help of your friends and the crowd,

“I mean I write poems in these songs dedicated to you When you're in the mood for empathy, there's blood in my pen Better yet where your friends and them? I really wanna know you all I really wanna show you off Fuck that, pour up plenty of champagne Cold nights when you curse this name….”

Jungkook and Taehyung are at the front of the crowd hyping them up whilst Jin sings loudly with his fiancée.  

The next part Jimin croons into your ear, tightening his grip on you as the words have so much meaning:

“And anytime…” He sings, kissing into your neck, “You can get it, you can get it, you can get it, you can get it- And I know just know just know just know just what you want…poetic justice, put it in a song, alright.”  

You turn in his arms then, kissing him deeply, pouring everything you have into it.

“You kept your promise.” You whisper, grinning against his lips.

“My promise?” He giggles, kissing you back, his eyes deep with emotion.

You cup his cheek, biting your lip as you hold back your tears, “The night I disappeared, you promised me, we’d get our break…”

His smile widens and, rather than use his words, he just kisses you again.

Because, he can.

Because, you’re safe.

Because, you’re his.

The rooftop is a place you often end up.  

It’s a little cliché, you think: a bunch of rich kids corralled onto a fancy ass resort building on a tropical island, the waves crashing in the background.  

But you and your friends aren’t ordinary rich kids.  

The worst any of you has ever done is rob an old lady’s house, push her down the stairs, leave her for dead and, then ruin her life but…

To be fair…

That bitch deserved it.

#jimin #bts fanfiction #bts #bts one shots #bts smut #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts fanfics #bts fics #bts fic recs #Jungkook smut #Jungkook angst #Jungkook fluff #taehyung smut #taehyung #jungkook #bts jimin #black haired jimin #jimin sexy #jimin cute #hoseok #namjoon #jin #yoongi #jimin x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts jungkook #smutcentralnet

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

When You Least Expect It, Part Sixteen

Jensen Ackles x Musician!Reader

Masterlist - Contains Chapter Links & Wardrobe Collages

A/N: This is a much shorter chapter than the rest, but I hope you enjoy it! 

Spotify Playlist

Series Summary: After a hard breakup, Jensen decides to throw himself into organizing a Music Festival in Austin that is meant to raise money for a few of his most cherished charities and organizations. As he throws himself into planning it, he stumbles upon a spirited, undiscovered performer, who he convinces to come aboard to help plan and coordinate the event with him.

What transpires after that takes both Jensen and his new friend, by surprise. But when their respective pasts come back just before the event kicks off in Austin, they will both have to decide if the unexpected feelings are worth perusing, or if they should just walk away and go on with their lives.

Series Warnings: Language, Break-Ups, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Mild Violence, Talk of Domestic Abuse

Chapter Summary: With the festival rapidly approaching, everyone is both on edge and excited for what lies ahead.

Chaper Warnings: None

WC: 6.5K

Series Beta’d by @closetspngirl​​

Dee

The private investigator Dee hired last Spring had been worth every penny. The information he delivered on Jensen’s new girlfriend gave her more than she could have hoped for. Her plan to contact the little twit’s ex-boyfriend seemed like a good idea at first; but as the weeks turned into months, even Dee could see Nathan’s instability grow. Once word of the incident at Jensen’s brewery reached her, she knew that maybe things had gone too far. All she wanted to do was try and cause some drama, hoping Jensen would shy away from the beach brat he was suddenly so obsessed with and come back to her. But as she sat, nipping at her cuticles while waiting in her rented Beamer for Nathan to show, she realized what a futile effort it had been.

The plan completely backfired, only pushing the two of them closer. Gen had let it slip that Y/N was now living in Vancouver with Jensen, completely bringing Dee’s hopes of a reconciliation crumbling to the ground. Even she had never been asked to move to Vancouver with him while they were together, and was instantly crushed when she heard the news. There was no chance of Jensen coming back to her; Dee knew that now it was a matter of protecting herself. Only God knew exactly what Nathan was capable of, but with the glimpses Dee had caught of him, she seriously began to fear how this would backlash onto her, if her part in everything had come out. 

Everything she had done up until that point hadn’t been illegal, really. All she did was make a few phone calls and provoke a stranger into reacting. Yet somehow she knew that if Nathan was caught, and started talking, her name would be spoken and she’d have some things to answer for. Knowing the light it would paint her in, knowing how it could affect her career, Dee needed to be sure that Nathan would keep her out of it. After all, HE was the one who took things too far. 

Dee turned her delicate wrist and checked the time on her watch; already a quarter past ten in the morning. Nathan had promised to meet her early that day outside of a small diner located in the outskirts of Austin. It was two days before the festival was to kick off, and she just needed a few reassurances before the big day. She still hated Y/N and loved Jensen, but deep down she finally conceded that SHE wasn’t the one he loved; Y/N was. 

Another twenty minutes passed with no sign of Nathan. When she checked her watch again and saw it was nearly eleven, she closed her eyes and felt her stomach bottom out. Dee pushed the start button on her rental and hung her head, long strands of red hair obscuring her face and the handful of regretful tears that ran through her makeup. A soft, yet shaky laugh turned into shaking sobs as the air conditioning began to blow her hair back lightly. She drew in a deep breath and brought her vision back up towards the windshield. Off to the right of the old titanium plated diner, stood a tall, lanky man in a grey hoodie and ripped jeans. She felt his eyes on her and a mild bout of nerves raced through her veins. The man’s hood was drawn tightly around his head, leaving his face in a swirl of shadows. Regardless, she could feel his eyes on her and knew that it was Nathan. 

They had only met in person once before earlier that Spring, and it was a brief encounter at best. Dee had been hesitant to meet face to face, but Nathan insisted. He said he was worried for Y/N, and the kind of people she’d gotten involved with. He was pushy and borderline manic, so Dee agreed to meet at the same diner she was now parked in front of. They drank coffee and Dee listened as Nathan recounted his surprise visit with Y/N. The way he explained it, she had turned her back on him, and then provoked Jensen into attacking him. His expression was concerned and fretful, but Dee knew it had all been an act. She was an actress, after all, and she could spot his lies a hundred miles away. Yet, it didn’t stop her from encouraging him to fight back, and fight for his girl.

The break-in at the condo hadn’t been all her idea, though as she sat in nervous self-reflection, she wouldn’t be able to deny planting the seed of thought in Nathan’s head. But, her little birdies told her that the amount of destruction that had been left was extensive, and far more than she felt comfortable with. 

She killed the engine of the car, again, and slowly opened the driver’s side door. The minute it cracked open, Nathan began to approach her. When he was closer, she could see his features were drawn and his complexion turned ashy. The dark circles under his eyes and the pale tone of his lips caused her brow to furrow.

“Jesus, Nathan. What the hell happened to you?”

Nathan shrugged. “Life.”

“Well, maybe you should rethink the life you’re living if it’s leaving you looking like that.” Dee gave him a good once over, and noticed his hands were shaking. “Are you on drugs?”

He let out a deep, haunting laugh. “What the fuck you know about the drug life, Princess?”

“N-Nothing really, but I’ve been around enough people that do them to know what a junkie looks like.”

“You don’t know shit about shit. What the hell do you want, hm? You nagged me to get here so you could just put me down like everyone else?” His words weren’t threatening, but the tone and body language he delivered them with, was.

“No, I just… shit, man… this all got out of hand. I just wanted to check in, make sure you were okay,” she lied, doing her best to keep her face from betraying her. “I’m concerned.”

“Are you now?” Nathan snorted, and pushed the hood off his head, revealing his shaggy, dirty hair that was plastered to his head thanks to the heat of the Austin summer. “What made you so concerned? I did what you asked. I tried to break them up. But…” he trailed off, his eyes looking in Dee’s direction, but it was clear that he wasn’t actually seeing her.

“I was wrong, okay? Clearly those two idiots are happy together. So, I wanted to tell you that you could stop trying to break them up.”

Nathan shook his head slowly, and in a way that caused a bolt of anxiety to run down Dee’s spine. “Naw, can’t do that.”

“Can’t--can’t do what?”

“Stop trying to break them up…. Y/N is all I got left in this world.”

“But, what if she doesn’t want you? Then what? Do you really want her if she doesn’t want you? You deserve someone who loves you for who and what you are. Don’t get hung up on some past relationship because you think it's what you deserve. Trust me, Nathan, I speak from experience.”

“I give two shits about your experience. Y/N is my girl,” he snarled at her, “...always has been. So why don’t you bug the fuck off and leave me alone.”

“I will, I promise. But first I just need to make sure…” Dee let her words hang in the air, hoping he would get their meaning without her having to actually say it. From his expression, she knew that he got her point, but the concerning grin that unfurled on his face told her he wasn’t going to cut her an inch of slack. “...are you… I mean, can you, leave my name out of it?”

“It?” he asked, goading her into having to say the words.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Jesus.. Fine. Please leave my name out of any involvement with whatever scheme you come up with next? Yes, I wanted them broken up, but the things you’ve done… I can’t be a part of it.”

“Too late, Princess. You’re part of it. And if I go down for any of this bullshit, so do you.”

Jensen

In the few weeks after their vacation at the shore, Jensen and Y/N were busier than ever. Each day brought some sort of hurdle that one or both of them needed to clear. As days dwindled down towards the start of the festival, they were more determined than ever to make it the best weekend Austin had ever seen. A few last minute additions to the various stage line ups caused some headaches, but they made it work and in the end. Jensen was still in awe watching Y/N handle the musicians, the vendors, the sponsors, the various charity groups involved, and all while she was trying to get her own music set list together. Not to mention practicing via video conference with Robbie and the rest of Louden Swain. 

For most of his life, Jensen always wondered if a woman like her existed. Y/N was by no means perfect; she could be moody, and a bit of a slob which sometimes drove him crazy. Then, he would see her sitting on the couch, legs crossed in some ungodly way, with her head buried in her computer or a guitar on her lap, and any of her imperfections just melted away. Y/N did little else other than eat, sleep and breathe the festival. There were times in those weeks where despite the hectic schedule of planning and also filming the show, he half wished it was over already. Jensen wanted to start his life with Y/N, be with her without the current pressure that sat on both their shoulders. He and Jared had discussed on numerous occasions that maybe it was time for Supernatural to come to an end, giving them the opportunity to explore life outside of their precious Impala. But it wasn’t until those weeks between Seaside and the festival, that he was seriously considering it. 

The idea of not living and working in Vancouver with his best friend normally caused a mild panic to settle into his gut. However, the last time he and Jared had discussed it, they both felt that the end was in sight. Jensen never brought it up to Y/N, never felt like the right time. With all their respective traveling and work loads, trying to plan a future needed to be put on the back burner. As much as it killed him to do so, he knew it was best for both their sakes. He decided once the festival was over he’d bring it up to her. Then, they could make a plan. If there was one thing Jensen knew for absolutely certainty, it was that he didn’t see any type of future without her in it.

They were knee deep in filming the seventh episode of the season, so if a decision was to be made about the future of the show, it had to be soon. Production was shutting down for five days solely so the entire cast and crew could fly down for the festival. Every single one of them had agreed to volunteer, or help out somehow, and it warmed his heart more than he could put into words. These people had become his extended family, a support system when he felt he had reached rock bottom, and some of the best damn human beings he’d ever met.

Filming had wrapped for the extended weekend, and Jensen was feeling that last scene in every muscle and bone. Fight scenes were always fun to block out, but once it got to actually throwing the stuntmen around, and executing the moves on camera it tended to wear him out. As Jensen plodded back to his trailer, both relieved and exhausted, he noticed a light was on inside, and saw the shadow of his best friend moving about. A little smirk twitched on his face as he climbed the metal steps to the trailer and quietly pushed open the door.

Jared was singing under his breath as Jensen walked in unnoticed. Jensen leaned against the door watching him, trying not to laugh as Jared’s head bobbed to the song stuck in his head. It was when Jared started making guitar riff noises that Jensen’s resolve broke, and he started clapping loudly, making his best friend nearly jump out of his skin.

“Bravo my man!” Jensen teased and walked slowly through the large trailer. “Hey, how come we didn’t find you a slot in the festival? With pipes like that--”

“Shut up,” Jared sighed and sat down on the leather couch, still clutching his chest from Jensen’s sudden intrusion. “Damn near gave me a heart attack.”

“Yeah, well, now you know what your singing does to me.”

“I’m sorry, DEAN, I thought we were done filming for today.” Jared rolled his eyes, but was unable to hide his own smile at their banter. “Seriously though, I thought we were done. Took you long enough to get back here.”

“Had to re-block one of the fight scenes. I was completely off my game, man. I don’t know if it’s exhaustion or what, but I could feel myself half-assing it.”

“Dude, do you not realize the year you’ve had? There are times I am amazed you’re still standing.”

