#hotel management course information

[hazelfoureyes]

A boiling frog (Alastor x Reader smut)

saw someone talk about “boiling frog syndrome”, when a situation becomes dire so slowly you don’t realize how dangerous it is until it’s too late, like a frog slipping into death as the cold water comes to a boil, never trying to leap out. Made me think of Louisiana frog legs and, of course, our self obsessed deer demon. my longwinded ass used restraint and went for a PWP (I hope…. No, theres still plot. I’m a slut for plot. Sorry?)

Your companionship was peppered onto Alastor so gently and slowly he didn’t realize he was too far gone until he was hopelessly dependent on your attention. He decides the only remedy is to drown you in his.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x fem reader, cunnilingus, biting, work attire, realistic descriptions of yet another job I once had, fingering, mentions of my favorite alcoholic beverage, southern shit, filing, that asshole in room 127

Minors DNI

When you first arrived at the hotel, Alastor was pleased to have some help. Charlie informed him of your experience on earth managing apartments and how you would be taking on the role of ‘Resident Relations Manager’. Any issues, complaints, or room adjustments would go to you first. Marvelous. As his underling, you often came to him with your own gripes and stories of the latest drama around the hotel. It became a sort of ritual to meet at the bar after work, talking about the day’s trivial matters over two fingers of rye and a cassis orange. One morning you joined him for coffee in the sunroom he added shortly after your arrival, silently enjoying the view. Then you returned the next day. At some point you started filling his mug and bringing it to the chair he always used. Neither of you spoke, which he found refreshing.

The group dinners were never his scene, the familiarity they bore was uncomfortable and dangerous to his plans. But he overheard your laughter as you and Angel teased each other about what could or couldn’t be defined as a kink. When he joined the table, he was pleasantly surprised at the in-depth conversations you sparked among the band of hopeless fools he’d come to enjoy.

So when he entered the sunroom one morning to see his cup, but not you, it ruffled his fur, so to speak. At dinner, he heard from Charlie you were eating in your office. The bar was full of residents and yet empty all the same when you never arrived.

Three days was all it took. Three days of not seeing you. When he walked past the bar at 9pm to see just Angel and Husk, he continued onward until in the safety of the darkened hall. Licking his teeth, he found himself getting angry. Annoyed that he was promised, by your actions, interesting conversation and like-minded company. His fists curled out of frustration, lights strobing as he stalked down the hall.

But that melted into something even more upsetting, he felt… worried. Not that his smile showed it, passing Vaggie with a nod of his head.

When did you manage to creep into his mind? Like an overlord taking territory, you had taken space in his thoughts with ruthless speed. Never one to be passive in competition, he realized he needed to take drastic measures to catch up to you. He knew of many ways to get *ahead, but he found an ambush always worked like a charm.

Alastor’s shadows gathered before he rose from the floor of your office.

You were standing near a filing cabinet, looking intently at something, “Hello there Alastor, to what-“ you turned the page, not looking at him, “do I owe the pleasure?” You hadn’t actually lifted your head from the file until you felt a hand in the small of your back. You flinched and took a step away, turning around to ask what he was doing when you noticed you weren’t in your office anymore.

The large hole in the wall that led into an endless swamp of a forest hinted at whose room this was.

Closing the file with one hand, you gestured around the room, “Is there a reason I’m here?”

He motioned for you to sit on the bed, and when you laughed he used the microphone to corral you to the edge. “You’ve been busy, as of late.”

“Swamped.” Usually your puns would get atleast a chuckle from your boss, but this time he passed right over it.

“I realized today we haven’t had one of our usual chats in quite a while. What’s been keeping you oh-so-occupied?” He pushed down on your shoulders until you came to rest on the bed.

Nervously, you scooted back a little from him, “Well, so many new residents has meant so many petty little issues. This guy on the 34th floor is angry that the man who killed him is on 37– Alastor?!” He had knelt down and lifted your ankle, slipping your shoe off.

“And?”

“What are you doing?”

“Isn't it obvious?" He picked up the other ankle, "Listening. Continue.”

You laughed breathlessly, “wha-,” but the way he looked up at you seemed to catch your tongue, “uhm, so- yeah so he doesn’t think his killer deserves redemption-,” the other shoe was taken off, neatly set besides its twin. You took a deep breath to try and calm down, “and even if he does, he shouldn’t be—,”Alastor’s hand slipped up your right thigh, fingers taking your stocking and rolling it down. His gaze on your face never wavering.

