#everyone had to watch them and pretend to like them even though they were filmed in a mega creepy death zone

[devildomwriter]

Christmas Morn’ Again | Others x Reader

2.1K Word Count | GN! Reader | CW: Children

Previous

Solomon x Reader

Christmas morning smelled like many things. Candy canes, gingerbread, sugar cookies…today it did not. You sat straight up in bed to be greeted by the faces of your sons and their father holding a tray of food.

You stared at it for a second and your sons recognized the fear in your eyes.

“We made it for you!”

“Daddy didn’t help at all!”

They reassured you and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Isn’t that thoughtful of them?” Solomon asked. “They really wouldn’t let me help they were so determined to make you happy all on their own.”

You hugged your sons more tightly than usual that day, having escaped your husband’s traditional breakfast in bed on Christmas morning.

Your sons began to roughhouse as Solomon set up everything in the living room and you ate your warm waffles which your sons had done an amazing job with. You wondered where they got their culinary skills, you were just glad it wasn’t from their father.

After you finished your waffles you set your tray aside and held out your hands for your sons to take.

They excitedly pulled you into the living room and gasped in delight at the presents under the tree. They quickly broke away from you and slid on their knees to their individual piles.

Solomon smiled and handed you a mug of hot cocoa that you pretended to drink as you relaxed into his side watching your children open their gifts.

The two were so much like their father, asking for educational toys and books for Christmas instead of video games and money. It made you proud and your heart felt full as you hugged your husband while they began flipping through their science books that Christmas day.

Simeon x Reader

You set an alarm for Christmas Day. You had much to prepare for before your children woke up. Simeon quickly silenced the alarm before anyone else heard it and he began your morning with a gentle kiss to your lips.

He wrapped his arms around you and quickly got out of bed to help you get dressed, helping to hide your hickies as he adjusted your Christmas Snuggie.

You parted from Simeon and began preparing breakfast as one by one Simeon began to rouse your many children.

The sounds of excitement grew louder and louder and before anyone else came downstairs your eldest son, Simon, came to check on you in the kitchen. He was a kind and helpful boy just like his father, your wonderful husband, Simeon. A literal angel.

There was no better way to spend Christmas Day than with a real angel so when Simeon appeared downstairs followed by your children you ran to him first and wrapped your arms around him.

Your daughters giggled while your sons mostly rolled their eyes and everyone made their way to the Christmas tree and excitedly waited for their father to begin handing out their gifts.

You let breakfast warm up and sat down on the couch wrapped in the warm Snuggie Simeon had gifted you years prior when Simon was just a newborn.

Simeon helped his littlest siblings sit upright as Simeon handed his gift to him, pride beaming in his eyes.

Even on a holiday as chaotic as Christmas, it was clear as day that the two of you were managing to raise your kids just right as they managed to wait patiently for you to take out your D.D.D.

Simeon sat with you and smiled as you began filming the room that erupted into excited squeals. You rested your head against Simeon and he kissed your forehead as you began your Christmas day.

Raphael x Reader

You’d never been so grateful for your silk robes as you were on Christmas morning when your son stood on his father’s bare chest waiting for you to wake up.

Raphael stared at his son, surprised he’d broken in and snuck up on him. Raphael was supposed to be the most efficient hitman in the Celestial Realm and its most skilled fighter but it was beginning to seem as though his son would quickly surpass that.

Raphael looked at you, relieved you’d redressed from the previous night; Raphael had not done the same so you quickly got out of bed to carry your son away so Raphael could redress.

Seconds later Raphael followed you out the door already dressed in winter pajamas that matched your red robe.

Rafal quietly asked to be put down so you set him on his feet and he nodded and looked at his father.

“You’re growing dull,” he commented and Raphael shook his head and tucked his son under his arm like a football.

“You can criticize me when you can beat me,” he advised and Rafal protested as his father carried him into the living room, deciding to take away his free-roaming privileges after barging into your room when he was naked beneath the sheets.

Rafal was finally sat down and Raphael breathed a tired sigh and gently led you to the couch and wrapped a blanket around you.

“I’ll get some milk,” he said and Rafal bounded on his knees excitedly as he waited for his father to bring him a refreshing drink.

Raphael came back and handed a glass to his son and a glass to you before sitting down, leaning back into the couch, and wrapping an arm around you.

You snuggled in closer, head against his chest as his son excitedly unwrapped his gifts.

You knew Raphael had gotten his son a special gift from the Celestial Realm but when he unwrapped a set of throwing daggers you stared at Raphael in shock who was beaming with pride as his son cheered.

You sighed and decided to leave it be for now and let the two enjoy Christmas as you took pictures of your happy family.

Mephistopheles x Reader

The early birds screeched as the moon shone brightly in the sky. You sometimes missed the bluebird and robins soft songs but you were used to it after so many years in the Devildom with your husband.

You were shocked you’d slept in past eight considering it was Christmas Day. Perhaps after disobeying you last night, your son had decided to sleep in to make up for slipping downstairs to try and catch Santa.

You rolled over and gently woke your husband. His maroon bangs fell across his face and he yawned and stretched.

It took him a moment to realize what time it was and he was also shocked by the late hour. Claud had never let you sleep in so late. He came to the same conclusion as you, that he must feel guilty.

Mephistopheles straightened his silk pajamas and helped you out of bed. He looked in the mirror and combed his hair to the side to look more decent in front of staff before leaving your bedroom.

He waited for you before opening the large doors and he led you downstairs to the fireplace nearly as big as the wall itself.

The presents remained untouched under the Christmas tree and Mephistopheles kissed your cheek and opted to wake your son himself. Your son was so used to staff rousing him that it was a great Christmas surprise to see his father waiting for him at the end of his bed to bring him downstairs.

Your son was beaming in Mephistopheles’ arms as they walked downstairs together.

The staff made way for them holding your breakfast trays and after Mephistopheles set Calud down the trays were brought to you. The staff bowed and left and you scooted closer to Mephistopheles as your son began to unwrap his towering pile of gifts.

As your son excitedly thanked you every time, Mephistopheles grinned, pleased with himself for doing a good job. You kissed his cheek and smiled approvingly making him melt in your arms as Christmas properly began.

Barbatos x Reader

The world was silent as you lay snug under the black covers in your bed. The more you woke the more you became aware that Barbatos, your husband, was not next to you. You rolled over, saddened by the loss of the warm demon next to you.

You had expected that at least on Christmas he would sleep in with you but you supposed that six in the morning was sleeping in for Barbatos already and you should be content with that.

Moments later, before you could fully awake, the sweet smell of ginger wafted to your nose and you sat straight up blinking until the fuzziness in your vision passed and you could see your husband standing there, pleased with himself as he offered you a tray of food.

Barbatos watched you eat with a pleased grin and kissed you as you bit the head off a gingerbread man.

“Shall I fetch Sebastian?” He asked you as you set your empty tray aside and you nodded and wiped your mouth.

He nodded and quickly left the room to wake your son a few doors down. You thought your son was probably still exhausted from an accidental trip to the Mariana Trench last night but were proven wrong when he came running into the room.

He jumped onto the bed and hugged you.

“Merry Christmas!” He exclaimed and you hugged him and kissed his head.

He laughed and smiled, turning around to his father. “I knew they’d be awake already.” He declared and you tilted your head.

“You have your son to thank for the early morning call,” he said with a sweet smile that perfectly hid his annoyance. Barbatos too would have preferred a few more hours with you wrapped in his arms but Sebastian was a child who did not underhand such things so you couldn’t find fault in him.

Diavolo was also awake in the common room of the castle warming up with some breakfast Barbatos had already found time to make him.

“Uncle Dia!” Sebastian exclaimed and hugged him.

Diavolo occupied your son for you so that you and Barbatos could find a comfortable spot to relax. In each other’s arms, you sat on the soft rug as your son opened his gifts on Christmas day.

Diavolo x Reader

You thought you heard squeals outside the door first thing that morning but just as quickly silence followed. You sat up, prepared to chase your children back to bed but saw that it was already seven and that this was actually quite late for the three of them.

Diavolo snored next to you and covered him back up with a blanket and dressed yourself to check on the commotion in the hall.

Just as you approached the door you heard a soft knock you identified as Barbatos.

You opened the door, shielding Diavolo from view, and accepted your breakfast trays from the diligent butler who had three children clinging to his tail.

You gave your children a cross look, “please don’t bother Mr. Barbatos,” you scolded and they nodded and giggled, still holding onto the steward’s tail.

Barbatos sighed and shut the door so you could wake up and help dress your sleepy husband.

Diavolo had worn the both of you out last night but surprisingly you were the one with the most energy that morning. Maybe it was because you were still unused to such extravagant gifts

like the ones you knew Diavolo would be getting you. In that case, you could hardly blame your children for getting up as early as they could.

Diavolo woke up, startled you were dressed and holding breakfast but he happily accepted and welcomed the day with the optimism you hoped would never leave him.

Diavolo quickly made himself decent but comfortable and together you opened the doors to your bedroom. Barbatos leaned against the wall facing you, holding your youngest under his arms and your daughter by her wrist as she tried to break free.

Your eldest son and Diavolo’s heir waited patiently but you could see the giddy excitement within him as he barely contained himself.

You smiled proudly and took your son’s hand as Diavolo apprehended the youngest two and held them captive in his arms as you took the elevator down to the main room with the grand tree and all their gifts beneath it.

Barbatos readied his camera as Diavolo set your daughter and youngest son loose. They tote into the presents without waiting and your oldest son, Chao, looked up at you for approval. You smiled and nodded and he ran to join his siblings as you reunited with your husband.

He held you in his arms and snuck kisses against your head and your hands when the children weren’t looking.

It was already turning into a perfect Christmas Day.

[chaos-has-theories]

Dreamed I was a baby lyctor on a roadtrip with John and the rest through uhhhh time-travelled pre-resurrection earth? But fucked up?

Mercymorn was gaslighting John about never having been from New Zealand, actually. John was gaslighting us about setting our van on fire to scare us. Everyone was gaslighting John about being perfectly aware of what he was doing.

Mercy and Augustine started crying because it was the first time they got to see the seashells they grew up with.

[spiderb00]

Fam out

Sophia Laforteza X Reader 

Synopsis - Sophia loves when you're caring, serious, she LOOOVES ;)

Genre – Fluff, a little suggestive at the end? 

a/n - Was I so excited to write this, for some reason??? I think I also kind of like domestic things, so...  

I think it has a little bit of Yn!Oc in that, I mean, Yn is a little bit based on me and my personality <3

next chapter | F.O Masterlist

The theater was full, people quickly finding their seats, all excited by the movie. Yoonchae was happy to have someone she could share this experience with. The younger girl knew that as soon as she talked to Sophia she would agree to watch the movie instantly, but when Yn agreed to watch the movie with them, Yoonchae was more surprised than ever.   

You've been dating Sophia for six months, Yoonchae has always liked you, despite having similar personalities, you two were very different, Yoonchae thinks the age difference does that. The younger girl knew that you had a somewhat peculiar taste for a 21-year-old girl.   

Yoonchae liked to describe her personality as the "personality of a divorced father", she always said that Sophia's girlfriend liked rock, preferably older bands, wore band shirts, played guitar, loved horror and action movies, and had a vintage car (old) that seemed strangely comfortable to Yoonchae. She would say that you were quiet, a born observer. Yoonchae liked that, she found your personality cozy, even though other people found you scary.   

Yoonchae thought Sophia was happy in her relationship, and boy, could she not be more right. Sophia loved every detail of Yn, she loved you was always attentive, as you always did everything to make everyone comfortable. Sophia noticed every single thing, how you always grabbed the highest things from the shelves when the Kats couldn't reach, and how you always pretended not to care about the "thank you" from the girls, responding only with a brief "Hm".   

Sophia always noticed how you always left a bottle of water nearby at rehearsals you went to attend, or how you always applied the sidewalk rule when you went out for a walk, or how you always made sure Sophia had gotten home before starting the car and going home. Sophia has always noticed everything.  

But sure, her favorite interactions were with Yoonchae, Sophia loves it when you do something for the younger girl, something about it warms your heart. So when you said yes when Yoonchae invited you to watch "inside out 2" your girlfriend was automatically jumping up and smiling silly.  

Everything was cozy, the trip to the cinema in her vintage car – cof cof old cof cof – the smell of popcorn and even the feeling that the choice of seats was perfect, everything seemed extremely domestic to Sophia.  

When the movie started you were super entertained, all the colors and captivating animations held your attention. As the movie played, you noticed that Yoonchae's drink had run out. Looking at the Filipino girl's cup and seeing a good amount of liquid, you decided to get a little more just for the younger girl.   

"Hey, I'll be right back." You say, leaning in and giving Sophia a kiss on the head, leaving before she could say anything.  

After buying the drink and some candy that you think the girls would like, you went back to your seat, trying to be discreet and not get in the way of people.  

"Where have you gone?" Sophia asks as soon as you sit in the armchair.   

"Buy some things."   

You put the drink in Yoonchae's cup holder and hand her one of the candies you bought, knowing that it was her favorite.   

"I bought this for you, you like those, right?" You ask, looking at Sophia, who now had heart eyes.   

"Yes baby, thank you." The Filipino girl says before grabbing the back of your neck and giving you a kiss.   

"Of course, I'm here for that." You say, focusing on the film again, not before intertwining your hand with Sophia's. 

In the car, once again, Sophia felt that feeling, the cozy and domestic environment that she quickly learned to love. Yoonchae and you debated about the movie (More like Yoonchae talking and you agreeing and making comments here and there) while Sophia listened to everything in the passenger seat, scratching your head as you drove to the restaurant.   

When you arrive at the restaurant you unconsciously pull the chair to Yoonchae, doing the same to Sophia and then taking the seat next to your girlfriend. The food came, and you ate it amidst silly conversations and jokes. One of the jokes making Yoonchae laugh and unintentionally hitting the glass of water next to her.   

"Watch your clothes, Yoonchae." Sophia said as she picked up the glass that fell.   

"Oh my god, I'm sorry." The younger girl says as she gets up from her chair so that the water doesn't get on her clothes.   

"It's okay Yoonchae, it was just water. And the glass didn't break, I'm just going to ask the waiter to clean it, you can sit in my seat while I call the waiter, okay?"

Very interested in calling the waiter to clean up the mess on the table, you unfortunately missed the look that Sophia was giving you, but if someone who was around saw it, that person could tell that it was like a jaguar ready to attack her prey. 

You threw yourself on the bed next to Sophia with a sigh, the day had been fun and you were ready to rest. After leaving Yoonchae at home with the Kats, Sophia insisted that she would sleep at your house, you didn't question it, after all she could stay the night whenever she wanted, no matter how different something seemed.   

"Tired?"  

"A little, but nothing out of the ordinary. Did you have fun?" you asked, crossing your hands under your head and looking at the black-haired girl.  

"Yes, it was the best day," she said. "But it's about to get better." 

Sophia mounted on your waist with a smile on her face, legs on either side of your body, taking you completely by surprise.   

"With you everything always gets better." 

__________________

yes, they are Yoonchae's mothers... that's it :/

[calliopesdiary]

“mini-me”

synopsis; your little sister captures the hearts of your boyfriends, you may even say she has a little crush on james.

contents; sexual activity mentioned, fem!reader, reader has a cute lil sister, poly!marauders, james has baby fever, you have baby fever, i have baby fever, everyone has baby fever

warnings; none! just a brief mention of sex but nothing bad (;

a/n; i’ve been daydreaming about this fic for so long

“NESSIE! FINALLY MY BEST FRIEND IS BACK!"

roared a thunderous James Potter who’d spotted your little sister— Vanessa.

Nessie was all over the boys, and they were all over her. she was a first-year hufflepuff and a true sweetheart.

Sirius silently adored how similar you two looked, it was like looking at twins— except one of them happened to be five years older than the other.

He was too afraid and stubborn to admit it, but Nessie gave him a heavy dose of baby fever.

was she a baby? no, not even close. but something about her cheeky smile, the way her robes hung over her like how a child pretending to be an adult’s would, and how her hand (which was considerably smaller than his) slid into yours lovingly at any given time.

maybe it was just that he wanted to see you as a mom, or that he longed for a family that was warm and loving.

“y/n, dear.” Sirius caught your attention quickly, even though you were watching James ramble on to Nessie like it was an oscar award winning film.

“hm—?” you hummed, attempting to pry your eyes away from the sweet scene.

“what do you think i’d-be like?”

“what do i think what would be like?”

“you know, having kids.” he could tell from your flustered expression that to were certainly not expecting that.

“o-oh… w-well…”

luckily the conversation had been interrupted by one Nessie.

Nessie ended her conversation with James, earning a “hey!” when she walked away from him.

“Siri.” she tugged in his sleeve.

“yes, darling?”

she blushed at the pet name, and started twirling her hair.

“um.. will you guys take me to Hogsmeade…?”

“Hogsmeade? Ness, only third years and over can go to Hogsmeade—“

“Professor Mcgonagall said if i went with you then it would be alright!”

She tugged on Sirius’ slightly oversized leather jacket once more, as he stumbles from the unexpected tug.

“whats going on in here— AGH!”

Remus stumbled backwards as Nessie pounced on top of him like some wild animal who was about to feed on him.

“hi— oof— hi Nessie.”

Remus was taken aback by the little first year jumping around in him in a circle chanting;

“i’m going to Hogsmeade!”

“Ness, he gets it.” You groaned from your position on James’ lap.

“Get off!!” Nessie shoved you with all of her pre-puberty force.

“N-Nessie!” you ‘gently’ hit the bedpost as Nessie locked herself onto James.

“What candy is she on? Pixi Stix?”

“Oh, suck my dick, Moony.”

“Gladly—“

“Oi!” Barked James.”

“whats a dick?”

“Nessie—..”

HOGSMEADE was beautiful in summer time.

obviously— it wasn’t summer yet, but with April coming to a close and blossoming like a flower, you could basically say it was summertime.

you walked along with Remus and Sirius, as Nessie was hanging around with James as they skipped ahead down the alleys and walkways of Hogsmeade.

you adored James, and how sweet he was to your sister, she was such a sweet kid and deserved the love.

"James?" Nessie stopped skipping for a moment, keeping a steady walking pace instead.

"Hm?"

"Do you love my sister?"

"I do."

"so why don't you marry her?" Sirius burst into a quiet laughter, and Remus tucked the hysterical boy into his chest.

"i- marry her? i'd love too, but we're a bit young."

“but Snow White was 14 when she got married.”

“Oh.” James was clearly a bit flustered, his cheeks turned to a shade of pink.

Remus watched his lovers interact with Nessie, and it sparked something deep inside him.

Remus (until now) had ruled out a happy ending for himself.

being a lycanthrope, he never wanted to pass that burden to his child. so he couldn’t— no, wouldn’t have kids.

but somehow, someway, as he watched you with your little sister. he realized how badly he wanted you to be a mom.

for the first time, Remus realized that he could live happily.

“Remus? are you alright?” You tapped his shoulder rapidly, and he snapped out of his trance.

“Y-yes, sorry I got distracted.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” you smiled brightly up to him, the smile he was so in love with.

the smile he wanted his kids to have.

*

you four dropped Nessie off back at her common room, and Sirius immediately sprung onto you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Siri?” you asked through soft giggles.

“I can’t wait to have a kid with you.”

[kentopedia]

seeds of doubt

ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor

summary — you don't feel like you’re good enough for them

contents — they comfort you when you’re feeling insecure about your relationship, sfw !!

notes — my other dazai wip is taking a while, so i decided to finish this one! i started it a few wks ago but since i’ve been feeling a lil down lately, i decided it was time for a comfort piece!

₊˚⊹♡ DAZAI

when you'd come home from work that evening, dazai had already known something was wrong. your usually bright smile didn't quite reach your eyes, your shoulders slumping the moment you crossed the threshold of your home.

dazai hadn't pushed you, but he had drawn you up tight in his arms, held you close when you breathed heavily into his shoulder, releasing all the tension in your body. his fingertips were soothing along your neck, massaging small, relaxing circles.

for the past hour, though it was nearing dinnertime, you'd found yourself buried in blankets, so warmly entangled with him, even when all of your hypercritical thoughts threatened to chill you to the core.

dazai spoke to you softly, asking you questions about your day for a while, ones that you refused to answer. you kept your eyes glued to the screen, watching mindlessly as a movie played, one that neither of you were paying any attention to.

that continued on for as long as he could stand it.

finally, with a sigh, dazai paused the film. he shifted, turning so that you were both face to face, his long limbs twisting around your own. limbs that were always so solid and warm, despite the iciness of his hands.

"kunikida told me what you said."

hesitantly, you stared back with wide eyes, jaw clenching. already, you knew what dazai was talking about. it was something that you'd told kunikida in confidence, because of all the members of the agency, you'd been certain that he was the least likely to spill your true feelings.

you stared back at him blankly, your shoulders stiffening. "hm? we talked a lot today. i'm not sure i know—"

though you pretended not to remember, dazai didn't let you run away from the question.

his lips fell into a frown, unamused. he drew your name out on an exhale, before running his palm over your cheek, across your chin, dipping his fingers into your hair. "don't bother. he's already mad enough at himself for telling me, but he hated how upset you were about it."

"osamu," you began. "i don't—"

"why did you tell him that you think you're not good enough for me?"

the seriousness in his deep brown eyes was so different than his usual playfulness, and you almost withdrew from them, curving deeper into yourself.

though, alongside the stoicism of his expression was something so melancholy, you found yourself offering your unfiltered emotions instead.

a long pause ensued. you breathed.

"because it's true," you finally whispered, your words wispy. "i'm not good enough for you, osamu." you swallowed when his face fell even further. "you're so smart, so handsome. you make me laugh all the time." your eyes grew hot as you felt tears at the edges of them. "i'm so plain compared to you."

"plain?" he repeated back, so wildly upset that you found yourself at a loss for words. "how can you say that, any of that, when i'm the one that's not good enough for you?"

despite yourself, you cracked a smile at his overzealous need to change the narrative. "don't say that just to make me feel better.”

"i'm not.” he frowned, his lips puckering as he held your cheeks, elongating each of the letters. "you're beautiful. inside and out. in a way that i can never be." he kissed the tip of your nose, smiling as you swatting him away. "i'm certainly not funny to everyone, either. i make you laugh only because i love you, and i want to see you smile." he kissed you between the eyebrows, then, this time laughing when the skin wrinkled there. "and i'm smart because i have to be, because i don't want to see the people i care about get hurt if i can do something to stop it." his expression softened at your glossy eyes, the way you slowly melted under his touch.

you let the words sink in, each one slowly chipping away at the doubt that had clouded you. dazai had never looked at you with anything but adoration in his eyes, something he spared for you and you alone, even when you felt unworthy of it.

"you could have anyone you wanted, osamu,” you said, the honest truth twisting something deep within you. “anyone at all.”

"funny," he said, tilting his head as he studied you carefully. "i've always thought the same thing about you."

₊˚⊹♡ CHUUYA

“i’m home,” you heard chuuya shout down the hall. he was always careful to alert you of his presence every time he returned, never wanting you to fear that his enemies had found his home, leaving you vulnerable.

you sniffed, some form of acknowledgement as you swirled the alcohol in the glass, pouring it down your throat. it burned on the way down, a buzz already at the edge of your mind, your thoughts slowing as you it sank into your bloodstream.

chuuya didn’t say anything more as he came into the room, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his hat and coat. there was a healed cut running down his left arm, a cluster of bruises on his left.

even though he’d gone on a dangerous mission earlier, he’d come home relatively unscathed.

despite your endless relief, it only did more to fuel your insecurities, the knowledge that compared to all his infinite glory, you were a lackluster, powerless no one.

you poured another glass, unbeknownst to the fact that chuuya was speaking to you at all.

“what?” you turned, the word slurring; you weren’t even sure what set of syllables had left your lips at all.

chuuya made a face as your head plopped down on the table, your eyes red from the tears you'd expelled. “is something wrong? it’s a little early for this, isn’t it?”

you stared at him, and though he was amused, you turned away, feeling the sour emotion of doubt lodge deep in your chest. “no,” you said in a small voice, turning away from chuuya.

he paused for a moment, his expression sobering before he took the seat next to you. chuuya held out a gloved hand, one that you could only see from your peripheral vision. “you expect me to believe that?”

“nothing’s wrong, chuuya,” you muttered, as sharply as you could in your current state. your arm grew numb under the weight of your head, throat sore from your earlier sobs. “i’m fine.”

chuuya sighed and took the bottle from you. even as you protested, every inch of his expression was so caring and delicate.

“that’s how i know you’re not fine.” he ran a hand over your hair, flattening it as you looked up at him from under wet eyelashes. “please tell me what’s wrong. i don’t like to see you sad, baby.”

though you wanted desperately to keep your mouth shut, you were too drunk to hold in the words. you leaned into his touch, letting the tears roll down your cheeks once more as panic grew in chuuya's eyes.

“i just think you deserve someone better than me, chuuya."

his brow wrinkled, and he blinked twice before shaking his head, puzzled. “what?”

you buried your head further into your forearms, unable to look at him any longer. despite your embarrassment, your lips didn't stop moving, releasing every little secret you'd bottled up since you'd met him

“you deserve someone you don’t have to worry about every time you’re away." you swallowed. "i’m not strong like you, chuuya, i don’t have any special ability that can save me from enemies." you thought of all the people he worked with, all of the ability users in the city that could compliment him so perfectly. "someone out there is a perfect match for you… i just don't think it's me.” you looked back at him, with teary, red eyes, right into his own sullen ones.

he scoffed, but his expression was gentle, open, fingers curling delicately around your wrist. "well, you're certainly wrong about that."

you curled yourself into a ball, resisting him, looking down at his knees instead of his eyes.

“none of that matters to me. i love you just the way you are. even if you were the strongest in the whole world, i'd still do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

you rubbed your cheeks, frowning as chuuya began reeling you in, grabbing you by the wrist to tug you onto his lap. “chuuya..." you said, hesitating as he planted you on his thighs, lips pulled tight in complete sincerity as he spoke his next words.

“i don’t care about anyone else. they could have all the power in the world, and it wouldn’t matter because they wouldn’t be you." he held you steady, one hand on your hip as he let the other caress your cheek gently. "i'll never want anyone else, okay?"

you nodded, though the sadness didn't dispel so easily from your face.

chuuya sighed, offering you as much of a smile as he could, even though he knew it wouldn't be a magic solution to cheer you up. "i'll remind you every day if i have to."

₊˚⊹♡ FYODOR

your hands curled in the water, tracing patterns throughout the soap and bubbles as your thoughts consumed you. it was just after midnight, but you'd woken up alone in your bed, full of thoughts that seemed determined to convince you that you'd never be enough.

though you'd gotten better at dispelling those dismal emotions, they dug their claws in deep this time. you'd crawled out of the cold sheets and drawn yourself a bath, hopeful that it would clear your mind.

fyodor had disappeared, and you weren't sure if he was in another room or if he had left your home completely.

it was quiet, but that told you little; he was always so silent, sneaking up on you with footsteps that never made a sound.

the door creaked open not a moment later, as if he had heard your thoughts. you didn't look over at him, but he sat beside the tub, his slender fingers curling over the porcelain.

"is everything alright?" he asked, his voice soft in the dim bathroom, illuminated only by candles and moonlight. "it's late."

you hummed, and contemplated voicing your thoughts at all. but you were half asleep, drowsy, and it didn't seem to matter what you said. the feelings would still be there, whether you voiced them or not.

still, you hesitated. "am i enough for you?"

you spared him a glance, and his eyes were wide, surprised by your simple question. a brief pause, before he answered, almost gently. "have i made you feel that you are not?"

you leaned your head against the edge of the tub, staring at the ceiling, the cracks in the paint, the uneven texture.

"i sometimes wonder if i'm just a hindrance to your plans." you breathed, thoughtful as he waited for you to finish. "i feel that maybe you'd be better off without me."

fyodor said nothing as you laid in the water, the temperature dropping with each passing minute. quietly, he discarded his clothes, keeping his eyes on you as he climbed into the tub to sit across from you.

he whispered your name once, but you remained silent, breathing in and out, trying to calm your mind.

"would you look at me?” fyodor asked, and the softness in his words was enough.

you sat up, pulling your legs closer to make space for him, even though he held your calf, drew himself towards you instead.

"you know that i do not make decisions lightly, and yet, i decided to share my heart and soul with you." he caressed your knee before letting his hand fall into the water, tracing patterns around your shin. you shivered. "do you really think i would have devoted my time to you if i ever intended on letting you go? if i didn't need you?"

"i know." you frowned, fully aware that it was true, to the deepest part of your soul. still, there was an ache in your mind, one that wouldn’t just go away with his pretty words. "but i can't help the way i sometimes feel."

fyodor smiled, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly at the corners. "i know," he said, and when he had you close, he dipped his head to kiss your bare shoulder. "but you do not need to hide that from me. i am here for you, always." he squeezed your hand. "i apologize if i am not always the best at showing that."

his touch was cold in the exposed bathroom air. "and when you achieve your goals, what will become of me? will you dispose of me, along with everyone else who stops being of used to you?"

"of course not." a laugh escaped him, like your question was unfathomable. "even then, you will be right by my side." he held your jaw tenderly as he forced you to look deep into his eyes. "you are mine forever, don't you understand? just as i am yours.”

dash is a teensy bit dead rn, but i want to let this one go so i can focus on my other wips <3. this was so nice to write though :))

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 25 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, depictions of smoking and excessive drinking, fluff, a whole lot of flirting, some angst. it’s the final chapter, friends!!!! and that’s a warning in itself lol

words: 23.7k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 25 ► can’t promise that things won’t be broken, but i swear that i will never leave, please stay forever with me

The flight to Paris the next morning began quietly, but as was often the case with Rated Riot, it quickly descended into chaos.

Despite Yoongi’s adamant claims that he was “perfectly fine,” he was too hungover to keep his eyes open for more than two seconds at a time. Hoseok, equally plagued by his own hangover, took it upon himself to guide his friend down the airplane aisle. The two of them moved slowly, holding onto seats and, occasionally, the backs of other passengers’ heads. They were, almost literally, the blind leading the blind.

When you stood up to ask where they were going five minutes after the seatbelt sign was turned off, Jungkook gently pulled you back to your seat.

“Leave them,” he said, adjusting his earbud that had almost fallen out when you stood up, pulling on the wire. “They’ll figure it out.”

A soft gasp was heard a few rows ahead when Hoseok accidentally grabbed a woman’s ponytail. Confused and disoriented, he turned to apologise to someone on the other side of the plane.

“I’m not sure they will,” you replied to Jungkook. “They’ll find the emergency exit and try to pry it open.”

“And don’t underestimate them,” he said. “They will succeed at that.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You stood up again. “Give me one second.”

Jungkook grinned but did not try to stop you again.

Yoongi sighed in visible relief when you touched his shoulder. He quickly tried to explain the situation to you, making it sound like Hoseok had led him into a dark, haunted cave, instead of merely managing to guide him—in large, distracting circles—away from the bathrooms by mistake.

Back in his seat, Jungkook wondered about the rest of his friends on the plane. He didn’t know what the other members of his band had been up to after he’d returned to the hotel with you, but he could tell, just by watching Yoongi and Hoseok struggle, that everyone was fighting the after-effects of last night.