Jensen shrugged it off and grabbed two cold beers from the mini-fridge, before handing one to Jared and sitting on the recliner across from him. 

“Not like we haven’t been here before,” Jensen replied, but he knew what Jared really meant. Ignoring the look he could feel coming from the other side of the room, he leaned forward in the chair and finally met Jared’s eyes. “Speaking of… I think me, you and Misha really need to sit down and talk.”

Jared snorted a laugh and nodded. “Yeah, I agree. It’s why I’m here, actually.”

After so many years together, the two friends could talk without words. Due to previous discussions and the telepathy that had developed through more than a decade of friendship, neither had to say what was on their mind. 

Jared raised his beer and Jensen followed suit. They clincked the bottles together in cheers and each took a long draw of the dark brew. 

“To one final season of Supernatural,” Jensen said with Jared nodding in agreement. 

“To one more kick ass ride,” Jared smiled and took another pull from the bottle. 

They sat in silence for a moment, feeling the weight of the decision slowly rolling off their shoulders. The air in the trailer felt lighter somehow, as if just saying the words out loud relieved some of the tension it had contained. 

“Misha on board?” Jensen asked and looked up to see his friend nodding. 

“He is. He’s broken up about it as much as we are, but he knows its time.”

Jensen just nodded and sat back in his chair. “Think we got one more year in us?”

“Damn straight we do. Hell, I know we have another FIVE years in us. Truth is, I think we are just both ready for the next thing… whatever that looks like.”

Again, Jensen nodded in agreement but sat quietly, contemplating what that thing was. “Do you know what you want to do?” 

Jared shook his head. “Not really. A few offers have come in for movies, a new show or two, but nothing that really jumps up at me. I just know I want to be home more, help Gen with the kids. Actually be there and see them grow up.” He paused and looked at Jensen, who seemed a million miles away despite sitting two feet in front of him. “Jay? What about you? Do you know what comes next?”

A hint of a smile pulled at the corner of Jensen’s mouth. “I sure do, my brother. I sure as hell do. I want what you have with Gen. Wife, kids, house… the whole nine. When this festival is over, I’m going to ask Y/N to marry me. Whatever happens after that, doesn’t matter. I just know that my life isn’t complete, unless she’s in it with me.”

Jared nodded in agreement, and despite the heaviness of the decision they had come to, he could see the love and excitement in his best friend’s face. He raised his beer again, “That, is the best damn thing I’ve heard you say in forever. I admit I was skeptical at first, but Y/N brings out something in you I’ve never seen before.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” 

“Pure, unadulterated, happiness.”

Jensen leaned back in his chair, and for the first time in his life, he knew that no matter what came next, he would be okay because Jared was right. Y/N made him happier and more alive than anything else ever had. The life he had always wanted, with the woman he always dreamed of was right in front of him for the taking.

Y/N

Forty-eight hours from the start of the festival, and Y/N’s nerves were showing signs of strain from the pressure she had put on herself. She wanted everything about the weekend to be perfect; from the many venues, band line ups, vendors and volunteers. She oversaw everything, right down to the signs that she had the local schools help make that marked each section of the festival. 

The idea had hit her months ago, to divide up the Austin Hometown & Brew Fest into little representations of each major city that was contributing food, drinks and music. Each school district in Austin was responsible for creating colorful signs for each “town”, and as she stood looked through the pictures of each one, her tired heart soared with pride and a surge of adrenaline she desperately needed. When she had been offered the job by Jensen, Y/N never believed for a second she would have the knowledge or drive to pull it off. Yet somehow, here she was--in the home stretch and still running. 

Y/N stared at her phone flipping through the images Bri had sent her, as she walked barefoot through the Vancouver apartment waiting for Jensen to get back from filming so they could leave for the airport. They had a late flight to Austin, which didn’t give them much time, but they could make it work. Somehow, they always found a way. With Robbie, Bri and Mama already in Austin, Y/N knew that everything would get done that needed to, because they were just as invested in this as she and Jensen were and she couldn’t ask for much more than that. Y/N had an amazing crew behind her, a boyfriend she loved more than life, and a future with endless possibilities. 

Just as she felt her stomach rubble, and made her way into the kitchen, the phone in her hand began to buzz. Bri’s name popped up, causing Y/N to smile and forget the hunger pains that nagged her. 

“Hey Bri,” she answered with tired enthusiasm, “everything okay down there?”

“Stop being a worry wort, everything is FINE! I’m calling to check on you. How’s the nerves? Holding steady?”

“Eh, let’s just say I am holding it together. Too much to think about for me to start feeling the heat now.”

“Mhm, okay. Now, you want to try to say that in a way that will make me believe it?”

“Hush, I���m fine. Tired, but fine.”

“If you say so. Honey, I promise you, everything is on track here. Robbie has the venues locked down. The stages are finishing being built, all the lights and equipment have been tested. Mama has the two theaters ready to rock n roll. Hell, even Gen is getting in on things. Do you know she took the kids down to the elementary school and helped them finish up the last few banners. I am telling you, there is nothing to worry about.”

Y/N felt a surge of relief, and let it wash over her taking with it the stress of last minute details. Yet, there was a nagging feeling left she didn’t like. One that settled in the pit of her stomach like a led weight. 

“Bri…” Y/N paused, unsure of how to phrase what she wanted to ask. “...has there been any signs… or even a whiff of--”

“Nathan? No. There hasn’t.”

Y/N sighed audibly and felt her knees weaken at the sound of his name. She hated that even after the months that had passed since the breakin and incident in the brewery parking lot, the sound of his name could bring her such anxiety. 

“You sure?”

“I swear. The police still have an APB on him, all the volunteers and security guards have seen his picture and know what to look for should he be stupid enough to try and get into any restricted areas.”

“Okay.” But Y/N wasn’t totally convinced. She felt it could be her own paranoia and years of history with Nathan, but she needed to focus on the tasks ahead, and not look back on a past that would continue to haunt her, if she let it.

“Listen, it’s late. Tomorrow morning, I’ll meet you at Jensen’s place here in town, and we will spend the entire day going over every last minute detail. You can bite your nails and stress the day away, but for now, go grab some food, take a nap, blast some music… whatever is going to make you chill out. Robbie and I got this. Mama, too. That lady is a force of nature and loves you somethin’ fierce. So if there is any one thing out of place, I guaran-damn-tee, Mama June will handle it.”

Y/N laughed, and immediately conjured an image of Mama bossing Robbie around, while Bri sat back chuckling. “You’re right. Between her, you and Robbie, I really have nothing to worry about.”

“Good girl. Now, how long before your flight leaves?”

“We have to be at the airport by ten, and I think it leaves at twelve thirty.”

“Okay, I’ll have a car there waiting to pick you guys up. Now, I know you two horn dogs can’t keep your hands off each other, but may I suggest some SLEEP when you get to Austin. Big days ahead, and we need you both well rested and ready to kick this in the ass!”

“You know Briana, there are days I truly, from the bottom of my heart, cannot stand you.”

“What can I say, it's a gift. I’ll see you in the morning,” she laughed and made three loud kissing noises.

“Love you too, Bri,” Y/N laughed and shook her head, “See you tomorrow.”

As Y/N ended the call, her stomach reminded her of her promise of cold pizza from the fridge. She placed her cell phone on the counter and began to rummage through the two left over pizza boxes. She grabbed two plain slices, and just as she took a huge bite, her phone began to ring again. Assuming it was Bri calling back, she answered without looking at the caller ID.

“I swear, I am going to eat and take a nap!” she mumbled in protest as an answer, with a mouth full of cold pizza, but no response came. Y/N chewed and swallowed as quickly as she could, thinking that her jumbled greeting may have thrown Bri off. “Sorry, had a mouth full of food. Miss me already?” she teased. 

Again, no answer came, and that weight in her stomach twisted up like a tornado and clogged her throat. 

“Hel--Hello? Bri?” She moved the phone from her face and looked at the screen. Bri’s name wasn’t there, nor was Robbie’s. Instead it just said, Private Caller. “Who is this?”

Five, maybe ten seconds passed, but for Y/N, it felt like an eternity. She could hear someone breathing on the other end, and in her gut, she was convinced it was Nathan. 

When the person finally spoke, it was not the voice she suspected to hear. Not a man’s voice, but a digitally altered one. “Just a warning… cancel the festival, or there could be consequences.”

Y/N was speechless. She stood in Jensen’s kitchen, frozen in place with the phone glued to her hand. Slowly she brought the screen away from her face again, staring at the Private Caller and their ominous warning. She wanted to yell into the phone, curse off anyone who would try and scare her away from everything she’d worked so hard for. But her nerves had been pushed to the edge, and no words were coming from her lips. 

The caller hung up before she could find the strength to reply. Her hunger faded instantly, taken over by a swell of bile rising in her gut. Her good feelings from just moments ago were gone. As she felt herself on the verge of puking, she dropped her phone on the counter, and ran for the bathroom so her empty stomach could purge itself. Once she had gotten up whatever had been left in her gut, she sat back on the cool tile, and rested her head against the wall. Y/N had no strength or will to move; the stranger’s words “...there could be consequences…” continued to repeat over and over in her head. 

Y/N never did get up to get back to the kitchen, and when Jensen returned home a short time later, that’s where he found her; half asleep with a tear streaked face sitting in the corner of the bathroom. He didn’t ask her any questions, but instead sat beside her and gathered her into his arms, leaving a soft kiss on the top of her head. 

“Whatever it is baby, I promise you, we’ll get through it,” he cooed in comfort as she felt herself melt into his side. Assuming it was stress and anxiety over the festival, he held her close there on the bathroom floor until it was time to leave for the airport. 

That’s when she knew for complete certainty, she wasn’t going to tell him about the call. She would NOT let anyone interfere with all they had worked towards; certainly not some piece of shit like Nathan, or a petty schemer like Dee. Y/N would never let either of them take anything from her, again.

Nathan

He watched as the snotty little redhead and her fancy ass Beamer pulled out of the diner parking lot. Nathan’s face remained stone-like as Dee’s gaze didn’t leave his until she had turned left and sped out of view. Nothing she had said to him gave him a second of pause; no reconsidering, no backing down. Nathan had reached the “couldn’t care less” portion of his actions months ago, and now all he could think about was how to enact the best possible revenge, on all of them. 

Getting lost in his thoughts, he stood motionless in the parking lot, absently watching the traffic pass him by. Austin had a ton of traffic, and people, making it easy for him to blend into his surroundings and stay unnoticed. He knew the cops were looking for him, so he did his best to stay off the radar. It wasn’t until an Austin City cop car slowly passed the diner, that his feet finally decided to move. He still had too much to do before he could put his last plan into place. 

Nathan pulled his hood back up, then shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets as he casually strolled down the busy Austin streets. He cut through a few alleyways, and popped out a few blocks away. Though he looked like a citizen going for a casual stroll, he knew just where he was going. It had taken a while to get the cash he needed, but snatching a few purses from some old ladies, and that one grab ‘n go hold up at the gas station finally gave him what he needed. His fingers felt around in his pockets for the wad of cash that was now bundled there, giving him an odd sense of security. 

None of his plans had worked out since landing back in Jersey last winter. He had tried being friendly and getting back into Y/N’s life the right way. He gave her space and time to realize her own mistakes, as well as hopefully accept and forgive his own. Nathan thought for sure that would bring them together, but instead, she just ran back to this new guy trying to forget all they had meant to each other since they were kids. Just thinking of it caused his heart to pound, and his fists to clench around the silky bundle of bills stashed in his pocket. That money was the key; it would get him what he needed to make one final convincing argument on his own behalf. If she didn’t see how they were meant to be after that, then he would have to go with Plan B.

Hours later, after he purchased the items he needed, he began to wander the streets, trying to clear his head some. As Nathan passed by a hulking skyscraper, he caught his reflection in the mirrored panels of the structure. He saw what a dirty mess he was and decided to head back to the abandoned warehouse outside of the city where most of Austin’s homeless settled in for the night. It was a risk since the cops liked to come in randomly and bust up the encampment, but one he was willing to take. There he could clean up some, find a change of clothes and try to look the part he needed to play for the next few days in order to win back Y/N, once and for all.

Nathan successfully bartered for a clean pair of jeans, an almost new shirt and one use of the make-shift shower. Once he was clean and newly clothed, he found a quiet corner where someone abandoned a sleeping bag, pillow and even a few packets of Ramen noodles. Being an expert at living on the street, Nathan found a way to make the food, then hunkered down onto the sleeping bag. As the soup cooled, he transferred the items from his old jeans to his new ones and then tossed them aside. He wouldn’t need them anymore, because after he talked to Y/N, they would be together, and she could buy him a whole new wardrobe. After all, she was working with the bigwigs now and he was certain she could afford it. 

Picking at the hot noodles, Nathan let himself reminisce on the days when he and Y/N were happy and carefree. Days on the beach, nights on the boardwalk, him and her hand-in-hand. Countless days spent out on her dad’s boat with her and her brother Dave, and just as many nights drinking under the boards, dreaming of what life was like far away from Seaside. Y/N dreamt of being a rock star or some dumb shit, but Nathan knew she wouldn’t have the guts to really leave their hometown. She was a born and bred local, and no real locals ever got too far away. When she actually left and went on to make a new life for herself, he felt betrayed. He felt abandoned and hurt that he wasn’t enough to keep her put. Now, as he sat on the rumpled sleeping back with a cup of steaming, tasteless noodles in hand, he let his free hand slip into the pocket of his jeans again. This time it wasn’t the bulk of cash giving him comfort, but the touch of the cool metal that lived in his pocket. 

“One way or another,” he mumbled, tossing the soup aside with disgust, “I will have my girl and my life back.”

Austin, Day Before Festival Kicks Off...

Thirty-six hours from the start of the festival, Jensen, Y/N, Briana, Robbie, Jared, Gen, Mama and about two hundred volunteers stuffed themselves into the theater where the Burlesque troop would be performing the following evening. The seven of them stood on the stage watching as swarms of people claimed a seat, all talking excitedly about the events that were to follow. Most of them were familiar faces to Jensen and Jared, having worked on the show with them for so long, but the ones they didn’t know, didn’t give them a second of pause or concern. They were all here to lend their time and services for free in an effort to do their part for the city. Every single person that walked through the doors of that theater had been background checked, and vetted through a private sponsor to ensure the safety of the festival goers, the bands, and especially those behind the scenes putting it all together. 

That was one thing Jensen had insisted on when the idea of community volunteers had first come up. It was well before he and Y/N had fallen in love and had run-ins with Nathan and Dee. He needed to be sure that everyone involved would be safe, and in turn the weekend could be a huge success. Two separate private security firms had been hired, with special attention focused on keeping Nathan out. Jensen didn’t think Dee would have the nerve to show her face, but he made sure that each member of the security team had Nathan’s photo and full description. 

Getting lost in his own thoughts as the stream of volunteers finally closed the vestibule doors, he barely noticed Robbie setting up a microphone and begin addressing the crowd. It wasn’t until Y/N casually made her way to his side and brushed against his shoulder, was he able to pull away from his own mind and come back to the present. 

“You okay there, Hollywood?” she whispered, casually glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “Big crowd here. You got stage fright all of a sudden or something?”

“Huh?” he asked, then quickly shook his head, “No, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

“All of this,” he said and snorted a laugh. “I mean, look at what you put together… all of these people are here because they believe in what you created--”

“What WE created. Jay,” Y/N grabbed Jensen’s hand, and despite two hundred pairs of eyes watching them, turned him towards her and kissed his lips. “I didn’t do this, you didn’t do this. Not Robbie, Bri, Mama… But ALL of us together.”

Before Jensen could respond, Robbie turned his attention towards them, holding out the microphone. When neither of them knew why, he raised his eyebrows then covered the top of the mic with his hand. 

“You wanna jump in on this pep talk, kids?”

Jensen cleared his throat and passed Robbie a sarcastic smile. “My pleasure.” He took the microphone in hand and before he could speak, the applause radiated towards him from the theater like a shock wave. He felt his heart surge at the entire crowd, much like it did every time he was on stage at a convention. The overwhelming love and gratitude was hard to miss when in this type of setting. 

“Thank you guys, really. Y’all are far too kind. It's us who should be applauding you! Because no matter how hard we have collectively worked to put this whole thing together, without you guys lending your time and efforts, it just wouldn’t be possible.”

Another surge of applause from the captivated audience caused Jensen to lower the mic and just enjoy the moment. 

“Seriously, from the bottom of all our hearts, we thank you for not only the love and support you’ve shown us from the get go, but for the love and dedication you are showing to the city of Austin. All the proceeds from ticket sales this weekend will be divided among various city organizations that work towards education enrichment programs, women’s shelters, soup kitchens, including a new music and arts program that will benefit children and teenagers from all across the city.”

Applause again, but this time even more deafening. The sea of faces before him were smiling ear to ear and cheering loudly. As Jensen moved his vision to the right in what felt like slow motion, he caught the wide grins of his closest friends who were sharing the stage with him, who were also clapping along with the crowd. 

Jensen brought the mic up to say more, but he was at a loss for word. The energy and vibe in the theater that night left him speechless, and it took all his will to not let himself shed a tear. Y/N could see his emotions building under the surface, and gently took the mic from his hand. He smiled at her thankfully for it, and took a step back as she proceeded to prepare herself to address the crowd.

“We can’t thank you all enough for the support, and love you brought with you here not only for tonight, but for this entire weekend. Now, we don’t want to take up too much of your time, so I am going to pass the mic over to Ms. Briana Buckmaster who has a few quick things to go over with you. After that, Mama June and I will be at each end of the theater exits handing out your official volunteer shirts for the weekend. One last thing before we get to the nitty gritty, while you are out there working hard to make sure our guests have fun, don’t forget to stop and enjoy the festival yourselves! We have done our best to make sure that all volunteers get plenty of breaks to go enjoy the food and music, as well as give each of you a free admission voucher to pass along to a family member, friend, or just someone you know who would enjoy the event but can’t afford to buy their own ticket. We want this to be an all-inclusive event. So have fun, work hard, and let’s make this something not only the city of Austin, but every other town and city represented here, will never forget!”

For the last time that night, the volunteers cheered and applauded the words of love and encouragement bestowed on them. Y/N passed the microphone to Bri, who’s smile lit up her dimples nearly as bright as the lights of the theater. Briana pulled Y/N into a big hug and held her tightly. Right before she let go, Bri squeezed her and whispered in her ear, “You’ve come a long way from that scared, nervous woman I met New Year’s Eve. I am so fucking proud of you!”

With that, Bri released her from the embrace, reset herself and turned to address the volunteers. Y/N took a step back to stand beside Jensen, and immediately felt his hand snake into hers. They watched on as Bri continued to captivate the audience with her distinct and charming way of explaining the processes and procedures for the weekend. Just as Bri wrapped up her part of the speech, Jensen and Y/N took a moment to meet each other’s gaze. Y/N had all but forgotten the call from the day before, and found herself feeling more confident than ever that everything they had worked so hard for would unfold without a hitch.

Tag List:

Everything:  @coffeebooksandfandom​ / @sorenmarie87​ / @yallgotkik​ / @thefaithfulwriter​ / @sister-winchesters99​ / @thymeheals​ / @keymology​ / @divadinag​

SPN RPF (Jensen): @screechingartisancashbailiff​ / @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ / @sandlee44​ / @wings-of-a-raven​ / @negans-wife​ / @kazosa​ / @deans-baby-momma​ / @teaspoin​ / @whiskeyandapplepie​ / @hobby27​ / @breereadsthings​ / @maddiepants​ / @adoptdontshoppets​ / @squirrelnotsam​ / @faughnphotography​ / @katehuntington​ / @his-paradox​ / @deansenwackles​ / @destielhoneybee​

When You Least Expect It:  @mrsjenniferwinchester​ / @vickyfarley​ / @winchest09​ / @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ / @aomi-nabi​ / @luciathewinchestergirl​ / @alexiswinchester​ / @seppys-return-to-madness / @donnaintx​ / @deans-baby-momma​ / @the-is13 / @stoneyggirl​ / @captaindorit0 / @fanfictionjunkie1112​ / @focusonspn​ / @deanwanddamons​ / @theebeee​ / @ultimatecin73​​ / @deanwinchesterswitch​​

Wanna get in on one of my tag lists? View the different Tag Lists, and send me an ask with which one you’d like to be on! Series Tags are on one sheet, Character tags on a second sheet.

#Jensen Ackles RPF #Jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #spn rpf #WYLEI

[studiono13]

A Weekend in London - A Painting Masterclass

I took the day off on Friday and had a day in London with an old friend.  We live about 10 minutes apart but the only way we can actually spend a day together is to travel 120 miles so that there isn’t the constant background hum of all the things we should be doing…

Our first visit was to the Tate to see the new Paula Rego show .  The lovely thing about going before Boris has decided Covid is over is that booking is essential and very limited and everyone still has their masks on. You really have time to stop and ponder at each painting without feeling rushed on or having to peer over someone’s shoulder.  And only occasionally had to pause whilst 2 women took it in turns to arrange themselves in front of paintings!!?  Grrrrr - I take quick snaps for reference but this was some full on insta photo shoot!?!

The exhibition starts with early works - a lovely portrait of her father, collages, gouaches, book illustrations, some etchings.  All sorts of things I never knew she’d done and some that I’d forgotten about.

You move into a room with those enormous acrylic canvases, the girl with the boot, the dance and I sort of thought this, this is what Paula Rego is all about - these are the paintings that I  was first aware of.   I’d forgotten how huge they are - the dance is 2m x 3m!  And it’s all in the looks and glances and the stories, the ambiguities. They’re sort of like watching a play with intriguing, incongruous little details in the wings.

But then you go into a room where she discovers pastel and wow - it’s like an explosion of creativity and energy and mark making.  There’s a rawness and immediacy to the action of drawing with pastel that is somehow more expressive and passionate.   It’s like she’s found her medium and it’s perfect for expressing all her fury and emotion and politics.  I’m just beginning to use pastels and it was inspiring to see what an absolute master can do with them - she must get through boxes and boxes of them.

Paula Rego’s work is all about the enigmatic narratives and protest but she is also so proficient with her colours and her materials and just bloody brilliant at drawing hands and feet .  If ever there was a must see exhibition this is it - so much to take away from it.

And then we went off to see the residency of Julie Bennett at the Bankside Hotel, having just had a 3 week one myself I was incredibly jealous of her 6 weeks - painting her art icons in a fab location.  I love having a poke about, looking at how people work and the materials they use.  Julie is incredibly prolific and very proactive - she has all sorts of events going on there and on zoom over the next couple of weeks - check her out on instagram…

Then off to see Yayoi Kusama and Chantal Joffe at the Victoria MIro.  Yayoi Kusama first - pumpkins, dots, colour, texture - a world away from anything I do or hope to do but I find her work so arresting.  And then Chantal Joffe - I love her work for it directness, honesty and intimacy  - they are autobiographical, paintings about relationships.  And I love the oasis that is the little garden out the back.

And then still basking in the freedom of not having to be anywhere else we went to the pub!  And lunched and talked, and I also kind of checked it out because I have an exhibition there in November so I guess that was sort of work (really hard not to do anything isn't it?!)

I stayed in London for the whole weekend, doing things with family and friends but couldn’t resist sneaking into Kenwood House on Saturday when they were all distracted by cake!  There’s a fab collection of Gainsboroughs and Turners and Constables.  There’s even a Vermeer but to be honest not one of his finest.  The stars of the show for me are the Sargent - Portrait of Miss Daisy Leiter - hidden away on the stairs where you probably wouldn't notice it if you weren't looking - and the Rembrandt Self Portrait with Two Circles - just fabulous.

And then on Sunday I went to the Serpentine to see the Jennifer Packer exhibition - I’d never been there somehow and always love going somewhere new.  And I really don’t know anything about Jennifer Packer, just that I’ve seen a couple of paintings and really liked them so had no expectations.  The flowers have a sort of melancholy to them and the portraits have a real connection between artist and sitter.  But most of all I loved studying her use of paint, areas when paint seems printed or rollered on, washed, scrubbed, sketched and areas of canvas left exposed. Loved it.

Spending time with art is good, spending time with friends is wonderful.  My head is very full, I spent all day yesterday catching up with all those things I should have done and now I’m ready for some time in my studio hoping I’ve soaked some of it up….

#paula rego #tate britain #artist residency #chantal joffe #yayoi kusama #victoria miro #kenwood house #rembrandt #sargent #jennifer packer #serpentine gallery

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 6: Something Borrowed, Something Blue]

I’d like to give a very special shout out to @killer-queen-xo​ and the insightful prediction she left on Chapter 5 about Y/N and the camera...you were close! 😉

Chapter summary: Y/N breaks a promise; John gives a gift; Freddie has a request; Roger makes a scene.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, creepy male behavior.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“Welcome!” Mary chimes as she opens the door for you, then her eyes flick down to the gift bag decorated with Santa hats and sprigs of holly. “Oh, love, we said positively no presents!”

“It’s just something small, I promise. Very inexpensive.”