Minjun was asleep behind Jungkook, looking rather faded. Jude, meanwhile, had remained in London, where he was waiting for his flight home as he had originally planned.

Jungkook then looked over at Taehyung and Luna, who were seated just behind Minjun. They were pretending very diligently to be engrossed in the film playing on their screens—Jungkook had heard Taehyung cursing earlier as he tried to sync the film for them both—but they were dozing off, too.

Even though not everyone was aware of Sid’s arrest yesterday, it was evident that they all had still unknowingly celebrated the occasion.

“Alright,” you whispered as you returned to your seat after depositing Yoongi and Hoseok in the care of the flight attendants. “If you hear any screams, let me know so I can go back and check if they’re still alive.”

Jungkook gave you an amused look. “You think they’d be screaming if they were dead?”

“You never know with them.”

He chuckled and settled back into his seat now that you were next to him. He picked up a dangling earbud—you had developed a new fondness for wired ones after losing too many AirPods across Europe—and handed it to you, making sure that the one in his left ear was still in place.

You put the earbud back in and leaned back, allowing him to rest his head on your shoulder and resume the Sleep Token song you had been listening to.

“I’m really glad we’re finally on this plane,” he whispered. You turned your head just slightly to hear him better, your chin brushing over his hair, and he was tempted to start speaking in tongues just to feel you even closer in your confusion.

“I know,” you replied. “There were moments when I thought we’d never leave London.”

You felt his head move against your shoulder in agreement.

“Great venue,” he remarked. “But fuck if I didn’t want to get out of there and head straight to Paris.”

You snickered. “You think we’re romanticising Paris just because we won’t have to deal with Sid there anymore?”

“Absolutely,” he replied. He felt uneasy, all of a sudden, as he ran his hand over his thigh, trying not to focus on the unpleasant feeling that Sid's name alone evoked. “I-I’m glad it’s Paris, though. I was ready to pack up to go to the Arctic to get away from him.”

“Oh, penguins,” you said, a playful smile on your lips. “Sounds nice.”

A flight attendant rushed past you in the aisle, on her way to attend to some urgent matter, and even Jungkook raised his head when you began to look around to check if the band members were all in their seats. Yoongi and Hoseok had just returned, bumping into each other and the surrounding seats as they walked back.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, drawing your attention back to him, as he looked out the window, counting, as it seemed, the patches of clouds. “But I didn’t pack a lot of appropriate clothing.”

“Hmm,” you mused, “and I reckon you’d get bored pretty quickly in the Arctic.”

He shifted his gaze from the endless expanse of clouds to give you a very serious look. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” you replied, grinning at the genuine concern in his eyes. “Penguins probably don’t appreciate alternative music as much as you do.”

He observed you for a moment, his own lips stretching into a smile as his eyes briefly flickered to your mouth. The song in your earbuds switched to Friday Pilots Club’s newest single.

“Well,” Jungkook said, just a tad hypnotised by your tongue running over your lower lip, “I’m sure I could change their minds.”

“Oh, most definitely,” you said, having no doubts at all that if Jungkook set his mind to it—if he viewed it as a challenge—he could convince penguins to fly, too.

He appeared very pleased with himself for a moment, and his satisfaction only increased when he returned his head to your shoulder, and you leaned your head against his.

“You’d have to come with me,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow but did not pull back. “To the—to the Arctic?”

“Mhmm,” he affirmed. “It’d be just us two and a bunch of penguins. Fucking rocks, come to think of it. Maybe we should go there straight after Paris.”

You tried to stifle your laughter to avoid disturbing the drowsy plane.

“Or how about we go somewhere warmer?” you suggested. “We’re finished with Sid anyway. Let’s leave the penguins alone.”

Jungkook felt his muscles tense once again. He still felt the weight of Sid’s name on his chest every time it came up, despite having “finished” with him.

To be fair, he didn’t expect this heaviness to disappear soon, but he figured he could learn to live with it. Carrying this weight felt like a reminder of everything he’d survived—of the chains he’d broken, if he wanted to be dramatic about it.

“That’s cool, too,” he said. “I like those cuddly ones—what are they called?—those little ones, with sand-coloured fur, love the sun. Sort of a tiny, pointy face—”

“Meerkats?” you offered.

“Yes!” He snapped his fingers, enthusiastic. “Let’s go where they are. They were cool when we saw them at that new zoo near my house, remember?”

You remembered, of course, even though that had been four or five years ago. You couldn’t recall the dates very well, but you always remembered the moments.

“Oh,” you said, “when a lemur followed you around the room the whole time we were there?”

Jungkook pursed his lips. He remembered the lemur, too; he’d felt a little unsettled around it. Not scared, though. He was never scared of living creatures.

“Hmm,” he nodded, grumbling the next word, “right.”

“You can’t go anywhere without an animal falling in love with you,” you teased. “It’s a bit annoying, actually.”

You placed your hand on his and Jungkook turned his palm over, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Why?” he asked smugly. “Do you feel threatened?”

“Should I?”

“No. What I had with that lemur wasn’t serious. It—”

He had to pause because you laughed, and the pride that suddenly swelled in his chest distracted him from his next words. He rarely made jokes these days unless you were in the room to hear them.

“It had crazy eyes,” he continued after a moment, “kind of like Sid does when he’s been sober for a few days in a row. Freaked me out.”

“Ah,” you said, nodding in amusement. “That explains why it followed you. Could be Sid’s distant relative.”

He snorted. “We’ve gone from rodents to lemurs. I don’t know if that’s an improve—”

“No,” you cut him off, no longer joking. Jungkook raised his head to look at you, surprised by the sudden change in your tone. “Sid’s a rat. He wishes he was something more.”

He lowered his gaze, his own expression growing serious for a moment.

“Yeah,” he said. “Actually, maybe we should have called animal control on him instead of the police.”

The idea brought a wry smile to your face. “He did seem feral the last time we saw him.”

“Hmm. I’m sad that I missed it all.”

“You—no,” you countered again. “You haven’t missed anything. It’s a good thing you weren’t there. Sid didn’t deserve to see you one last time.”

Jungkook knew that. But he still wished he could have seen the look on Sid’s face when he was dragged—kicking and screaming, according to what you’ve told him—into the back of the police car.

“Well, if your plan works as expected,” he said, “I’ll never see him again.”

You noted the hopeful tone in his voice and remembered, suddenly, your conversation in Stockholm, when you had advised Jungkook to find better friends, and he had seemed very remorseful in turn. Back then, he had clung to his friendship with Sid almost desperately, even though the two of them only had their shared history and nothing else in common.

Jungkook had buried it all now—he buried it the moment he realised that there had always been one name standing between him and you, and that name did not belong to either of you—and it still felt strange, but it also felt promising.

“I fucking hope not,” you said. “I hope he gets a fun cellmate and rots in a prison far, far away.”

His smile finally returned. He had been thinking a lot about what Sid would go through once he was arrested.

“I bet he’ll be paired up with someone fantastic,” he said. “When Minjun and I were arrested, we were put in separate cells, and I ended up with this guy—do you remember? He called me ‘sweetheart’, which was very nice. Until I mentioned that we weren’t allowed to smoke here, and he tried to gouge my eyes out. So, the honeymoon phase didn’t last.”

It was remarkable how quickly you laughed. There was a time, not that long ago, when you couldn’t find anything amusing about Jungkook’s arrest at all. You’d been convinced of his guilt and closed your eyes to everything that could have shown even a glimpse of his innocence.

You realised now that you might have just been waiting for Jungkook to do something—a final something—so you could give in to the fear that had been whispering in your ear about the impermanence of relationships since your first date.

I knew it, you had thought to yourself as you headed to that police station. Of course, this would happen. Of course, we’d break up eventually.

Nothing was meant to last forever, that much was true. But now you had come to believe that some people spent their whole lives building their relationship—brick by brick—never growing weary of this never-ending project. You were looking forward to becoming one of those people.

“I remember,” you said, your voice softened by the shift in your memories. “He told me to watch my back when I picked you up. I still don’t know what that was supposed to mean.”

“Maybe he thought I was a proper criminal,” Jungkook suggested.

You scoffed, earning his disapproving glare.

Despite his menacing frame, tattoos, piercings and deliberately provocative clothes, there was nothing truly threatening about Jungkook. He could hold his own in a fight—he was very proud of that—but he had the personality of a gently melted marshmallow. Someone would call his name and his whole face would light up. Someone would make a joke, and he would clap his hands and lean forward as he laughed, even toppling over sometimes—and then he’d do a somersault before landing on his feet.

He was only dangerous if you loved him as much as you did—to the point where it hurt sometimes, but never enough to truly leave.

“You got arrested because Sid set you up,” you said, responding to the scowl on his face with a warm smile. “Not quite as impressive as whatever your cellmate was in there for, I’m assuming.”

Jungkook shrugged, not arguing. “Yeah, it was his fourth time in that cell, he said.”

“Oh, that’s—”

“That week.”

“—fun.” You cleared your throat. “Four times in one week? Why did they keep releasing him?”

“It’s usually small misdemeanours,” he explained. “Urinating on some embassy building, drinking in a public park. That sort of stuff.”

“And,” you said, “he told you about all that while trying to poke your eyes out?”

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling. "It was very Joker.”

You snorted. “Well, this guy sounds like someone Sid would get on well with.”

“Mhmm,” Jungkook agreed. “I think so, too.”

You turned your gaze to the window on his side. There was something very exciting about the possibility of Sid finally experiencing the kind of harassment he had dished out to others. Revenge wasn’t always the answer, but here it fit.

Just like yours, Jungkook’s desire for vengeance burned fiercely beneath the surface, too. It was too strong, however—and too unrealistic, he knew—to fully quench. He knew Sid might not get the justice he deserved in the end, and he couldn’t help but feel a little dispirited.

“It just sucks,” he said, after fighting himself on it for a minute, “that Sid might find a way to make this situation more comfortable for himself.”

You thought about it, but refused to find anything negative in Sid’s current predicament.

“That’s fine, though,” you said. “It’s really bad for him this time. No amount of luxury he can attain in this position will be enough. His reputation means nothing here, but he fucked it up anyway.”

“So, he’ll be even angrier,” Jungkook observed, still not satisfied.

You shrugged. “Good.”

“And he’ll do everything to retaliate.”

“Well,” you remained unperturbed, “we already know that, right?”

“He—”

“Actually,” Minjun popped his head into the gap between your seats, startling you both. Your heavy gasps forced him to pull back a little. “Sorry. I was—I overheard your conversation. I spoke to my dad this morning; he heard that Sid had been arrested. It’s bad. For Sid’s family, I mean. My dad’s taken a day off today, but Sid’s mother is calling an emergency meeting with their shareholders because, obviously, their image has been tarnished. Everyone’s talking. They’re not pleased.”

Jungkook glanced at you. Your raised eyebrows seemed to reflect the excitement he felt rising within him.

“Oh,” Jungkook said slowly, not wanting to get ahead of himself. Sid had a knack—in the form of several black cards—for wriggling out of the deepest holes he’d dug himself into. “That sounds promising.”

“Yeah,” Minjun said. “My dad thinks that Sid’s mum will have to make a choice. It’s very dramatic, but so fucking funny. You know how Sid’s family is very—well, traditional, right? Sid’s mother is the only daughter, she has four older brothers. Her father doesn’t care much about her. Or about her kid.”

Both you and Jungkook remembered Sid’s grandfather. Although you never met him, you heard stories from when Jungkook and Sid worked on restoring cars from his Chevrolet collection. He was a lenient man, accepting of most things, as long as Sid did not step out of line.

“So, if Sid’s mum doesn’t get Sid out of this situation herself,” Minjun continued, “then no one else will. And if she can’t handle it discreetly—and it doesn’t look like she can, it’s already too late—then her father will likely advise her to distance herself from Sid in order to protect the company’s reputation. So, she’ll have to choose between her son, whom she loves so dearly, and the company that she’s worked so hard to build. Kind of poetic, I think.”

You didn’t realise how wide you were grinning until you tried to speak and felt just how far your cheeks had stretched.

“I appreciate what that implies for Sid in both scenarios,” you said, coughing a few times into your fist to compose yourself.

Minjun was less constrained in his glee. “Right? We’re done here. Sid has much bigger things to worry about than plotting revenge.”

Jungkook kissed his index finger and pointed it to the sky, gazing up. “Merry fucking Christmas to us.”

You laughed as the two boys high-fived over your head. Minjun pulled back then, sliding his headphones back on, and Jungkook turned to you again. He was finally able to inhale something that felt like real oxygen instead of the stale air he’d been breathing before.

“So,” he said, pressing his shoulder against yours as your arms rested on the armrest between you. “Meerkats, then?”

You nodded, an eager smile on your lips. “And penguins later.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back to get a better look at you. “You changed your mind?”

You shrugged. The two of you hadn’t paid any attention to the past three songs playing on the pair of earphones you were sharing.

“I’ll go anywhere you go,” you said—with an ease that made Minjun groan behind you with such a deep dedication to his displeasure that you felt your chair vibrate from the sound.

Jungkook was positively beaming, his eyes shining with all the colours that existed in the world, some of which were yet to be discovered.

“Well,” you said, your expression almost turning bashful, and Jungkook’s whole face seemed to start sparkling, “I think I just made Minjun’s soul leave his body for a second.”

“I know,” Jungkook said. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more than I do right now.”

“Oh—” your words dissolved into laughter. “I mean, I knew you were into praise, but not to such an extent.”

“Oh, to such an extent,” he boasted. “Tell me how good I am, and how you’ll never leave me, and you’ll really never get rid of me.”

The affection in your eyes turned a mischievous shade. “I already can’t get rid of you.”

His proud expression did not falter one bit. “It’s because I can sense how much you need me.”

“Ah,” you snickered again, “is that so?”

“Yes.” He reached for your hand again, intertwining your fingers. “Really, I’m being very charitable here.”

Your eyes were locked on the smirk on his lips. “Public service, now, is it?”

“Mhmm,” he said. “Paying off my sins by doing a good deed.”

“I see,” you played along. “Trying to get into heaven after you die?”

He placed your hands on his lap, his thumb caressing yours. “Actually, I’m already there.”

Minjun smacked the back of Jungkook’s seat with enough force to dislodge your earbud from your ear.

“Please go back to talking about meerkats,” he asked from behind you, his tone pleading.

Jungkook laughed, and his unapologetic expression made you smile, too. You finally broke and leaned in to press your lips to his cheek, melting, very successfully, all that was still left of his heart.

“I love you,” you whispered with a look in your eyes that he would have gone to war for.

He squeezed your hand and leaned into you, his cheek grazing yours before he connected your lips, whispering into the kiss, “I love you.”

Your hotel in Paris was an intriguing combination of marble floors with opulent chandeliers in the lobby, and peeling wallpaper with questionable stains marking the walls in the corridors outside of your rooms.

The lift was not working—you’ve already grown used to this in London—so you had to haul your luggage up the creaking stairs. Somewhere around the second floor, Jungkook decided to take a break. He sat down on his dark grey, metallic suitcase, and accidentally rolled down at least five steps before grabbing the railing to stop himself from returning to the lobby on his ass.

The commotion caught the attention of a few porters—who seemed in no hurry to assist you with your luggage—and they informed you, very ominously, that several rock bands before yours had been kicked out of the hotel for “disorderly behaviour.”

Everyone in Rated Riot understood the warning, but you were concerned about the expressions on the members’ faces. There was a certain allure to these threats. Jungkook, in particular, seemed thrilled to see how much he could get away with without getting kicked out.

Fortunately, your first night at the hotel was as quiet as it could be, considering that silence was a relative concept for Rated Riot. Taehyung and Luna had accidentally torn the curtains in their room while “getting ready to sleep,” and Hoseok managed to lose a shoe outside his window, but the hotel staff remained blissfully oblivious about it all. You decided not to ask questions, either.

However, when you woke up the following morning, you almost regretted not giving the members an educational speech about good behaviour in any case, because Jungkook wasn’t in the room with you.

He had never woken up before you in all the years you’ve known him—regardless of how late your last night had been—so you were understandably alarmed. Surely, you thought, he was up to something with the rest of the band.

But then, as you pushed the covers off, the door of your room suddenly opened, and Jungkook walked in, alive and seemingly unharmed. He was surprised to find you staring at him, but his face lit up with a grin as soon as the early morning sunlight from the window behind you caught his silver necklace, momentarily blinding you.

“Hi,” he said. “You’re finally awake.”

You were at an unfortunate loss for words for at least half a minute. It was eight in the morning, and Jungkook had never used the words ‘finally’ and ‘awake’ in the same sentence unless he was referring to himself.

“I finally am,” you replied, your voice hoarse. His smile grew wider as he made his way back to the bed. “Sorry I’ve kept you waiting.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” he replied easily, plopping down beside you. “Should we grab breakfast before your meeting? Or would you prefer after?”

This relaxed demeanour was a characteristic trademark for Jungkook—although it usually concealed much deeper anxiety—but it felt surreal to encounter it so early in the day.

“Where—why are you up?” you finally asked, rubbing your eyes in a futile attempt to force them to stay open.

He shrugged. “Just excited for the day, I guess.”

You noticed a flicker in his gaze as if your question had intimidated him, and you could tell there was something else going on. But he looked genuinely ready for the day, and you didn’t want to risk stirring any tension that you’d been expecting to find this morning but hadn’t.

“Alright,” you said. “Maybe let’s eat after. Do you want to just stay here for a minute?”

Jungkook wanted to stay here for much longer than a minute, and he scooted back to his spot on the right side of the bed. You leaned back into the pillows, closer to him, and he pulled you into his chest, pressing his cheek against yours before turning his head to place a quick kiss on your lips.

It was a grounding kiss—to make sure you were really in this bed with him—but you still felt your anxious thoughts stop, place their hands in their laps obediently, and settle down in his presence—powerless, it seemed, when Jungkook was in the room with you.

It hadn’t really occurred to you how worried you were about your upcoming meeting—the empty room had worked as a sufficient distraction—until Jungkook’s quiet breaths, muffled by your lips pressed to his, took your mind off everything.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, startling you into pulling away. Jungkook sighed, having expected the interruption. He was already getting used to never having you all to himself for too long.

You gave him an apologetic smile and leaned over the bed to check your phone—on the screen was a preview of an email you had been waiting for all week.

“What is it?” he asked, noticing your expression.

“I’ll tell the whole band later,” you said—and elaborated before he could insist on being told first, “but I’ve found a new band to open for you guys for the rest of the tour. They just confirmed they’re available and interested. I don’t know if this is the last thing I’m doing as your manager, but if it is, then I’m quite happy with that. I obviously haven’t signed them yet—they’ve only agreed to discuss the details. But I watched all their performance videos tonight; they’re great.”

Jungkook looked—and very much felt—deflated all of a sudden. “Don’t say that.”

You gave him a puzzled look. “No, really, Maggie said she listens to them, and she—”

“Not that,” he cut in. “The other thing.”

He meant you leaving Rated Riot, of course. But after tossing and turning half the night, you had mostly come to terms with what your life would look like if the label decided to revoke your promotion and terminate your position as Rated Riot’s manager once they learned about your relationship with Jungkook. That would make your meeting twice as unpleasant, of course, but you’d figure it out.

You’d fight to stay, but you’d leave if you had no other choice. You’d find something else to do. And if nothing else worked, Nick’s offer with Reconnaissance was still open—you planned to call him today either way.

“It’s okay,” you said. “We’ll see what happens today.”

Jungkook mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

“Also,” he said then, louder, “what do you mean you watched their performances tonight? Where was I?”

“Asleep.”

He frowned, his expression nearing offence. “And you weren’t? And you didn’t wake me?”

He quickly deduced that you hadn’t slept because you were too nervous. He should have known you would be, and he mentally scolded himself for not realising that sooner. He supposed he missed falling asleep next to you too much to worry about anything else.

“You can hardly say anything when you haven’t told me where you were just now,” you pointed out.

He changed his mind about complaining that you hadn’t woken him.

“I—wait, w-who is this band, then?” he asked instead.

You glanced at your phone after it lit up with another notification—this one from your calendar, reminding you, pointlessly, that you had a meeting in an hour.

“Nyx and the Insomniacs,” you replied, swiping the notification away. “You heard of them?”

Jungkook needed a moment to place the name.

“Yeah,” he said uncertainly, recalling the band but not why they sounded familiar. “I-I think Yoongi knows someone there?”

It wasn’t surprising, considering Yoongi seemed to know someone in every band.

Before you could respond, however, Jungkook added a very determined, “and it’s not going to be the last thing you do as our manager.”

“I hope not,” you said. Not wanting to linger on the topic and lose the few moments you had together before your meeting, you lied back down on the bed and turned to your side to face him. “Now tell me why you were awake so early. I mean, really.”

He sighed—sadly, somehow—at your question. He’d promised the rest of the band he wouldn’t tell you anything just yet. You’d find out where he was soon enough anyway.

“No good reason,” he said, carefully tiptoeing around the truth to avoid a deeper conversation about this. “Nervous, I guess. You and I slept in shifts, apparently.”

“Apparently.”

“Why do you keep asking?” he asked, leaning in closer to nestle his face into the crook of your neck. “Did you want to wake up with me that much?”

“Hmm, I’m conflicted about that,” you said, feeling a rapid wave of shivers run down your spine when his lips touched your neck in a tender, almost imaginary kiss. “Y-you suffocate me in your sleep, so it was nice to breathe for an hour or two.”

His laughter was muffled as he kissed your neck again, moving down to your collarbones and holding you tighter when he felt you squirm in his arms at the feeling.

“Breathing is overrated anyway,” he said.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

You turned your head, and he looked up, smirking first—always—and leaning in to kiss you second. He held your lower lip locked between his, believing—very firmly—that if your head wasn’t spinning after he pulled away, he hadn’t truly kissed you. But as he ran his tongue over your parted lips, his stomach clenching in anticipation of your familiar taste, he heard your phone vibrate once again.

Groaning gibberish curses, he rolled away so you could pick up the device, your expression a mix of amusement and guilt.

“It’s the last time something interrupts us, I promise,” you assured, swiping away another notification as soon as you looked at it. You had decided to only respond to urgent emails this morning to avoid overheating your brain and to prevent Jungkook from scolding you about working too much again. “But I have to—I need to start getting ready.”

He suppressed all further complaints he had prepared to delay you from leaving the bed and forced himself to nod.

“I understand,” he said. “Send me the link to your playlist.”

You had already shifted to the edge of the bed and had to turn back to look at him over your shoulder. “Hmm?”

“I’ll listen to it while I wait for your meeting to finish.”

You turned away again, mumbling an exasperated, “God.”

“Come on,” he urged, crossing his ankles as he watched you from his side of the bed. “I’m awake and bored. Who knows what sort of tomfoolery I might get up to if you leave me unattended.”

“I knew I should have enrolled you in kindergarten.”

He snickered, sitting up suddenly. The more you resisted showing him the playlist, the more he wanted to hear it, and he could not stay still.

Thumping his palms on the mattress with every word, he chanted: “Give—me—the—link—to—”

“Fine, fine,” you relented—he made sure to leave you no other option as his volume grew—and stood up from the bed to unlock your phone. “But don’t open it until I’m out of the room.”

“I won’t,” he said, bouncing on his knees. He looked about ready to roll over and play dead, too, as long as you showed him the playlist.

You glanced at him, avoiding eye contact with the green Spotify circle.

“Promise me,” you said—more to delay what had become inevitable than for any other reason.

He tilted his head, his intrigued smile now bordering on absurd. “Is it that bad?”

“We will never speak of it once you listen.”

“Alright, shit.” He sat down, crossing his legs under himself even though he knew he wouldn’t stay in this position very long. He felt like a Christmas ornament—outrageously jittery and tingly. “I promise. Send it to me.”

“Alright.” You scrolled through your library, digging your teeth into your lip. You felt like you were eighteen again, starting this playlist after Jungkook had taken up residence in your mind without having said one word to you. You had never thought you’d show all these songs to him one day. “Let me find it first. Imagine if it’s gone.”

He sneered. “Imagine if I wouldn’t believe you.”

You glared at him over the top of your phone. He maintained his grin with slightly pursed lips, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

“It’s here,” you said, clicking on the playlist, but deliberately not looking down at the songs.

“Is the title just a row of pink hearts?” he asked and received another glare in response.

He chuckled. He could tell that you were on the verge of bolting for the door in hopes that he wouldn’t chase after you. He absolutely would.

“No,” you said. “It’s actually ‘why?’ in all caps.”

He cleared his throat, looking away. “I don’t get it.”

You finally grinned.

Jungkook already had another question at the tip of his tongue—one that would undoubtedly result in you tackling him—but his phone buzzed with a text notification from you. Glancing down, he grinned. He’d named your contact “LOML <3” a few days ago to annoy Minjun, and now he smiled every time he saw it.

“Got it,” he said, noting the Spotify link in the preview of the message. “Can I open it now, just to check if you sent me the right—?”

“Absolutely not,” you retorted. “I know I sent you the right link. Don’t click on it until I’m out of here.”

Biting back his amusement, he locked his phone and demonstratively pushed it away from himself on the bed.

“Okay, here,” he said, extending his hands to demonstrate the distance between himself and the device. “I’ll entertain myself by watching you put on make-up, then. That works, too.”

You didn’t object—in fact, he saw a smile flash briefly on your features—and he climbed off the bed, following you to the small bathroom.

It was not a pleasant room: two out of three lightbulbs in the fixture on the ceiling weren’t working, so the perpetually foggy mirror on the wall was useless. Most of the wall tiles were cracked, and the bathtub was an odd shade of yellow. But Jungkook wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as he watched you rummage through your cosmetics bag for your toothbrush, and you did not notice any of the flies or the cobwebs by the bathroom window. You did not notice how long you had to wait for the water to turn warm.

At one point, he sniffed your eyeshadow palette—for no reason whatsoever—and began to sneeze so violently and uncontrollably that you had to sit down on the edge of the tub to control your laughter, forgetting all about the awful bathroom and the daunting meeting with the Jett Records’ legal team.

However disruptive he was, Jungkook distracted you from everything that might have brought you down, and you were very grateful to have him here with you.

Sadly, your carefree morning didn’t last long.

Now that Jungkook was no longer with you, you paced outside the conference room on the ground floor of the hotel, obsessively checking your phone. Despite only getting a few hours of sleep tonight, you felt perfectly alert—the stress was great at keeping you sharp—and you noticed the Jett Records representatives as soon as they climbed down from their rooms.

An executive producer, Salma, whom the band had worked with before, showed up in place of CJ’s assistant. She’d left a good impression on you when you first met her, but now she was accompanied by two intimidating lawyers.

The one who introduced himself first—making a joke out of his lengthy full name and asking you to simply call him Reggie—had kinder eyes than the one who talked to you next. He was Duke, and he looked like he ate bricks for breakfast and knit spider webs as a hobby.

Fortunately, Reggie was the one who took the lead in the conversation, promising a quick—“five minutes tops, really”—introduction to the changes in your new contract.

Unfortunately, he ended up keeping everyone in the conference room for over half an hour. The lack of air conditioning in the old hotel, combined with the four of you in the confined space, made the room stifling. You felt yourself beginning to sweat.

“Do you have anything you’d like to ask, or can we move on to some routine questions before we sign the contract?” Reggie asked, pulling out a white handkerchief to wipe his forehead.

“No questions right now,” you replied, restlessly tapping your knee with your left hand under the table.

“Perfect,” Reggie said. “Could we open the window maybe? Would you mind?”

“Oh, actually, I’d prefer it,” you said, and the lawyer let out a sigh of relief. He glanced at Salma, who was sitting closest to the window, and she got up to open it.

It took the producer a minute to figure out the wooden window frame, but once she managed to pull the latch, a gust of eager wind finally blew into the room. The rustling leaves outside and the distant hum of Parisian traffic provided a melodious backdrop, but not even that could ease the knot of tension in your stomach. You felt like you were in the waiting room of a dentist’s office.

“Alright,” Reggie said, setting the papers he had been reading aside and grabbing another stack from the table.

You felt a new wave of heat wash over you, dreading another half hour of monotonous reading, but Reggie blissfully turned to the last few pages.

“We know about your previous job experience,” he said. “But do you have any other sources of income that we should know about?”

“No,” you replied, keeping your responses concise as you flipped through your own copy of the contract to find the page Reggie was on.

He scribbled something down with his engraved Montblanc pen. Duke looked bored next to him as he lazily chewed something—dead bugs, you assumed. Salma, in the meantime, was completely absorbed in her phone.

“Possible conflicts of interest?” Reggie asked, pulling your attention away from the other people in the room.

You took a deep breath. “Yes.”

Reggie turned his pen and asked, without looking up from his papers, “go on.”

“I am in a relationship with the lead vocalist of Rated Riot.”

Gripping the arms of your chair, you held your breath, anticipating raised eyebrows, disapproving glances, and, eventually, a termination of your employment.

But neither Salma nor Duke turned to look at you. Reggie was silent for a moment as he scanned the documents in front of him. You imagined he was searching for a clause outlining the consequences of this particular offence. Your nerves prevented you from checking your own copy.

“That’s already here,” Reggie finally said.

“It’s—hmm?” You straightened in your seat. “Sorry?”

“It already says so here,” Reggie repeated, pointing to a section on his paper and sliding it towards you. “Anything else that we should add?”

You looked down at the text he had indicated. It read, “Private interest of Employee: undisclosed consensual personal relationship without a direct hierarchical link.”

You did not understand what that meant. Skimming the whole paragraph, you caught sight of Jungkook’s name—but Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung were mentioned, too, just a few lines below.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, your hands trembling as you held Reggie’s paper to prevent it from blowing away in the gentle breeze. “The label—it says here that I am in a relationship?”

You felt incredibly foolish to ask for a translation of the words that were written in a language you, technically, spoke, but you couldn’t not ask, either.

“Well, yes,” Reggie confirmed, looking a bit perplexed by your reaction.

“A-and they—how did they—”

Duke was the one who responded to your stuttering.

“HR conducts a background search before they hire someone,” he said as if this was the part you struggled to understand. “This information was included in your contract when you started to work with Jett Records. Didn’t CJ go through this with you?”

He sounded absurdly pleased with himself when he spoke, not even realising how little sense he made. When you joined Jett Records, Rated Riot weren’t signed yet; the band had barely been formed. Your relationship held no relevance to the label. And your position certainly wasn’t important enough to warrant a thorough consultation with the CEO.

“No, he didn’t,” you said, reflexively matching your voice to his condescending tone. “Are you sure this was included in my initial contract? Because Rated Riot weren’t even signed with us when I came to Jett Records.”

Finally, Duke removed his elbows from the table, looking slightly uncomfortable. He seemed to have realised that he had misspoken, and now he’d have to tell you something he wasn’t supposed to.

“It’s, uh—” Duke started to say, then glanced over at Reggie. Reggie glared at him, not willing to help, so Duke tried again. “It—what HR does is more exhaustive than just double-checking everything on your application. They can—if they come across certain information at any point of your employment, and they think it could be, uh, relevant, they inform CJ about it. It appears that he—they probably updated your employee file before you began to work with Rated Riot, that’s why it’s on the contract.”

You kept tucking the strands of your hair behind your ears—a nervous habit that you were too overwhelmed to control.

CJ knew, then. He had an “employee file” about you, and he knew you’d dated Jungkook before he hired you for Rated Riot. You could not understand if he simply didn’t care about your relationship or if said relationship was exactly the reason why he hired you.

“And,” you said, “is there anything else that HR has included in my file?”

This made Duke pull even further back from the table. Reggie sighed. It appeared that they both knew that this—your lack of awareness about how much HR pried into your personal life without your knowledge—could pose a serious problem for the label.

“Well,” Reggie said, skimming over the pages in front of him again, “there’s nothing that could be considered a real conflict of interest.”

“So, we don’t have any problems, then?” you asked, your tone sharper than you’d intended. “Legally?”

The two men across the table from you exchanged a glance.

“Not about the, uh, relationship,” Reggie said, speaking slowly to avoid any further confusion. “Our contracts only prohibit employer-employee relationships. And your direct employer is Christian Jett, not Rated Riot. So, no, in your case, there are no legal issues. And, if anything, from a strictly business perspective, employee relationships, especially those within the band, could be—well, almost profitable, really.”

You continued to watch him, your gaze fading out of focus, and Reggie looked back down at the papers in front of him, very uneasy again. He’d thought he was easing your worries about your relationship being public knowledge, he didn’t expect to make this even worse for you.

Profitable, then. From a strictly business perspective, CJ could have found your relationship profitable, so he hired you for Rated Riot.

You came into this meeting thinking Jungkook was your biggest risk. Instead, your relationship with him was profitable.

You felt too dazed to move.

Duke, meanwhile, observed you with a newfound fascination and a slightly raised brow.

“You, uh,” he cleared his throat, “you weren’t aware of this, then? That your relationship with anyone in the band wouldn’t be a—”

“No,” you replied. “I thought I’d need to formally declare it. I didn’t know it was already in my file.”

You didn’t know there was a file at all, actually—because employees weren’t supposed to know.

And now you wondered what else HR has deemed relevant for everyone at the company to know about you. Nick’s call to you about a job opening with Reconnaissance must have made it to the file, too.

“Hmm.” Duke nodded to himself, then turned to his colleague. “Well that finally explains the email, doesn’t it, Reg?”

Reggie clenched his jaw but did not look up from his papers and did not respond. He did not think this was an appropriate discussion to have right now.

“W-what email?” you asked, almost apprehensive.

Duke turned back to you, studying your expression for a moment. He was trying to determine if your confusion was genuine. To his surprise, it appeared to be. And here he assumed you were the one who had orchestrated this.

“This morning, Min Yoongi sent an email to Jett Records on behalf of the band,” Duke said. “It’s quite late over there, but CJ’s assistant saw it and forwarded it to us.”

Duke went on to explain that it was a scanned copy of a formal letter. The members of Rated Riot stated that they understood the consequences of terminating their contract early, but they would leave the label regardless, unless you continued to work as their manager. All four of them had signed it.

You felt, suddenly, like you had just been catapulted to the seventieth floor—sixty floors above the hotel’s tallest floor—and reached the top in about two seconds. There seemed to be cotton in your ears that made the rest of the room sound foggy somehow.

You realised where Jungkook had been this morning before he returned to your hotel room.

“I see,” you said, and then tried, very poorly, to articulate your thoughts, “I was—I wasn’t—I see.”

You remembered Namjoon telling you once that he and the band would not sit idly if they found out that the label made you resign. You supposed that a part of you had thought it was simply a nice thing to say, and nothing more. You hadn’t expected him to really mean it.

Reggie finally looked up, glancing from Duke’s scowl to your uncomfortable expression.

“Okay,” Reggie said, finally returning to the page in your contract where he had paused earlier. “So, are there any conflicts of interest that we should know about?”

You swallowed, your stomach still clenched as you attempted to process everything, not feeling any relief just yet.

“No,” you said. “There aren’t any.”

“Okay,” Reggie said again. “Shall we proceed then?”

“Yes. Let’s proceed.”

“Perfect. We—”

“Actually,” Salma interjected, putting her phone down. “There’s another matter that CJ wanted me to bring up. If you don’t mind, Reg?”

Reggie pulled back from the papers on the table, a little annoyed, but he motioned for Salma to take over anyway. Duke gazed out the window, completely unfazed by Salma’s disregard for him.

“Alright,” the producer said, turning to you. “The leaked album cover, then.”

You blinked, not having expected to discuss the bathtub picture today. You wondered if that would be a conflict of interest, but decided not to ask. It might turn out to be profitable, too.

“I’ve, uh, explained to CJ that it won’t happen again,” you said.

“We know,” Salma replied. “But CJ is thinking if we should sue. Or, at the very least, threaten legal action? If someone’s spying on your servers—”

“Someone—uh, no,” you scratched the back of your neck, “to be honest, we’ve already taken steps to prevent any future breaches. Anything more than that would be a, uh... waste of resources, really.”

You weren’t lying; you had really contained Sid. And there was no need to divulge more information about that, you thought bitterly. Or they might include that in your file, too.

You still half-expected someone in the room to directly mention Sid anyway, even despite not knowing about his connection to the album cover. He got arrested during the band’s show in London, after all. But no one said anything about him, and you didn’t either.

You felt glad that, aside from publicising the bathtub picture, Sid now held as much significance to your life as the random hotel guest singing loudly outside the conference room window: vaguely bothersome, but largely irrelevant.

“Oh, well, I’m happy to hear that,” Salma said, glancing at Reggie across the table—he was reading something on his phone and didn’t notice her gaze. “I talked to Namjoon for a minute after we arrived last night, but he didn’t mention anything. Has the band decided on a release date for the first single?”

This whole meeting turned out to be something you hadn’t prepared for, and your anxiety didn’t quite know how to handle it.

“Uh, soon,” you replied. “They’re still working on it.”

Salma smiled. Sensing your unease, she reached over to give your shoulder a friendly squeeze.

“Namjoon said exciting things are coming,” she said. You appreciated her light tone. “I can’t wait.”

“Yeah. They definitely are.”

“Alright, well,” Reggie cut in as he put his phone down. His voice sounded a little impatient, but he remained more composed than Duke, who yawned, bored again, and spun in his office chair. “Let’s finish this up, yeah? Still got three more pages to go.”

The three pages ended up taking another half an hour to get through as Reggie went out of his way to explain everything, checking and double-checking every questionable clause, and asking you about all the things that he had initially planned not to ask about. He was still worried about the company’s laid-back attitude towards employee privacy, you could tell. But you were so tired of this that you were almost ready to sign anything just to finally leave this room.

Once the meeting finally concluded—and you did, in fact, have to sign at least ten dotted lines—you found out that Reggie and Duke had decided to stay in Paris to see Rated Riot’s show. Salma promised them it would be great and took them to lunch at a café a few blocks away, giving you a wink as she left. She saved you from more small talk, and you made a mental note to buy her a drink sometime later.

There was another important conversation you needed to have today, and dialling Nick’s number after everything you’ve already endured turned out to be very easy.

You hoped to explain everything to him quickly, maintaining a good relationship with him in case of potential collaborations between the bands you managed. But you ended up being a little too diplomatic: you had to repeat your refusal to join his team three times before Nick understood what you were saying.

He was not surprised. He said that he’d been hearing a lot about Rated Riot every time he went out with someone from his staff, so he understood your decision to stay with them. And then, most unexpectedly, he asked if you could arrange for him and a few Reconnaissance members to attend one of Rated Riot’s final European shows in Italy.

This time, it was Nick who had to repeat himself three times for you to comprehend the request.

You were well aware of the admiration and reverence that Rated Riot had for Reconnaissance; the number of times that the boys had attended their concerts was too inappropriate to mention out loud.

Now, the members of Reconnaissance were interested in attending Rated Riot’s show. And despite your skin tingling with excitement, you were almost afraid to share this news with the band, fearing they might break something—namely, their necks—once they heard about it.

As promised, Jungkook waited until you left for your meeting before he ensconced himself in your empty hotel room, anticipation pulsating a lively rhythm in his chest.

When your playlist loaded on his screen—actually titled, ‘why?’ in all capital letters as you’d said—he checked the duration and briefly considered finding heart drops before he began to listen.

Scrolling through the tracks, he noticed the dates when you added them to the playlist, offering him a clear roadmap of your emotions over the years. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself as he reclined on the bed and tried to relax.

The first song was added about two weeks after the Freshman event where you claimed to have noticed him for the first time. It was a song by Dashboard Confessional—“My heart is yours to fill or burst, to break or bury, or wear as jewelry, whichever you prefer”—and Jungkook accepted that not even heart drops could help him get through this playlist.

When, three songs later, he reached Bring Me The Horizon—“Your voice makes my heart skip beats, so keep quiet before it flatlines”—and realised that he still hadn’t talked to you at this point in the playlist, he felt his hands begin to shake.

It was true, then. You had really seen him for the first time at the same moment he had seen you, and you’ve had a crush on him since then, too.

The lyrics of the next song by Black Veil Brides—“One look and I am sold, you got me on my knees”—were a prophecy, because this was where it all began. You’ve added it just one day after your first conversation outside of class, and it marked the point where Jungkook recognised every word of every upcoming song because he’d experienced them all with you.

Bad Omens’ “Crawl” brought back your first date in the park under the pouring rain, where the two of you had revealed everything that weighed on you, despite only knowing each other for a little over a week. Jungkook recalled a sense of disbelief at how easily the two of you had connected. Logically, there should have been barriers between you, things that you kept to yourselves for fear of scaring each other away. But sharing everything from that very first moment had felt right—it was later that honesty became scary.

Between the city's gates and nowhere is where I'll be, my dear. Ghost of soldiers will greet you and point the way to me, my dear.

Sleep Token’s “Fields of Elation” reminded him of your second date at the carnival, where he had stumbled over his thoughts, attempting to ask you to be his girlfriend. You’d said yes, despite not understanding his jumbled question. He remembered the anticipation he’d felt back then, too: he wanted to kiss you so much that he was nearly vibrating, nearly spinning on an invisible propeller attached to his chest. And when he finally pressed his lips to yours, he thought he’d never pull away again.

Your name is a sin I breathe like oxygen, caught in the careless arms of lust again.

Biffy Clyro’s “Many of Horror” was a song that echoed through every significant moment in your relationship. Jungkook noted that you’d added it a few days after the first time he’d stayed over at your dorm room. It had actually been an accident: you brought him back after a campus party to help him sober up a little, and he ended up falling asleep on your bed. He woke up sometime at three in the morning, and the two of you stayed up talking and listening to music for the rest of the night.

If Jungkook closed his eyes right now, he could still see you watching him as he sang along to the song for the very first time, your hands intertwined on the pillows on your bed. You had always looked at him with something magical in your gaze, and he remembered how long it took for him to get used to maintaining eye contact with you without feeling dizzy.

I still believe, it’s you and me ‘til the end of time.

He reached Paramore’s “The Only Exception” shortly after that, and had to play it twice because the first listen had emptied his thoughts. You’ve added the song—with a line that he could not get through without his breath hitching: “That was the day that I promised I’d never sing of love if it does not exist, but darling, you are the only exception”—at least a month before he first told you he loved you under a canopy of blooming cherry blossoms.

There was also an Architects song on your playlist right after that—“I used to think that I knew better than those around me, but something changed along the way, and you’re the reason I’m wanting to stay”—and he remembered, right away, all the fears the two of you used to have, and all the fears you were still fighting to this day. You had never been sure if you believed in love, and he struggled to accept that he didn’t need to work in order to deserve love. But all of that had seemed trivial back then, almost irrelevant when you were staying up until the sunrise in your dorm room, your eyes bright, your hearts awake. Jungkook could tell, as he listened to your playlist, that you were already in love.

Your communication used to be so effortless back then. It only became harder to keep talking to each other when your relationship grew into the most meaningful aspect of your lives. The fear of damaging it made you both retreat into silence.

Now, you had both grown enough to understand that it wasn’t silence that saved a relationship; it was the willingness to talk about it.

There were a few Reconnaissance songs in your playlist, too, and Jungkook smiled again, knowing he was the reason you’d added them. He remembered the excitement of attending the band’s show for the first time. You’d been there with him, even though you hadn’t heard their music before, and he’d felt elated when you admitted how much you enjoyed it.

It would be beautiful, Jungkook thought in a sudden moment of solemn reflection, if you went on to manage Reconnaissance now. But it’d be equally as beautiful if you stayed with him, allowing Rated Riot to surpass the one band that he had admired for most of his life.

Checking the time on the corner of his screen, Jungkook concluded that your meeting must have already started. Taking a deep breath, he skipped the next few Reconnaissance songs.

Def Leppard’s “When Love And Hate Collide” played next, and Jungkook chuckled at the memory of your first Valentine’s Day together. You had gone to a restaurant for dinner, and you’d both had a little too much wine. This song had started to play and despite hearing it for the first time, he tried very hard to serenade you from across the table: “one night alone is like a year without you, baby.” His tongue kept getting caught on his teeth as he tried to guess the next lyrics, but you were making half-hearted attempts to shush him as you laughed, and he silently vowed to spend every Valentine’s Day with you for the rest of his life.

He doubted he grasped how serious he was about this promise back then. There were only two Valentine’s Days that he had to survive without you—and he drank them both away, understandably—but since you re-entered his life, he had kept his word.

He was drunk when he sent you flowers for Valentine’s Day that first February after you started to work with Rated Riot. He was rarely sober at the time, so this wasn’t unusual, but he had enough brain to leave an anonymous note with the flowers. He knew you might quit on the spot if you learned that the bouquet of roses was from him.

Honestly, he couldn’t explain why he felt compelled to send you the flowers at all. You were broken up for two years at that point, and he prided himself on having moved on. But then he sent you another bouquet the next Valentine’s Day, just a few months before the start of this tour. He didn’t know why he did it that time, either.

He told himself that it was tradition, ignoring the blatant truth that he was still excessively in love with you. Claiming that this was just a habit was simply a good way to justify his actions to himself.

You never mentioned anything, so he assumed you never suspected him to be behind the flowers—and he was relieved. He knew he would have had to downplay it if you confronted him about it, and he didn’t want to. He wasn’t joking. He’d meant every stem, every sharp thorn, and every scarlet petal.

An overwhelming number of Arctic Monkeys songs in your playlist followed your first spring together: double-dates with Kihyun and Chloé, meeting each other’s families, attending campus parties together, and spending nights in your dorm room where you’d study and he’d do everything to distract you.

The lyrics of “R U Mine?”—“Unfair we’re not somewhere misbehaving for days”—reminded him of one night when the two of you were smoking outside of a party, on the corner of the library building. You had used his lighter to burn the first letters of your names on the wall, with a heart in between. You were drunk, of course, but this was the first time he’d seen you break the campus rules by defacing a public building.

A few months later, when you were walking around campus with Kihyun and Chloé, Kihyun had spotted the two initials on the wall of the library, and paused.

“Wait,” he’d said, eyeing the burn marks, “this kind of looks like—”

“Yeah, I did that,” you’d cut him off, and walked away without looking back.

Surprised, Kihyun turned to him, and Jungkook grinned proudly, running to catch up with you. He knew, at that moment, that he would be truly, wholeheartedly yours forever.

Your summer roadtrip songs came next in your playlist, and Jungkook could no longer sit idly as he listened to Papa Roach’s, “you know I love it when you’re down on your knees, and I’m a junkie for the way that you please.” He remembered you singing along and stealing kisses as he drove the two of you down coastal roads in a rental car. He remembered chasing you down the beach, stumbling over abandoned sandcastles, and washing the sand off your skin every night. He remembered every moment vividly and he was very close to tearing the mattress with his nostalgic bouncing.

Bring Me The Horizon’s “Follow You” marked your first anniversary, and it was easily one of the most played songs during your relationship. Jungkook remembered having a dream, months before your anniversary, about renting a convertible and taking you to a restaurant that he definitely couldn’t afford. And he made it happen—even despite some unexpected challenges along the way, like your battle with bugs and the wind in the car. Still, you managed to arrive at the restaurant two minutes before your reservation was cancelled. And all that this experience taught him was that he was perfect with anything, no matter how messy and downright chaotic, as long as you were with him.

So you can drag me through hell, if it meant I could hold your hand.

The Ramones’ “Do You Wanna Dance?” took him back to the days in your dorm room when you were practically living together: you’d come back after class and spend the afternoon eating snacks, watching films, sometimes going out to get groceries and drinks. And you’d dance a lot—although, at first, you merely nodded your head or tapped your feet while he got entangled in the curtains with his ridiculous, extravagant moves. He always pulled you in to join him, sooner or later. And despite your accidental kicks to his shins, you soon found yourself at complete ease. You had never thought you’d dance without getting drunk first, and Jungkook took pride in pushing you out of your comfort zone. He hadn’t yet realised—not fully—that he was your comfort zone.

Do you wanna dance and hold my hand? Tell me, baby, I’m your lover man.

You added Fall Out Boy’s “Homesick At Space Camp” to your playlist during your hospital stay six years ago, and Jungkook had to remind his heart to keep beating as he listened to the song. You had argued so much back then—you were mad that he’d wasted his time by calling an ambulance for you, and he was mad that he had no other choice. You were mad that he’d failed his exam, and he was mad that he couldn’t tell you the real reason he’d failed. But the underlying truth behind all those arguments was that you both cared about each other too much.

The song also reminded him of you fainting on this tour. You protested and complained that time, too. But you’d stayed in bed. You’d listened. And you’d finally accepted, he could tell, how much your well-being mattered to him, and how deeply he regretted taking you for granted.

My smile’s an open wound without you.

Hearing Backstreet Boys in your playlist next made him shake his head to himself. He couldn’t escape the nightmares from the birthday party when he’d performed “As Long As You Love Me”, but he supposed he didn’t really want to escape that much anyway. This night had brought you so much joy. Really, that was the only reason he sang that song for you—he saw the way your eyes glittered, the way you clapped your hands and laughed as he set up the chair for his performance. He would have done far stupider things to see you laugh like that again.

Several more Architects songs, vastly different from the ones he heard before, marked your second Valentine’s Day. That was the year he gave himself a concussion and earned a month-long suspension for “stealing” the laboratory projector. You’d spent that month together in your dorm, and even despite his many blunders, Jungkook could sense from the songs in your playlist that your relationship was still going well.

He scrolled past several uplifting dance hits and slower love ballads, listening to a few seconds of each—just so he could taste the memories of those days on his tongue. Just so he could remember humming these songs in your ear before you fell asleep on his bed, your feet cold against his ankles. And he felt his chest expand at the thought that you were listening to these same songs without him, too. It thrilled him to imagine that you thought of him before falling asleep as often as he’d thought of you.

He found many songs that his grandmother had recommended in your playlist, and his heart warmed as he played Black Sabbath’s “Symptom of the Universe”, Mötley Crüe’s “Helter Skelter”, Corrosion of Conformity’s “Albatross” and several others that the two of you had come to love. He recalled how touched his grandmother had been—almost as much as he was—when she saw your eyes light up at her music collection. You had earned her endless affection when you complimented her taste in music and wrote down the song titles to look them up later.

Jungkook lingered on the first of the several Type O Negative tracks in your playlist, reminiscing about the countless moments when he felt your weight behind him on one of the motorcycles he’d borrowed from Sid to take you on a ride. Although you never played music on his bike, certain songs still revoked memories of your hands tightening around his waist as he accelerated, the city lights blending into a blur around you, the wind catching your hair when he helped you remove your helmet.

Now close those eyes and let me love you to death.

Sleeping with Sirens’ “All My Heart” brought back the summer when he had dyed his hair pink. That summer, the two of you travelled across the country to see Reconnaissance live for the third time. That same summer, you bought him the “JK” keychain (he’d already reattached it to the keys to his Katana). He played basketball with your little brother that summer, too, always letting him win. Actually, he would never admit this out loud, but he’d stopped holding back eventually, because your brother proved to be exceptionally—unfairly, even—skilled. Jungkook had joked and laughed, and hoped you would think he was missing his shots on purpose.

Those late summers we may stay up talking all night. I ask, “you think we’ll ever make it?”, you say, “I’m sure, if it’s right.”

Next came I See Stars’ cover of “Latch”, and Jungkook felt his smile grow wider. You fell in love with the song on your second anniversary when both of you had the flu and spent that entire week in bed in your dorm room. Technically, Jungkook had gotten sick first—but you refused to leave his side, and the two of you ended up celebrating the occasion with cough drops and swollen lymph nodes. You weren’t awake enough to watch any films that week, but you were just lucid enough to listen to music and cough rhythmically.

Now I’ve got you in my space, I won’t let go of you. Got you shackled in my embrace, I’m latching onto you.

He closed his eyes as he listened to the songs that followed, feeling himself return to the days you’d spent baking in the cramped kitchen of his dormitory, the long roads home you’d taken after class just to spend more time together, the many instruments you’d tried to learn and failed miserably.

These were the days you’d wait for him before classes with two paper cups of coffee. The days you’d send him silly selfies and threaten murder if he kept them (he kept them). The days you’d throw notes at him in the middle of your shared lectures, intentionally aiming for his head: you’d draw a heart in the middle of the paper, and nothing else. These were the days that he dreamed about, years later, when he was missing you too much to breathe.

But then, looking down as though caught in some crime, Jungkook realised that there was something else in between these memories. There were nights he’d spend drinking and drag-racing with Sid and the others. There were arguments with you and childish silent treatments. He remembered how much time he’d spent trying to find a way to make it up to you, but never actually did.

Nothing But Thieves began to play “Afterlife” on your playlist, and it reminded Jungkook of the day you went with him to get his first tattoo. He’d gone out with Sid the night before—he usually did back then—and the two of you had argued about it again. But despite the tension, you’d grabbed your bag and left for the tattoo parlour with him.

Looking back now, he realised—with a violent stab in his heart—that this might have been the last good moment in your relationship before it all fell apart around you. You had laughed and teased him that whole day, but he couldn’t forget the look on your face after he’d walked you home later. He couldn’t even touch you then because he was carrying his gym bag in his left hand, and his right one was bandaged to protect the fresh ink.

“You’ll take care of it, right?” you’d asked him outside of your dorm. “Don’t get an infection.”

“I’m not sure I’ll manage,” he’d teased. “You might have to keep an eye on me.”

And you’d smiled, but it hadn’t quite reached your eyes. You’d promised to come over and look at the tattoo for him—and you had, every day—but your voice sounded weary. He’d kissed you before leaving, and you’d kissed him back, but your lips quivered when you pulled away.

He’d seen all the signs, but he had not known what to do.

It was only ever you, it was only ever you, my baby. It feels like a lifetime, oh God, I don’t think I could do two.

Your third-anniversary song was Asking Alexandria’s “I Won’t Give In.” It was significantly less happy compared to some of the previous songs, but your third anniversary was significantly less happy, too. Jungkook had wanted to make it special for you—to make up for all the days that weren’t—so he bought tickets to a special screening of Howl’s Moving Castle at the small cinema outside of campus. He persuaded the lady at the ticket office not to sell any other tickets with a heart-wrenching story about how he was trying to save his relationship—in retrospect, he didn’t think he was lying—so it’d just be the two of you in the theatre.

He had brought you wildflowers that he’d picked himself because he only remembered the flowers halfway to your house. But he had a bruise running alongside his forearm from where he had driven the car that Sid had gifted him into the metal fence of an abandoned factory, and you understood right away what he’d been doing that whole week. You saw his bruises, saw the incessant messages lighting up his phone, and sighed, telling him that you were too tired to go out tonight.

“Maybe another time,” you’d said.

“But,” he’d tried to argue, his voice a whisper, “it’s our anniversary.”

“I know,” you’d replied, and he saw the regret in your eyes when you stopped avoiding his gaze for a second. “Maybe we could stay here instead, and—”

His phone had started to vibrate, cutting you off. He’d glanced at Sid’s name on his screen, then put his phone away.

“Sorry,” he’d said, ignoring the call. “We made plans to meet up later, but Sid can’t tell the time.”

He hadn’t even realised what he’d said—not even when you swallowed and clenched your jaw.

“You’re meeting later?” you’d asked.

“Yeah, but just for a few hour—”

“It’s okay,” you’d said. “You can go ahead and meet up now. I don’t feel like doing much today anyway.”

He had started to protest, of course. He had enough sense to understand that it wasn’t right, he couldn’t just go out with Sid on your anniversary without celebrating it with you first. But you’d closed the door in his face—gently, but the sound of the lock clicking still echoed in his head years later.

When this night returned to haunt his dreams, Jungkook always knocked on your door again. He begged and demanded you let him back inside. He stayed outside your door the whole night, waiting for you to come out.

He’d done none of that back then. He’d turned around and answered Sid’s call.

I gave you everything, I never thought we would end up like this. I gave you everything, if I can’t let you go, save me, please.

Jungkook could see now that he had reached the point in the playlist where every track worked like kerosene on his burning skin. He listened to several Bullet For My Valentine and Invent Animate songs, skipping them after the first verse, not even making it to the chorus, because he knew what the lyrics reminded him of, and he did not want to remember.

However, a Biffy Clyro song that you’d added to your playlist a few days after your break-up made him turn on his back on the bed, every muscle in his body tensed. He would listen to this one because he had to—even though he knew the lyrics by heart.

You can’t understand that I won’t leave ‘til we’re finished here, and then you’ll find out where it all went wrong.

It really did take him years to understand. You’d stayed with him through entire weeks of silence, through numerous break-up songs, and he had been too blind, too paralysed—too fucking distracted—to do anything. He’d convinced himself that if he didn’t acknowledge your troubles, the two of you would be okay. He hadn’t even bothered to think about how bad these troubles were.

You were hoping you’d be okay, too. And you stayed until it was clear that you wouldn’t be.

Your playlist changed after the two of you broke up. And, as he scrolled down a bit, Jungkook noticed a pattern. He doubted you were aware of it, but the songs seemed to progress, like a true textbook case, right through the stages of grief. And his heart sank when he realised that the first stage—Denial—had started while you were still together.

Asking Alexandria’s “Killing You” was the start of the Anger stage, and Jungkook forced himself to listen to at least half of each song, his jaw tightening with every lyric that ripped another splinter from his heart.

Three years of torment and torturous love, stained with tears and mistrust, enough is enough.

As your playlist reached the Bargaining stage, Jungkook felt the room closing in on him. Bad Omens began to sing “The Letdown” and he forced himself to sit up again. This was the song that he’d spent many sleepless nights praying to.

He listened to it now and realised that he’d never gone through Denial or Anger. You’d left him and he moved right into Bargaining, and he’d stayed there for the entirety of those four years that he wasn’t with you.

If I could make it simpler, if I could get back to the start, I would keep you even closer so that I could hear your heart.

He tried to tally up the amount of alcohol he’d consumed through those years without you, and the amount he’d consumed after you started to work with Rated Riot.

And he realised now that a subconscious part of him might have been conditioned into believing that if he drank too much—if he drank just enough for it to be too much—then Sid would call you to pick him up, and you’d come.

So he drank a lot.

There was one night in particular when his drinking nearly killed him: he’d assumed you were out on a date with someone else and he abruptly lost all purpose. Sid had called you that night—of course—and you came to pick him up—of course. Jungkook slurred through a “where were you?” that he knew he had no right to ask you, and you’d said, “I had dinner with the executives. We were discussing your band.” He couldn’t remember what happened next; he must have blacked out. He was hungover for three days straight after that—and you yelled at him every day for the next two weeks—but he felt ridiculously relieved.

Your playlist transitioned into Depression and the air around him thickened. Jungkook listened to Nothing But Thieves again, and he thought he could feel the cold, tiled floors of his bathroom under his feet—the bathroom where he’d woken up on so many afternoons, his head resting against the porcelain of the toilet, the room spinning out of control around him. It used to take him about three seconds to recognise his surroundings and remember the state that his life was in, and he would start seeking a remedy for his throbbing sobriety again.

And now it hurts what we’ve become ‘cause you taught me how to love. It’s me who taught you how to stop.

Your playlist continued and Jungkook recognised fragments of his life—both, after your break-up, and after you’ve started to work together—in every song that played next, starting from blink-182—“I feel like the moon is spinning off into outer space without you, the universe an empty place without you”—moving into Slipknot—“I still press your letters to my lips and cherish them in parts of me that savour every kiss. I couldn’t face a life without your light, but all of that was ripped apart when you refused to fight”—and finishing with Bon Jovi—“It’s been raining since you left me, now I’m drowning in the flood, you see, I’ve always been a fighter, but without you, I give up.”

These were the songs that you used to listen to together, some of them not memorable enough to leave a lasting impression, others not reflecting your feelings at the time. You didn’t add them to your playlist until after you broke up, and the lyrics started to resonate. Jungkook had listened to the same songs when he couldn’t sleep—not to cure his insomnia, but to drown out his thoughts. To have someone else narrate his memories so he wouldn’t have to listen to himself.

It dawned on him just then that you’d come full circle: from waiting a year to talk about your crushes on each other, to waiting several years to talk about all the years that you’d spent not talking to each other.

Swallowing hard, Jungkook continued. He listened to Sleep Token’s “Blood Sport”—“Even if the sky cracks in mourning and the heavens just won’t open up for me, would you invite me in again?”—and hesitated here, afraid of the next song. Here, you were still hopeful. Still bargaining. He didn’t think he was ready to find Acceptance in your playlist.

But “Patience” by Guns N’ Roses followed up next—“If I can’t have you right now, I’ll wait, dear”—and Jungkook started to fidget. He only listened to a few seconds of the song, just long enough to brace himself, and then scrolled down to the very end of your playlist.

He paused it immediately.

The final song on your playlist was “Hollow Crown” by Architects. You’ve added it eleven days before he saw you in the meeting room at Jett Records, with CJ’s arm around your shoulders as he introduced you to Jungkook as Rated Riot’s new manager.

These wounds have bled and pages fly by, the lyrics of the song went. I need to feel you right by my side.

It was truly incredible how quickly the song healed his heart, how quickly it dispelled the thick tar of dread in his stomach—because it wasn’t Acceptance that finished your playlist. It was the same otherworldly sentiment—the one you had refused to name or even acknowledge for years—that started the playlist, too.

You didn’t add any more songs after you started to work together, but you didn’t have to. Jungkook knew what happened next. And now he knew that you’d been waiting for him for as long as he’d been waiting for you.

His phone suddenly vibrated in his hand, and he jumped up, exiting the Spotify app in surprise. It was a text from you, and he stood up immediately.

You were saying you’d meet him in the lobby in half an hour, but he couldn’t sit still for that long.

He went down to wait for you.

Jungkook wasn’t in the lobby when you arrived. You saw him in the courtyard through the window, carefully balancing on the edge of the decorative circle in the stone tiles.

When he caught sight of you in his peripheral vision, he stopped and you paused in the doorway of the hotel, too. The sunbeams danced in his eyes when he turned to you, the silver piercing glinting against his lip as his smile stretched.

You were so in love with him that it shouldn’t have been possible.