“She’s here!” Freddie announces with a flourish of his hands, leaping up from the couch. The apartment he shares with Mary is tiny and very cluttered, and absolutely none of the decorations match. The walls are a collage of Bohemian tapestries and family photos and prints of Rococo-style paintings and magazine cutouts of articles about Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, The Beatles, Aretha Franklin, Elvis Presley, Queen. Freddie pecks you on both cheeks; Blue Christmas is drifting from the record player. You’re suddenly aware that the apartment is brimming with the scent of baking cookies. In the living room, Roger, Brian, and John are hanging strings of popcorn and paper ornaments on a short, rather scruffy Christmas tree. There is a vast array of presents scattered around the tree stand; all are small, with the exception of one large square box swathed in silver and sapphire wrapping paper.

“I see no one else respected the no presents rule either.”

“You Bostonians and your insatiable need to rebel,” Freddie quips, shooing you towards the tree.

“Y/N, look at this,” Chrissie says from where she and Veronica are sitting on the couch threading popcorn. She’s frowning and holding up a piece of paper cut into the shape of a Pontiac Firebird. “Will you please inform Roger that this is not Christmas themed?”

“Awww!” You grin as she hands it to you. He’s even drawn on a windshield, headlights, and a smiley face floating behind the steering wheel. “Let him hang it, Chris. It’s the only car he’s going to be able to afford for a long time.”

Roger bounds over and embraces you, nearly knocking you over. “This is why you’re my favorite American in the entire world. Possibly my favorite person period. The love of my life.” He takes the paper Firebird and impales it on an ornament hook, then combs through the tree branches for an ideal location.

Brian points heatedly at Roger. “If he gets to hang the damned Firebird then I get to hang my Saturn!”

“Look what you’ve done,” Chrissie tells you, but she’s smiling. She’s wearing a gorgeous green velvet dress and pieces of mistletoe weaved into her long dark hair. Veronica is beside her in a chunky red sweater and denim skirt, not particularly flashy yet festive nonetheless; she waves to you as she pushes pieces of popcorn one by one down the string. She’s wearing makeup tonight, which is unusual. Her lace-white cheeks are tinged with rouge, her slate-blue eyes rimmed by lavender shadow. Freddie and Mary are removing a sheet of cookies from the oven and quibbling over whether they’ve browned enough.

Roger gestures to the gift bag as you place it under the tree. “You better not have spent your own money on that.”

“Oh, tons. It’s diamonds and gold and a dash of overpriced modern art, just to spice things up.”

Roger growls theatrically in his high, raspy voice. Brian stands back and admires the tree as John loops a strand of multicolored Christmas lights around it.

“It’s actually very modest,” you assure Roger. “Not impressive at all. Chris helped.”

“You enabled this behavior?!” Freddie scolds Chrissie as he traverses the room with an overflowing plate of chocolate chip cookies.

She sips cheap red wine impishly and shrugs. “I know a girl in fashion school, I can get their extra yarn if I buy her a cup of tea and pretend to care about her disastrous love life.”

You smirk. “Disastrous love life? I’ve got one of those.”

“You knitted something for us?!” Roger shouts, delighted.

You wiggle your fingers in the air. “What can I say? I’m good with my hands.”

Roger groans. “Don’t tease me.”

“You certainly are,” Brian tells you. “That roadie who busted his forehead open got fixed up straightaway.”

“That was literally two stitches. Head wounds just bleed a lot, it looked way worse than it was.”

“Well,” Brian insists. “I was impressed.”

Freddie claps his hands, slick obsidian nail polish gleaming. “Ahhhh, I’m so excited! What have you made for me, love? Oh, I hope it’s a nice thong.”

“It’s probably not,” Chrissie says.  

Mary pours you a glass of wine and glances around the room. “Does everyone have enough cookies? Drinks? Veronica, dear?”

“I suppose I could use a refill.” She passes Mary her glass and smiles as John sits beside her on the couch. You’ve never quite been able to figure out Veronica; she’s cordial yet removed, kind yet wary, extremely dogmatic in her Catholicism and yet simultaneously socializing with rock stars who are unmistakably living in sin. Her most redeeming quality, as far as you’ve observed, is her steadfast devotion to John...or, perhaps, to the life she’s envisioned they could build together. She rests her hand on John’s thigh and glances coolly at you as you pretend not to notice.

Mary returns with a fresh glass of wine for Veronica. “Alright. Should we start with you, Y/N?”

“What, for the gift exchange we all promised wasn’t happening?” You grin. “Sure, I’ll start.”

You open your Christmasy bag and start doling out small boxes. It’s December 23rd, and Queen is enjoying three weeks off for the holidays before the Sheer Heart Attack Tour resumes. The next show is in Columbus, Ohio—not exactly a cultural mecca, it’s true—followed by a scattering of stops across the continental United States. Half of you is thrilled, especially for the night the band will spend in Boston; the other part of you is dreading it. You don’t talk to Roger about what he does with groupies on tour—or what Brian does, or what Freddie does—and Rog doesn’t mention it around you either. He asks you to join him after every show, for dinner or drinks or clubbing; and you tell him no (though it’s never easy to) and try not to think about the apparent eventualities of stardom. Then Roger goes one way, and you go another.  

“Let’s see, what do we have here...” Brian begins prying open his box with long careful fingers.

“You can’t judge me,” you plead. “I’ve only had the tour break to work on them, and I’m really not an expert knitter or anything, and I—”

“Oh, it’s lovely!” Freddie gushes, holding his black and white striped hat aloft for everyone to see. He pulls it on over his silky hair and turns to Mary. “What do you think? Am I dashing?”

She beams as she kisses him. “Overwhelmingly so.” And you think about how being on the road feels like one dimension, and being here in London another. Here, fidelity and domesticity; there, freedom from the familiar world and all its browbeating rules.

“Mittens!” Brian proclaims joyfully. They’re an olivey green, and just large enough for his hands. “They’re so comfy, feel these Chris...”

Roger whips his hat out of the box; it’s very fuzzy and a fiery red with flecks of burnt orange. “I’m obsessed! I adore it! I’ll never take it off!”

“I can’t believe you did all this,” John says. He’s sliding on his mittens, which are a soft greyish blue. “This must have taken you days.”

“It’s Christmas! You’re supposed to slave away for the people you love at Christmas. And you’ve all done so much for me, the scales will always be hopelessly lopsided, don’t you worry.”

“The color is beautiful,” Veronica observes as she touches John’s mittens, but perhaps guardedly.

“They match his eyes!” Freddie exclaims; and they do. “This is delightful, Nurse Nightingale. Truly. How can I ever repay you?”

A smile ripples across your face, full of serenity and relief. They really do like the presents. I didn’t stay up until 4 a.m. knitting for nothing. “The cookies and wine are more than sufficient. I’m so sorry I didn’t have time to make anything for the ladies, but hopefully your charming future husbands will share and there are chocolates in the bottom of the boxes for you—”

“Oh please,” Chrissie snaps. “You’ve already made the rest of us look thoughtless enough. Kindly shut up and drink your wine now. Thank you, obnoxious Bostonian.”

You laugh as Chrissie distributes her and Brian’s gifts for everyone. She decreed weeks ago that you’ll spend Christmas Eve and Day with her family in Dartford. You can help me keep Brian distracted and in good spirits, she’d told you. His father is livid about us living together without being married, and I’m petrified Bri will give himself another ulcer over it.

Inside the small boxes Chrissie passes out are fancy teabags that smell like pomegranate and peppermint. Freddie and Mary dispense pouches of little pink soaps shaped like dolphins and seashells. John and Veronica give everyone homemade candles, which are either ruby red or evergreen. Roger has picked out three novelty mugs: Led Zeppelin for Brian and Chrissie, cats for Freddie and Mary, and raining gold coins for John and Veronica.

“Well I hope that’s prophetic,” John jokes.

“I don’t get a mug?” You’re trying not to show it, but you are hurt that he forgot you.

“No, you don’t.” Roger rummages around under the tree and passes you the large square present wrapped in silver and blue paper. Chrissie and Mary whistle and clap.

“Oh, big spender!” Freddie chastises.

“Roger, no,” you breathe, horrified.

“Roger, yes!” He drums the coffee table eagerly. “Open it.”

“No real presents allowed! You don’t have the money—”

“Are we married?” Roger asks.

You blink at him. “What?”

“Are. We. Married?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Then you don’t get to tell me what to do with my very tiny sliver of earnings that the record company doesn’t steal.” He grins. “Now open it.”

Slowly, cautiously, you tear through the wrapping paper as the others hover on the edges of their seats. John is squinting suspiciously. Roger balls up his fists and presses them to his smiling lips. You open the top flaps of the box.

“No.”

“What is it?!” Mary begs. “The anticipation is agony!”

“Yeah, love of my life,” Roger taunts, his blue eyes luminous. “What is it?”

Carefully, you lift it out of the box. It’s brand new and shiny and perfect.

“A camera!” Freddie cries.

“A Canon F-1, to be precise,” Roger says. “And a manual too. For our aspiring wildlife photographer. Us feral musicians being the wildlife, of course.”

“Roger...” You reach for him instinctively, and he rushes over to wrap you in a hug. “Thank you so much. I don’t know why you would do this for me.”

He laughs. “Because you’re the best gift I ever got, Boston babe!”

“Let’s give it a try!” Freddie plucks the camera from your hands and begins loading film. “Alright, click this...press that...oh fuck, how do I do this?! Deaky, come over here. You can fix anything.”

“Sure thing, Fred.” John readies the camera in just a minute or two, no longer than it takes Mary to refill glasses and send around another plate of cookies. He looks a little ashen to you, a little stunned; but when you ask him if he’s okay, John just smiles and nods.

Freddie snaps photos of Brian and Chrissie as they snuggle on the couch, of John posing sheepishly in front of the Christmas tree, of Veronica waving as she nibbles a chocolate chip cookie, of Roger in his flame-colored hat. Then Roger makes sure you get your camera back, and it’s your turn to take the pictures. You sit beside the tree, the kaleidoscopic glow of Christmas lights speckling the walls like stars, and collect still frames of memories like catching lightning bugs in jars, like it’s July instead of December, like it’s the heart of a year instead of the end. After a while Freddie comes over to sit next to you, to toast wine glasses with you, to make fun of your flushed cheeks. Then he watches as you gaze at Roger from across the room. Rog is trying on Brian’s mittens and clapping his hands like a seal, grinning hugely, flashing his pointy little canine teeth. And despite all those oh-so-rational promises you’ve made to yourself, you begin to wonder.

“Don’t do it,” Freddie says quietly.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you sling back, pleasantly tipsy. And then: “Why not?”

“Because I like having you around. And if you do this, eventually you won’t be around anymore.”

When you’re finally exhausted enough to drag yourself away from them and catch a taxi, John follows you out into the hallway of the apartment building.

“I have one more gift for you.”

“John, no, absolutely not, I am thoroughly unworthy—”

“Stop.” He pulls a thin, rectangular item from behind his back. It takes you a moment to recognize it.

“Your notebook...?”

“I know it’s not wrapped.” He’s anxious, you realize, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I kept trying to work up the nerve, and I still wasn’t sure about it when we came over here, and now, well...here I am.” He gives the notebook to you, and you open it, and you gasp in awe.

Inside are sketches from Rome: the concert, the temples, the museum, the beach on that cool breezy afternoon, and, best of all, the people you shared the city with. You and Roger laughing in front of a statue of Perseus. Brian and Chrissie contemplating ruins. Freddie hunched over a piano, his dexterous hands stretched across the keys. And you sitting in that sweltering, fire-lit corner of the Italian restaurant, smiling from behind a glass bottle of Coke. You trace your fingertips over your own face; it’s blissful and peaceful and beautiful in a way that you’ve never seen yourself. “John...”

“Because, you know, you said that you wanted to document the tour so you could remember it all, and I figured...since you didn’t have a camera...maybe this would be better than nothing.”

“It’s a lot better than nothing, John. It’s incredible.”

“They’ll do for now. You won’t need drawings anymore,” he notes, somewhat mournfully. “You can put them on your refrigerator until you have photos to replace them with.”

You shake your head, still staring. “The way you captured my face...”

He shrugs, smiling crookedly. “I just borrowed it.”

“Thank you.” You climb onto your tiptoes and wrap your arms around the back of his neck. He’s warm and gentle; his fluffy hair tickles the sensitive undersides of your wrists.

“Happy Christmas,” he whispers to you; happy, not merry, like a true Englishman. And he’s right. You can’t remember a time you’ve been happier.

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rings like a scream, like shattering glass. It wrenches you out of that fogged, heavy precursor to sleep and your hand fumbles from beneath the covers to grab the receiver. The cord bounces clumsily against your nightstand and nudges the blush-colored conch shell that lives there.

“Hello...?”

“Darling, there’s an emergency.”

You bolt upright in bed. “What happened? Are you okay? Is the band—?”

“There’s going to be a party on New Year’s Eve and you have to come.”

You groan and fall back into the embankment of pillows. “Fred, that’s not an emergency. Jesus christ. I thought someone died.”

“Then you should be overwhelmed with gratitude for your friends’ continued existence and delighted to join us!”

You glance at the calendar tacked to your wall. “That’s tomorrow, right?”

Freddie scoffs. “Of course it’s tomorrow! Some bloke from the record company is hosting and I need a date. Makes me more marketable or something. Mary can’t come, she’s got the flu. So you’ll have to take one for the team and play the adoring paramour. Shouldn’t be too heavy a lift. I’ve been informed that I’m very adorable.”

“Make Roger do it.”

There’s an edge to Freddie’s voice when he speaks. “They aren’t quite that progressive, dear.”

“I’m really more of a museums and restaurants person than a getting coerced into socializing with strangers person, if I’m being completely honest with you.”

“You’ll survive,” he replies brusquely. “Chrissie and Brian will be there. You’ll have fellow boring people to hide in a corner and eat biscuits with and discuss planetary movements or whatever the fuck.”

“Great. Roger and John are coming too?”

“Not Deaky. He already has plans with Veronica’s family and can’t weasel out of them. It’s not like he would schmooze anyone anyway.”

“Oh.” That disappoints you, more than you thought it could. “Maybe I have plans I can’t weasel out of, ever think of that?”

Now Freddie sounds amused. “You don’t.”

“How do you know?”

He laughs. “Because there’s no one you love in London more than us.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The paramour ruse doesn’t go very well; within twelve minutes Freddie has abandoned you and is guzzling martinis with Elton John and some record company guys you don’t recognize, pointy party hats on their heads and silver balloons bobbing against the ceiling. It’s not 1975 yet, but it will be soon. The mansion is decked with suits and ballgowns and expensive-looking vases perched precariously on end tables. Elegant white columns rim the vast living room. You, Brian, Chrissie, and Roger are chatting nervously by a massive punch bowl carved in ice, swiping appetizers off the waiters’ trays and trying not to break anything.

“I feel completely useless,” you say, nodding to Freddie.  

Chrissie chuckles. “I think he just wanted you to be here. He thinks you’re good luck, you know. All our fates turned around when you showed up.”

Roger points at you with his punch glass. “Your people specialize in witchcraft, don’t they?”

“Oh, so close. That’s Salem, about thirty minutes up the road. No witches in Boston.”

“Hmm. Sounds like something a secret witch would say.”

You brandish your hand through the air. “I summon more mini crab cakes.”

The others glance around. “It didn’t work,” Chrissie observes sadly.

Brian sips his punch, which is bubbling and a vivid red. “Maybe you have to invoke Satan first. I saw a toy poodle on the couch you could sacrifice.”

“Yes, yes,” Roger agrees. “Just toss it in the oven and see if anyone notices.”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Now that would make a fantastic impression.”

Roger grabs your empty glass, plops it on a passing waiter’s tray, and takes your hands in his. They’re rough and strong, and they feel a little too good. “Alright, are you going to dance with me now?”

“Roger...”

“Don’t harass her,” Chrissie warns. “She’s here, she’s working on conjuring more snacks, she’s under no obligation to dance with you on top of all that.”

He frowns at you, those intense blue eyes bright beneath shagging bangs. “Really?”

You smile, reaching up to straighten the collar of his sparking rainbow jacket. “If you’re still interested in 1975, you can ask me then.”

“Yes ma’am.” He grins triumphantly at Chrissie, and she smirks back. “Can someone kindly tell me what that clock over on the mantle says? Obviously I can’t see that far.”

“11:19,” Brian says.

“Fantastic. I’ll be back.” He winks at you, then looks to Brian. “Stay with her, will you?”

“Sure.”

Roger lights a cigarette and saunters away, smoke drifting around him. Several young women—escorts or daughters of producers or soon-to-be-ex-girlfriends of musicians—descend upon him and start asking about Killer Queen. Roger is radiant when he replies, enchanting, wearing charisma like a snake’s skin, climbing ever onwards up the rungs of the social ladder; and you think about how there’s Home Roger and Tour Roger—though he felt like home in Boston, and  though he feels so distant now—and how any woman who chooses him will have to spend her life watching him devour other people’s love from across the room, from across the world.

“Be careful,” Chrissie tells you softly.

“He won’t be back at midnight.” You pour yourself a fresh glass of punch, avoiding her eyes, hiding your disappointment...or, embarrassingly and infinitely worse, perhaps your hope. “They’ve been staring at him all night. And he’s noticed.”

“Oh, honey...” Chrissie rubs your bare shoulder, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s fine,” you tell her. And you plan to drink until it feels like it is.  

Some guitarist from Genesis appears to introduce himself to Brian, and Bri leaps into a fevered discussion of how much he admires the band’s work and how he built his Red Special and the merits of guitar techniques that sound like Russian or Japanese to you. Before you know it, the mysterious Genesis man is hauling Brian off to present him to someone equally important. Chrissie shoots a worried glimpse at you as she follows Bri away.

“Go!” you insist, forcing a smile. Just abandon me in this super intimidating mansion full of rich important strangers and breakable museum artifacts, that’s totally cool.

“We’ll be back in five minutes, I swear.”

You wave cheerfully. “Take your time!” You peer at the clock. Thirty minutes until midnight.

As you’re dishing yourself yet another glass of punch, a man in a posh white suit approaches from the other side of the table. “Are you hiding from people as well?”

“Not too successfully, apparently.”

He recoils and raises his eyebrows. “My apologies. Want me to disappear?”

You almost say yes—it wobbles on your lips like an unsteady toddler—then you reconsider. He’s tall and blond and polished; he looks a bit like Roger from an alternate universe where Rog went to boarding school and plays polo. More significantly, he could be someone important, someone the band needs, someone you don’t want to offend. “No, I’m sorry, that was so impolite. Please forgive me. My judgment is quite impaired, that’s my excuse, I blame the punch. Also I’m a New Englander and thus inclined to be uncooperative towards Brits.”

He laughs, a full genuine laugh; and it feels like a victory. See? I’m clever, I’m charming. Anyone would be lucky to have me. “I’m Eric.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s a resounding pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” He gestures towards the open area on the floor where buzzed men and giggling women are tripping over each other. “There’s no way I could interest you in that, is there?”

You ponder it, nursing your fourth punch. You aren’t much of a dancer, that’s true; and this handsome stranger of a man isn’t Roger. But he might be able to get your mind off him.

You sling back the rest of your punch and slam the glass down onto the table. “Okay. But only because there’s an Eagles record on.”

“Deal.”

He follows you to the dance floor, weaves his fingers through yours, sways easily with the music. Eric tells you that he’s from up north, in the Lake District; his family owns an estate that used to be the seat of an earldom or something. He describes endless emerald hills and castles and horse farms until your mind starts to swim, until the effects of the punch and scant appetizers roll over you like a wave.

“Okay,” you announce dreamily. “Thank you so much, Eric. This has been lovely. But I have to go sit down now.”

“Oh come on, one more song!”

“I’m flattered, but I have to pass. Maybe after midnight...” You move to pull your hands away, but he doesn’t let go. His fingers are locked with yours. You try again. Eric’s still smiling, but his eyes have gone flinty. Oh no. You look around for Freddie or Brian, both of whom have vanished.

“One more, come on,” he presses. “I insist.”

“Eric, I’m really dizzy—”

“Don’t be rude. We’re having such a nice time, aren’t we?”

“Please let go of me.” You try to keep your voice level, try not to offend him. Everyone around you on the dance floor is laughing and drinking and smoking, not paying any attention at all.

“Look, you said you’d dance, so that’s what we’re doing. Am I suddenly not good enough for you?”

“Seriously, you need to let go.” You try to tug your hands away. Your heart is racing, blood rushing in your ears. The room is listing to the right, now the left. You realize that Eric is gradually leading you away from the center of the room and towards a quiet hallway. I can’t let this guy get me alone. I’m weak and I’m drunk, and I don’t know what he’ll do to me. You struggle harder, more visibly. His grip on your hands tightens. “Let go, Eric, let go of me!”

“Calm down, bloody hell lady, I’m just trying to—”

And then Eric is ripped away from you and his face smashed with vicious force into the nearest column. You scream, your hands covering your gaping mouth; the room goes silent. Eric crumples to the floor, unconscious. Blood pours from his broken nose and litters his white suit with crimson blotches and smears. Droplets drip crawlingly down the column. Roger stands over Eric, shirt completely unbuttoned, jacket rumpled, shadows of lipstick peppering his neck and chest. He wipes his own palms on his rainbow jacket, scowling, disgusted. Then he turns to you.

“Ready to go?”

“Roger, I...” You gaze in shock down at Eric. I hope he’s not dead. That might make things awkward with the record company. “I-I-I’m so sorry,” you manage finally. “I’m sorry, Roger, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything—”

“No, I’m ready to go.” He lays his hand on the small of your back and guides you towards the front door, grabbing both of your coats off the rack. “Let’s go.”

“Okay.” And relief floods through you. Okay.

Brian pushes his way out of the stunned crowd as Roger swings the door open. Frigid air skates over your cheeks. “Rog, what happened?!”

Roger glares savagely. “When I tell you to stay with someone, you fucking stay with them.” And then he steps with you out into the bitterly cold, nearly-January night.

“It’s not his fault,” you explain as you and Roger hurry down the sidewalk, your words spinning mist into the air. “Some guy from Genesis showed up and you know how Bri is about them, and I told him and Chris to go, please don’t be mad—”

“Are you alright?” He’s scrutinizing you closely; you can still see the rosy lipstick stains on his skin as you pass beneath each streetlight.

“I’m fine, I’m completely fine. Please don’t be mad.”

He narrows his eyes. “Well obviously I’m not mad at you, babe.”

“Oh god, I hope this doesn’t hurt the band. I don’t know who that guy was with. You broke his nose, you know.”

“Good.”

You shake your head, trying to chase away those ghosts of lipstick and the girls who left them there. I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him. “I know you were busy, I know the party was important, I know I ruined midnight for you—”

“You didn’t ruin it. We still have a few more minutes. We’ll duck into a pub somewhere and have a pint to welcome in the new year, it’ll be grand. Maybe get you some food. You look like you could use it.”

“I just...” You bury your numb, shaking hands in your coat pockets and brace yourself against the cold. “You left the girls. Left the party. I just don’t understand why you would do that.”

“Are you serious? Obviously I’m going to drop everything if you need me. I’m always going to do that.” He pulls his fiery red, hand-knit hat out of his coat pocket and slips it over your wild, windswept hair. “You’re still on my list, you know.”

You sigh. “You’re a smart man, Roger Taylor, but that’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”

“What,” he says, a tad bitingly. “Because I can’t promise you a picket fence and precisely two well-mannered, unremarkable children and a golden retriever? You’re right, I’m not going to promise you that. Because that’s not who I am. That’s not who you are either, by the way. But I can promise you that your life will never feel like a cage. And isn’t that what this was all about for you anyway?”

And that stops you, here in the cold dark heart of London, here beneath a cascading streetlight on the opening page of 1975. Because Roger’s right.

He takes your left hand and lifts it to his lips, and you know exactly what he’s going to do even before he oh-so-feather-lightly bites your goosebumped knuckles. “Look, forget about it. Don’t worry. Don’t freak yourself out. We’ll get a drink, we’ll watch the fireworks, and then I’ll walk you home. No questions, no answers. You just let me know if you ever change your mind, okay?”

You watch Roger, his cheeks ruddy from the wind, halos of streetlights reflected in his eyes. And you echo: “Okay.”

#queen fanfic #queen fic #roger taylor fic #roger taylor x reader #but you can never leave fic #but you can never leave series #but you can never leave #queen #fanfic

[dollkastleinfo]

Dollzkastle

This is a blog dedicated to fans of the dollzkastle

To answer some Questions that you may have for myself or the dolls~ 🎀

I am going off of the questions I’ve been asked for years or even the new ones I’ve been getting since I’ve created a Tiktok~ I hope this answers your questions you’re looking for, now let’s begin 🐮

Myself Behind the dolls; my name is Decklynn but people call me Dk or Deck. I am an Agender with He and Him pronouns. I am a little with a caregiver/ daddy and I am a pet owner of 3 Kitties. I do both makeup and Doll art. I am a twenty something year old adult who’s been into crafting and customizing Dolls since I was a child. I am also an artist and got interested in drawing at a young age so I already had the type of skill to Draw on things and recreate facial hair and all types of stuff like this. I went to collage and majored in art while living at home with my parents who were Both Transphobic and Homophobic but also Abuse I’ve endured since a young age, physical, mental ive developed a great deal of mental health problems That even now I am being diagnosed and treated for. With an alcoholic parent and upon my mental health problems and living in a terrible environment that was life long I left home and left school and started my own life with my fiancé One day my fiancé was online and seen Big dolls that looked realistic and those dolls I was so fascinated by. I have never seen anything like them and to make a big 3D version of my ocs and crafting just sound like a dream come true. So I did it! I bought my very first BJD 600$ and I never regretted that. I wanted this one because I just fell Inlove with him. I know you’re thinking 600$!? That’s crazy but it literally is worth every penny when you put your heart and soul into a project it’s like your favorite anime character but you create them and you style them, that’s the best way I think I can put it.drawing on them is not as easy as other may think, you can be a phenomenal artist but still lack the skill to paint on them so it took me years to build the skill I have now. I am still learning 🤍🐮My first dolls unboxing is on YouTube under Octoberv12 ~ if you’re interested in just a little photo video of that time it seems like now, forever ago. My dolls gained huge popularity in 2018 on Instagram where there is a page I’ve dedicated to fanart and cosplays if you just #dollzkastlefanart on Instagram you will find them. I’ve taken a big break from them and left my old account behind to start a fresh and new one in 2020 till a month ago that’s when I decided to join Tiktok. I’ve been doing little music clips of the dolls for a while so I thought you guys would Enjoy them too 💓🐮

Questions and answers ?