He waited for approximately a quarter of a second once he saw you take a step towards him—a reaction speed that could have made Formula One drivers envious—before breaking into a sprint towards you. He met you halfway and wrapped his arms around your waist in a tight embrace that nearly knocked you both to the floor.

He held you without saying one word for an obscene amount of time. He had always struggled to describe what he was feeling, but he usually tried to find something to say anyway. Now he wasn’t trying anymore—and all of his feelings had never been louder.

“You listened to my playlist, I take it,” you said, one hand tracing the contours of his back, the other tangled in the edges of his hair.

Jungkook nodded, attempting to respond, but the wind and the roughness of your jacket against his cheek swallowed his words. So, he held onto you tighter, thinking, all the while, that the only true peace he was able to find in his life was with you. And he’d been scared for so long—terrified right out of his mind—that he would never feel this peace again. That he would never feel you again.

“Why didn’t you show it to me before?” he asked, his hesitant voice reaching you in the form of shivers on your spine.

You gave a careful shrug.

“It’s embarrassing,” you said—but your arms remained around him in the middle of the courtyard, in plain view for everyone inside the hotel to see, and it was a little hard to believe that there was anything you wouldn’t have done with him or for him, embarrassed or not.

He lifted his head to meet your gaze, a quizzical eyebrow arched on his otherwise warm features. “Loving me is embarrassing?”

You smiled, lowering your hands from his hair to the back of the silver chain around his neck.

“No,” you said. “Pining over you is.”

He observed you for a moment, trying to read your expression to gauge how your meeting went without having to ask. You weren’t saying anything, and he immediately assumed the worst.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped back, but kept his hand on your elbow to keep touching you, however faintly.

“So, how was it?” he asked. “When are you leaving?”

He had only given you one option, but he appeared to dread the thought of you confirming his fears.

“Never,” you said, a little amused by his extreme pessimism. “Can you wait that long?”

The sudden fire in his eyes suited him better than any piece of clothing or expensive jewellery ever could.

“Yeah?” he asked, returning to his spot right in front of you, his chest brushing against yours.

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a smile that he’d been looking forward to for days. “I’ve signed the new contract. The lawyers are staying here to attend your show. It looks like we’re taking over the world. Life is good.”

“Fuck yeah, life is good!” he shouted, the happiness in his voice reverberating off the buildings around you.

His relief was immense and almost impossible to contain within. You’d already promised him that you’d stay together no matter what happened today, but he wanted you here. And you were here. And now he could finally start righting his wrongs and creating new playlists with you—ones that wouldn’t hurt to listen to years later.

Before you could say anything, Jungkook sneaked his arms around your waist again and lifted you slightly off the ground—just enough to spin you around in a dizzying, ecstatic circle.

“Wait, wait, wait—” you pleaded, but your surprised laughter sent his heart straight past heaven, and he could not wait. “Th-the email. Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

He put you down but kept his hands on your waist to steady you.

“What emai—oh.” His gaze drifted past you, then dropped to the ground. “They got it, then?”

You nodded. “They got it.”

“I assume it made no difference.”

“It made a difference,” you said because that email was the only thing from that meeting that you wanted to remember. Jungkook glanced at you, but the gratitude in your eyes was so intense that he looked away again. “It could have been a huge risk. Why did you do that?”

He shrugged. It was an easy decision. No one in the band had objected when Yoongi suggested it before the last show in London. They hoped that the threat of leaving would be enough, but if it came to it, they were prepared to actually leave the label with you.

“I go where you go,” he said with a soft smile, repeating the words you’d said to him on the plane to Paris. “And my band and I are a package deal.”

You grinned, and even though the sky above you was now the colour of muddy, melted ice—a clear reminder that summer was over—you felt like you had just emerged from a dreadfully long and stressful hibernation. Your skin tingled with an almost insatiable urge to experience it all: the rain, the sunshine, and all that came in between.

“Thank you,” you said. “I want to stay with all of you.”

“Yeah?” He was close enough to touch your forehead with his, his lips curling into a smirk. “But with me the most, right?”

You took advantage of the moment when he glanced down to your lips and leaned in to kiss him—for just a second, before you pulled back to see the surprised wonder in his eyes.

“Of course,” you said. “You’ve always been my favourite.”

In an instant, Jungkook found himself back there again—somewhere in the days between Bad Omens and Biffy Clyro—dancing on the creaking floors of your dorm room, sneaking away to a random balcony during campus parties to steal a moment alone with you, and making up scenarios of what your future together would look like.

He realised that the two of you had never truly left those days; you’ve merely paused them. But the music—your music, together—continued to play.

In a split second, he pulled you as close to himself as he could, and pressed his lips to yours in a proper kiss. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you kissed him back, your taste so captivating, so completely tempting, that he lost several heartbeats on your tongue. He knew that your kiss would kill him one of these days, and he pitied everyone who would keep living.

“Oh!” you gasped suddenly, breaking the kiss and nearly causing him to flinch. He loosened his hold, alarmed. “The label—they thought we were together this whole time, by the way.”

Jungkook blinked, then frowned, then blinked a few more times—frozen for one, two, three seconds before taking a cautious step away from you.

He regarded you with scepticism for a long minute. Then his left eye twitched.

“What?” he asked.

You bit your lip, nodding at the absurdity. “I know.”

Jungkook continued to look like he had just witnessed the second coming of Christ, and it wasn’t quite what he expected.

“So, what was all of this for—”

“I don’t know,” you replied, the clutches of anxiety in your stomach finally easing. “A good song came out of it all, though.”

“A good so—yeah, and a heightened risk of a heart attack at twenty-six,” he snapped, furrowing his eyebrows again. “How do—what do you mean they thought we were—how? The whole time?”

“Yeah.”

He began to pace around you in the courtyard, his hands rising higher and higher with each attempt at a sentence. He seemed to be talking to spirits that only he could see.

“And they—and you didn’t—so we could have just—”

You nodded empathetically. “Mhmm. Seems so.”

He finally stopped and turned to you. “Am I asleep right now? Is this a joke?”

“No, they knew about it all along,” you said. “Actually, it gets worse. It seems that CJ might have hired me for Rated Riot precisely because we had dated.”

Jungkook widened his eyes for only a moment, still appearing a little perplexed, but no longer outraged. He turned away, lost in thought all of a sudden, and poked a loose tile with the edge of his boot.

“What’s—what are you thinking?” you asked, a little concerned about his abrupt silence.

“I—nothing. I’m just—that reminded me of something,” he replied, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “After we signed with Jett Records, there was this, I don’t know, weird moment. We came in for our first formal meeting with CJ, and he kept staring at me. The band had jokingly told him that I was the lead songwriter—which I’m definitely not—so I assumed that was the reason. And then, as we were leaving the room, he shook my hand for a whole minute and said, “I have incredible things planned for you. Let’s make that “Haunting” Part Two happen, yeah?” I didn’t think much of it at the time, but it—I don’t know.”

You didn’t like how quickly Jungkook offered a story that supported everything that Reggie and Duke had told you earlier today, and you frowned, struggling to grasp the multitude of thoughts and questions in your mind.

“That was—“Haunting” was the first Rated Riot song that CJ heard,” Jungkook added.

Although he’d written this song to be as inconspicuous as possible, he never tried to hide that it was about you—if people asked. And CJ had asked.

Jungkook had been vague that time, claiming it was about “someone important” to him, but perhaps CJ got more curious about the meaning of the song than he’d initially let on. Perhaps he’d done additional research.

“It’s the song that made him want to meet the band,” Jungkook continued. “H-he could have—if he knew about us, and he knew that I wrote “Haunting” about you, then he might have hired you for me to—so that you and I—”

“He hired me to give you a jolt,” you finished, “hoping it would inspire you to write songs that would bring the label as much money as he thought “Haunting” would have brought.”

Jungkook let out a breath. “Yeah. That—that’s kind of fucked up.”

You nodded. That was the regular way to describe this situation – “fucked up.” But you’ve learnt today that, in business, they called it “profitable.”

Although a lot of your previous anxiety was now replaced with irritation, your relief still lingered. CJ’s plotting had caught you off guard, but ultimately, you were right where you wanted to be, and nothing could change that.

“I had some questions about why they contacted me four—five?—months before you even released your debut album,” you said, “but I—well, you know. I was just happy to stop fillng spreadsheets and do some actual work. Even if it meant driving you to the studio every morning, and back home every night. Did you—did you even add any new songs or make any changes to the album after I started to work with you? You said you had most of it done by that point anyway.”

Jungkook swallowed and did not respond.

You were right, the album was mostly finished when CJ offered you to work with Rated Riot that July, but Jungkook wrote eight new songs in the first week of working with you. Three of them made it to the final cut of the album.

“Shit,” you said, his silence a good enough answer. Half-joking to counter your discomfort, you added, “so, it wasn’t destiny, then. It was CJ.”

Jungkook snorted humourlessly. “Yeah. What a waste of fucking time, though. All the fucking—all this time we worried. And we could have just—wow. We could have just fucking been together.”

That was true, you would have saved a lot of energy if you didn’t have to worry about telling the label about your relationship. But you weren’t sure that it would have helped you stop ignoring each other and yourselves.

If you hadn’t received the trial by fire on this tour, if all your fears and insecurities hadn’t been exposed, you and Jungkook likely wouldn’t have ended up here.

“Yeah, this is…” you faltered, searching for the right word. “This is some heavy shit to process right now, but—I mean, we’re fine. We’re okay. You know? We made it this fucking far.”

The courtyard was empty except for a few pigeons pecking at the dark rocks of a flower garden nearby. Jungkook counted the pavement tiles beneath your sneakers before looking up.

“I’m still having a crisis,” he decided.

You laughed—in a way that he didn’t think he’d ever hear you laugh again, and it sounded like a promise to him. A reassurance that things wouldn’t have to go back to the way they once were, because they were better now. In spite of everything, you were better now.

You took his hand and stepped around him towards the street. “Come on. We’ll be fine. Let’s get something to eat.”

“No, but—we wasted so much time!” he protested, but followed you down the courtyard anyway. It was a reflex more than a conscious effort: you went, and he followed. He was far from being embarrassed about others knowing how completely in love with you—whipped, they would have said—he was.

“We didn’t,” you said. “We still have plenty of time.”

“Not unless I drop dead right now,” he mumbled, stubborn.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” you returned. “I quite enjoy having you alive.”

You felt a tug on your hand when Jungkook suddenly stopped walking. Despite your raised eyebrows, he held your hand and simply watched you for a minute, not explaining his thoughts.

“Do you remember,” he said then, “when we were in Amsterdam, and I asked if you thought we’d ever be here?”

You nodded, not yet following his train of thought.

“What about this?” he asked.

“Paris?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Us. Did you ever imagine we’d still be together, seven years after we met? Did you imagine that some old guy would start an entertainment company, and seek us both out, one after the other, so we could work together and make him money?”

You smiled wryly at the quick—and very accurate—summary. But there wasn’t much to think about here, not really. There was a reason you held onto this relationship for so long that first time, even after it became clear that it was coming to an end.

“I didn’t expect the old guy,” you said. “But I did imagine us together.”

“Despite everything that happened,” he continued, “and every wrong decision that we made over those years?”

You swallowed, finding everything that he’d heard in your playlist reflected in his question. You understood why he needed to ask, but you had no doubts about your answer.

There were times, years before you met him, when you’d feel an abrupt longing—so intense that it would lock you in bed, squirming desperately as you tried to shake yourself out of it. There was no apparent reason for it, no action on your part that could have explained the oppressive heartache that felt a lot like forceful separation from something crucial for your survival. Your heart screamed for it back.

You thought you were in love with him before you even met him.

“Everything that happened still led us here,” you said slowly—unaware that Jungkook was holding his breath as he waited for your answer. “Every time we messed up, every time something went wrong, we were on the way here. And—I mean, I don’t know. I think we would have ended up here one way or another. Actually, it might have taken us longer to get here if everything that backfired on us hadn’t backfired. You know what I mean? We’re a mess.”

His grip on your hand tightened as he watched the smile on your face. He remembered this—you telling him what a mess the two of you were when he kissed you outside of the hotel on your first night in London, right after you’d decided to be friends.

“Do you really think that,” he asked, “or are you just saying it so I don’t have a heart attack?”

You squeezed his hand back.

“I do really think that,” you said. “But also, please don’t have a heart attack.”

Finally allowing himself to breathe, he took a step closer to you. He lifted his hand—the one holding yours—to his chest, and leaned in to kiss you. You could feel his heartbeat under your fingertips when your lips touched, the warmth of his hands melding into yours.

“I love you,” he said, slowly pulling back.

“I love you,” you replied and leaned in to touch his lips with yours again.

Hearing these words over and over again—and feeling you draw him closer to prolong the kiss over and over again, too—seemed like a prospect so delightful that he feared it was a little manic. He was convinced there were fairy lights beneath his skin and fireworks in his chest.

He kissed you fervently, but quickly. A moment later, he was already pulling away and leading you towards the pedestrian crossing.

“Let’s get coffee,” he said in response to the disappointment in your eyes.

“Wait,” you resisted his pull, attempting to slow down his brisk pace, “what’s the rush now?”

“The label thought we were together for two years,” he explained, his grip firm as he paused at the busy street, waited for the light to change, then guided you across it. “We have so much to do to make up for lost time.”

You stepped over the curb but still struggled to catch up as he careened down the street. “And you plan to do all that in one day? Starting from this?”

“This is not even the beginning of what I plan to do,” he replied, winking at you over his shoulder. “If you know what I—”

“If you finish that sentence,” you warned, “we’re going to have our first fight as a couple.”

“Oh, so many new firsts to experience.” He sighed wistfully. Your eyebrows remained comfortably raised as you listened to the reminiscent tone in his voice. “Do you remember our actual first fight as a couple?”

“No,” you replied. “We had so many.”

“Right, but the very first one?” he prodded, finally slowing down so you could match his pace. “I broke your window. You threw a potted plant at me.”

You gasped in protest. You remembered the broken window: it was the result of a three-night drinking binge that he went on without you, only to make a dramatic return through your fire escape, smashing the glass of your window with his elbow. It was an accident, he’d meant to open it the regular way, but he figured this would work, too.

“I did no such thing,” you said.

“You did!” he argued, amused by your selective memory. He was drunk that night, but he remembered the flying pot—and what remained of it after it hit the wall behind him. “It was an Aloe, I think.”

“I’d never throw a plant at you,” you insisted. “I love my plants.”

He looked at you, offended. “Okay. Hello? I’m your boyfriend.”

“I know,” you said, your lips curving into a smile. “Somehow, you require a lot more maintenance than plants.”

“Ah, now I see your point,” he said, turning back to face the street ahead, “we really are about to have our first fight as a couple.”

You chuckled and tugged on his hand to indicate the signboard of a café in the building on your right. “Coffee first?”

“Oh, yeah.” He took a step back to return to your side and kissed your cheek. “Definitely.”

You managed to organise a quick meeting before the show that night to officially announce your promotion and all that it meant for the band. You didn’t get to mention the new opening act, however, because the members erupted into deafening cheers.

Their follow-up reactions—after you brought up the email they had sent to the label—seemed almost comical. All four of them stopped shouting as if on cue and glanced around the room, avoiding your eye and desperately feigning nonchalance.

“We—we’re family,” Yoongi finally said. He struggled to mask his discomfort at your gratitude the most, because you looked at him the most—he was the one who had suggested the email. “One for all, and all for one. Or whatever.”

You nodded with a grin. “Or whatever.”

Hoseok was the first to extend his hand, and the rest of the band followed, stacking their hands on top of each other. You placed yours on Jungkook’s, and with a loud battle cry—an anthem for the band, at this point—all five of you broke apart. The boys hurried out of the room to escape any more sentimental conversations and to get ready for the show.

The first concert in Paris was a dizzying spectacle of flashing lights and intoxicating sounds. You were a little astounded at how Rated Riot still managed to captivate you as if every night was your first time watching them live.

However, for the first time since the start of this tour—it was a miracle this hadn’t happened before, actually—two people in the audience fainted.

You had to run backstage to speak with the venue staff and demand air conditioning, then climb up to the side of the stage to warn the band to control the pit. It was the rhythm section intermission—where Taehyung and Hoseok engaged the audience with sounds that were nearly hallucinogenic—and the barricade was shaking.

You attempted to get Yoongi’s attention because he was the closest to you. But it was Jungkook who noticed you first, climbing off Hoseok’s podium and jogging over to you. You gave him a quick update on the situation and asked him to keep an eye on the crowds. This wasn’t the first time the show got a little too hot, and there were enough paramedics available for first aid, but you still wanted to prevent future accidents.

Jungkook nodded, then turned back to the stage—but stopped, suddenly, as though realising something. You barely managed to part your lips in confusion when he walked back to you in three determined strides, gently lifted your chin and pulled you in for a quick kiss. Then, just as swiftly, he returned to the front of the stage to thundering screams from the audience.

Stunned, you watched Jungkook fall to his knees in dramatic support of the band’s instrumental break. He raised his head to look at you, very proud to be able to do something that caused the dazed look in your eyes, and it took you another minute to force yourself to turn around and return backstage.

Fortunately, by the time the show ended, everyone was alive and well.

You were late to the gathering backstage because you had stayed behind to listen to Seokjin yell—he claimed it was a “peaceful lecture”—at the venue staff about cutting off the air conditioning in the middle of the show. You had to gently coax him to let it go when the local stagehands began to respond to him in aggressive French.

Upon returning to the waiting area, you both noticed that Rated Riot’s dressing room was eerily quiet. Naturally, you started to worry that someone in the band had killed each other. But once you two peered through the gap in the door, you discovered something worse: Hoseok was standing on the table, tapping his lighter against the rim of his glass to get everyone’s attention. He was about to make a toast.

“For those of you who don’t know,” he began as you entered the room, “our manager just got promoted. She’s still our manager, but she’s cooler now. She’s Head Manager.”

Your hopes of finding a drink before you started to feel embarrassed were dashed as the room broke into applause, Namjoon and Jimin leading the way with unnecessary whistling. Cringing into yourself, you nodded in uncomfortable gratitude and made your way to the bottles of beer on the windowsill across the room.

“Our team is expanding,” Yoongi took over then, but he did not join Hoseok on the table, “which naturally, means we’re growing, too. That’s nice and all, but I really hope we can keep fucking drinking like this after every show, even after we sell out Wembley.”

“Wembley next year!” Hoseok cheered, and the rest of the room joined in, raising their glasses. “Here’s to getting drunk every night no matter where the fuck we are!”

It was a loud affair once the band set their contagious excitement loose, but you enjoyed watching their never-ending energy spread to the rest of the room.

“Congratulations,” someone suddenly said from behind you.

It took you a moment to realise that someone had spoken over the noise in the room, and the person touched your shoulder just as you were turning around.

Despite your discomfort with the unexpected attention, you were very happy to see Namjoon. He was beaming proudly as if he was the one who had been promoted tonight, and you extended your hands for a quick hug.

He laughed, patting your back and whispering a soft, “you deserved this.”

“Thank you,” you said, pulling back. “The meeting didn’t go the way I expected, but, uh, all’s well that ends well.”

He nodded, a little dejected. You’d texted him a quick summary of your meeting right after it ended. This time, even Namjoon was surprised about CJ’s ulterior motives.

And he worried, just a little bit, how you would react. He remembered how disappointed you were when you assumed that the offer from Reconnaissance was what prompted CJ to promote you. It had taken you a while to accept that it was your efforts, and not Nick’s call, that had brought you here.

Namjoon knew that there was not much that he could say to convince you of your worth if you focused too much on CJ’s primary reasons for hiring you for the band. It very simply had nothing to do with your skills—but you’ve turned it all around, and every ball that CJ thought he’d hoarded was now in your court.

“Yeah, I’m very excited that you’re staying here,” he said, “but I, um—I’ll admit I don’t know how I feel about CJ exploiting your relationship like that.”

You pursed your lips. You haven’t decided how you felt about that, either. But likely for the first time in your life, you felt too excited for all that was coming to dwell on all that had already happened.

“It was a far stretch, though, wasn’t it?” you said, surprising him with your light tone. “I wonder what he would have done if Jungkook and I had killed each other. Or if every song he wrote was about Sid instead, for example.”

Namjoon smiled, but shook his head. He didn’t think it was a far stretch. He’d encouraged Jungkook to write about real experiences, too, and he was the silent partner on “Haunting.” He’d always known what the song was about.

“It worked out, though,” he said, because you were joking, but he could see the look in your eyes. Being used like this did not feel good. “I mean, for you. Probably not so much for CJ, since you bullied him into giving the band 50% of their last album sales revenue. And then you proved so indispensable that he had to promote you, to stop you from leaving to work with a bigger band.”

You turned away. “I didn’t bully him.”

He grinned, remembering the chaos at the executive meeting after CJ announced the changes in Rated Riot’s royalties. The CEO was on the verge of suggesting that you had a gun pointed to his head to explain why the band’s percentage had doubled.

“I recall there being threats,” Namjoon said.

“Well,” you tsked, “he deserved those. If he only hired me to provoke Jungkook, then he doesn’t deserve the full profit of anything Jungkook creates.”

Namjoon appeared even prouder now, his dimples prominent on his cheeks.

“I agree,” he said. “And you made sure that the label can’t afford to lose you. That sounds like a pretty cool payback for CJ’s questionable decisions.”

You glanced at him, then at the carpeted floors underneath your shoes.

Regardless of how you joined Rated Riot, you and the band have come so far. You’ve endured all that the industry had thrown at you. It shouldn’t have been surprising that the members loved you as much as you loved them, but their support today still felt breathtaking.

It was them, more than anyone, who had made sure that the label couldn’t afford to lose you.

“Did you hear about the email the band sent today?” you asked Namjoon.

“I did,” he confirmed, his grin growing wider still. “They picked up that tactic from you, I think.”

You shook your head, but a small smile had made it to your lips. “No. I think I’m the one who’s learning from them. And from you.”

“Either way,” he said, ignoring the appreciation in your voice and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’re all doing great.”

You finally met his warm gaze and nodded. You weren’t going to fight him on this anymore; you knew that Rated Riot had worked hard to get to this point, and you had, too.

Namjoon was thrilled to see this determination in your eyes. You and Rated Riot together were a force to be reckoned with, and he was happy you’ve finally allowed yourself to accept that.

“Thank you,” you said. “Wembley next year, and the rest of the world the year after that, right?”

“Oh.” He laughed and gestured somewhere in the direction of the window, where the collection of alcohol was. “I’ll drink to that.”

A few minutes later, after the Jameson bottles—a kind gift from the promoters—had been emptied, the room seemed to ignite. The people around you began to move much more easily while the music that Seokjin had chosen played in the background, an interesting mix ranging from Kid Cudi’s classics to Coldplay’s latest album.

You and the Rated Riot members found yourselves in a haphazard circle in the centre of the room, each with a new bottle in hand.

“Nick mentioned that some Reconnaissance members are interested in seeing you play,” you told the band. “So now I’m trying to get them in, even though all your upcoming gigs are not just sold out, but already over capacity. That’s a problem I didn’t think we’d have so soo—”

“Hold on, hold on,” Yoongi interjected, holding up his hands and the already-empty bottle of beer. “Reconnaissance want to see us?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, watching the members exchange glances, their eyes gleaming all of a sudden—another source of light in the room. “I called Nick to decline his offer and update him on everything, and he said—”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Yoongi interrupted again, placing a confused palm over your hand, “so not only did Reconnaissance miss out on the best manager in the industry, but now they want to see us play?”

You caught a glimpse of Jungkook’s grin out of the corner of your eye. He took a quick swig of his Heineken to hide it.

“Well,” you said, still not drunk enough to accept praise without overwhelming discomfort, “if-if that’s how you want to—but yeah. They are coming to see you.”

Yoongi looked simply dumbfounded: his mouth was open, the corners of his lips upturned, his eyes squinting. It was a beautiful sight. You met Luna’s gaze behind Taehyung, and she, too, was beaming as she joined your circle.

For a long time, the members of Rated Riot had measured their success against Reconnaissance at their age, and they had always felt behind. And despite the extended tour, despite moving onto bigger venues, now was the first time when they felt like they were catching up.

“I can’t believe this,” Hoseok said, the exhilaration in his voice prompting the other boys to start high-fiving and exclaiming passionate ‘hell yeah’s.

“Well, so, what—uh, what’s the consensus?” Yoongi asked, snapping out of his daze. “Do we fucking rock or what?”

“Well, I don’t know!” Hoseok played along, the pitch of his passionate voice rising. “Let me check the latest data,” he paused dramatically for two seconds, “alright, the numbers are in. We fucking rock!”

Loud cries followed as the band broke into excited laps around the room. Seokjin, Namjoon, and Jimin—clearly entertained by whatever ritual they’d assumed the band had just held—joined in by attaching themselves to various members: Seokjin picked Jungkook, nearly choking him with an iron grip around his shoulders, while Namjoon and Jimin flocked to Hoseok. Yoongi was already huddled between Taehyung and Luna, repeatedly high-fiving them both.

You were right to feel anxious about telling them about Reconnaissance because the sudden burst of their already intense energy was a little dangerous. Even Yoongi—who was usually as lively as a well-trained turtle—was spinning in the middle of the room. He smacked into you as he whirled, already dizzy, and you grabbed his arm to help him regain his balance.

“I can tell,” you said, chuckling as Yoongi ran a hand through his hair and returned, swaying his drunken hips, to his spot next to Taehyung, “that the rest of this tour is going to be even more exciting.”

“I’m actually not sure if that’s even possible anymore,” Taehyung said, grinning as Yoongi leaned into his side to catch his breath. “After everything that’s already happened.”

He was alluding to more than just the positive excitement of the night—and Jungkook tensed as he made his way to your side—but you pointed your beer bottle at him, disagreeing.

“To be honest, we’re not doing too bad this time around,” you said, moving closer to Jungkook to make room for Maggie and Minjun in your circle. “Last time you guys were on tour, Jungkook got a concussion and dislocated his shoulder.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows, caught off guard by the sudden attack.

“There was also,” Yoongi said, still breathing heavily, “the dancing incident in New York.”

The rest of the band chuckled—still holding their laughter back—while Jungkook groaned loudly enough for the people outside the room to hear.

“And Taehyung left the tour for a short while,” Hoseok added. “It was a new mess every day.”

You noticed Taehyung’s gaze drop. Luna had mentioned their brief breakup to you before, so you knew why Taehyung had suddenly left that time.

“Jimin got airsick one time, remember?” you offered your own addition to divert the topic. “So, you guys performed without functioning in-ears. Was that in Boston? You—”

“Oh my God, yes,” Maggie joined in, gripping your forearm in her excitement at the memory. “All the photos I took at that show were worthless. They were all staring at the ground the whole time as if that would help them hear better.”

Laughter filled the room as Jimin grumbled about leaving the band instructions for their in-ear monitors—which they cheerily failed to follow without Jimin guiding them every step of the way.

“Oh, and we lost Namjoon once, too!” Hoseok said, laughing even before he finished the sentence.

All eyes turned to the producer, but before Namjoon could offer an explanation, Seokjin scoffed indignantly.

“He was the one who lost us,” he declared. He had been responsible for looking after a drunk Namjoon that night in San Francisco, and he would never admit how poorly he handled that very simple task. “I looked away for one second, and he was gone.”

“He’s like a little kid when he’s really drunk,” Yoongi reminded him. “You should have known that.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“You found him passed out,” you said, remembering the frantic phone call you’d received at three in the morning, “on top of the slide at some nearby playground, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Seokjin said, sending the band into a screeching fit of laughter. “I called his name, he opened one eye, and his body just slid down the slide. Fucking comical, and he’s not even trying to be funny.”

You snickered when Hoseok smacked Namjoon on the chest, holding onto his shoulders for support as his knees wobbled from laughter.

“Alright, then, how about the time we thought Yoongi’s guitar was malfunctioning during one of the shows,” Namjoon said, eager to deflect before the tips of his ears turned any redder, “but it turned out that he actually forgot to plug it in? No one even noticed it until the third song on the setlist.”

Maggie had already begun to wheeze when Luna interjected, “wait—wasn’t the third song, technically, Hobi’s drum solo?”

Hoseok looked very impressed that she remembered, and she gave him a smile and a nod. His drum solo used to be one of her favourite parts of the early Rated Riot shows.

“Yeah,” Yoongi said, snorting. He was no longer bothered by the incident. “I strummed a few chords backstage, and it made no fucking sound.” He suddenly glared at Seokjin. “You convinced Jimin to put me in time-out for not plugging it in.”

“You know very well you deserved that,” Seokjin returned, finishing his drink.

You joined in the laughter. Seokjin and Jimin had relaxed some of their strict policies this time around, because they discovered that the tour couldn’t function if three-quarters of the band were standing in different corners of the venue, waiting to be taken out of time-out before they were supposed to go on stage.

“What about Hoseok personally buying everyone drinks after each show?” Jungkook suggested. “He practically spent half our earnings in random bars.”

Agreeing nods and murmurs followed, and Hoseok merely shrugged, not denying the accusation.

“And what about you finishing most of the drinks that Hoseok bought?” Minjun bit, grinning at Jungkook.

Minjun, unlike Sid and Jude, had actually been invited to join the band for drinks sometimes—although, by the end of the night, he was usually forced to babysit Jungkook.

“What about it?” Jungkook shot back. “I can hold my liquor.”

Jimin blew the air out through his mouth, almost spitting as he half-wheezed, half-scoffed.

“You literally cannot,” he said. “Remember that time in Chicago when you, me, and Seokjin spent hours searching for a public bathroom after you finished five bottles of—”

“I told you I could have used the one that was closed!” Jungkook interrupted before Jimin could finish.

“It wasn’t closed. It was chained,” Jimin retorted. “Did you want to get arrested for trespassing and public urination?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Who says I would have gotten arrested?”

“Are you kidding?” Seokjin chimed in. “You were shouting the lyrics to Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” as you rattled the chains.”

“That doesn’t—”

“In the midnight hour,” Seokjin demonstrated, shouting over the noise in the room and vigorously shaking his hands, “she cried more, more, more.”

Everyone was laughing so passionately at this point that it was impossible to hear the music in the room.

“Fine, fine,” Jungkook muttered, shuffling on his feet and moving partially behind you—his refuge from the teasing. “I get it.”

You didn’t know about this particular incident, but you remembered feeling relieved whenever Jungkook would leave the venue with the band members or someone from the staff, rather than his friends.

Sid had been omnipresent during the band’s first tour; he’d stayed even when Minjun and Jude had to return home. And during the only week that Sid wasn’t here, you’d had one of the most meaningful conversations with Jungkook—and certainly the longest—since your breakup.

It had been in Los Angeles, were Rated Riot were set to perform three shows that week. One night, you had found him alone, seated on one of the road cases outside the concert hall, a bottle of beer in his hand. You’d called his name, and he looked up at you with a gaze so familiar that you seemed to forget about all the months you had spent avoiding direct conversation with each other.

You’d been looking for him that night because you suspected that something was wrong—you didn’t know about his grandmother yet, but it was her condition that bothered him the most in those days.

“I’m fine,” he’d said after you asked him what was going on. “Just tired.”