Where are you from? New York

What websites are you on?

YouTube I have the dolls playlists individually. I put a lot of effort and energy into their characters they all have stories, music playlists and even avatars and their own accounts on Social media sites.

I am on Instagram under Dollzkastle, myDollzkastle, Decklynnkastle, Decklynnkastlee, omridurr, Acydfei, Princethedoll, Rjeaii, Dollzkastlefanart, Xeroyandere, milesophelia, crysky1, miloscenebabyxo,flowerboyrose, & itsmamamikki & Jasphire.vu

On Fb under Decklynn kastle or Milo Ryo

On Tiktok decklynn kastle or Dollzkastle

On Imvu Decklynnkastle, ivanx3, jeninsai, crackheadsymbols, charleta123, oaklynn10, jasphirexx, romanjackjrs, charleta1, Gemini953005, Milesawayfromyliife, BinxLemment, miloscenebaby, yandereboi7, Princethedoll1, acydfei, royal461349, KandyKimmy, mama13708, thyunderbolt1, ezratheomen

On Tumblr @dollzkastle @acydslitterbox

@ezratheomen , @mamamikki there are more but I’m not too active on tumblr right now

Email? @[email protected] or @[email protected]

Do you sell your dolls? No I do not they’re my babies and I put a lot of work into their characters and I am emotionally attached to each of them. I have sold some that I didn’t bond well with.

What do you use to paint on them? I use acrylic paint, soft pastels, water color pencils, graphite, acrylic gloss and sealer. Doll eyelashes, little craft hoops and balls for piercings and craft tiny beads for jewlary. I use yarn sometimes for their hair but other times I purchase their hair online. Sometimes I draw them tattoos and sometimes I use Temp tattoos.

Do you do commissions? I do commissions for people who need work done to their own BJDs like faceups, hair or blush and nail art. I don’t buy dolls to work on to sell but in the future I’d like to do that. It’s an expensive hobby so get your pockets ready. My faceups are 60$ but for something really advanced it will be 80$ plus shipping charges. Nail art is 5$, blush is 10$ wigs are 25$ I’ve had people ask if they could buy the doll send them to my address instead of their home, I work on them and then send them to that person but you have to remember there is money involved and I mean lots of it so if you’re buying a 300$ doll via through me to a website you have to be willing to also pay me for putting this doll together which we can talk about via email the price. I will be able to hook you up with feedback located on Instagram under my thread “Dollzkastle” where you can see some of the items I’ve sold or commissions I’ve done and my customers I’ve had.

The quickest way to reach me is via Instagram on Decklynn kastle 🐮💗

What are the dolls made out of ?

Resin. I know there are vinyl bJDs out there but mine are just made out of resin~ 🍭🤍

So if you don’t sell your dolls, where do I get one ?? On BJD websites but be aware of scams or Recasts also which are usually cheaper and too good to be true prices. I’ve had my fair share in mistakes with this in the beginning after my first Doll. Do lots of research on YouTube to learn more. Recasts are heavily looked down upon in the hobby and people tend to stay away from and not talk about them because they are a problem to the hobby and create damage by taking an artists work and selling them for much cheaper. You will not get head plates or certificate or authenticity cards or an original Box. They tend to be much smaller then an originalwitj seam lines and sometimes they’re easy to spot so just save your coins and go legit, Support the artists. I do not bully people but others will. Some official Bjd cheap websites are thejunkyspot, Angel of dream, mystic kids, migidoll, Alicecollections, bobobie, withdoll, littleRebel, littlemonica, supiadoll and crobidolls and so many more just do some research y’all find them. If you have that type of money or want to save then check, Hummingdolly, dollshe, Soom, Doll chateau, dream valley, Iplehouse, Dikadoll, iOS (immortality of soul) distantmemory (the BTS dolls are from here I know a lot of you like BTS I am a Kpopper myself lol) and there’s just so so much more just type Bjd websites and y’all find a ton~ I just kinda remembered these at the top of my head. Lol 🐮💕

So where do you get clothes and accessories from?! Some are from EBay, Etsy, Amazon. Some are form people on IG who sell first come first served or little shops that don’t have a big name or anything that I just run into who happen to be selling what I want or need for a doll. I don’t make my own eyes but others do I get mine either commissioned or on the websites I just stated. Some stuff are handmade like wigs and clothing I do sometimes make those. You just have to know the size of your doll and their eye measurements and head measurements. 💗🐮

💜🍼Prince and his paci? The girl who sold them I bought two and she stopped selling them I’m currently looking myself for some Bigger doll pacis.

💕How big are your dolls? They’re as big as a toddler but much thinner. Some 3 feet and some a bit smaller but they’re large dolls sometimes people don’t realize that 🐮🤍 you can by a variety of diff sizes like MSD (1/4 30cm ranges) SD (1/3 60-75 cm range) SD uncle 80+ and Yosd (smaller 20cm or smaller range) I might be a little off but it’s because I only purchase the bigger ones I don’t have much interest in smaller currently.

Is it okay if I cosplay or draw or use anything from you for a project or anything like that? Just let me know or tag me 🌸💜🍭 I love seeing recreations in your art style.

Can I send the dolls gifts or things?

Someone is making my dolls currently clothes from their clothing line and I am so excited for this!! Over the years some of the dolls have been greatfully gifted things or given things and it just makes my heart melt so of course you can! Just Message me Via Decklynn kastle on IG to let me give you some info🤍💕💗🐮

I will be back to continue filling this out if I get more questions I haven’t already answered 💕🤍🐮 I hope I answered some for you! 🍭🌸 thank you for being lovely & have a great day!

#dollzkastle #Bjd #balljointedoll #dolls #dollart #repaint #bJDs #doll #resin

[the-mandalorian-clone-lover]

Aces in Spaces Chapter 3

Hey everyone! I think my plan going forward will be to post new chapters on Mondays so in light of that, here’s the next one! 

Summary: Roman gives Butcher the run down and explanation of Asexuality and how it pertains to Erica, warning for excessive cuteness from both. This takes place within a week of the last chapter.

(Chapter 2 can be found here and Chapter 1 here)

Tags: @princessxkenobi @sunshinepascal @rentskenobi @maybege @obaby-wan

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know?

“Butcher, Erica is an Asexual”. The other man blinks at him and he realizes this may not be an easy fix. “It means, she doesn’t experience sexual attraction.” He takes the moment that the other man spends in confusion to turn on the projector on the table and stands so he can see the slides and Butch in the same space. The first slide is the only opening template that Microsoft power point had that didn’t make him want to roll his eyes so hard they rolled back into his skull, but now that he’s standing in front of Butch he’s convinced it really was just as bad as the others. ‘Asexuality, what it means, what it’s like, and what our response should be’ is written across it in big bolded letters and he takes comfort in the fact that Butch has always been a good listener before, and certainly seems to like Erica, so he should have his attention. He clicks to the next slide, intent on making sure not a single detail is missed, he starts to read the definition he’d gotten of the internet before turning to Butch.

“Did you read the title? I suppose since it’s the two of us this could be more of a discussion, it’ll have to be a briefing when I give it to the boys.”

Butch’s thoughtful face hasn’t uncrumpled itself, nor have his eyes left the screen but Roman’s patient, this is important and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to help Erica.

Butcher closes his mouth to purse his lips before speaking. “So, she likes you for your personality?”

Roman shrugs “I know. I was surprised too.” He says it casually and Butch huffs a laugh, Roman pauses before joining him, it is a funny thought, for how many people have told him he’s incredibly disagreeable. Assuming Butch has absorbed the definition on the screen he continues. “I’ve known for a little while now, but I wanted to be sure she was comfortable coming out before I briefed everyone.”

Butcher nods again. “How do we, is she like a nun?” he leans forward to emphasize the question and Roman turns back to the screen taking a breath.

“Well, that’s the thing. Asexuality is a spectrum, there’s a lot of different types.”

“Like a box of chocolates.” Butch says sagely, and Roman considers it before nodding

“Yes, well. I suppose so. The common denominator is that they don’t experience sexual attraction. Some still enjoy sex, some only with certain people, and some not at all, those are sex-repulsed.” He clicks the button to switch slides again, “Let’s outline the different types of attraction quickly.”

Butch is nodding again, “Yeah, that’s a good start”

“Sexual attraction is wanting to have sex with someone” Roman says it despite how crass it sounds and carries on “Platonic attraction, is wanting to be friends with someone. Aesthetic attraction is thinking something is pretty, wanting to look at it, a painting maybe.” He pauses, having gone through a slide for each definition that featured the pictures he thought best explained each and a few that Erica had suggested in her edits. He turns to Butch “I’d like to add this isn’t all inclusive by any means, I’m still learning, which is why I found a support group that I’d like to start going to, I don’t think I’ll need a guard but you do like to be aware of my schedule.” He turns back to the screen to resume before Butch cuts in, eyes never leaving the slide. “I’ll be along with you then, can’t let you wander around the city alone.”

Roman almost wants to ask if Butch heard what he said but the man says it with such a finality that he doesn’t see the point in arguing. “Well, in general, since Aces, that’s another name for them, don’t experience this attraction, it’s quite common for things that allude to it to go over their heads. The car ride earlier this week for example, Erica hadn’t meant to approach me in that way and was incredibly confused when you left.”

Butcher now looks horrified “Oh, Boss, I never meant—”

Roman shakes his head “She took no offense, it’s just not a place her mind goes.”

The sentiment obviously does little to comfort Butcher and he says as much before adding “I feel like I called her, a, well a whore Boss. I never ever would do a thing like that—” Butcher’s gentle upbringing where women are concerned is making itself known and Roman really needs to send his mother a ‘thank you’ card because it really does help them work well together. “She didn’t feel that way about it at all, I’m mostly telling you this so you can watch for if others try to suggest things to her.” Butcher’s face clears a little in understanding before Roman goes on “She’s handled herself extremely well before knowing me, we both know that, but, well, if someone is getting, well you know, and she isn’t understanding then just get rid of them, yes?”

Butcher’s face is now completely serious and even a little threatening “Consider it done Boss.”

Roman maintains his business demeanor but inside he’s positively thrilled, this is going even better than he thought. “Now I want to talk about Erica specifically, she told me a bit about how she fits into the ace spectrum and its vital for our forward plan.” He hopes Butcher is appreciating that he’s using the same format they do when they discuss upcoming business meetings and the protocols necessary for each one (location, parties involved, and prior contact, etc.) because this really is just as important to him as business. This next part is going to be the hardest though, he spent a whole night on it, because how exactly do you talk about someone’s sex life (or lack thereof) and not make it seem demeaning or judgmental or any other terrible thing? In the end he’d thrown himself on Erica’s mercy and asked how she’d prefer it to be done. He’d even offered to let her come talk to Butch herself, but she had told him she was certain Butch wouldn’t judge her.

“Now, without invading her privacy, she is an ace; so, I want to keep sex related things away from her as best we can. No dirty jokes, no crude gestures, no crass people if we can help it.”

Butch is nodding along with each condition and Roman wants to breathe a sigh of relief because being vague was the best way he knew to keep her dignity. “Any questions?” Butch pauses and shakes his head before pausing again and opening his mouth “Are there, slurs, we should know? Like, if someone calls her a nun, do we get to hit them?”

Roman beams. “That’s my next topic.” He clicks the remote again and he’s suddenly realizing he missed clicking buttons, Butcher usually gives these briefings as the head of security, have to file that away for later. “Some responses aces get when they come out is that they just haven’t met the right person, they’re a later bloomer, or that they haven’t had sex with the right people. Obviously, all of these are incredibly insensitive and downright rude. If someone says these things, feel free to immediately remove them from the premises.” Now its Butcher’s turn to beam, and Roman clicks the remote again “On a lighter note, some aces really prefer food to sex and this definitely applies to Erica. She has said, and I quote, ‘sex may be great but have people ever tried beefy 5-layer burritos?’. Aces also seem to have claimed dragons as their mascot, big ones, little ones, all colors, wings or not, dragons are where it’s at.” The slide for this section is a collage of dragons and when he’d seen Erica light up at viewing it, he’s so glad he included it.

Butcher interrupts his daydreaming with a raised hand “Are stuffed dragons acceptable?”

Roman smiles, “Yes, Erica loves small soft things. I, however, am an outlier and should not be counted.”

Butch snorts at this but Roman decides to ignore him. “As always, it’s no one’s business what she and I do together, but if someone does start giving her a hard time about this, I want you to step in. Only if she gives you a direct signal not to, should you wait.” Roman pauses then, giving an amused hum “but, if she does do that, that means she’s already got a plan to absolutely destroy the person herself so stick around for the fun because that gorgeous woman knows her way around a good insult.”

Butcher furrows his brow at this, “Are you allowed to say that? Can you, say things about her, physical, ness?”

Roman pauses before answering because this was a conversation he’d had with Erica after she came out. He had called her sexy once before and noticed the small bit of hesitation before she had smiled and changed the subject. When he brought it up in light of coming out, she had said she didn’t want to lead him on. She knew her body fit under society’s definition of ‘sexy’, but she didn’t have any intentions of performing the action, so she shied away from the designation. He’d tried to compensate afterward, only complementing her personality or intelligence before Erica had once again set him down and said she didn’t mind being told she was pretty, he’d taken the moment to ask if this meant he could compliment her aesthetically instead of sexually? She had grabbed in him in a hug. He learned this was one of her favorite words and that yes, she would be thrilled to receive compliments on her aesthetic. It’s this sentiment that he conveys to Butch, though he isn’t sure he likes the idea of Butch complimenting her. He swallows the jealousy though, he’s an adult and so is she, he trusts Butch, and Erica, and that extends to conversations they may have.

“I don’t plan to butter her up boss, just looking to make sure I understand all the circumstances that warrant the use of force.” Butch affirms calmly and Roman knows it’s the truth, he scolds himself for thinking otherwise.

“I want to move on to something else that I think is important to mention. There is another sexuality called Aromantic. It means that someone doesn’t experience romantic attraction. Erica defined romantic attraction as ‘I would slow dance in the kitchen with that person in my pajamas as we wait for coffee in the morning’. While it is possible for someone to be both Aromantic and Asexual, aro/ace is the abbreviation, Erica is not. She has said she does experience romantic attraction. Albeit very rarely.” Roman softens a bit picturing himself and Erica in the scenario he’s just described, it’s warm, easy, and while it’s probably too soon to ask her to move in so they can share their mornings, he’s definitely jotting slow dancing down for a date idea. He forces himself back to the present again and fixes Butch with a look “Any questions?”

Butch leans back in his chair and folds his massive arms across his chest as much as his jacket allows before pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes again. “This support group you mentioned, where’s that at?”

Roman clicks the remote again, this slide has a map of about five city blocks as well as the floor plan of the local library that is adjoined to the community center (he may find some of the security briefings a little too detailed but he knows what essentials Butch likes to have by now). “it’s at the local community center, heard about it on the internet” He leaves out that he spent four hours looking for one before he found a random Facebook post about it on the fourth page of chrome results but he figures his dedication is obvious either way at this point. Butch is already typing on his phone, no doubt tasking someone with retrieving more information about the whole affair.

“Do you want a scout to go in first?”

“No” Roman has already thought about this, the likelihood of it being a setup is pretty slim, and he wants to keep the business part of his life out of this as much as he can, for the sake of the other attendees. “I think it’s safe enough to go ahead.”

“Date? Time?”

“Fridays, noon, and its usually about an hour but I’d like to clear the whole afternoon indefinitely”

Butch nods along to the sentence, still typing on his phone before finishing and putting it back into his coat. “Anything else I should know?”

“Yes, I want you to schedule a meeting with the rest of the team, anyone who’ll interact with Erica, I don’t intend for there to be any misunderstandings.”

Butcher grimaces at that, “I really didn’t mean to upset her about that boss, any chance I can apologize for that?”

Roman knows Erica would say it was unnecessary, maybe even brush Butcher off, but he also wants her to know he’s taking the utmost care (Butch is too) to make sure she’s comfortable; so he nods before answering “I know she isn’t offended, but I wouldn’t mind if you did”. It has the potential to build trust between them if nothing else, and if Erica decides she wants to stick around, trusting Butcher will be integral to that process.

#ewan mcgregor #asexual #ace talk #ace character #original characters #new chapter #aces in spaces

[justasparkwritings]

May: TinyDoubt

Previous: April’s The Wild Lillies 

Pairing: None

Genre: Creative Angst

Rating: PG13 

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: Swearing! 

Summary: Creative block is alive and well as you stare at the figurines in  front of you, your only comfort? The voice in your head challenging you to soldier on. 

Notes: I tried to channel my deep deep writers block for this. Do I hate it? Maybe. Do I feel all those things about my writing? Oh absolute. Is that inner voice how I talk to myself? You bet it is. Is the title so good? Yes, yes it is. 

Paintbrush

Sculpting clay

Carving tools

Dry hands

Paint under fingernails

Hair swept back

Slick drying on cheeks

Shoulder’s tense

         Should’ve sprung for the expensive chair, the one that holds my legs back and supports my core.

       It isn’t too late, I could still spring for it after this batch sells… if I sell it.

       I sigh, glancing at the clock, 5 minutes to midnight. How long have I been sitting here? When was the last time I ate or drank anything? Too long. I’ll feel it tomorrow, the ache in my joints, the exhaustion in my body, limbs sore, eyes worn out, all craving nourishment and rest.

       Gently, I place the figurine on the clean expanse of my drying rack. Thin and leucite, it supports the variety of creations I’ve been making, each in a different state of disarray. None have ended up being perfect, none are worthy of completing, except maybe, just maybe, this one.

       Standing perfectly still at 3inches, somehow, in the bright light of my desk lamp, magnifying lens on its second highest setting, I had perfectly sculpted the manicured swoop of hair. Each strand carved delicately, the part off center, the lingering hair nearly over the left eye, all made from modeling clay. It had taken days to perfect the lift, the arching bow from one side. In its naked form, it looks immaculate. But I know I can only succeed if the coloring is perfect, if the glasses I made, labored over, filling with resin in raspberry pink, fit properly over the new ears I carved days ago.

       Ears were always the easy part, a simple structure on the head, never taking more than a pin-head size of clay. Noses too, tiny and dainty drops, always done in the middle of creation.

        Staring at this latest iteration, I can’t help but wonder if this is worth it. Meticulously drawing every line, breaking my back mixing yellows to get the golden shade and all the highlights, not to mention the truly painstaking part of it all, hands. Is it worth it, the weeks spent making this tiny, tiny creation, only to deem it unworthy, and left incomplete?

        Yes.

        Yes, it is.

       It’s always worth it, despite what the odds tell me. There’s always that voice in my head, telling me that not only is my skill appreciated, but worth something. The last set sold for five times the asking price. This set could double, triple that… Maybe if it did well enough, I could transition to this, full time. Though the thought of working on perfecting miniatures for 12 hours a day sounds quite possibly like hell.  

        This isn’t hell, or horrible, you’re too hard on yourself.

        The voice in my head tells me. Laughing, I counter that statement. “I am not, they’re all shit,”

        They are not.

        “I should’ve stuck with wood carving,” I grumble.

        You cut yourself pretty badly the last time-

        “I know I did!” 

       I can’t tell if I’ve fully lost it, or if this conversation is going to lead to a creative breakthrough. Though based on my running internal monologue, which yes is voiced by Nicole Byer, I am due for a serious heart-to-mind pep talk. It’s not that I haven’t scolded myself recently, or lamented about how completely incompetent I am, how horrific my work is, or how I am wasting my youth sitting at a cramped desk with coffee I’ve reheated four times. I haven’t had the full ‘this is meaningless, stop wasting your time perfecting the shades of blonde on this plastic and clay figurine and go figure out the next steps in your career’ in at least three weeks. I suppose, staring at these in complete monstrosities, that a conversation with myself regarding what I’m doing is far more enjoyable than listening to my father droll on about how I am in command of my destiny.

        Because I’m not in control.  If I was, I wouldn’t be sitting here making TinyTan figurines, crying when the paint dries a different color than my swatches or weeping when a miniature dot of adhesive gets stuck on the outside of the clay and chars the entire piece in the oven.

        So I’m not in charge of my fate.

        You make your own luck.

        “Alright, I didnn’t ask you.”

        Who did you ask then? Jimin? Yoongi? Oh wait, they don’t have mouths and they’re made of plastic!

        “See, they don’t have mouths because they fucking suck and I should give up.”

        They’re probably better than you think, you’re just too close to it.  

        “I think that’s actually incorrect and there is nothing wrong with how close I am to these figures,”

        You are though

        “What do you suppose I do? Capture their souls? Summon them with a knock off The Power of Seven Will Set Me Free, while I hold their tiny little plastic hands?” I throw the ball of clay I’ve been rolling onto the table, the small glob sticking to the side of a larger block I had been carving from.  

        Do you always have to be so difficult?

        “You’re inside my brain! You know how creatively frustrated I am! And you know how absolutely fucking bitchy I get when I’m upset!”  

        Why are you frustrated?

        I groan, standing up from my chair and walking to the kitchen sink. The hot water scalds my dry hands, melting the clay and paint off, the extra judicial scrubbing peeling back layers of grime I’d let build in the last 10 hours.

        Why are you so frustrated? Is it because you aren’t good enough? Are you scared it’s going to be your senior year showcase again, where that girls sister didn’t understand you collage and made snarky comments?

        I dry my hands, unwilling to answer the questions my mind was asking.

        If you don’t talk about it you’ll blow up like a volcano…

        “Because! Fuck, because I can’t get any of this right. I just got the hair done, and that’s taken me two weeks. All I’m doing is chipping away, carving away, fucking up and starting again. When I’m not working on it, all I’m doing is thinking about it. They haunt me in my sleep, their little round bellies body rolling to Mic Drop, trying to get me to eat the mini quiches they’ve carved their initials in. My life is consumed by these tiny fucking figures and it’s making me absolutely hate them.”

        Hate them?

        “Whoever decided TinyTan needed to be a thing,”

        Shouldn’t you be mad at whoever told you to create your own versions of them?

        “Oh, so you want me to be mad at myself? Aren’t I already?”

        Okay, point made.

        “I just stare at them, their little body parts, heads on a platter like the Addams Family.. Everything I make is ugly, everything I make isn’t good enough. Every curve, every cut… garbage.”

        Do you want to quit?

        “Give up on my project?”

        Yeah, say fuck it, toss them out, never come back to them.

        “I, should’ve gotten into doll houses,”

       Why?

       “They’re easier, the rules aren’t as rigid, it’s an interpretation and you can do that 1000 different ways,”

       So quit, move to doll houses, sell all your tools. But, answer this, what happens when you get upset or frustrated making doll houses?

       I sigh. “I don’t quit craft projects.”

       … didn’t you just say you wanted to?

       “I don’t quit crafts. Relationships and friendships, that’s another story. But art?”

        Then why are you bitching?

        “I just,” I sigh, slumping into my couch. “If I finish them, and they don’t turn out, what kind of artist will I be? What does that say about my craft? My ‘talent’?”

        What kind of artist do you want to be?

        “This Socratic method is really fucking annoying.”

        I’m your mind, stop doing it if it bugs you so much

        “I just, what does it say about me if they aren’t any good?”

       I’m not sure it says anything about you as a person.

       “Me as an artist?”

       I don’t know if we can answer that.

       “Maybe you’re right,”

        About?

        “Maybe I just, I’m too hard on myself. A set of figurines isn’t going to break my hobby… even if it’s broken my spirit,”

        If it’s broken your spirit, why keep doing it?

        “I love the finished product, but I love the process more,”

        Then keep going.

        The thing about the voice inside my head is that no matter how hard I try to lie to it, it always knows. It always comes back with wisdom and truth, shining a light on exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid.

        “Tonight?”

        No bitch, you need sleep. TinyTan will be there tomorrow.

        “Is this when we sing Zero O’Clock while we brush our teeth?”

        Only if you want to.

        I rise from my couch, slipping my apron off, putting it on my crafting chair and clear my throat.

       “Oo- and you’re gonna be happy,” I sing as I move through my apartment, miniatures drying, waiting for another day of scraping, molding and painting, my broken spirit stitching itself back together as the clock resets. 