So, you sat beside him on the road case, grabbed his bottle, and took a long swig. And he had watched you, completely mesmerised, just as he was watching you now.

That night, as you handed the bottle back to him, you’d asked him about his goals and what he wanted to achieve with the band.

“The whole world,” he had replied. And you’d smiled, making him smile, too. Your reaction convinced him that reaching the whole world was a completely feasible goal.

He hadn’t dared to ask why you’d agreed to work with Rated Riot, although you’d expected him to. Instead, he asked about your family, evading questions about his own. He asked how you’d met Luna, where you’d gotten the scar on your knee. He tried—you could see it now—to fill in the gaps of all the years you’d been out of touch.

And you remembered struggling to fall asleep that night in Los Angeles after you and Jungkook returned to the tour bus—because you’d finished that bottle of beer together. Because he’d given you his jacket as you walked back to the bus, even though it wasn’t very cold and the bus wasn’t parked very far. Because your hands had brushed as you walked side-by-side. Because he’d offered you a cigarette and you had declined, and your heart had started to hurt for seemingly no reason.

A year later, you raised your head, bringing your thoughts back to the present moment in the dark red dressing room of Cabaret Sauvage in Paris, where your family was laughing around you and your heart was beating next to you.

You turned to look at Jungkook and met his smiling gaze. He still stood behind you and, quietly, while everyone else continued their conversation, he lifted your linked hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“I remember when Taehyung had the flu, too,” Hoseok said, returning your attention to the group as they burst into shouts of agreement again. Jungkook wrapped an arm around your waist, bringing your back to his chest, and took another sip from his bottle.

“When he started to walk in his sleep?” Luna asked—she’d taken the brunt of that time her boyfriend was sick and refused to stay in bed. Everyone else was very grateful they didn’t have to handle his fevered tantrums.

“Yeah—he scared the shit out of me,” Yoongi recalled, shaking his head. “It was like four in the morning, I looked up from my bunk, and he was just standing there, staring right at me. I went, ‘what the fuck?’ and he just said, ‘the pipes broke’, then turned around and walked away.”

Amidst the laughter of the group, Jimin wheezed, “what pipes?”

Taehyung clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“I had a fever,” he said. “And it was nowhere near as bad or annoying as Jin actually stealing all of our socks from the bus back in Atlanta.”

Seokjin was opening his next beer bottle and did not feel fazed by the attention at all.

“You stole their socks?” Maggie voiced the question of the group.

“Now, listen,” Seokjin said, his tone relaxed, if only a little annoyed to be bothered about this. “We had a deal. I told the guys to stop after one encore, but they went on to play three. I need to sleep, you know. Can’t stay up dismantling the stage until six in the morning every night.”

You closed your eyes and leaned back into Jungkook’s embrace, calm and unreasonably content as he gently rocked side-to-side, both of his arms around you.

“Okay, I guess that makes sense,” Maggie replied. “But why socks?”

“I thought it’d be the biggest nuisance,” Seokjin explained simply. You smiled. The band members had come to you back then, complaining about someone messing with their belongings, and you had to buy socks in bulk until Seokjin returned them. “I was going to go for underwear, but I know that some of you don’t mind not wearing any, so socks seemed like a safer option.”

You opened your eyes to catch Seokjin giving Jungkook a meaningful glance over your head.

“I—” Jungkook began, but did not get much further than that.

“What?” Namjoon asked with a groan. You turned to see his nose wrinkled in blatant disgust. “Please tell me you’re all wearing underwear under your stage outfits right now.”

Yoongi, Taehyung, and Hoseok all shrugged and gave nods with varying degrees of conviction. Jungkook, meanwhile, snorted indignantly.

“No,” he said. “I prefer to wear mine over my stage outfit.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes at the unnecessary wit, but Seokjin was quick to down his beer and begin sparring.

“Is that your new costume?” he taunted. “Would fit well with the pirate eye patch.”

Jungkook inhaled sharply. “We do not speak of the eye patch.”

“Aye, sir,” Seokjin replied, grinning as he exaggerated his Rs. “We wor-rrr-ship the eye patch.”

Jimin’s laughter erupted in hiccupping waves that sounded oddly like a screeching cat in heat, and it was unnaturally infectious. He turned away to catch his breath, but you and Maggie had already succumbed to fits of giggles.

Jungkook, irked that this amused you so much, tightened his grip on your waist. You craned your neck to look at him upside down, traces of laughter still evident in your expression, and he placed a quick kiss on your forehead before turning back to his friends. You lowered your head, flustered by his abrupt affection—and Jungkook felt very happy again.

“No, no,” Namjoon was saying in between waves of laughter, ���what we really worship is the mythical ramen Taehyung had promised to make us for dinner every night, but I’ve only tried it once so far. What’s that about? Did you think we would forget?”

Taehyung straightened and looked at Luna for help. She only smiled and shrugged, knowing better than to interfere with the band and their food.

“I never said I’d make it every night,” he replied, although somewhere at the back of his mind he vaguely recalled promising this very thing.

“You lost the bet,” Seokjin reminded him, “so you have no choice. You owe us five pots at this point, probably.”

You raised your eyebrows, but Luna beat you to the question. “There was a bet?”

“Of course,” Seokjin said, pausing to take another swig from his bottle. “There usually is.”

“What did you bet on?” she asked.

“This was in Oslo. All three of you,” he gestured towards you, Maggie, and Luna, “had gone out. We bet that Taehyung couldn’t go one hour without texting his girlfriend.”

You grinned while Yoongi gave Taehyung a comforting pat on the back. Jimin finally turned back around to face the group, and even Minjun had to bite back his laughter at the sight of Jimin’s wet eyes, tears of laughter still visible on his cheeks.

“I lasted ten and a half minutes,” Taehyung gloated—as though this was the best he could do, and this record was already so incredibly impressive that he wouldn’t even attempt beating it. Luna kissed his cheek, further encouraging his smugness.

“Ten and twenty-five,” Jimin, who had kept the time, corrected him, rubbing his fingers over his eyelids. “You were terrible. Complained the whole time.”

Taehyung grimaced but resisted the urge to stick out his tongue. “I’m nowhere near as bad as Jungkook, though.”

Jungkook blinked, caught by surprise again.

“What?” he asked, growing defensive once he understood the accusation. “I would have easily lasted an hour without texting my girlfriend.”

Just as you lowered your gaze to control your expression—you’d known Jungkook for seven years; surely, you would stop shivering at the sound of your relationship status some time soon—Hoseok reached over to press a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“My friend,” he said, bowing his head, “you wouldn’t have lasted two minutes.”

The group launched into a series of examples to support Hoseok’s claim—with Minjun taking the lead, of course—and Jungkook couldn’t keep up with the barrage of playful accusations. They were correct, each and every one of them, but he still felt the need to explain himself.

“Alright, come on, leave him be,” you ended up interjecting, your tone light. You reached up, blindly finding Jungkook’s face behind you and gently patting his cheek. “We’re all very dependent on each other here anyway.”

Jungkook closed his eyes to focus on your touch. He felt pride first and foremost, but he also felt stunned that you’d defend him so openly: you were surrounded by your closest friends here, that was true, but they were also your co-workers. Yet you stood up for him and leaned into his embrace as the cheerful conversation continued around you.

He thought he’d finally done it. He reached the goal he’d once told you about – he had the whole world right here.

“You know, speaking of you two,” Seokjin said, swivelling to face you. “I know you drank my champagne in Amsterdam.”

Surprised, you pulled back from Jungkook and instinctively glanced at Hoseok—who had dragged Minjun away to help him bring the group more drinks.

“That was Hobi’s,” you said, remembering Hoseok’s party and the puddle of champagne on the bathroom floor—immortalised in Rated Riot’s upcoming single—after you and Jungkook discovered the hidden bottles and decided to have some.

“Please.” Seokjin scoffed. “You think he would hoard champagne? It was mine. And you two—”

“We only drank one bottle,” Jungkook interrupted, preemptively stopping you from denying the whole incident.

“Only on—you drank at least two,” Seokjin said, his unsteady legs wobbling slightly. You wondered how many bottles of beer he’d finished tonight—the extraordinary focus he was paying to enunciate every word indicated double digits. “That was my special champagne.”

He seemed to believe he was merely tipsy as he continued to watch the two of you with a look that he must have assumed was stern. Really, it was cloudy and obviously out of focus.

“What makes it special?” Jungkook asked.

“It was mine,” Seokjin replied, banging his palm against his chest a few times. You waited for him to elaborate on what he would have done with six bottles of champagne all by himself, but he decided he’d said enough.

“We’ll pay off the debt,” you offered. “Two bottles?”

“Two,” he confirmed, then cleared his throat. “But since I’ve had to wait so long for you to admit your wrongdoings, I’ve suffered emotional damage, too.”

“Ah, emotional damage, of course,” you repeated, exchanging a smile with Jungkook. Even drunk, Seokjin was an expert negotiator. “Two and a half, then?”

He pretended to consider it. Everyone else in the room had started a conversation about Yoongi’s sleeping habits—particularly how he stayed awake for three days straight and then slept for a whole week—and it distracted him for a second.

“Three,” Seokjin finally decided, “and we’ll call it even.”

“Alright, three bottles,” you agreed, turning to Jungkook again. He gave you a nod and unfastened himself from you, taking your hand instead.

“We’ll go out to get them right now,” Jungkook said, leading you to the door of the dressing room.

Seokjin seemed surprised when you gave him a quick wave.

“No, you—” he began, then hiccupped and shook his head at the interruption, “—you don’t have to go now.”

“But we must,” you said, pouting your lips very empathetically. “Can’t let you suffer because of what we’d done any longer.”

Seokjin looked as if he wanted to respond, but his intoxicated mind was too sluggish. Still, you saw the hint of a grin tugging at his lips as the door of the room closed behind you; Seokjin knew exactly why you were so eager to leave. It was how you’d found his champagne back in Amsterdam: the two of you would take any and every opportunity to be alone together.

And so, you and Jungkook found yourselves alone on the dark streets of Paris, walking around the park that surrounded the venue, supposedly on a mission to find three bottles of champagne.

It became apparent rather quickly that you’d have to walk quite a distance from the venue to find a shop that was still open. You did not mind that.

Jungkook glanced up as he walked, and you followed his gaze to the sky. In the quiet corners of the cobblestone alleys, right between the streetlights, you could see the stars.

You’d seen these stars before, almost a month ago, when you went to Kihyun and Chloé’s wedding. You’d taken a detour because Jungkook wanted to show you the Champs-Élysées, and you remembered that night in explicit detail: the way the curls in his hair had looked, damp from the rain. The way his eyes had sparkled with an innate, undying excitement, playfully reflecting every street light around you. You remembered the feel of his hands when he instinctively touched you to guide you across the street. You remembered the scent of his cologne as he gestured wildly, recounting the stories about Paris that his grandmother had read to him when he was younger. His voice had sounded wistful, yearning.

The stars had looked beautiful back then—they had to. Really, you didn’t have many chances to look up at them. Jungkook had been right beside you, smiling, with gentle creases of delight by his eyes, and you didn’t even consider looking away.

The sky glittered with the same lights now, a never changing, constant presence over you. And again, you lowered your eyes to watch the reflection of the stars in his eyes instead. The night sky was no longer your favourite thing in the world.

“I think,” Jungkook said, “this is what my grandma meant when she said that she’s always wanted to visit Paris.”

You looked at the street ahead of you. It was hidden from the main paths of the park by dark, menacing buildings, and it looked like just about any other street in the world.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“She wanted this,” he explained, raising your intertwined hands. “What we have right now. Strolling through these back alleys, forcing every streetlight to flicker and every gust of wind to change direction.”

You felt everything he’d mentioned in your chest—the silence of the alleys, the flickers of the lights, the gusts of the shifting wind—and you held his hand tighter.

“What does Paris have to do with this?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “It doesn’t have to do anything, it’s just there for us to walk through it. But this isn’t really about Paris. It never is.”

You looked down at the pavement in a poor attempt to hide your smile. He could still see it. If you were smiling, he’d always make sure to see it.

“That would sound far more romantic,” you said, “if I hadn’t just seen a dead rat across the street.”

Jungkook threw his head back in sudden laughter. He’d seen the rat, too, but he didn’t want to say anything. You had just looked up at the stars in the sky; he thought it’d spoil the moment.

“I know,” he said. “This is why I said that Paris is overrated. I’m just trying to make it sound better.”

“It’s still beautiful despite these things, though,” you said as the two of you took a turn past the canal that ran across the park. The dark water reflected the dim lights of the streets and the persistent stars, too. “Despite the dead rats and unbelievable amounts of garbage everywhere.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook could not control the size of his smile or the sounds in his chest. “You think so?”

“Mhmm,” you said. “These things happen sometimes, I guess. You care about something so much that not even dead rats can ruin it.”

You’d clearly stopped talking about Paris, and he had to turn away from the look in your eyes before he accidentally led you right into the canal. The two of you turned a corner instead, leaving the reflections in the water behind you as you entered another sleeping street, the cobblestones stirring awake under your feet.

Squeezing your hand as he walked, Jungkook looked up at the numerous wrought-iron balconies on the building to your right and felt, for just a moment, as though the faint lights in the windows were watching the two of you. He hoped they were. He loved you so much that he wanted everyone to see.

“I think it’s a metaphor,” he said.

You turned to him. “What is?”

“The dead rat.”

That wouldn’t have been your choice of words to describe the rat, and you continued to watch him, bemused. “It’s a metaphor?”

“Yeah,” he said. “For a new beginning.”

You looked down to avoid twisting your ankles on the uneven street stones.

“I assume the dead rat represents Sid’s demise, then,” you said.

“Precisely,” Jungkook replied, and you turned another corner in the labyrinth of Parisian streets.

“I’ll take it,” you said. Then, nearly laughing, you nodded your head at the shadows ahead of you. “I think I see another one.”

He turned his head and squinted.

“Shit,” he murmured, spotting a pair of panicked, beady eyes. “That one looks alive. Maybe we should cross the—”

“Oh,” you pulled his hand to gesture at the rodent ahead, “you don’t want to say hi to Sid’s uncle?”

“That’s his cousin, I think.”

Laughing—nearly hysterically—the two of you crossed to the other side of the street. Another turn led you back to the canal, right on the edge of a bridge stairway. The massive abutment on this side of the canal and the wall of a parking lot next to it were decorated with years and years of graffiti history, and the two of you stopped momentarily to catch your breath and to analyse the art.

Most of the tags here had something unique about them—lizard tongues spewing out of the Os, crazy-eyed devils holding the letters. You noticed a few love declarations, too, when you leaned in closer. And you wondered, as you smiled at the hearts drawn around unfamiliar names on the grey bricks, if the initials you’d burnt into the library wall on your campus were still there.

“Smells like shit here, too, actually,” Jungkook remarked, breaking the spell.

You laughed again, pulling back from the wall.

“That’s good,” you said, returning to him so that you could continue down the road, curving slightly under the bridge. “Means it’s seen things.”

“It’s seen shit.”

You glanced at him, grinning. “So have we.”

“That’s true,” he said. Then, as soon as you emerged from under the bridge, he stopped and looked at you, his eyes slightly widened. “Hey, maybe all of this means that we were really meant to be here. You and me.”

The sudden epiphany he seemed to have had confused you. You looked around at the buildings towering on each side of the canal and the loose bags of trash flowing in the wind, scattering empty soda cans across the pavement.

This night did not seem special in any way, but Jungkook was looking at you like it was, and it took one glance at the hopeful smile on his lips for you to believe in the magic, too.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Maybe we were.”

He was smiling at you—for you, really—and you knew that you would forget everything about your trip to Paris again: all the sights, the people, the concerts, and the drinks. Instead, you’d remember the way he was looking at you right now—and that was all that you really wanted to remember anyway.

During this tour, there were many moments where you felt like you were dreaming. You convinced yourself that what happened couldn’t have been real because it simply shouldn’t have been.

You and Jungkook had taken so many left turns where the only way was right. You’d caused childish problems and faced unnecessary challenges. It was practically impossible for you to still find each other at the end of the day.

But you were awake. And however impossible or unlikely it was, you’ve found each other.

It had been raining the last time you were in Paris, but the sky was clear tonight, and now you and Jungkook could walk down these streets, laughing and swaying your hands, and no longer lying to yourselves.

The truth was, your souls, like your hands, had always been intertwined—even when you tried to pretend they weren’t.

FIN.

chapter title credits: sleeping with sirens, “if i’m james dean, you’re audrey hepburn”

we're done, friends! 🥹 if you have read so far, i truly love you more than words can describe 🤍

if i had to explain what my life was like while i was writing this fic, it would turn into an ao3 author's note that's like "hey guys, sorry i didn't update, i was in prison" so i'm very grateful to have received your feedback and support over the past few months 🤍🤍

hopefully there will be more things i can share with you in the future, but for now, thank you and good night 🤍

prev ○ END.

[kiwi-on-ice]

Public sex headcannons with Ashe, Sombra, Kiriko, Widowmaker and Venture with fem!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: smut 18+, public sex obvs, dom/sub dynamics hinted at in some, marking, fingering, strap ons, slight degradation in widowmaker's

Notes: I am a whore <3, also first time writing for venture, sorry to put them with the girls I just didn't want to do a whole new post for such small headcannons.

Ashe:

Sees public sex as a way of marking ownership of you, of showing everyone else that you're hers.

Property of the deadlock gang.

Will use it if you’ve been teasing her or generally being a brat, whisking you away to a secluded area or a storage closet and having her way with you.

Honestly loves the idea of getting caught, showing whoever that you’re her doll to use and worship whenever she wants. If someone does happen to walk in, she won't stop what she's doing and in fact will stare daggers at the unfortunate soul until they scramble to leave.

Don't worry, they won't breathe a word of this to anyone...if they know what's good for them

She’ll invite you to sit on her lap, whether in a gang meeting or in general, and not tell you that she’s wearing your favourite strap. With her hands on your hips, she’ll suitably rock you into it, making you wet as she only smirks and pretends to not know what she’s doing.

If you get so worked up and beg her nicely, she’ll take you to somewhere more private and rail you with her hand over your mouth to stop you screaming. Or if she’s feeling particularly mean, she’ll do everything in her power to make you moan while telling you that if you make a sound everyone will hear you.

Any time she feels like too many eyes are looking at you, she’ll shamelessly bite your neck and leave a mark.

She doesn't care, after all it's not like anyone has the power to stop her. So just stand there looking pretty on her arm as she fondles your pussy under your skirt, okay?

Sombra:

Oh she LOVES it.

Mainly loves sexting in public. She’ll send risky pictures when she knows you’re visiting friends or doing something important. If she really wants a reaction, she’ll send a recording of you from one of the times you were intimate.

If wherever you are has security cameras, she’ll hack into them so she can watch your reactions. If she’s feeling in a certain mood, she’ll tell you to do certain things and watch on the cameras to see if you comply.

Other than that, i feel like she’s into parties and the club scene. So expect some more risky dances together, especially if she’s had a bit to drink. Grinding against you, feeling you up, maybe even kissing your neck to show everyone how pretty you are when your skin flushes and your body trembles.

Loves to take you to the bathroom to bend you over the sink and finger you while the music blasts from the next room. She’ll tease you about how needy you are for her all the time (even though she’s the one who dragged you in there, but don’t tell her that unless you want to be forced on your knees with your face in her cunt to shut you up).

Don't be surprised if she films you there too. Don't worry, your pictures are certainly safe in the hands of the best hacker in the world. They're for her eyes only, and that's how they'll stay.

Kiriko:

She's way into teasing in public. Loves to have her hand on your waist, gently running it down before going back up, each time going lower and lower until she's practically feeling up your ass.

If you're wearing a skirt, she'll love to squeeze and grope at your thigh while you sit together.

She'll wait until your distracted or talking to someone before running it up your skirt, just skimming the fabric of your underwear to make you stutter or blush.

And in true switch fashion, she'd love it if you did the same to her. Her cheeks would burn as she'd giggle, her thighs not being able to decide whether to open up to let you touch her more or close them tight in embarrassment.

She's not so into public sex in bathrooms, but if you suggest doing it in a car? Oh she's all over you.

The closeness, the car windows fogging up...it's so exhilarating to her. If she's in a certain mood she may even make you touch yourself while she drives, directing what to do.

Or, to tease you if you're driving she'll touch herself lewdly in the hope you'll pull over and replace her fingers with your own.

Either way, you'll be on the side of the road somewhere as her head is buried between your legs.

Widowmaker:

Amélie is all about the hunt.

She'll have you try and get away from her, running down back alleys until she chases and gets you. To really make you feel like prey, she might fire her gun (ensuring it doesn't hit you of course) just to make you run that bit faster, to have your heart beating heavily.

This will lead to her taking you against the wall of some alleyway you thought you'd escape from, her hand over your mouth as her fingers thrust deep inside you.

She's big into fear play, so she'll hiss into your ear about how slutty you are to let her do this in public, and how anyone could hear or see you being taken against a brick wall.

However after you've been with her for a while, and she's able to unlock her emotions more readily, she'll love to tease you in public a different way.

Leaning in to your ear, whispering the dirty things she wants to do with you when you're home, gently tracing her nails up your arm to make you shiver.

Getting in an elevator and peppering kisses up your neck before the doors open again. Holding your hand and leading you to your room before not being able to make it to the bed before her tongue is in your mouth.

Give her the same energy back, make her feel desired and loved, and she'll be completely yours.

Venture:

Whether or not they're on an archaeological dig or not, they love camping...and they'll always suggest to share the same tent, or even the same sleeping bag...i'm sure you can see where this is going.

Strong arms holding you tightly in place against them as their fingers strum your clit expertly, not allowing you to squirm, just take it.

Would love to stick the fingers of their other hand in your mouth, giving you something to suck on to dull your noises. Don't want other campers to hear you, do you?

Similar to Kiriko, they'll also love, when you both are out together, to grope at your thighs, especially if you're wearing shorts or a skirt. They're a thigh person.

Will also smack your inner thigh to watch you jump, and laugh when you get flustered. They'll pay extra attention to any marks they'd left earlier on your thighs (trust me, you'll have marks), pinching them or just running their thumb over the bruises/bitemarks as you both talk.

However they also love being teased, particularly when they ramble. So get them in a museum, have them talking to you about a specific neolithic skeleton they're interested in before gently pulling their hair when nobody is looking. The stutter and hitch of their breath will be a sight to see.

And may or may not lead to them begging softly in your ear to let them take care of you, wherever is quiet and secluded enough.

[adioringhamzah]

for that special boyfriend 𓆩♡𓆪

you get inspired by ELF for your boyfriend's christmas present

gf!reader×hamzah / no fc

a.n : written from a request, improved a little by ai bc i never watched elf

christmas was just around the corner, and you were still frantically scrolling through every website you could think of, searching for the perfect gift for your boyfriend.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t tried asking him, but every time, hamzah either brushed it off with some sarcastic comment or managed to steer the conversation in an entirely different direction.

this would be your first christmas together after almost a year of dating, and while the thought of spending it with him made you excited, the stress of picking the right gift was enough to keep you awake at night.

the sound of your doorbell suddenly broke your concentration. without a second thought, you basically ran to the door.

pulling it open, your eyes met his, and you couldn’t help but feel your chest tighten. there he was : hamzah, your beautiful but frustratingly evasive boyfriend.

"oh, hamzah!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him. “i missed you so, so much!”

he didn’t say anything at first. instead, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, lifting you off the ground and carrying you all the way to your bed.

it had only been a few days since you’d last seen him, but it had felt like an eternity : he’d been off filming a camping trip video for his channel with martin.

“missed you too,” he murmured against your hair as he set you down on the bed, his voice soft and warm.

his presence was a comfort in itself, but you couldn’t help but take in the little details you’d missed : his gorgeous curly hair, the faint smell of woodsmoke clinging to his camo hoodie from the camping trip, and the happy glow in his dark eyes.

while he’d been camping, you’d kept busy by staying at mandy's, so she could film a video of her own.

you’d made plans to decorate your christmas tree together and watch a movie, and now that he was here, you could finally do just that.

your boyfriend pulled a DVD from his bag with a mischievous grin. “elf,” he announced, holding it up like it was a rare treasure.

“wait, i've actually always wanted to see that,” you said, delighted by his choice.

he blinked in mock disbelief. “you’ve never seen elf? baby, how have you been celebrating christmas all these years?”

you shrugged, laughing. “not like this, i guess.”

the next couple of hours were nothing short of magical. together, you strung lights and hung ornaments on the tree, you were ecstatic to finally be able to use the christmas jellycat mandy had gifted you.

hamzah insisted on putting the star on top though, claiming it was his “duty as the taller one,” you rolled your eyes but let him have his moment.

with the room bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights and the faint scent of pine in the air, the two of you layed down on your bed to watch the movie.

hamzah’s arm rested around your shoulders, pulling you close, and you couldn’t help but steal glances at him during the movie.

the way his face lit up during the funniest scenes or how his laugh filled the room was just perfect.

then that scene came on. the one where buddy shows off his red festive underwear, his enthusiasm making the moment awkward but also endearing. you burst out laughing, tears in your eyes, and hamzah immediately seized the opportunity to tease you.

“that would totally suit you,” he said with his signature grin.

“excuse me?!” you replied, pretending to be offended, but he didn’t stop.

“i'm just saying, everyone needs a pair of festive underwear for christmas. you’d look so sexy in something like that.”

“absolutely not,” you said, still laughing. “but I bet you’d rock them, though. buddy's look? totally your vibe.”

from there, the jokes spiralled. for the rest of the evening, the two of you couldn’t stop bringing it up.

whenever your other half teased you, you’d dramatically threaten to buy him buddy’s underwear for christmas. in turn, he kept insisting you’d be the one to wear them, claiming it would be the “ultimate holiday outfit.” it quickly became an inside joke you couldn't stop bringing up.

a few days later, the idea came to you. you had been stressing endlessly about what to get hamzah for christmas, but now, you finally had the answer. it was silly but also featured his favourite thing ever: you!

so, on christmas eve, as your boyfriend sat on the couch trying to find the best music from spotify's christmas playlist, you disappeared into you bedroom.

“everything okay?” he called out after a few minutes, desperate to spend time with you.

“don’t come in!” you basically screamed back, trying not to laugh as you put on your special outfit.

after another moment, you stepped into the doorway, arms spread dramatically.

“merry christmas, buddy!” you exclaimed, as loud as you could.

hamzah’s eyes widened as he looked up, and then he completely lost it.

you were standing there in a carbon copy of the movie's outfit. a bright red bra with tulle on its bottom, covering your stomach but not your lacey red thong. you even added a matching santa hat.

“no way,” hamzah managed to say between laughs “no way you actually did this!”. laughing at first, you could now see his eyes getting darker, filling with lust as he looked you up and down.

but you weren't done.

“oh, it gets better,” you said, pulling out a wrapped box from behind your back. “open it.”

he tore the wrapping paper, revealing a matching pair of underwear to your outfit, with your name embroidered in gold on the ass part.

his face turned bright pink, both from laughing and embarrassment.

“this… this is the best gift ever,” he finally choked out, wiping away tears. “i can’t believe you did this. you’re unbelievable.”

you smiled, feeling proud of yourself. “well, you did say everyone needs a pair of festive underwear for christmas.”

he stood up and pulled you into a kiss. “you’re the best, you know that? but I hope you know i'm totally making you wear those again next year, and all years after that actually.”

“only if you wear yours,” you said back, smirking as he started kissing you all over

💋

[persevereforahappyending]

This isn't Your Fault (First Date)

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: She finally got what she’d been wanting all week, she had you right here just like she had wanted and now she was blowing it.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5.3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Tara was tapping her pen on her notebook as she waited for class to start. They were a few weeks into the semester and had been in the city for about a month. Tara was studying film like Mindy; they were taking all the same classes but oddly they only shared Video Editing 1. Tara liked to pretend that was her favorite class, it was Mindy’s favorite class. It would usually be her favorite because they were actually editing videos, cutting together clips and creating trailers, interviews, and Mindy was there.

That wasn’t her favorite though. Her favorite class was this one, Film History. Sure, it was one of her only classes where she actually needed to take notes and write papers for but for over an hour twice a week she got to sit in class and just talk about movies. She got to sit there and hear about the history of some of the best and most influential films, the movies that paved the way and inspired everything they get now. They also got to watch some movies. She had this class twice a week, the first day was a lecture, learning about the history of movies and the influence some have had on the entire industry. The second class though, that was the one where they just got to watch a movie. They were going through the history of movies, so they started with the very beginning, silent films. All of that was great but the real reason, not that she’d every admit it, the real reason this was her favorite class was because of you.

And as if she summoned you, you walked through the doors. Tara paused her tapping of the pen, her breath catching as she watched you make your way to your seat. You sat in the row in front of her, a couple chairs down. It gave Tara the perfect vantage to stare at you, in a non-creepy way. It was always the same, you came into class, headphones on and sat in the same spot. She didn’t know what you were listening to, but she admired you, seeing how whatever it was let you escape and ignore everything around you. You kept the headphones on right up until the very last second, as soon as the professor came in though, you slipped them off, keeping them rested around your neck.

Tara noticed you the very first day of class. That was also the first day she ever talked to you. The professor made them do those stupid ice breakers all teachers insist on for some reason. The professor gave them fifteen minutes to walk around and get to know each other, saying to introduce themselves and tell each other their major, and their favorite movie. To prove everyone was participating the professor would go through and ask each of them to share the other person’s favorite movie. Tara dreaded ice breakers, even before Ghostface, when everyone separated, she saw you slumped in your seat, seeming to hate ice breakers just as much. Despite her reservations Tara decided to make the first move, she would force herself to talk to the cute girl, the two of you clearly hated ice breakers, mutually shared hatred of something made for great bonding.

“Hey,” Tara said shyly, glancing around the room seeing everyone else effortlessly make conversation with each other. “I’m Tara.”

“Hi,” you said quietly, shyly glancing at Tara. “I’m Y/N,” you reached across, offering your left hand.

Tara clenched her hands, staring down at yours hanging in the air for what felt like an eternity. She knew it was only mere seconds considering you weren’t looking at her like she was crazy. Tara hesitantly lifted her hand to grip yours. Your eyes flicked down, lingering on the scar on the back of her hand. Tara almost pulled her hand away, this was a bad idea, you were going to ask her about it, or you already knew about Woodsboro, and you were going to connect who exactly Tara was, this was a bad idea, and she never should have come up to talk to you. You didn’t do anything though, you reached out the rest of the way, meeting her hand and giving it a soft shake.

“Nice to meet you,” you said, smiling as you pulled your hand away. “I’m an audio major.”

“Now the headphones make sense,” Tara mumbled. You instantly blushed reaching up to toy with the headphones still resting around your neck. Tara internally slapped herself for revealing she’d been watching you. “I’m a film major.”

“So, we’re opposites.”

Tara giggled, she felt her face get hot, it had been a long time since someone made her truly giggle. “Looks that way. What’s your favorite movie?”

“Jurassic Park.”

“Really?” Tara didn’t usually question people when they told her their favorite movie, well she didn’t usually do it to their face but now knowing you were an audio major she couldn’t help show her surprise, she was imaging something more music related.

“It’s a classic,” you laughed. “Plus, the theme is incredible.” You closed your eyes, letting out a small sigh as you clearly thought about the main theme of Jurassic Park. “I mean when they’re driving up to those gates, that theme makes you feel it all, the excitement, the wonder, the magic.” You chuckled. “Sorry, what’s your favorite?”

Tara shook her head; she was too busy smiling as she listened to you talk about the theme of Jurassic Park. “The Babadook.”

“That’s a horror movie, right?”

Tara’s eyes widened. “You’ve never seen it?”

You shook your head and had your mouth open about to say something but then the professor clapped their hands, ushering everyone back to their seats. Tara plopped back down in her chair with a pout, she had just gotten to talk to a cute girl and was about to be given the chance to ramble about her favorite movie. Her only conclusion for the first day of class, professors were evil.

Tara made small conversation with you here and there after that day. She wanted to get to know you more but after everything that happened, she couldn’t trust anyone. You were nice, you were so nice, always offered Tara a shy smile or a small wave. Amber was also nice, then she stabbed Tara and attempted to kill her, her sister, and all their friends. Nice didn’t mean anything. No one could be trusted. Luckily for Tara that, as nice as you were, you were also shy, so you never went out of the way to talk to Tara unless you specifically had to, like that first day of class.

Just listening to you in class when the professor called on you or talking to you while working on a paper together, Tara learned so much. She learned that you loved movies as much as her. Where Tara liked the story and the deeper meaning behind movies, specifically horror movies, you loved the music. Despite being shy, the most you talked was when the musical score of a movie was brought up. Tara never thought much about how significant music was to movies, but she soon came to realize you were right. Music was that part of the move that most people didn’t notice because even if it was there throughout the whole movie, it was just so easy to ignore, it was always just there but if you removed the music from a move, the movie just wasn’t the same. The music, the sound, all of it created the movie. Most movies were nowhere close to amazing when the music was removed.

Tara was sitting on her phone, scrolling through Instagram. She had found yours and it was private but Tara, feeling bold, requested to follow. It was only an hour later when you accepted, requesting to follow her in return. Tara allowed it, it wasn’t like she posted much anyway. Ever since you accepted her request though she’d been scrolling through your posts. You also didn’t seem to post a lot, everything you did post though was related to music, movies, or videogames. Tara went through to see who you were following, and it was pretty much the same thing, actors, movies, and videogames.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Mindy shouted, snapping Tara out of her mindless scrolling of your profile. She looked up to see Mindy storming in behind Anika who was in the middle of rolling her eyes. Chad was behind them, quietly closing the door, clearly trying to stay out of whatever was going on.

“It’s not a big deal!” Anika sighed, plopping down on a chair.

“Not a big deal! Do you hear this?” Mindy looked at Tara who just raised an eyebrow which Mindy ignored. “Can you believe this?” Mindy looked up. Tara followed her gaze to see Sam standing in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, she too had a confused expression.

“We’re doing a project together,” Anika raised her hands in defense.

“A project? A project? A project?”

“Yes!”

“On what, how to commit murder?”

“What is happening?” Sam asked.

“Did she ask about me or any of us?” Mindy asked, narrowing her eyes at her girlfriend, and ignoring Sam’s question.

“No! She’s never once asked about you.”

Mindy crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Oh, really? Then why did she have that scared look when I came in? Why did she leave so abruptly? Seems suspicious.”

“You were glaring at her!” Anika shot to her feet. “You stormed into the library and instantly started glaring at her.”

“How do you know she can be trusted? How well do you even know her? You said you haven’t been friends long.”

“We met at the beginning of the semester. We share a class. I met her before any of you,” Anika spun around looking at everyone.

“Who is this about?” Sam interjected again.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Mindy said, narrowing her eyes even more at Anika.

Tara perked up at hearing your name. She slowly sat down her phone and focused more on whatever was going on. It seemed that Anika knew you and now Mindy was arguing with her about you for some reason.

“She shares a class with Anika,” Mindy continued. “She’s also in one of mine.” She looked at Sam as if that provided all the answers in the world. Sam just stood there with wide eyes, even more confused than before. “Don’t you find that suspicious?” Mindy raised her hands, letting out a frustrated sigh. “We aren’t in the same major,” Mindy gestured between herself and Anika.

“So?” Anika snapped. “A lot of majors overlap. We’re all in very similar majors. I have a few classes with you and Tara, you, and Tara share only one class despite having the exact same major. There’s a guy in my theater class who’s an engineer major because he just loves performing!”

“She’s right,” Chad said, coming up from behind Sam, snacking on a bag of chips. “I’m taking Art History, and it has absolutely nothing to do with my major or football.”

Mindy glared at her brother but didn’t say anything, she kept her arms crossed and jaw clenched but relaxed her shoulders slightly. “Babe,” Anika said, stepping forward to uncross Mindy’s arms. “She’s really nice, she’s the only reason I’m passing, she’s also my best friend. There is no ulterior motive. She isn’t some weirdo trying to get close to me to get close to you so she can murder you all.”

“But how do you-” Mindy started to ask.

“Because we met the first day and have talked ever since,” Anika cut her off. “Also, I’m pretty sure after today she’s never going to want to be around you again.”

Tara tuned out the rest of the conversation after that. You were friends with Anika. You were best friends with Anika. Mindy had met Anika early in the semester at a frat party and had been together ever since. Sam had been suspicious of Anika at first, but everyone quickly learned Anika was really sweet and just the nicest person in the world. Anika was the first person everyone unanimously approved of, and that Sam allowed up to the apartment, even when she wasn’t home. If Anika vouched for you then Tara didn’t see the harm in going after what she wanted.

Everyday Tara’s crush for you grew more and more. You were nice, you were pretty, you liked movies, and you treated Tara like a normal person. Most of the time school wasn’t to bad but Tara would walk to class or be sitting there waiting for class to start and catch whispers of Ghostface or Woodsboro. Even if no one talked to her directly, they all knew exactly who she was, and it was always a topic of discussion. Not with you though, you never asked about her past. You saw her scar that first day and you still never asked about it. Tara assumed you knew but it was hard to tell, you never looked at her differently, you never asked about her sister or friends. If a topic was going to lead to what happened last year you changed the subject so easily Tara never realized what you had done until after she had already forgotten she was getting anxious.

That night Tara decided she would ask you. The next day after class she would just walk up to you and ask you out. If you said no, then Tara would just go back to the normal and never speak to you again. She didn’t think you’d say no. She hoped you wouldn’t say no.

The next day rolled around; Tara got there extra early due to her nerves even if she didn’t plan on doing anything until after class. Like clockwork you walked into the room, Tara offered you a small smile which you shyly returned and then you went to your seat, headphones on until the professor came in. The class was normal, they were discussing the film they had watched the previous week before getting into this week’s topic. Tara was being a good student, diligently taking notes when class ended. She was scribbling the last remainder of her notes, when she looked up and saw you were already gone.

The rest of the day and the day after Tara spent pouting. No one noticed Tara’s sour mood though. She should have probably been concerned with whether they were completely missing the fact that Tara was in a bad mood or were so used to Tara being unhappy that they just ignored it now. Tara could only focus on you though. Instead of working on any of her schoolwork or studying for any of her other classes, she decided to formulate a plan on how she’d corner you after class, she went over exactly what she would say to you, and she attempted to prepare a response for any possible reaction from you.

Finally, the second day of class came. Tara sat through the entire class, her eyes darting from the movie playing in front of her to you. You were sitting there completely engulfed by the movie. Tara tried to pay attention, she knew it was directed by Stephen Spielberg and she thought the name of it was Duel or something like that. She didn’t really care, there was a dude driving in a car and there was a truck. Tara lost interest instantly, instead spending all her time thinking about you and asking you out finally.

Before she knew it class came to an end and Tara shot up from her desk and ran out the door. She leaned against the wall next to the door so she could get you as soon as you stepped foot out of the room. Which is exactly what she did. You stepped out of the room, headphones already back on your head and Tara stepped directly into your path. You almost turned right into her but as soon as your eyes registered someone was in front of you, you jumped.

“Sorry,” Tara said quickly, taking a step back. In all her planning Tara never considered ambushing you after class might scare you and come across as creepy.

“It’s okay,” you said, giving her a small smile as you slipped your headphones back around your neck. “How’d you like the movie?”

Tara’s eyes widened, she also forgot that ambushing you after the second class of the week meant that you might ask her about the movie you both just watched, damn it, she really should have paid attention. “It-it-it was good,” Tara nodded trying to sound more convincing.

You tilted your head slightly, Tara found it adorable. “Yeah? What was your favorite part?”

Tara laughed awkwardly. “Oh, you know, the part… with the… truck.” Tara closed her eyes and suppressed a groan, all her planning thrown out the window, she was blowing it right now.

“Right, that part was good.” When Tara opened her eyes again you were giving her a slight smirk.

You tilted your head again, eyebrows raised as you looked at Tara. “Oh! Right!” Tara shouted a little louder than she meant to, making a few students passing them look at her weird. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay.” Tara stood there, staring at you. You continued to stare at her until you started to furrow your brow. “You, okay?”

Tara wanted to smack herself. She finally got what she’d been wanting all week, she had you right here just like she had wanted and now she was blowing it. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out?” Tara said quickly. “With me.”

Your eyes instantly lit up. “Like, like a,” you bit your lip.

“Like a date.”

You quickly looked away, smiling as your face suddenly turned red. “Yeah, yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Great! Friday night? There’s a new horror movie coming out.”

There was a slight twitch of your mouth, but you never lost your smile. “Yeah, sounds great.”

“Great!”

Tara walked to her next class smiling. Even though she had failed in her execution for asking you out she had succeeded, you had said yes. You even agreed to Tara’s suggestion day and date, everything was working perfectly. It was going to be a Friday night; she knew Quinn would be out of the apartment with one of her gentlemen callers and that Sam would be working late. Tara would be able to have her first date with you, see a horror movie she’d been dying to see, and maybe if all went to plan, she’d even get to kiss you goodnight, and still make it back home before Sam was none the wiser.

The rest of the week had gone by quickly. Tara was bouncing with excitement the closer she got to Friday. When Friday finally came around, she rushed home, making sure to say hi to Sam before she left for work and setting up as if she was going to have a normal night in. As soon as Sam left Tara ran to her room and started destroying her closet looking for the perfect outfit. She wasn’t sure why she was trying so hard or what she was looking for, it was just a date to the movies, but it was a date with you.

Tara glanced at her phone, seeing she needed to be at the movies to meet you in half an hour she quickly threw on a cute shirt and some jeans before rushing out the door. As much as she wanted to pick you up, she didn’t have a car and you lived on the opposite side of the city, so it was more convenient for the two of you to just meet up at the movie theater.

Tara arrived at the theater a whole ten minutes early. She paced back and forth outside the front doors. She had her phone out, trying to be casual but she couldn’t take her eyes off the time. As the seconds ticked by Tara started to wonder if you’d be late or if you would even show up at all, maybe you were going to stand her up.

“Hey!” came your voice, greeting Tara as you walked down the sidewalk.

Tara glanced at her phone one last time before putting it away. A whole two minutes had passed since she arrived, meaning you also arrived early for your date with her. “Hey!” Tara greeted.

“You ready?”

Tara nodded. She wanted to hold your hand as you walked in the theater. Her fingers nervously tapped her leg as the two of you made your way to the snack stand. You both got Icee’s and a medium popcorn. Before she knew it Tara saw you handing your card over to the cashier.

“Hey,” she shouted. She asked you out, she intended to pay for everything.

“You bought the tickets,” you said. “Which are already an insane price, at least let me pay for the overpriced snacks.”

“Fine,” she mumbled, crossing her arms with a pout.

You handed Tara her Icee, holding the popcorn as you took a sip of your own Icee. When you turned around you almost spit out your Icee and started choking. Tara glared at you; how dare you laugh at her pout. Tara’s glare only seemed to make you laugh more. Once you stopped choking you had an adorable smirk on your face that Tara was hating because it made her want to smile.

“Shall we?” you asked, somehow managing to hold your drink and the popcorn in one hand while you held at your other towards Tara.

Tara stared down at your hand, flicking her eyes to your face before going back down to your hand. Tara quickly grabbed onto your hand, taking a sip of her own Icee to cover up the smile and reddening of her cheeks she was sure was happening. Tara dragged you to the kiosk where the usher was scanning tickets. She held out her phone and the guy pointed down the right hallway telling them which theater to head to.

You and Tara took your seats. Tara had picked the perfect seats, it was still a new movie, and it was rather popular, but she managed to get the best seats, a couple rows back and right smack in the middle. Tara sipped her drink, trying not to focus on how you hadn’t let go of her hand, continuing to hold it as the lights dimmed and the trailers before the movie began to play.

Tara stared up at the large screen, watching as screams filled the theater. Tara had begun chewing on her straw, she wasn’t sure when she had finished her drink. Tara jumped, smiling at the scare that just happened.

“I’ll be back,” you whispered into her ear. Tara nodded but didn’t look your way, she felt your hand finally release hers.

Tara was engulfed in the movie, watching the scenes flash before her. She reached for some popcorn when she realized her hand was cold. Tara furrowed her brow, remembering you had let go of her hand when you got up. Tara turned to see your seat empty, your Icee still in the cupholder, now completely melted. Tara frowned, you had left a little while ago, you left about thirty minutes in and now the movie was almost half over.

Tara got up from her seat and moved through the dark theater, slipping out as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the other people. When Tara pushed open the doors entering the hallways again, she looked up and down until her eyes finally landed on you. You were seated on the floor, back pressed up against the wall and head buried in your hands. Tara slowly approached, not wanting to startle you. She eased herself down until she was right next to you but making sure she wasn’t close enough to accidentally touch you.

“Hey,” Tara said softly. Despite trying her hardest not to startle you, she saw your body shudder. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, not lifting your head from your hands. “Yeah,” you said quietly as you slowly lifted your head. You refused to look at Tara, keeping your eyes glued to the carpet.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Tara saw your cheeks darken slightly as you inched your feet closer to your body, closing in on yourself even more. “Nothing, sorry for disturbing the movie for you.”

“I don’t care about that,” Tara said quickly, shaking her head. “Please, tell me what’s wrong, please?”

You finally looked Tara in the eye but quickly dropped your gaze again. You ran your hands down your face as you let out a nervous chuckle, your face becoming redder as you prepared yourself for whatever you were about to say. “I hate horror movies.”

Tara blinked a few times. Out of all the things she expected to hear you say, that was not one of them. “What?” Tara asked dumbly.

You let out another nervous chuckle. “I hate horror movies,” you said again. “I’m sorry,” you looked Tara in the eyes again, looking so sad and disappointed in yourself, as if you expected her to suddenly dislike you because you didn’t like horror movies.

“Why’d you agree to see this with me then?” Tara asked softly, with a small smile, trying to offer you any sort of comfort.

You shrugged. “Horror movies are your thing. You love them.” You started picking at the carpet. “I even tried watching The Babadook because I knew it was your favorite. Your favorite movie is a horror movie!” You let out a long sigh, crossing your arms over your knees and resting your head on them. “You finally asked me out, I didn’t want to turn down your date suggestion.”

Tara’s heart broke, she hated how oblivious she had been. You sat through thirty minutes of a movie for her even though it made you miserable. Tara had been so focused on the movie she never noticed your discomfort. When she thought back to all her interactions with you, she suddenly realized how you never talked about horror movies. Tara would go on and on about them and you just kind of nodded along.

“Hey,” Tara said softly, gently bumping your shoulder with hers. “Why don’t we get out of here?”

“What about the movie?” you asked, looking at her with sad puppy dog eyes.

“Forget the movie.”

“But you were enjoying it.”

“So, what? I’ll wait till it comes to streaming or convince Mindy to see it with me later.” Tara reached out, grabbing one of your hands and bringing it over to her lap, drawing circles on the back of your hand with her thumb for comfort. “I asked you out because I wanted to get to know you better. Let’s go get something to eat and just talk.”

Tara held your gaze, giving you a soft smile until you nodded, returning her smile as well. “Okay. I know a pretty good pizza place not too far.”

“Sounds great.” Tara stood up, holding out her hand, when you gratefully accepted, she helped you to your feet. “I get to pay though,” she gave you a pointed look.

You chuckled, finally relaxing again. “Okay deal.”

Tara walked out of the theater hand in hand with you. You led her a couple blocks down to a little pizza shop. The two of you walked up to the register, opting to order two slices each. Once the two of you order Tara pushed herself in front of you practically throwing her card at the cashier before you could weasel your way into paying. She heard you silently chuckle as you stepped out of her way.

You grabbed your slices and hers, ready to sit down as soon as she got her card back. Tara grabbed a drink for each of you then followed you back outside to the bar seating that overlooked the street. The two of you sat in silence as you ate your pizza, just watching the people and cars pass by.

“So,” Tara said, tossing her napkin onto the empty plate. “If horror movies aren’t your thing, what is?”

You played with the remaining crust of your pizza, quietly smiling to yourself. “Videogames.”

“Really?” she couldn’t hide her surprise.

“Yeah, the sound design, the music, it all elevates a game, it helps fully immerse you in that world.”

“Okay, what kind of games do you play?”

“You’re going to laugh.” Tara smiled, tilting her head in question. “Post-apocalyptic, horror, really anything.”

“Are you kidding me!”

“It’s not as scary when I’m playing myself,” you defended.

“Wouldn’t that make it more scary?” you just shrugged. “Okay, whatever, how about you make me a deal?” you raised an eyebrow. “You can show me some videogames if I can show you some horror movies.” You tilted your head, seeming reluctant. “Come on! I’ll start you off with some easy stuff, not super scary. Our next date you can teach me how to play your favorite game or whatever you want.”

“Who says you get a next date?”

Tara’s face went white, her mouth hung open as she stared at you with wide eyes. She was having so much fun, she assumed you were as well. The two of you were technically still on your first date and she was already talking about a second date. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume, I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s okay,” you giggled. “I can’t wait for our second date either.”

Tara took a piece of crust from her plate and threw it at you. “Jerk.” The two of you broke out into a fit of laughter.

The two of you sat and talked for a bit longer before Tara looked at the time and realized Sam would be getting home soon. Despite assuring you she’d be fine you insisted on walking Tara home. Your argument was that you guys walked to the pizza place, which was slightly closer to Tara’s apartment, therefore you got to walk her home. Tara tried to argue but she didn’t put up much of a fight, wanting to spend more time talking with you. Which is exactly what she did, she talked with you the entire walk to her apartment, talking about classes and what each of you wanted to do after college.

“This is me,” Tara sighed, looking up at her building. Tara bounced on her feet, wanting to invite you up and continue your conversation but she knew if Sam came home, and you were there someone would surely be murdered.

“Don’t worry,” you said, smiling softly at Tara. “I just wanted to make sure you got to the front door okay.”

“Thank you.” Tara bit her lip looking into your eyes, she saw you blush, looking from her eyes to her lips, she was waiting to see if you’d make the first move or if she’d have to.

“Can I-would you mind-Can I-Would you-I-” Tara cut you off with a quick kiss. She felt you suck in a breath but quickly melt into the kiss, instantly returning it.

Tara pulled away, stepping back to see a goofy smile on your face. “Sorry, I hope that’s what you were trying to ask.” You opened and closed your mouth a few times but ended up just nodding. Tara giggled at rendering you speechless. “Night,” she whispered, leaning up to place a quick kiss on your lips again before running up the steps to the front door.

“Night,” she heard you whisper.

She turned around giving you a wave goodbye, which you happily returned. Once the front door closed behind her she saw you start to walk off back down the street. Tara smiled as she quickly ran up all the flights of stairs to her apartment. She unlocked the door, slumping back against it with the biggest smile she had had in a long time.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @fanboy7794 @noooodlessstuff @tatumrileyslover @alexkolax @canvascoloredin @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @youralphawolf72

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 26

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military Universe

Words: 5k

TW: Violence

Masterlist

———————————————————————

 Wednesday, December 23; 8:00 PM - Home

A few days have passed since I returned to Barcelona. I’ve never enjoyed a vacation so much. There hasn't been a single moment of boredom. Mapi has practically been living at my place since I got back. As usual, her parents are off living their own lives without her, so she’s living hers without them. Sunday was fantastic. Joan was over the moon when we took him to the amusement park. He hadn’t realized I’d be staying for two whole weeks, so when he understood I’d be here longer than usual, he was ecstatic.

I haven’t told him yet that I’ll be leaving earlier for New Year’s, but he’ll probably be too busy to notice. As always, my mom and Marcus will take him to celebrate New Year’s with friends who have a child his age. In any case, I’ll make a resolution to keep in touch with him more regularly. He’s missed me so much that she hasn’t left our side even once. Not during our movie and TV marathon on Saturday, not during our day at the skate park the next day, and especially not when we went to the ice rink. Those were incredible days.

Today, we decided it would be a relaxation day. Joan is at a friend’s house, so we spent our morning at the beauty salon. We got waxed and had our nails done for Christmas Eve. My family will be coming over tomorrow. I usually take care of myself, but this time we wanted to be pampered. Well, it was mainly Mapi who was dying for it. She couldn’t let go of the idea. So, I sucked it up and wore clothes that didn’t require me to undress completely. She’s lucky I appreciate the results. We continued the day with lunch at a restaurant in town, and then we went to the pool. It was so much fun. It seems like it just opened, so there weren’t many people, and we could relax as we should.

Now, here we are, standing in line for the cinema. It must be around 8:00 PM. It’s a way to do something relaxing without being cooped up in my room. I found out while she was in the shower that she’s been harassed by Ana. Apparently, Ana is sorry and wants Mapi back. I was relieved to see she hadn’t responded to any of the texts, but also slightly hurt that she hadn’t told me. I respect her silence, though. I haven’t brought it up with her, afraid she might shut down. That doesn’t stop me from being a good friend. I noticed she’s been glancing at her phone whenever she gets the chance today. I sense she’s about to crack, so I’ve done everything in my power to keep her busy. It’s clear she’s not doing as well as she pretends, although I imagine our days full of activities help her not think about it.

It’s time to pay for our tickets. I don’t even know what movie we’re going to see. I let Mapi choose since I haven’t been keeping up with new releases while I was at Camp Wiegman. We have similar tastes, so I’m not worried. Mapi insists on stopping by the concession stand for some popcorn. I take the opportunity to grab a drink, which she ends up getting too. We then have our tickets validated and head into our theater. We’re half an hour early, so I’m not surprised to find the place empty. We settle in a corner at the top. Mapi is never quiet during a movie, no matter where we are. She has the annoying habit of commenting on every action. Needless to say, it annoys everyone around us. It used to irritate me too, but over time, I started commenting with her. We’ve gotten to the point where if we’re watching a movie at home, we pick one we’ve already seen to make sure we understand the content.

I still make the effort to go to the movies with her, thinking I can always rewatch the film online if it seems good. It reminds me that Lucy had offered to lend me some movies, but she never did. I doubt she remembers. That conversation must have been over a month ago. I feel a pang of guilt, realizing I haven’t written to her since returning to Miami. Then again, she hasn’t written to me either. After all, she’s just my supervisor; I shouldn’t worry. She’s made it clear more than once that we can’t be friends while I’m her student.

"Isn’t that Miller and Bryan down there?" Mapi asks me.

I scan the area, looking for two heads that could be our friends. I smile when I spot them a few rows below us, completely on the opposite side. It’s impossible for them to see us. I notice their little gestures of affection, which are so cute.

"Yeah, it looks like it."

"Should we call out to them? I mean, we could see them at the same time."

"They’re on a date, leave them alone. We’ll catch up with them after the movie."

Mapi nods in agreement. The lights dim shortly after. To be honest, I’m still having a hard time seeing them as a couple, but they’re so adorable. To think that a few years ago, it was us as a couple and them as best friends. At least Mapi and I were lucky not to lose each other. She clumsily apologized for kissing me spontaneously. I couldn’t blame her for needing affection. Few people manage to stay on good terms with their ex, but I’m glad we did. She was my rock back then, and I won’t forget what she did for me. My feelings were mixed when we first reconnected, but I quickly pushed them aside, realizing it wasn’t mutual anymore. I never knew if that was truly the case, but I guess she was just protecting herself.

The ads fade away, and the movie begins. As I predicted, Mapi comments on every action, but today it’s a bit different. She also starts complimenting the women in the film. She seems to find them beautiful and amazing She’s lucky I’m  lesbianand find some truth in her words; otherwise, I’d get bored quickly. I join in, telling her my preferences. I’ve always preferred brunettes, even dark-haired ones,I find them more attractive and mysterious.

“Tell me an actress you find hot.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Just because. Someone you’d want in your bed.”

“I don’t want anyone in my bed.”

“You know exactly what I mean! Like if you had the chance to go on a date with an actress... Or a celebrity, whatever. Who would you choose?”

“Your question is really dumb.”

“Come on, play along. Give me a name.”

I think about it, running my hand through my hair. I have no idea. I don’t have a favorite actress or anything like that.

“I don’t know. Mila Kunis?” I say randomly.

“Mila Kunis?” she repeats. “Hmm… Not bad, true. Does she look like Bronze?”

I roll my eyes. And there she goes again, bringing up the subject. I don’t know what’s gotten into her with Lucy lately, but she keeps asking me questions about her.

“No,” I shut down.

“Oh, sorry. It’s just that I wonder what she looks like. I have the right to be curious. Here, compare her to Mila Kunis so I can get an idea.”

I can’t believe it when she pulls up a picture of the actress on her phone. I already know she won’t leave me alone until she gets her answers. I sigh and look at the photo carefully to make a comparison.

“Lucy has a much finer nose and much fuller lips. As for her eyes, they’re almond-shaped and green, much more sparkling than the dark eyes Mila Kunis has in this picture. And her hair leans more towards a brown shade than black.”

Mapi nods seriously. She seems to be creating an image of my supervisor in her head. Her silence makes me wonder if I went too far with my details. I realize just how much I’ve observed her to know so much about her appearance. She finally turns to me with a small smile forming on her lips.

“She must be cute.”

“She is.”

“Is she taller than you?”

I think back, trying to recall moments that might give me an answer to this question. I nod eventually.

“Yeah. But only by a few centimeters.”

“So, you claim you’re not interested in her, but you can tell me details like that about her?”

A smug smile spreads across her face, and I realize my mistake. I knew it was a bad idea to tell her all that.

“You’re exasperating, Mapi.”

“And yet, I didn’t even point out that you called her Lucy. So that’s her little name?”

I groan at her teasing. I slowly run my hand over my face to avoid losing my temper.

“Where’s her part in her hair?”

“Mostly in the middle, but sometimes she moves it to the left side.”

The words slip out before I can hold them back. I’m surprised myself at how easily I answered. How did I retain such subtle information about her? Damn brain. Mapi mocks me without restraint.

“Just as I thought.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” she smiles foolishly.

“Yeah, whatever,” I mumble. 

I sink into my seat, crossing my arms, clearly upset that my mind could betray me like that. How did I answer so instinctively? Lucy is my supervisor. Sure, she’s beautiful and attractive, but that doesn’t mean I’m interested.

Mapi tries to insist one more time, but she’s met with "shhhhht" sounds from all around. I think we’ve reached our chatter limit. It doesn’t seem to calm Mapi, who starts laughing at every scene that’s even slightly funny. No matter how much I ask her to calm down, it feels like she’s doing it on purpose to annoy our neighbors. They’re starting to get really angry, but fortunately, the movie is coming to an end. I wouldn’t have bet on our safety if it had lasted any longer. We hurry out of the theater as soon as the credits roll to avoid facing the hateful glares of the other viewers. Sometimes I wonder if we’re really civilized. Right now, I’d say no. I instantly regret our rush when we run into the one person we would’ve wanted to avoid on this earth. Mapi instinctively takes a defensive stance in front of me. Feli doesn’t take her eyes off me for a second, as if I’m the only one there.

- "Ona-..."

- "Don’t talk to her," Mapi interrupts in a sharp tone.

- "That’s not for you to decide."

- "Forget it. Let’s go, Mapi..."

I grab her arm, and I couldn’t say if it’s to pull her away with me or to stop her from doing something she might regret—or not. Mapi stays rooted to the spot, glaring daggers at my ex. I can understand her urge to tear her apart for what she did, right here and now. However, this is neither the time nor the place. All I want is to get out of here. I realize that’s not her intention when she violently shakes off my grip.

- "Get out of the way," she growls.

- "No," she says, stepping forward. "You know, Ona... I thought I’d see you again after what I injected you with."

A shiver runs down my spine as she admits this, never taking her eyes off me. No... I can’t believe it. She didn’t just say that.

- "I’m disappointed to see you in such a normal state..."

I feel myself wavering as she manages to slip past Mapi’s defenses to stroke my hand. Her gesture, which should be gentle, sends me spiraling back into a whirlpool of memories. I’m disconnected from my senses until Mapi’s fist slamming into Feli’s face brings me back to reality. Her punch is so powerful that she crashes to the ground, her mouth agape.

- "That’s for what you did to my best friend. And this is for sleeping with my girlfriend, you bitch!"

Her words are followed by a kick to her stomach. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mapi this angry. I’m so caught up in the scene that I jump when an arm wraps around my shoulders. I struggle against the unexpected contact, but calm down when I see Bryan by my side. Meanwhile, Miller is grabbing my best friend by the waist, pulling her away from Feli before the situation escalates further. Security has been called. They arrived just in time to restrain my ex, who was about to fight back. The guys managed to defuse the situation by announcing our departure. However, Mapi isn’t willing to leave it at that.

"Don't let her go!" she spits out. "She's gone mad, and she's stalking my friend. She even just admitted in front of everyone that she drugged her to get her back! You better not let her follow us, or I'll press charges against you!"

"Mapi, that's enough," says Miller, trying to calm her down.

"No, it's not enough! That bitch deserves what’s coming to her!"

"Let's just leave, please."

Bryan nods and leads me towards the exit. Thankfully, Miller is strong enough to drag Mapi out with us after apologizing to the officers. I'm struggling to process the whole encounter. It feels like I'm in shock. Mapi keeps cursing under her breath to vent her frustration, which isn't helping me pull myself together. If the guys hadn't intervened, things could've gone really wrong. It's only when we get outside that Mapi notices my state. She immediately pulls me into her arms.

"Are you okay?" she murmurs.

I want to answer her, but no words come out. I try to nod to reassure her, but it’s all lies. Feli drugged me. She really drugged me to make me relapse. How can I be okay? I can't even tell if she went further because I have no memory of it. For all I know... No, I don't even want to think about it.

"How about we forget this whole incident by grabbing a drink?" Miller suggests. "We wanted to catch up, so now's the time."

Mapi agrees without consulting me, so I have no choice but to go along. Miller drives us there in his car. Mapi and I are in the back. She's set her anger aside to try to lift my spirits. It's a lost cause, but I appreciate the effort. When we get to the bar, I wait just long enough to order a drink before excusing myself. I need to be alone and get some air. Mapi didn’t want to let me go out alone, but Miller convinced her. I couldn’t be more grateful. I sit on the curb once outside, burying my head in my arms to collect my thoughts. The evening has gone by too fast. I can't fully grasp everything that happened. After a while, I pull my phone out of my pocket and fidget with it, debating whether to call her or not. I realize I should've done it days ago. I muster up the courage to do it now. One ring... Two... Three... My heart stops when the beeping ends.