Next: June Pride

#thebtswritersclub #monthlychallenge #BTS fanfic #Tinytan #Tinytanfic #bangtanuniversity #bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #ficswithluv

[kaz11283]

It took me forever just to sit down and write this.  Not gonna lie I hit a rock straight up, but if yall just bear with me through this part at least we will be back to smooth sailing.  It’s just been such a rough week with everything going on around the world.  Let’s use this as an escape even if it is just for a little bit.  I’m gonna start kinda having a certain day of the week when I release stuff, right now I am thinking maybe Tuesday and Friday?  Still bouncing things off in my head, but that will give me a time frame and give yall a day when to expect something.  Much love, and thank you to everyone that has started following this journey with me and has followed, liked, and reblogged!  I don’t know what I would do without the support and I am loving the feedback and I am over the moon by what recognition I have gotten.  It’s not big but every little thing makes me feel so special and I am so happy that I am getting to share a piece of me with all of yall!!!

~~~~

Best Friends

Chapter 4

You 17, Sam 18, Dean 21

 

“He’s gone y/n,” Bobby said walking into the living room where you had taken up residence on the couch since you had gotten the call from John two days before. “He wouldn’t want you sulking around here like you are.  He would want you to get up off this couch and at least go take a shower.”  He popped the top on the beer he had in his hand and gave it to you.

“Uncle Bobby you know I don’t drink that stuff.”  You said pushing it away.  You wrapped the blanket around you tighter. “It just surprises me, ya know?  Everything that man has fought in his life, every monster, creature, everything and the man dies in a freakin car accident.”

“Fate has a weird scene of humor sometimes.  He was a good hunter, damn good brother, and a pretty ok father.  He did raise a pretty smart girl if you ask me, course I don’t know where you got it from.  Probably your mother’s side of the family along with her looks.”  He said leaning back and pulling you to his chest.  “I would love to tell you that it gets better, that the pain just slowly goes away until it’s not there anymore but it doesn’t.  You just learn to get use to it.  Some days are easier to get through than others, somedays it won’t even cross your mind, but you’re gonna have your bad days and on those days is when you’re gonna need to talk, let someone help.”  He said kissing the top of your head and getting up to stretch. “But really, go take a shower, I think that your funk is starting to seep into the couch.  Might have to burn it and get another one.”

“No!  I like this couch.  Its broken in just right.  Besides a new couch would just throw the whole room off, we would have to paint, get all new furniture, probably throw away a lot of your junk.  It just wouldn’t work out with a new one.” You got up and collected your blankets.  “Thank you Uncle Bobby for being here, helping raise me, teach me, letting me stay here when you didn’t have to.  Your probably the best thing that’s happened to me.” You said leaning up and kissing the old man on the cheek before you walked up the stairs.

~~~

 You woke to voices down stairs in the kitchen and the smell of bacon and coffee, your uncle didn’t normally cook unless-

You bolted up out of bed and hightailed it down stairs to see your favorite family sitting at the table idly chit chatting with Bobby. “Sammy! Dean!”  The two large men stood up and gave you a hug squeezing you between them like a sandwich.  “Oh I missed yall so much!”  You through your arms around both of their necks pulling them down to your level and squishing their cheeks to yours.

“Hey sweetheart, how you holdin’ up?”  John asked bending down to give you a hug.  You had somehow managed to weasel your way into the eldest Winchesters heart when you was young running around with Sam and Dean causing trouble.

“I’m doin good John.  It makes it a little easier knowing that he didn’t hurt, ya know.  It was quick.”  You shrugged taking your seat between the two brothers.

You all sat and ate breakfast talking about the latest hunt that the guys had been on, hearing John talk about hunts with your dad, listening to Bobby rant about having to bandage up the both of them more times than he cared to.  It had started out as a good day.

“So Sammy, any plans after you finally finish school?”  You asked over you cup of coffee.

“Yes and no.  I don’t know what I really want to do yet.  I got my acceptance letter from Stanford the other day but we haven’t really discussed it any further.”  Sam said looking down.

“Sammy here wants to be a lawyer.”  John laughed.  “Of all things.  Been training the boy his whole life to hunt and now he wants to throw it all away for a ‘higher education’.” John rolled his eyes.

“What’s wrong with that?  I got accepted into KCU working on getting my RN.”  You asked raising an eyebrow at the man.  “He doesn’t wanna follow the family business I don’t see where that’s a problem.  Besides, then you would have someone to get both your asses outta trouble if need be.”

“Y/n you always knew you didn’t wanna do this-“

“But Sammy did.  I think he should have a little bit of a say so in his future.”  You said leaning back and crossing your arms in front of you.  “Don’t worry Sammy, I’ll come visit you on weekends.”

“So you got accepted to KCU and didn’t tell me yet?”  Bobby asked trying to change the subject.

“Well a lot of stuff has happened since I got the letter.  Honestly I didn’t think I was gonna get in, I didn’t turn in all my stuff till last minute.”  KCU had only been a pipe dream for you, going into the medical field was kind of an easy choice; you had stitched, bandaged, and pulled out bullets from more than one hunter that had come through Bobby’s door on many occasions.

“So a collage girl now?”  Dean said winking at you.

“Gross no, you’re my brother.” You wrinkled your nose and made a disgusted look at him

“Ew NO!  Not you!  Trust me I’ve already seem more of you than I ever care about seeing-“ That earned a hard glare from both John and Bobby to both of you.

“Shut up Dean.”

“Like the time we had stayed out all night drinkin and went skinny dippin in the lake.”

“Shut up Dean.”

“Or the time that we had the bet that you wouldn’t walk out on the field during homecoming and moon everyone.”  Bobby crossed his arms, you hadn’t told him the reason you had been suspended from school that week

“Dean, I will hit you so hard that your kids will feel it.”

“Or the time-” You punched him hard “OW!”  He grabbed his arm holding it while Sam busted out laughing.

“There are certain things that you don’t say Dean.” You stared at him with wide eyes.  “Like the time that you begged me to come get you from whats her names house at like three in the morning so that you wouldn’t get caught sneaking back into the hotel that we were staying at, or the time that we had to get Sam to cover for us because we snuck out to go to that party, or ho-”

“OK! Grounded, both of you.  Till further notice.”  Bobby pointed at you and Dean.

“I’m 21 Bobby!”  Dean yelled looking at his dad for help, John simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Your joking me?  Uncle Bobby, you’ve never grounded me before!”

“Well y/n there’s a first time for everything.  Seems like I just didn’t’ know that you need to be grounded all the time.”  Bobby said shaking his head.

“Well thanks for taking the pressure off me guys.”  Sam said draping his arm around the back of your chair laughing.

“Sam, watch it, I’m sure you had your help in something too with these two bad influences around.” John warned.

~~~

The next week was spent going over information about the hunt the boys were about to do, gun training, and hanging out with the boys. With them getting older they werent able to come around as much as they use to so when you were together you made the most of your time. Sam had decided to hang back and go over some more books of Bobby's while you and Dean went for burgers.

"When are you gonna start huntin with us y/n?" Dean asked looking over his burger.

"Dean, we've went over this. I'm better behind a book looking up lore, or with a needle and thread in my hand. I dont do field work. I dont like having to chop heads or burn bodies."

"Your good with any weapon put in your hand, your freakin awesome at fighting. I'm just sayin I ever have to go off on my own your the first one I would call." He shrugged.

"Well I guess I'm lucky that you'll have Sammy then right?" You said whipping off your hands. "But you ever need any research done I'm your girl."

"Sammy's going to collage. Hes getting out." Dean said looking down. "I act all butt hurt and upset that hes leaving but I'm not, not really. I'm actually really proud. Proud of him and you. You both did something that I never imagined could happen."

"But I'm going to collage to learn how to help people when they get attacked Dean, I wouldnt say that was 'getting out'."

"But when this is over and you decide you dont wanna do this anymore you'll have a fall back. Sammy is going to be a lawyer, what can I do? I'm good at killing things."

"You can be a professional hunter," he snorted "ummm, oh, or a gun salesman, or a secret agent." You laughter with him on that one. "Hunters lives is a whole lie anyways I think you could pull it off. Wear a suit, woo a girl." You raised your eyebrows at him.

"Whatever. Let's go home, I heard theres a Hatchetman marathon tonight. Think we could get Sam to join us like old times?"

"I'll grab the snacks." You said throwing your arm around his middle.

~~~~~

Tag List

@samsgirl93

@spn-obession

@iitslibassi

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn imagine #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x reader #reader x sam winchester #sam and dean #y/n x dean winchester #sam winchester #best friends #y/n insert

[eleedsfineartblog]

THOUGHTS ABOUT MY WORK 03-03-2021

My main goals in my last update were to keep on attending workshops and artist talks and step up my video work by incorporating sound and learning how to use more advanced software - and I am happy to say that I think I’ve been keeping up with these goals pretty well!

So far, I have enjoyed working with mediums such as videography, photography, projection, and digital image manipulation. A lot of what I have done has been mostly experimental, nothing that I would define as "finished works" by any means for there is a lot of room for development in everything I have explored. However, pieces such as Incoherence + Nonsense and my photography series A State Between States are a little more polished and are the result of honing in on and combining some of the more experimental work I have done prior.

I have continued to explore my relationship with home, using my room as a headquarters for my practice and pushing the limits of what I can do in such a limited space with limited materials, building on my own emotions to activate a space. In my work, there is still the running theme of transition and liminality, which is something I am really pleased that people are picking up on when I show them my work without me having to explain that this was the intention. Some other feedback I have gotten from my peers is that my work reminds them of occult themes or of faded dreams or memories, which are both really interesting readings of the work and definitely things I am interested in looking into and perhaps intentionally incorporating.

On the topic of expanding thematically, I have noticed that there has been a natural evolution in my work that has caused me to present myself as an otherworldly creature, such as a ghost or spirit stuck between realms, haunting my environment. I think this may be a result of my wavering, but slowly growing, confidence in showing my own body in my work which causes me to blur or obscure myself from the viewer like I am only half there. I am really interested in the idea of me playing a ghost-like character in my work that is more of an extension of myself rather than a straight portrayal of myself. In the past, I have been very uncomfortable videoing or photographing myself but it is something I am learning to get more confident with, inspired by great artists such as Shana Moulton and Francesca Woodman whose work, though vastly different in delivery, both involve the artist’s body.

I have stepped up my video art by taking some workshops going over the basics of using Adobe After Effects. Having access to more advanced software has really opened up a broader range of paths I can go down in terms of video and installation work. Pieces such as Incoherence + Nonsense could not have been possible if I didn’t do any exploring in this program so I’m really glad that I took a bit of time to learn how to use it. I have only scratched the surface of how elements such as motion graphics and green screens can be used in my art work, but I definitely see it having a big part in my artistic process in the future.

Also on the topic of learning new software, I have continued doing workshops with the EMS department on topics such as augmented reality, virtual reality, 3D printing, and 3D scanning. I am finding these sessions super interesting and I have been experimenting a bit with using basic apps to do 3D scans of objects in my room. I am still in the process of figuring out how to implement these things into my practice, but at the moment I am okay with just attending the workshops and learning all that I can about this new media - I am thinking that these sorts of techniques will be easier to implement into my practice when I am back on campus and able to get access to more equipment and guidance.

I have been really enjoying the work I have been creating, yet I am inclined to shake things up a bit and to see what new ideas can arise. I am considering expanding the mediums of working and seeing how painting, collage, or sculpture can incorporate themselves into my artistic practice and if I can relate these things to what I have been doing with photography and video. On one hand, I am thinking that such work should be left to explore within my reconsidering drawing module, for I already have a lot of avenues I can go down with digital work. Yet I don't think having a go at different things can harm my work and I think it would be really interesting to see how the themes I have been working within translate into more tactile mediums.

This is not to say that I don't want to do more photography/video experiments going on the side of my new experiments, because I have a lot of ideas in my head that I want to try out. I’m the kind of person that likes to have a few different things on the go at once so it would be good for me to bring some new ways of working into the mix as well as build upon things I have already done. I have got into the habit of drawing in my sketchbook regularly. Sketching is a really useful way for me to get my ideas down on paper before I forget about them. I might not have time to explore each idea at the time but it is useful to have a collection of scribbles to go back to for inspiration when I get stuck with what to do next. I’m not the best at drawing but perhaps these sketches could transform into a work of their own somehow.

At the moment, I don’t have any ideas for a final piece in mind for this project - I am just following what my intuition is telling me and playing around with all of these smaller ideas I have going on in my head. I think further down the line an installation like those by multimedia artist Laure Provost would be interesting where I display lots of different pieces in the same space as a multimedia/multi sensory experience. However, at this point in time, I’m still in the experimental phase of my project.

However, for the time being, my main goal is to keep exploring new mediums and push myself out of my photography/video comfort zone. Not to say that I am not going to continue to develop the work I have been doing, I just want to expand my practice even further and get more experimental. Let's see how it goes!

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