"Hello?"

Her voice echoes in my head. I can't find the words to speak. My lower lip trembles so much it affects me. I never thought hearing her voice would make me feel so relieved.

"Ona?" she presses, sensing my silence.

I let my head fall back into my arms as a sob escapes, one I can't hold back. Why do I always turn to her only when I’m not okay? She deserves so much better, even if she doesn’t want me as a friend.

"I'm sorry for calling so late..." I say between sniffles.

« It’s not late in Manchester " she replies calmly. "What's going on?"

"No... I—We’re halfway through the week... I- I should’ve called you much sooner," I murmur.

"It doesn’t matter, as long as you're okay. But you're not, are you?"

"I'm sorry for only talking to you when I need something," I say, choking up.

"Hey, that’s not true, and you know it."

"Yes, it is!" I cry out.

"Don’t raise your voice like that," she scolds me.

"S-sorry... I-I shouldn’t have."

She sighs long and hard, making me cry even harder. I feel so pathetic. I shouldn’t have called her now. I couldn’t even talk to Mapi, so there’s no way I’d be able to do it with Lucy either. I should've waited until I was more composed.

"Hey, Ona. I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to tell me something. Anything," she orders sternly.

"You don’t have the right to give me orders from afar," I say, managing a weak smile.

I joke to lighten the mood. I hear her laugh, which warms my heart. I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand and tighten my jacket, remembering I’m wearing hers. I couldn't find one that suited me when we were at the mall. I guess it’s because I’m already too attached to this one.

"I have every right over you. Have you forgotten?"

"It seems I have," I murmur.

"Enough joking... You didn’t call for no reason, did you?"

I groan, shaking my head. I feel foolish now that she's voicing the truth. I would've hung up a long time ago if I were her.

"Come on, spill it. You wouldn’t have called if you didn’t need to."

I rest my head on my arm, thinking for a moment. I do need this, that’s for sure, but how do I say it without breaking down completely? A silence falls between us that neither of us breaks. She’s waiting for an answer.

"It’s her..." I finally whisper.

"Her? You’ll have to be clearer if you want me to understand anything," she chuckles.

"Feli, my ex, the junkie. S-she’s the one who drugged me the other night. W-We ran into her with Mapi, and she admitted it. I—"

"Hey, calm down. Why are you reacting like this? Isn’t this supposed to be good news?" she asks. "It proves it wasn’t you who did it. That’s what you wanted to know, right? I think it’s a good thing. You didn’t relapse on your own."

How does she manage to find something positive in this mess?! I’m tearing my hair out, tormented. I know she's trying to reassure me, but she’d change her tune if she knew how seeing him again affected me. She can't know because she doesn’t know what he put me through.

"Well... If you say so..."

"Come on, dry your tears. You look so much cuter with a smile on your face."

She’s really trying to cheer me up. I smile timidly and run my fingers under my eyes to wipe away the black streaks of makeup that have probably run.

"So, how’s your vacation going, besides all that?" she suddenly changes the subject.

"Good... I’m enjoying it like you advised me to. And you?"

"Same here. I’m seeing my family and leaving for Portugal early tomorrow morning for a few days."

"You’re so lucky. I wish I could go back there too..."

"I can imagine. How’s Mapi? Is she doing better?"

"Yeah, she’s okay. We’re spending all our days together."

"Do you already have plans for New Year’s?"

"Yeah, I’m heading back to Manchester early. Leah and Alessia are hosting a party at their place."

"Oh. So Mapi agreed then."

"Yeah, it’ll be good for her to get a change of scenery. It was either that or we’d spend the night alone at my place."

"I see," she laughs. "That wouldn’t be the worst thing either."

"For you, maybe, but definitely not for Mapi. She’s never experienced anything like that at home."

"That’s a shame. Do you already know where you’ll be staying before school starts again?"

I stay silent. Honestly, I haven’t thought about it. Lucy laughs heartily. I hide my smile, rubbing my cheeks against the sleeves of my jacket. Damn. I’ve missed hearing her laugh so much.

"You haven’t thought about it, have you?"

"Not really, no," I admit with flushed cheeks. "I guess I’ll try to negotiate a spot with the Leah and Alessia, and if they can’t put me up, I’ll get a hotel room."

"A hotel?" she scoffs. "Don’t be silly. If you really have nowhere to stay, let me know, okay?"

"Oh no, don’t worry. I’ll manage."

"I’m serious. I’m not going to let you stay on the streets. Knowing you, you’d get lost."

"Ha ha ha, very funny!" I laugh sarcastically.

"It’s true," she giggles. "By the way, where are you? I can hear cars passing by."

"In the street, outside," I say with a smile, knowing how she’ll react.

"Excuse me?"

I can picture her frowning with a stern look on her face. Why am I still smiling like an idiot? Lucy must have this effect on me.

"I’m in the street, outside a bar," I repeat.

My smile widens even more. She’s definitely going to scold me. I start an unconscious countdown in my head. I reach zero just as she raises her voice through the phone.

"You’ve got to be kidding me!"

"No."

"Oh, so let me get this straight. One bad moment, and you’re ready to get wasted? If that’s your plan, you’d better head home!"

"Relax, I’m not alone. Mapi’s with me."

"And that’s supposed to make me feel better?" she grumbles. "She was with you last time too!"

I laugh, realizing she’s right. That night, she left me for her girlfriend, and she wasn’t in any better shape than I was. I don’t think Lucy noticed when she had her on the phone. If she had, she wouldn’t have trusted her to get me home. One thing I know is that I did the right thing by calling her. Without her, I would’ve ended the night with a brain in pieces.

"I’m with two other friends. I don’t intend to drink. If I did, I wouldn’t be sitting on the curb talking to you. I’d be inside drinking."

"Hmm," she says, skeptical. "You’d better text me every five minutes to update me on your sobriety once this call is over."

"If you want," I say with a smile. "Aren’t you going out tonight?"

"No. I have to get up early, so I’m enjoying a quiet evening in my apartment."

"Oh, I’m bothering you then."

"Don’t be ridiculous. I’m happy to talk to you."

"Oh really...? Me too," I admit. "I never thought I’d miss your bossy attitude this much. I keep thinking about what you’d say when I’m in an awkward situation," I chuckle.

"It’s been a while since you’ve called me that. I hope you’re at least listening to that little voice if you’re hearing it."

I hold back a laugh. If she knew all the trouble Mapi has gotten me into... I’d end up doing more than just laps.

"Come on, you have to tell me all the nonsense you’ve been up to now."

I finally laugh softly. My long silence must have given me away.

"No, it’s better not to."

There’s a silver lining to the distance after all. She can’t reach me, let alone intimidate me with her eyes and gestures.

"I’m not kidding. If you come back as that little kid from the very beginning, you’re going to hear from me."

"Hey!" I exclaim, offended. "That girl is long gone."

"Hmm, she’d better be."

I jump when a hand lands on my shoulder. I look up to see that it’s just Mapi. She’s leaning her head to the side with a small smile. I relax my muscles and timidly return her smile.

"Feeling better? You seemed really upset when you came out."

"Yeah... I’m feeling better," I reassure her without taking the phone from my ear.

"Who’s on the phone? Is it the person who managed to bring that smile back to your face?"

"Hmm," I shrug. "It’s Bronze."

I instantly regret being honest when I see a dreamy smile appear on her lips. I’ve just fueled her imagination. Those mental movies of hers won’t be going away anytime soon

- "Hey, I thought I told you not to use my name anymore," comments Lucy through my phone with a hint of playfulness.

- "I'll call you whatever I want!"

- "What does your boss want?" asks Mapi.

- "Nothing. How's your hand?" I ask, noticing an ice pack on her fist.

- "Hurts, but it was worth it," she giggles.

Both of them start talking at the same time, as if they're having a conversation with each other even though they can't hear each other. I don't know where to turn my head. I can't even decipher their words. I groan as I run my hand over my eyes.

- "For heaven's sake, shut up!" I groan.

I open my eyes again when the silence finally falls. I glance at my best friend, who is staring at me with wide eyes.

- "Thank you," I sigh. "How's your hand?" I finally ask Mapi, noticing the ice pack on her fist again.

- "Hurts, but it was worth it," she giggles.

- "Thanks again..."

- "It's normal," she smiles softly. "Well, I'm going home. Don't stay out too late."

I nod as I watch her go back inside. I groan, massaging my temples. I hope she won't be too upset with me for raising my voice.

- "You guys just gave me a headache."

- "At least now you know how it feels when you drive me crazy," Lucy giggles.

- "Are you kidding? I've never yelled in your ears, and I'm not that crazy!"

- "Oh yes, you were! At least, you used to be," she giggles. "You still have your moments, but now I find it adorable as long as you don't overdo it."

- "Oh, come on," I mumble, hiding my blush.

- "The worst was during exam revision when you wouldn't let anyone say anything to you."

- "Hey! Sometimes it was worth it, I was right!"

- "It only happened once!"

- "Once, but that question was on the exam! Believe me, I answered it correctly."

- "Well, good for you, if you can remember things like that."

- "Yeah."

- "Okay, I'm going to let you go; you must be expected. Enjoy your evening, but not too much."

- "Already?"

I have a hard time hiding my disappointment. I would have preferred to spend the evening talking to her. Am I crazy for wanting that?

- "Yes," she laughs. "Enjoy your time with your friends. We'll have plenty of time to talk when you get back. And don't forget to moderate, or even avoid alcohol, okay?"

- "I'm twenty, Luce. I can moderate myself."

- "Hmm, you never know.The past proved me wrong."

- "Not here. Do you have Snapchat?"

- "Snapchat? Why are you asking?"

- "If you give it to me, I could send you pictures of my drinks to make sure I'm not drinking."

- "Of course," she laughs. "Even if you send me a picture of a soda, who’s to say you haven't mixed it with vodka? I'd need to smell the drink instead, don't you think?"

- "As far as I know, there's no app that can do that yet."

- "You're silly," she giggles. "Okay, I'm letting you go. Don't forget I want texts. I wouldn't want you to do something stupid again."

- "I promise. Goodnight, Lucy."

- "Goodnight to you too, Ona. Don't stay out too late."

I put away my phone after we hang up. Now that I'm alone again, all my thoughts come flooding back. I sigh as I stand up. I pat my jeans to get rid of any dirt that might have clung to them. My butt is cold now from sitting on the ground. That wasn't very smart of me. I look at my phone, which is already vibrating. I smile when I see the handle, which I guess is her Snapchat: LBronze22. Wow, I can't believe it! I didn't expect to get it. My request was just a joke. I could know her whole life if she posts stories regularly. Then again, it's not impossible that she might block me too. I add her immediately on the app, then I head back inside. They're talking about the couples that formed among the people who were with us in high school. The room goes quiet when I sit down.

- "Don't stop on my account," I say.

- "How are you feeling?" Miller asks me.

- "Better. I just needed to step out."

I catch Mapi's smug smile, which I quickly avoid. She can smile all she wants because I do feel better thanks to Lucy. Thinking of her, I decide to kick off the fun by sending her a picture of my glass of soda. I caption it saying it's my one and only drink. I also take the initiative to write her a message, as she asked me to do regularly. I force myself to join the conversation to reassure my friends. I ask about some people I liked back then. The evening continues here for another good hour. I kept texting Lucy discreetly so as not to attract Mapi's attention. We decide to leave the bar around half past midnight. When I told Lucy, she seemed happy that I was being reasonable for once. Our last message exchange happens just as Miller drops us off at my place. We wished each other goodnight. I didn't want to bother her any longer, and besides, I planned to go to bed once I was in my room. I go to the bathroom first, then I join Mapi. Unlike the past few nights, it's Mapi's turn to hold me as we sleep. That's why I adore her. I don't need to talk or pretend with her. She knows me too well for that. Luckily for me, sleep caught up with me before I reached the point of insomnia.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Omg, we need a emma d'arcy x fem reader! Pleaseee!!!

Let me help you here

Emma D'arcy x fem!reader

warning : fluff, flirting, comfort, nicknames, no use of Y/n, i really hope emma is not too ooc, i hope all pronouns are right

Summary : The latest season of House of the Dragon is about to start and final filming is underway. Emma as the Queen Rhaenyra finds themself in a quiet scene with a fellow actor and the two need some help from each other getting dressed…professionally of course.

info : normally i don't write for actors but i feel comfortable with it so i hope you like it anon and emma looks like the queen herself too. have fun reading ;)

ps : I love the gif not only a queen but Ewan in the background so sweet

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The acting group needed for the scene had already gathered at the slightly unfinished set. The lights over there were sometimes bright, sometimes dark, with a wide variety of flares and lanterns, some lit with real flames, of course, and some with no real light.

The sets, as you all knew, served mainly as backgrounds for the actors and for the special effects specialists as the big screen which, in addition to the scenery and the actors and props, brought them all to life, giving them that fantasy look.

The large set the hall of Dragonstone went almost to the ceiling thick walls some with steel thickness some finely crafted with foam served as a set. It was really impressive to see how they did it all thought the young actress and let her gaze wander only briefly knowing that the camera was still on her co-worker Matt who was discussing the war plans as Daemon as he had learned.

Especially in the final edit when they had all watched the greasy series together, it was really nice to be back. The camera on the table moved around it again from Matt to her as Daemon looked at the Nachirhct's delivery. ,,Be assured the sea route is supported by Lord Manderly. This also goes out to your ships Lord Corlys your safety is our concern" she said her sentence as scripted letting her eyes wander over the sea route and nodded to Matt and Steve in their roles as Daemond and Corlys who also gave her a nod and thanks before the camera panned back.

It was a few lines she had played a newsbringer a high lady from the lake house as she had done a little research on the internet and even read a little blood and fire. A really good book.

But then she knew her cue when it became quiet at the table and the guards could be heard announcing in loud voices on the set that a queen was arriving. Instead of the short hair, Emma's head was adorned with a long, light-colored wig, which made their face slightly pale, but the expression Simply incredible she thought and looked at the older one who Matt then placed next to her around the table.

There was silence as everyone looked at the Queen, who looked at the card with a broken look of hatred and after another shaky breath gave a determined ,,I will…Aemond Targaryen" everyone lingered like that for a moment before there was a loud ,,Cut!" and a clap was heard and everyone fell out of their roles. Immediately there was talk and laughter, and everyone was curious to see what the scene would look like, ,,What a cute curtsy my lady," she heard Emma say as they came over to her and mimicked the movement, making them both smile.

,,So much training," the younger one mumbled, pretending to strain before D'arcy took the younger one's arm and pulled her along, ,,Nice to see you having fun and everyone going so well," the taller one began, giving her an assuring look.

It was only a small role and she had been in a few smaller TV series here and there, but it was still something completely different, it was really exciting to be around movie legends and such good actors.

A possibility she really appreciated…and maybe she appreciated Emma even more. The English actor was really impressive, even though they only played a few roles, but the expression, the voice and just everything about D'arcy was engaging and so captivating.

,,Everyone take a break, later we might do a post-production but until then you can get out of your costumes!" they heard the head of the costume department say and most of the actors went straight to the dressing rooms and Emma to the caravans.

This time, however, the younger one, who was only a supporting role, was about to say goodbye when the older one took her hand again and pulled her along. ,,I promised you I'd have a Negroni Sbagliato with you, come on, sweetie," they said and before she knew it they were actually in the actor's cozy caravan. Yes, they had made that promise after they realized on the first day they had met that they had not only gone back to the same acting school but had also run into each other more often than they wanted to.

From auditions, to plays and in real life it was almost romance ripe. ,,So with Orange without?" they asked, still standing at the small bar in their full outfits, which made the younger ones smile, ,,As the Queen takes him, so do I," she demanded with a look that went over the actor's body. The dress and the coat and the hair it was so impressive to see how versatile Emma could be.

But she had noticed the younger girl's stare, not just the little smirk on her lips, but when she turned to her and put the drink in her hand, their fingers deliberately touched and Emma let them touch. There seemed to be something between the two of them.

She had often invited Emma to her small but pleasant apartment and they had spent the evenings doing all sorts of things. In return, Emma sometimes invited her to extraordinary restaurants or something, it was like a friendship, even if some of the looks went deeper.

The two of them talked for a while about the costumes and the stunts with the "dragons", how exhausting and yet beautiful it was. She had watched D'acry do some of the flying toes and it looked incredible. ,,I'm glad to see you're enjoying it so much…you see I knew it would do you good not to give up now that we're here together," Emma winked and stood up after taking a sip of the alcoholic beverage before turning around and standing with their back to the younger one.

,,I can get the wig off by myself, but would you mind taking off the dress?" the actor asked and the younger girl jumped at the sight of a slightly rapid heartbeat, slightly sweaty palms and suddenly the alcohol was pounding much harder than usual. ,,Gladly for you-I mean, of course I'll help," she mumbled, stammering, and slowly began to help the taller girl out of her jacket, the smell of Chinoto Dark's citrusy, smoky scent enveloping her now that it had settled on her skin.

She liked the scent strong and yet slightly sweet because of the hint of lemon it was really something nice. ,,All good sweetie?" came the voice of the older one who turned slightly and looked at the younger one who was still holding the jacket in her hand ,,Yes-yes all good" she shrugged and felt the warmth on her cheeks.

Pull yourself together, you're not a schoolgirl anymore, she admonished herself and put the coat away before tying the dress, but she heard the slight smirk and Emma's words, ,,Don't be nervous, you're just undressing the queen," Emma joked, giving her a wink. A wink that only made the younger girl's heart beat faster.

Maybe it was Emma's intention, maybe it was the actor's style, or maybe it was just for fun. Who knew, but as her fingers tightened on the laces, the taller actress held still and let her friend do her thing, stepping out of the dress before reaching for a robe.

The back was nicely defined by the light muscles, not just for acting, the underwear a quick glance and her cheeks almost got hotter. ,,You were a grateful help, sweetie," Emma said, standing in front of the younger girl, they towered over her with their height in addition to the boots.

Her wispy dark blonde hair was slightly tousled and she had to resist tousling it and greenish eyes were looking at her. But then suddenly D'acry reached for her hand and brought it to her lips, placed a grateful kiss on it and seemed about to continue. The moment deepened and the younger girl clung to the fabric of the robe, fearful of falling over in devotion, when a ringing from her cell phone threw her off balance.

,,Fuck," she muttered with a determined look and Emma just smiled again. She picked it up, ,,I'm um what-yes of course-yes I'm on my way," she mumbled as the voice of the debriefing leader at the other end called for her to go over the script again when a few changes were made.

Sighing, she gathered her things and had forgotten all about the actor when Emma held her lightly again, ,,I'll wait here honey," Emma winked and gave one last kiss on the hand before she let the younger actor out of the caravan with an embarrassed look, knowing that something was finally going to happen, just a dance of the actors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[tumbleweedsthesecond]

CLONE HIGH CLOTHING SWAP!!(I'm gonna lore drop abt them but more importantly Anna )

Yayy lore time. So Anna is the clone of Anastasia Romanovna but she says she's the clone of Anastasia Romanov. This is because the other Anastasia Romanov is more well known and I like to include historical references in stuff. From what I know her body was never officially found, she was considered a mystery she was important because of that. Many people think she lived and escaped instead of being killed. Some people also pretended to be her or tried to for money from the aunt as is shown in the Disney movie. specifically Anna Anderson I think which is why I nicknamed her Anna. (If anyone needs to correct me on some of this stuff Ik its been a while since I've done research on the topic I've been researching other stuff.)

When Anna was cloned her foster father believed she was that Anastasia, so up until she was like 11 or so she believed she was Anastasia Romanov, she felt important. She watched the movie and loved the idea of being a princess, of being the one everyone was waiting for. Until one day scudworth told her she was wrong and got the names mixed up. So Anna saw Ivan and cried her eyes out. She didn't want to be the clone of some guys wife. She wants to be more important than that and not live in his shadow. She thinks she's important and seeing her dad disappointed about that really hurt her. So she decided that she was going to just cope. She'd forget everything scudworth said and live that lie. And it felt great for her, she brags about it alot. Though she's gone so far into coping she does almost believe it. because of that she's obsessed with popularity and living up to the real Anastasia Romanov. She wants to be famous, she studies hard and everything. She's even a cheerleader. Because of the coping thing it does make her view other people just as extensions of their clone parents. She thinks everyone thinks the way she does cause she's preppy. Also on why she expects people to be extensions of the clone parents is also due to some self loathing because of who she really is. That doesn't make her any less annoying though but I forgive her❤

Orginally Anna and Ivan were a ship because she couldn't fight her genes or whatever that's been erased actually I decided it'd be more interesting of she was a lesbian. ivan and her are still rivals. She doesn't know she's a lesbian yet tho cause comphet she's also Topher stepsister!! Basically they hate hate each other at first for obvious reasons and Topher even blackmails Anna. Then he does reveal who he's a clone of and she full on ignores him and calls him disgusting for like a week. But eventually they talk and they become a little closer? Anna starts understanding people aren't just their clone parents and she still like trying I guess? Topher also learns to not blackmail her so yay They have some solidarity, a little. They still don't like each other but its more in a sibling way.

Okay now Fyodor. Gonna guess no-one(but like one person) knows who Fyodor Basmanov is. I learned about him through some movies, basically Ivan the terrible had this alleged male lover. He was in the Oprichnina, like a secret police Ivan had made, and he rose in ranks fast. He was known as the favorite of the Tsar many people thought they were a thing(probably). There was rumors he'd wear skirts and dance for Ivan and stuff. Whether or not that's true in the Ivan the terrible movies he's in they actually do address it. In the 1940s two part one he sings this song abt killing people in a dress and a mask that is supposed to resemble Anastasia Romanovna in the beginning of the film. Which is actually why I made them do a clothing swap in the post. In the 1991 version he is sooo pretty and I can't understand everything in the film because no subtitles but I was able to get some context to what was happening. The story from what I know goes Fyodors the favorite and he uses that alot over other people, he sits next to the Tsar during meals and stuff, poisons people for him etc, then he tries to trick this other guy to get rid of him with witchcraft but word got back to Ivan and now they think Fyodor committed treason. So hes like no not me!!come on Ivan listen to me I'll tell everyone about us or something like that I don't know I could only understand some and he's dragged away. Real Fyodor apparently did get accused of treason by Ivan and he was ordered to kill his father. Some say then Fyodor was executed others say he was just sent away I don't know what really happened. Shrugs. Anyway

I made a clone of him just because I can ❤yay❤ he's Ivans ex friend they don't hang out anymore because Ivan thinks he's better than him. Fyodors just a chronically online guy that uses discord too much(gamer). He wears skirts too not for Ivan just cause I like gnc characters. Yay❤. Also Ivan and him weren't a thing though Fyodor probably does have a crush on him for a bit, the most Ivan does for him is buy him discord nitro. Which he doesnt do anymore. Fyodor does still sometimes try be friends with the bleacher creatures mainly cause sometimes he feels like he's nothing without Ivan so. Yeah. He's unsuccessful tho he's annoying af. He's cringe. He thinks it's funny tho

Anyway just realized I made three clones of Ivan the terrible lovers and I don't ship any of them with him(Maria's the third ill post about her another day. Her and Anna get together tho) this guy had like eight wives. I should really just clone all of them and make them a polycule(minus Ivan ofc) this is why I shouldn't study historical figures

[ficsandgiggles]

How to Win A Tickle Fight (Scarlett Johannson x Florence Pugh x Reader)

Authors Note: this was so fun to write, thank you so much @marinasmarvel for the adorable prompt, I hope you enjoy it 💞

Word count: 1181

Warnings: Cute as fuck

“Hey everyone, welcome back to my channel! Now as you know I am a huge fan of Marvel, and I’ve wanted to try and get some of their incredibly talented cast members on here. Well, today is the day, I am unbelievably honoured to introduce the amazing Natasha Romanoff and Yelena Belova!”

Scarlett and Florence both slid into view, sandwiching you in between them. You still couldn’t believe this was happening. Your humble self didn’t think that your channel was anywhere big enough to ever get to this point. Yes, you had a few million subscribers, but so did hundreds, if not thousands of other people.

When Florence reached out to you, saying she loved your content and your creative theories, she was eager to be a guest on your channel, so the two of you arranged a date and time for her to come to your place. It was only a couple of days before when she casually said that Scarlett would be joining as the two of them had been hanging out. She wanted to keep it a surprise but blurted it out as she was too excited to hide it from you.

The three of you hung out for a little bit before you started filming, you explained how this could take a bit of time as you had received an overwhelming amount of questions and you’d have to cut out some of the answers, but it was best to cover bases.

Throughout this time, Scarlett and Flo were physically close, occasionally poking sensitive spots if one of them got distracted, you couldn’t help but blush. You purposely chose a question where they asked the two actresses to expand on what specific trust exercises the two did and, more specifically how to win a tickle fight, as it was obvious the two of them got into a lot of them on set.

Even before you started filming, the two were bickering and poking each other, you just rolled your eyes, but there was a small part of you that was jealous, you had watched too many times to count the interviews where Flo would talk about their playful fights and attacks whilst they were filming.

They didn’t know about your upcoming question though, and you were so excited to ask it.

The questions started flowing, they ranged from their favourite on-set snack to their favourite Outset product (of course, Scarlett put a lot of playful pressure on Florence)

Eventually, you decided to drop the question on them.

“So the two of you got up to a lot of mischief during your time filming Black Widow, and a very interesting question was asked someone. What is the best way to win a tickle fight?” You asked with a grin, looking in between the pair. Scarlett looked at you with raised eyebrows, she was a little suspicious that you seemed more than excited to ask that question but didn’t push it for how.

“A surprise attack!” Florence announced and launched behind you to dig into Scarlett’s armpits, making her squeal and slam her arms down against her sides, cackling with giggles.

“FLOHOHO!” She laughed and pushed her away whilst leaning away herself, making the younger actress laugh fondly and move back to where she was sitting.

“Well first of all, you need to get an overly sensitive person.” She said and stared at Florence, who gasped and put her hand on her heart, pretending to be offended.

“I am not that sensitive!” She said, shaking her head. “You just have to find a sensitive spot, like everywhere on Scarlett.”

The two of them bickered for a little bit, you’d jump in with the occasional comment but all in all felt a little bit left out, you enjoyed the gossip of what happened behind the scenes but sometimes you felt like you weren’t in the room with them.

“Or if you’re two against one, you can just do this!” Scarlett suddenly announced and pounced on you to dig into your ribs, causing you to yelp and fall back towards Florence, who pinned your arms above your head with a cheeky smile as she looked down at you. “Hello.” She said casually.

“Nonono, help!” You squealed out, pulling at your hands as you already began giggling nervously, Scarlett looked at the camera briefly before looking back at you.

“I don’t think a camera can help you.” She grinned and already began skittering her fingers all over your sides and belly, as Florence wiggled a single finger under one of your arms as she held them up.

“Guys!” You squealed out, immediately breaking into giggles as you kicked and squirmed about, you couldn’t quite process what was going on just yet but I wasn’t complaining too much, this was a dream come true.

“Hey, you should do what I do to break you,” Scarlett suggested to Florence with a cheeky smile, but Florence simply returned the cheeky smile and stopped your armpit torture, making the other actress roll her eyes and reach over to squeeze rapidly into her side, making her cackle and then drill her thumb into your armpit.

“So I guess you have to experiment with every spot until you find the one that makes them crack,” Florence said casually as Scarlett moved to shake your ribs, making you cackle and arch your back. “That’s a good example.” Florence teased with a fond giggle as you whined in response.

“I'm right here!” You squealed between fits of giggles, shaking my head as you tried to kick out.

“Hm, another thing we used to do is raspberries, like all the time,” Florence added with a smirk as Scarlett grinned, watching as Flo leaned down towards your neck. “Oh, that’s cruel.” She told Florence before the young actress blew a huge raspberry on your neck.

“FUHUHUHUCK!” You screeched with laughter, kicking and shaking your head as Scarlett shook into your belly. “No swearing, Y/N! You may get demonetised!” Florence giggled along with you but noticed your laughter go silent and let you go.

Scarlett pulled you into a hug and turned to face the camera. “And that, lovely audience, is how you win a tickle fight.” She announced proudly as Florence joined in with the hug, sandwiching you into a cuddle between them.

“Thank you for watching everyone and we hope you have taken in some valuable lessons from this to wreck others if you need to. Say goodbye, Y/N before we wreck you again off-camera!” Florence grinned enthusiastically and squeezed your side to prompt you.

You blushed madly, looking into the lens of your camera. “Enjoy making edits and memes of this, I’ll see you in the next video…” you murmured, all flustered and shy.

Scarlett reached and turned the camera off, smiling fondly at you. “I think it’s time for a real tickle fight now.” She grinned, as she and Florence dragged you to your bed, you took in their lessons and you had a fun and fair tickle fight, and it was one of the best moments of your life.

[hopelessfool]

CHAPTER 1: showtime

MASTERLIST

"I'm curious, have you had a chance to watch the show, yet?"

A collective sigh filled the room. This season, everyone and their mothers had tuned in to see the love is blind cast and the amount of chaos they had caused on screen. There was at least a handful of other people in this room to blame for that, yet the complete and utter attention of the viewers was fixated on you.

"Yes", a girl snickered, "we've ALL seen the Y/N L/N show by now."

As you could feel a few pairs of eyes pierce through you; hear the bitter chuckles of friends and foes alike, he grabbed your hand. And everything was okay. Everything was worth it.

As long as it meant you would sit next to him on this very couch, matching rings, matching heartbeat, you would do it again.

And you wouldn't apologize to any of these fuckers.

This is going to be fun, they said.

It will get your mind off the breakup, they said.

You need to get laid, they said.

While you couldn't particularly spot a lie in any of these sentences, you were still overwhelmed by what your friends had signed you up for. On short notice, they had picked you up, sat you on a plane with a ridiculous amount of luggage and wished you good luck.

A tv-show. One which pretends to be classy and all about real love and still manages to only cast conventionally attractive people. One in which you would have to get married to "win". Coming here, you definitely didn't plan on taking any of this too seriously. Just because you needed or rather deserved a distraction from your previous love leaving the picture, didn't mean that you wanted to jump into a marriage. Particularly not with the other Z-list-celebrities-to-be.

At least half of them had to do this for fame, you thought. And the ones that were looking for real love, well... You remembered the countless promises of "forever" and decided that the ones looking for that might be stupid.

Really stupid - from the first impressions you were gathering from the other female contestants, you could already tell whose hopes would be let down soon. Because love is not blind, at least not in the way they wanted it to be. At some point, you believed, you just unwillingly close your eyes. To faults, absence, mistreatment. Even to the lack of love.

But people are constantly aware of the surface-level aspects that they are not attracted to. Sooner or later, even when you're not able to see your dates, looks, hobbies, and even your financial situation could kick you out of the show.

So you got dressed up along with the other girls, mentally hyping yourself up for the cameras to start rolling. Though you didn't plan on saying "Yes" at the altar to anyone, you might as well get your hands on a paid vacation. That just meant passing the first phase of the show - and convincing some guy to propose to you.

You heard a jittery sounding voice through your door. "We're doing interviews now, hurry up!"

Naomi, you recognized, was one of the genuinely excited participants who fully believed in the experiment. She was here to find what you've already lost. And as much as stupidity irked you, she unfortunately didn't seem dumb. She came across as hopeful. Under other circumstances you might have respected that.

The blinking red light signaled that you were already being filmed, although the interviewer hadn't even entered the room yet. So you tried not to fidget and mustered up all your strength to not sit there bent like a shrimp. Your mind started to wake up for the first time since arriving at the studio. People around the world would see you. The least you could do was to not make a fool of yourself. Not right away, at least.

With a swift opening of the door, a man in a beige suit strutted in. With his expensive glasses and watch and the way he held himself, you could picture him as a history professor. A broker. But not as an interviewer at love is blind. You tried not to seem surprised by his elegance. Or was it arrogance? Of course he would feel above this kind of job, would he not?

He nodded his head in greeting and placed himself on the chair across from you. "Nanami Kento", the blonde man introduced himself. "I will be your personal interviewer during the love is blind experiment. I'm also obliged to tell you that you can come to me for advice at any time." You watched in confusion as his hand reached out to cover what seemed to be the...microphone? "But this is not possible without any cameras involved, so I would suggest you don't."

You could only come up with a few blinks and a nod. He looked annoyed to be here. Although you were grateful for the heads up, you couldn't tell if he actually wanted to help you or hoped that you wouldn't take up too much of his time.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Nanami. I'm Y/N L/N and-"

"Kento is fine", he sighed, "and I already know all about you." Fanning himself with what looked like your file, he added: "I'm excellent at my job, Y/N. Don't believe I haven't taken my time getting to know you."

That was the point at which you felt see-through under the gaze of Kento for the first time. Heart pounding so loud you could suddenly hear it in your ears, you sharply sucked air into your lungs. You now had to rely on your foundation to hide the warmth that had formed on your cheeks. Did he really have to phrase it like that?

"I'm here to find out everything about you that can't be put onto paper. Things that the viewers care about, things that make them root for you."

"I'll try to live up to the expactations."

A deep, hoarse noise escaped his lips - your words somehow managed to make him chuckle. The slight lifiting of the corners of his mouth made him look more approachable immediately. Absurdly handsome, actually. His face was chiseled in a way that only gods had the tools for. Despite that, you couldn't spot a ring on his finger. Unmarried and overqualified for his job. Now you wanted to know everything about him that couldn't be put onto paper.

"I'm going to start with the questions now, is that alright?"

"Ask away, Kento." You would try to win them over. The viewers, the dates. You figured that answering Kento's - for sure - well thought through questions, might get you an idea on how to win the affections of the male participants.

You were determined. You deserved some fun, a beach vacation. And you deserved the dumbstruck look on your exes face when he sees you getting cozy with other men on tv. After how he left, you weren't above being petty like that.

"Well, I can't ask you why you've signed up for love is blind. Your friends sent in the application for you, which makes you an unusual participant. How do you feel about being put into a experiment like this on short notice?" Kento had a curious look plastered on his face. You didn't expect him to actually be interested in what you had to say. As a professional he was probably able to feign certain emotions to get you to open up to him. But his stern brown eyes looked honest.

"To be honest, without a little push from my friends, I would've never thought about coming here. When they told me that I had been cast for this show, I was overwhelmed, confused, excited. But my first instinct was to ask them if they're insane."

"But you still decided to come. Why?" Moving forward in his seat, he leaned his face onto his hand, eyes on you the whole time. "Could this have something to do with your past relationship?"

Sore wound. But you wouldn't let that rattle you in the slightest. You wanted to match the professionalism your opposite offered you and not offend him with your tears or your rage. They belong to someone else. They belong in the past.

"I understand why this connection would be made. The relationship ended only a few months ago. But rather than looking for a rebound - or a husband, for that matter, I'm here to let the experience convince me."

That was unexpected. Suddenly, Kento wished he hadn't disregarded his own offer of lending you an ear whenever you needed something. For the first time at his interviewer job, someone answered one of his questions to his satisfaction. Made him want to know more.

"So, you don't believe that love is blind?"

"I'm here to find out. That's what the show is about, isn't it?"

And when you smiled at him and into the camera, he found himself looking forward to the following interviews. You were a natural.

"Are you ready to fall in love?", the hosts had asked at the end of the introduction to the show. The sentence and the following cheers from the other women rang in your ears while making your way to your first cubicle. Inside, on the other side of the wall, there would be a man waiting to get to know you.

After meeting Kento, you weren't sure how some guy should impress you as much as he did in a shorter amount of time. You would have to sit through 15 minutes with each of them and hoped that at least one of them was bearable enough to at least fake date. Eyes on the prize!, you told yourself. The prize in question being free breakfast mimosas on a hot beach.

With the first guy, you just didn't vibe, which was fine. But after five more dates of being asked specifics about your look and sex life within five minutes, you felt like screaming into a pillow and taking the next plane home.

"Do you think I could carry you on my back?", was just a watered down version of saying "You're not fat, are you?" to which you so badly wanted to reply with "Do you even lift, bro?" - You chose to be civilian and just left the room, though.

The next room you had to enter was just left by Naomi. With flushed cheeks, she ran up to you, grabbed you by the shoulders and clutched on tight.

"Y/N!", she swooned, "Y/N, oh my god. All the girls already claim to have dibs on that guy."

With furrowed brows you looked at her, having the urge to say: "I mean, the bar's not that high. Have you met the threesome-guy yet, he's disgusti-"

"No, he's really dreamy, Y/N!", she puffed, "Im so jealous that you get to have time with him, the 15 minutes were way too short."

"Oh, you're talking about Toru?" Suddenly multiple women stood next to you and Naomi with their hands on their hips. The tall blonde at the front, Jolyne, had a teasing smirk on her lips. "I doubt he's interested in you two boring country-cows. Also, I already have dibs on him. Do you know nothing about girls code?"

"Excuse me?", you spat. "I haven't even talked to him, yet. Get your hysteria out of my face, please and thank you."

You shoved them aside and continued your walk to the next cubicle, which gained you multiple offended hisses. Somehow, Jolyne's rage made having that guy to yourself sound really delicous. Fired up, you walked through the door and planted yourself on the couch.

On the other side of the wall, you could hear some faint rustling, which told you that the other person was there as well. You couldn't help but be curious. What kind of guy was able to make all of the women fall for him - or his tv personality - in just 15 minutes?

What would he tell you? What had he told them? Did he talk about how handsome he was and everyone just bought it? Did he make up some story about saving cats from trees, or about rescuing children from a housefire?

What kind of guy could literally have anyone?

"Hey there, I'm Satoru."

No, that couldn't possibly be - that had to be a fucking joke.

"Gojo?!"

"...Who?"

©hopelessfool 2024

[lakesparkles]

I finished the first chapter of my Gideon and Ramona fanfiction :D

I'll post it somewhere else someday, but so far I can share it here.

(reminder that this is NOT a ship fic. I just want to explore their relationship and project on Ramona tbh)

Ramona and Gideon - I

.

.

.

She decides to leave one last time

Or

Ramona remembers the seven reasons that made her fall in love with Gideon

—

  She had that same fantasy every day. As she walked down the halls, running her fingers along the wall, she imagined herself entering her own room. It was satisfying, somehow. She could perfectly see herself opening her wardrobe, taking out the few things that really interested her, putting everything in her bag and simply walking away.

  In that fantasy, of course, she always smiled. She even laughed. That kind of hysterical and cathartic laughter only present in films. She wanted to imagine how Gideon would react: how long would it be before he realized she wasn't there anymore? Two weeks? And when would he realize that this wasn't just another one of her "famous tantrums"? Two months? Two years?

  Part of her was almost excited at the prospect of making him furious with such an accomplishment. It would be his turn to take endless turns through the halls, finally using his brain trying to understand what had gone so wrong between them. Maybe he would find out years later. Or perhaps that doubt would eat away at him for decades to come, the bitterness of her image never leaving his mind.

  And part of her... thought that wasn't realistic. She knew Gideon well enough to know that he would never even consider any mistake on his part, with a mixture of confusion that never ended well when it came to him.

  Or worse.

  He wouldn't even care about her lack of presence in that house.

  Therefore, Ramona released her fingers from the wall, slowing down her steps until she stopped altogether.

  Then the fantasy ended. Every single time.

☆

7 MONTHS BEFORE

  "Ramona Flowers," he repeated once again, with his head bowed. At that point, she figured he just wanted to test how the name sounded on his own vocal cords. "Ramona...Flowers."

  "Did you like it, huh?" Ramona took a sip of her own drink, even though she already considered herself drunk enough. Maybe he was too, now that she thought about it.

  "Sounds a little familiar."

  "Strange," she shrugged, not caring. "And you are?"

  Now he raised his head once more, looking her in the eyes. Ramona found it strange the way he raised one of his eyebrows, as if he had just heard a terrible insult.

  "Did I say something wrong?" Alcohol always made her put all her thoughts out, without thinking much. She slowly realized that it hadn't been a good idea to start talking to that guy in a situation like that.

  He laughed, however:

  "You are intriguing, Ramona. And my name is Gideon Graves, to answer your question!"

  He - Gideon? Weird name - had said such a thing with so much pride that she began to suspect there was something she wasn't understanding. She became even more certain of that once she noticed his gaze still fixed on her face, waiting for a response - perhaps an acknowledgment. Strange, huh.

  To escape her own discomfort, she looked ahead, watching as everyone calmly walked around the party room. It was an average place, so there were too many people everywhere: one of the reasons she felt so uncomfortable. Parties stopped interesting her when she left college. Now she had no idea what to do there other than walk around with her glass of wine. And walk more. And pretend to be interested in the topic that another weird guy in a suit, who held her arm, was talking about. And walk.

  "What brought a girl like you here?" Gideon cut the awkward silence, catching Ramona's attention again.

  What was he implying with that? That she looked poor? Messed up? Or was it her hair?

  "I was challenged for 20 dollars that I wouldn't be able to crash this party."

  "Seriously," he laughed lightly, now being his turn to sip his glass. "What was the reason?"

  "It's a looooong story."

  "Don't tell me!"

  "You wouldn't have that much time to listen to me."

  "It seems that you don't know me very well" he implied, good-naturedly.

  Ramona turned her head to the side until realize Gideon kept his eyes fixated on her face. He always had a blank expression, difficult to read. She took the opportunity to analyze him more closely, trying to decide if he was ugly or not. His dark hair was longer on one side, in a kind of fringe that must've been popular about 10 years ago. What caught the most attention, clearly, were his thick glasses that he occasionally used his index finger to place back on the bridge of his nose. However, she also couldn't help but notice his white coat, much more informal than she expected for an occasion like that.

  Normally, Ramona was good - great even! - knowing a lot about someone just by her first impression and how the other person acted. But that guy? He was different, he just seemed like a weirdo who apparently was interested in her.

  She had watched him for a few minutes before he approached. Gideon was talking calmly to a large group of people, making no effort to become the center of attention. He had something in him, that was for sure. A kind of confidence mixed with how unusual the way he gestured with his hands was.

  She was so caught up in her own mental notes that she didn't even notice Gideon's next move until it had already happened. Still with a smile stuck on his face, he held her arm tightly, pulling her away from the wall and making her follow him.

  "What the hell, dude!?" Ramona practically screamed, looking around in confusion.

  "Let's get out of this stupid party, I can't take it anymore!"

  Indifferently, Ramona let herself be guided wherever the other wanted. She didn't care anymore. About that party and about everything else. Not when everything had already gone catastrophically wrong. She was too drunk to think about that anyway.

  The two of them sneaked among all those people, occasionally apologizing for stepping on someone's foot. When they paused for Gideon to exchange their glasses for two full ones, Ramona realized that she was having more fun in that moment than in any other second since she entered that tight space.

  This time, she didn't even need Gideon's grip to willingly follow in his footsteps, laughing along with him every time they had to take a giant turn just because there were so many people.

  "I know a place~" Gideon hummed when they arrived in one of the corners of the room. Without making much effort, he lightly opened one of the large doors, waiting for her to pass before closing it behind them"

  They came face to face with a long circular staircase - not the most pleasant sight at the moment. She felt sick just looking up:

  "Can we be here?"

  "Yeah, Jonah doesn't care! Do you know Jonah? The owner of this buiding."

  "Obviously not, man!"

  "He's a friend of mine... For a long time. Anyway, keep following me!"

  And so Ramona did, having the next minutes extremely complicated. She almost tripped on some steps, needing to lean on the handrail as if her life depended on it. Gideon himself didn't seem so good either, his feet unsteady even as he continued to take large gulps of wine. Anyone who looked at them at that moment would think they were idiots, and that thought amused Ramona.

  Fortunately, the stairs ended after some time - how much had they gone up? Four floors? - Gideon opened another door, smiling at her as he waited for a reaction.

  "Wow," she murmured, somewhat ironically, looking up. Until that moment, she hadn't even realized that they'd gone to the roof of that building. The sky above them was almost completely dark, the stars being overshadowed by all the other lights coming from the buildings.

  "Much better than down there, don't you think?" Gideon boasted of himself, taking slow steps to the edge of the slab, leaning there to better observe the entire view.

  "Funny. For the way you got along with everyone, I thought you were enjoying it."

  "Not even close to that. The good thing about Jonah's parties is that you soon know everyone there, at least by sight. The bad part is that it gets repetitive after the third party."

  "I'm already thinking it the first time. Who is Jonah?"

  "Huh, he's..." Then he interrupted himself. "You're really not from here."

  "What do you think?" Ramona went to his side, resting her glass on the slab and exhaling through her mouth in a kind of 'pfff'. "Do I happen to look like the type of person who comes to New York with a completely fanciful idea coming from $1,99 novels, only to find out that it's not all that and that she's not even good enough to be a pizza delivery girl?

  "From the way you're saying it, I believe so."

  "That is not what happened!!" She got angry, being grumpy again.

  "Alright."

  With a sigh, she leaned her body weight - up to her chin - on the wall:

  "I'm not here to stay" finally something sincere came out of her mouth. "I just need some money to get to Vermont."

   "It's far away, y'know?" Gideon spoke very quietly, his gaze fixed on the sky. She could've sworn he looked a little disappointed, which interested her. "Is there anything you need to do there?"

  'No, I just want to know how it is. Just like here."

  "And what are your thoughts about New York so far?"

   "Overestimated."

  "I knew you'd say that!" He shook his head, pretending to be irritated. "And something also told me that you were exactly the type of person who liked to hang around."

  "The thing you said about my eyes, right?"

  "They're beautiful."

  "Did you know that your flirting gets worse every time you drink more?"

  Gideon let out a sudden laugh. If he was offended, he didn't show it. At most, he finished all the remaining liquid in the glass in one gulp, teasing her.

  "And why are you right here, in the party?" He continued.

  "Is this an interrogation?"

  "I'm just curious about someone as fascinating as you!"

  "Silly," she rolled her eyes, not falling for that. "It was because of a friend. No, not a friend. A guy I met."

  "A boyfriend?"

  "What? No! It's the guy from the coffee shop across the street, I think he knows Jonah or something. His name is Jay, we talk when I go there. Do you know? That coffee shop over there, look!" She pointed with her index finger to the dark spot on the street below.

  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "Anyways! Jay ended up becoming my roommate. It's in a tiny studio apartment, but he can pay for it with his cafeteria salary and I can with the money I saved from Pennsylvania."

  "Mhmm!"

  "Shitty, I know! But I'm getting out of here. Soon."

  "Are you sure you don't have any plans?"

  This time, Ramona was silent, watching the cars pass by below. That part not even alcohol would let go so soon.

  "And you, Gideon? Are you from here?"

  "Me? I'm not. I came from North Bay.'

  "Serious? You don't look Canadian."

  "What does looking Canadian mean to you?"

  "Someone who isn't you."

  "Did you know that you make less and less sense the more you drink?" He countered, raising both eyebrows.

  She ignored him, then he spoke again a few seconds later:

  "Do you see that building over there? The one near the red sign."

  Ramona followed with her gaze where he was pointing:

  "Man Media?" She read with her eyes almost closed, barely seeing.

  "G-Man Media! G! The triangle is a G!"

  "Ah, now I see it."

  "So, I live there!"

  "Live?"

  "It's my company building, actually. But I arranged one of the floors to be my apartment."

  "Company?"

  She was still looking closely there, almost getting scared when she felt Gideon's hand on her shoulder.

  "Ramona, are you okay? Of course you're not!"

  She responded with a nod, cursing herself for making it so apparent that she had drunk more than she was used to. What a great first impression. She tried to stand and turn to him, to prove a point, but she remembered little after that.

  It was as if her mind had stopped working from one moment to the next. I mean, she was conscious as best she could. Wasn’t she?

  The problem was remembering that the next day.

  She lifted her head for the expected pain, her mouth dry as a desert upon waking up. Even though she couldn't see very well, she realized she was in a bed. How? She barely had time to despair before she looked everywhere, analyzing the light coming through the window and realizing she was alone in an unfamiliar place. It wasn't her apartment with Jay, that was for sure. That room alone should've been bigger than the entire place.

  The last thing she remembered from the last night was being in a car. Gideon spoke to her, a little impatiently. He asked where she lived, she thinks.

  Well, there was no sign of Gideon at that moment, which made her feel a little calmer. She also seemed fine, if she ignored her hangover.

  It'd just been... Weird.

  It took her about half an hour, rooting and snooping in every corner of the room, until she noticed the most obvious thing of all: the sheet of paper and the envelope on top of the cabinet.

  She sat at the foot of the bed, reading what was written there:

  "Dear Ramona Flowers,

  The room´s already been paid for overnight, don't need to worry! If you want to see me again, you know where to find me. If not, I wish you the best of luck in Vermont!

                                                                                     -GGG"                         

  Half curious, half laughing at the stupid name, she opened the envelope to find enough money for five trips.

☆

  She didn't know why her brain reminded her of that specific moment. Ramona raised the corner of her mouth, coming back to reality and running her fingers along the walls of the hallway towards her room.

  Now the fantasy was completely over. Instead, she imagined a fictional life in Vermont, accompanied by someone poorer and less complicated. It looked good, if she ignored the lack of detail because she had obviously never set foot there.

  God, what an idiot she was!

  Even without having a specific direction, she continued walking there. It’s what she does when she is so bored in such a big building. It was even funny. She'd lived there for months, but she was pretty sure she'd never explored all the rooms and floors.

  She was near her room when someone suddenly came out of one of the open doors, colliding painfully into her.

  "Ow. Sorry" she automatically apologized, expecting to be one of the tower's employees.

  "Ramona," the other person's voice said. In that typical and curious way.

  "Gideon," she said back, her head down. "I thought you were working all day today?"

  "Nope, only in the morning" he finished straightening his suit that had crumpled during the impact. "I was looking for you, actually."

  Ramona raised her head, certainly not anticipating this turn of the conversation. So much so that she was speechless for a second, giving Gideon the chance to continue:

  "Do you want to go out for lunch? You can choose the place this time."

  His tone... It seemed normal. Different from usual, which made her suspicious:

  "I prefer to stay at home today, my head hurts. I was going to my room," and then she started to feel guilty. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

  "Only if it's Sherlock Holmes!"

  "Nothing like that! You said I choose and it will be The Butterfly Effect!"

  Gideon smiled as he nodded, putting his arm around her neck - that had to be uncomfortable, considering how many inches taller she was than him -, and walking beside her to her room.

  Then they spent the next few minutes together, without anything too special. Besides, of course, being in each other's presence in general. It seemed like the longer their relationship lasted, the less they saw each other. And that only made her feel strange about the current situation. It seemed so normal that something had to be out of place.

  The film played in front of the two, who lay on her big bed. Gideon had a straight body, with his legs crossed and his arms the same way. Ramona kind of touched him and kind of didn't. Gideon seemed interested in the film, laughing and making occasional comments. Ramona pretended to pay attention when answering him.

  What was so wrong? There had to be something wrong.

  Then Gideon stretched a little, changing position to turn around and wrap his arms around her body. His familiar shape made her dizzy for a moment. This hadn't happened for a long time. Without thinking too much to avoid regret, she snuggled into his hold, feeling warm and... Fine. Almost.

  The memory was almost automatic. Her brain refocused on that same day, months ago:

  What she hadn't told Gideon when they met was how incredibly lost she was feeling because of her own stupidity. After graduating, she decided to leave everything behind, as she realized that she didn't belong there. She might not have any idea where that place would be, but she could certainly look! She took whatever temporary job she could get; she boarded planes and even trusted strangers for rides; she spent months, weeks and days in completely different cities. Searching.

  New York before Gideon had been more of the same. Her days were made up of looking at those giant buildings while wondering which point in that immense city was the right one.

  Apparently, it was exactly in that room, feeling Gideon's comforting warmth. He looked so relaxed that she couldn't help but laugh at the funny face he made as he tried not to fall asleep. The energy bar above his head said otherwise, being practically zero. Ramona... She was almost fine too. Her eyes took longer to blink each time.

  So why did she still feel exactly the same as the time she spent wandering around New York? She was beginning to think that she was incapable of settling down and being content.

  An instant before she fell completely asleep, something clicked in her mind. Her eyes suddenly widened.

  She finally realized what was so wrong there.

  It was about the day she met Gideon. She was absolutely sure that, until now, she remembered perfectly how everything happened when they got down from that slab. Before now, she remembered taking a taxi with him and all the conversations they had inside. And how he took her to a random hotel for the night, saying goodbye briefly by leaving her in the room and writing something while she went, in her drunken state, to bed.

   But now... It was as if her mind had gone blank.

[kathlare]

shifting focus

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: After a disappointing race in Belgium, Lando struggles with the weight of unmet expectations and the pressure of his performance. Alone in the airport lounge, he finds comfort in a heartfelt conversation with Amelie, who offers him support and perspective. Her words help him regain clarity, reminding him of the bigger picture and the importance of the journey over individual setbacks.

Wordcount: 1.5 k

Warnings: fluff

request over here!

July 28th, 2024 - Spa, Belgium

Lando sat in the sleek, modern airport lounge, his back against the plush armchair, his fingers absentmindedly tapping the armrest. The hum of distant conversations and the clinking of coffee cups around him did little to mask the thoughts swirling in his head. He stared out the large windows, watching the planes taxiing across the tarmac, heading to destinations he couldn’t care less about at the moment. All he wanted was to escape the noise, to shut out the disappointment of the Belgian Grand Prix that had just ended.

He had started in P5, hopeful that this could be the race where McLaren could make a real impact, but a poor strategy, some bad timing, and the usual unpredictability of racing had seen him drop two places to finish in P7. It wasn’t the disaster some might expect, but to him, it felt like a failure—a missed opportunity. The weight of the result pressed on his chest, the frustration eating at him.

Lando’s phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking his thoughts. He pulled it out, his fingers still slightly stiff from the frustration of the race, and saw a text.

Max Fewtrell: You good, mate? Heard you’re pretty pissed about the race. If you wanna talk, I’m here.

He frowned, but didn’t reply. Max meant well, but he didn’t want to explain everything again. Everyone expected him to brush it off, to keep smiling, to pretend it didn’t matter. But it did. Every time he failed, every time he didn’t live up to the expectations, the criticism became louder, and the weight on his shoulders heavier.

He put the phone back in his pocket and leaned back into the chair, running his hand through his hair in frustration. It was becoming hard to push through the disappointment. His thoughts drifted to Amelie. She was still in Indianapolis filming, and he hadn’t been able to talk to her properly since he left for Belgium. He wanted to tell her how badly the race had gone, to vent—to get it all off his chest. But he didn’t want to burden her while she was busy.

Another buzz from his phone interrupted his thoughts.

Ames💛: I know you’re probably not feeling great, but talk to me? I’m here if you need me.

Lando’s heart skipped a beat at the message. Even though they were miles apart, her words always had a way of grounding him. He stared at the screen for a few seconds before replying, his fingers hesitant.

Lan🧡: It’s just one of those races, you know? I’m fine. Don’t want to drag you into it.

He stared at the message, waiting for her response, his thumb hovering over the send button. The words felt hollow even as he typed them. He wasn’t fine. He was far from it. But he didn’t want to let her see that.

A few moments passed, then the screen lit up with her reply.

Ames💛: You don’t have to pretend with me, Lando. I’m not going to judge you, just talk to me. Please?

Lando stared at her message for a long moment, his chest tightening as the weight of it all pressed in. He had become so used to putting on a brave face, to dealing with everything alone. It had become second nature to him, a protective mechanism to shield himself from vulnerability. But Amelie... she always saw through it.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, then typed back, his fingers more deliberate this time.

Lan🧡: Okay, I’ll call you. I don’t know why I keep trying to act like everything’s fine.

The phone rang almost immediately, and within seconds, her voice came through the speaker, warm and comforting despite the distance between them.

—Lando,— Amelie said, her tone soft but steady, —I’m here. What’s going on?—

He let out a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts, but the frustration bubbled up before he could hold it back. —It’s just... this race. I started P5, and I felt like we had a shot at something better. But it all just slipped away. Poor strategy, bad timing, and now I’m sitting here feeling like I failed.— His voice broke slightly, the words feeling heavier than he expected.

—Lando...— she whispered, her voice full of empathy. —You didn’t fail. It’s racing, babe. It’s unpredictable, and you gave it everything. Sometimes things don’t go the way you plan, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t try your best.—

He ran a hand through his hair again, staring at the floor. —I know. I just... I want to do better. For the team. For everyone who’s been supporting me. But it feels like every time I get close, something goes wrong.—

—I get it,— she said, her voice soothing. —It’s like you’re so close to the dream, but then it slips away, and it makes you feel like it’s not enough. But listen to me, Lando. You’re not defined by one race or one result. You’re so much more than that. You’re talented, you’re hardworking, and you’ve got a heart that cares about everything you do.—

The words made him feel a little lighter, but the doubt still gnawed at him. —I don’t know. Sometimes it just feels like I’m chasing something that’s always out of reach—

Amelie paused for a moment, and he could hear the sincerity in her voice when she spoke again. —Maybe it’s not about chasing perfection, Lando. Maybe it’s about chasing the journey. The progress. The little victories. You’re living your dream, and yeah, it’s hard sometimes, but that’s what makes it worth it. You’re not meant to have it all figured out.—

He leaned back in his chair, letting her words sink in. She always had this way of cutting through the noise and making him see things in a clearer light. His thoughts slowed as he listened to her, her voice the calm in the storm of his mind.

—You’re right,— he said quietly, a soft chuckle escaping him. —I get so caught up in the end goal that I forget to appreciate everything that’s led me here. You always know how to make me feel better, Ames.—

—That’s what I’m here for,— she said, her tone playful now. —You don’t have to carry all of it on your own, you know? We’re a team in this, just like you are with McLaren. Even when you’re far away, I’ve got your back.—

Lando smiled, feeling his mood start to lift. Her support was everything, and he knew it. —I don’t know what I’d do without you, seriously. But I’m glad we’re almost at the end of this week. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.—

Amelie’s voice softened, and Lando could practically hear her smile through the phone. —I can’t wait either. It feels like it’s been forever. I’m already counting down the hours until I get to see you, and then... Ibiza and Greece? I’m so excited for everything we’ve planned. It’s going to be perfect.—

He let out a sigh of relief, the weight on his chest finally starting to ease. —Yeah, I’ve been dreaming about that break. Sun, sea, and you. Sounds like everything I need right now.—

Amelie laughed, a sound that made his heart flutter even from across the world. —Well, I’d like to think I’m the highlight of the trip, but I’m sure the beaches will be nice too.—

Lando laughed, his mood lightening further. —Definitely you, Ames. You’re the best part of everything, always.—

Lando leaned back in his chair, the weight of the conversation sinking in. He had always been one to keep his struggles to himself, but there was something about Amelie that made it easy to open up, even when he didn’t want to. It wasn’t just the way she listened; it was how she understood him without him needing to say everything.

He could almost see her now, her warm smile lighting up her face, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

—You know what?— Lando said, a grin tugging at his lips. —After this race, I think I deserve a bit of a break, and you’re right... I can’t wait to just relax with you. Forget about all the racing stuff for a little while, just enjoy us being together.—

—Exactly, Lando,— Amelie replied, her voice soft but filled with anticipation. —You’ve been working so hard, and you deserve some time to just breathe. Plus, we’ve got a whole summer ahead of us. Just imagine... waking up in Ibiza, no schedules, no races, just us. It’s going to be amazing.—

Lando let out a contented sigh, the image of their upcoming trip settling in his mind. He could picture the two of them lying on the beach, laughing, enjoying each other’s company, free from the chaos of their busy lives. It was everything he needed after the grind of the season.

Lando sat up straighter in the chair, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing. For the first time today, he felt lighter, his frustration from the race beginning to slip away as the promise of tomorrow grew nearer.

Lando chuckled, a light sound that carried a sense of contentment. —You’re always so good at making everything feel better. I don’t know how you do it, but... I’m really grateful for you, Ames.—

—Well, you’ve got to give me some credit for being amazing, right?— she teased, her tone playful now. He could imagine her smiling as she spoke, the image making him feel even more connected to her despite the distance. —But seriously, Lando, you’ve got so much on your plate, and I just want you to know that I’m here for you. No matter what. You’re not alone in this.—

The words felt like a balm to his racing thoughts, and Lando took a deep breath, finally feeling like he could exhale fully. —I know. And I’ll never stop being thankful for that. You’ve been my rock, even from halfway across the world.—

There was a brief pause before Amelie spoke again, her voice soft and intimate. —I know it’s hard, but we’re in this together. Even when things get tough, we’ve got each other. And tomorrow... when I see you, everything will feel right again. I can’t wait to be in your arms.—

Lando’s smile widened at the thought, a genuine warmth filling him at the image of their reunion. —I can’t wait either. Just a few more hours, and I’ll finally get to hold you.—

—Every second of it.— She sighed softly, and he could almost feel the longing in her voice. —You’ll see. When I finally get there, we’ll make up for all the time we’ve missed. Ibiza, Greece... everything will be perfect. I just need you, Lando. That’s all I’ve been thinking about for days now.—

—Same here.— He leaned back in his chair again, his eyes closing for a moment as the weight of the conversation sank in. Everything felt right now. They were a team, no matter how far apart they were. He couldn’t wait for the chaos of the Grand Prix to end for a while, to step away from the pressure and focus on what mattered most—his love for Amelie.

—Tomorrow, then,— Lando said, his voice steady and filled with anticipation. —Tomorrow, we get to start our break, and it’s going to be everything we’ve dreamed of.—

—And I’ll be there, right by your side. No more distractions, just us. You’ll see.—

Lando smiled, his heart lighter than it had been all day. —I’ll hold you to that, Ames. I’ll see you soon.—

As they said their goodbyes, Lando finally felt a sense of peace. The disappointment of the Belgian Grand Prix still lingered in the back of his mind, but it no longer had the same weight. He had Amelie, and that was all that mattered. The world could wait—tomorrow, he would be with her, and everything would feel right again.

Lando stood up, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. The jet would be ready soon, and for the first time today, he was looking forward to going home. To Monaco. To her. Everything else could wait.