“Keep going.” The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just suggesting it.

“-be on a higher floor.” He peeled the left stocking down, delicately pulling it over your toes.

You forgot to breath for a second. Instinctively you brought your knees together.

“That is quite annoying! What ever will you do?” That toothy grin widened as he looked up at you. His hand began to massage the sole of your right foot.

“Huh? Do what?”

“About the man on 34’s complaint”, his hand then moved up to your calf, he hummed, “what supple flesh, my dear.”

“Thank you?” Should you be scared or horny? Was he tenderizing his dinner? He looked up at you expectantly. “I told him if the angels return, higher floors would be the most dangerous.”

"Ha! Quite a clever response! Did it placate him?" He raised your right knee to his mouth, placing his lips above the joint. You felt his breath over your inner thigh as he let out a soft huff of a laugh, a reaction to your confused face. You were absolutely panicked; frozen. That wild look you were giving him, if he could he would drown himself in those eyes. Alastor felt his own excitement build, a twitch pressing his cock against the zipper of his dress pants. What a delicious reaction. His long hands crawled under your work skirt, nails grazing your skin as he grabbed the sides of your panties, "It's rude to leave someone waiting, dear."

You shook your head, crawling backward on the bed, "Okay, I get it. Ha ha, you managed to frazzle me."

A darkness fell over his face, "I don't think you do get it." He opened his mouth and dragged his teeth over the skin of your inner thigh, "You've neglected me quite rudely! Most people wouldn't dare such a thing and yet you don't even seem slightly concerned about it."

Rude? "Alastor, oh my god. What did I do? I've been at work every morning on time, if not early. I have been staying up late to make sure the resident files are up to date. I've been meeting with Charlie like you wanted about-,” He brought the panties down your thighs.

"It is what you haven't been doing, mon cher.” He pulled them clear of one leg, leaving them to hang off the ankle of the other leg. "I've been drinking my coffee alone in the sunroom, do you think I had the set of rocking chairs delivered for my own amusement? Dinner has been monotonous without your conversation. And what about our nightly gossip at the bar?" When he lifted your leg and hooked your knee over his shoulder, you fell back on your elbows to keep from lying flat.

"Listen-- Alastor!" His name was squeaked out as a bite stung you, dangerously close to your now naked pussy.

"Sir." He chided.

"Sir?!" He pushed your skirt up, exposing you, "Sir. I don't really like people going down on me."

"That's odd.” His hands gripped your thighs and dragged your ass to the edge of the bed, your pussy now inches from his face. His eyes rolled from left to right, “I don’t remember asking.” Your other leg was pulled over his shoulder, causing you to finally fall onto your back.

A long, wide tongue licked from mid thigh to the place where your legs met your crotch. You felt the heat of his mouth before he finally made contact with your core, one long lick from entrance to clit.

You buried your face inside the file, inhaling the smell of ink and paper with each pant. Your heart was pounding, the rush of blood from your head to your lap left you dizzy and seeing spots.

“Ah ah! I need your full attention.” He took the file and tossed it to the side. He needed to see your face, this was pointless if he couldn’t watch you go dumb in his mouth.

He had started this wanting to ensure you would be thinking about him as much as he had been you, but the way you couldn’t even speak when he touched you shifted his mission. Now, he wanted to win. Maybe he would be bothered by the absence of your presence in the sunroom, but you’d lie awake at night pained by the absence of his tongue in your cunt.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.” Your face was beet red.

“Good. I’ve never been very fond of sharing my toys.” His nose grazed your already throbbing clit as he sunk his tongue into you. Reflexively your thighs pressed against his ears, his head keeping you from closing them entirely. His tongue seemed to lick at your walls as if reaching for something, the sensation wet and warm. You whined, embarrassed at how you were twitching against his lips.

You could feel his smile widen, thumb pressing down on your clit. Gripping the sheets you tried to ease away, the pressure too rough. His nails dug into your left leg, keeping you from making any real difference.

As he dragged his tongue along your walls you felt something you normally didn’t when getting eaten out; the beginning tension of an orgasm slinking into your stomach.

When his mouth left your cunt you gasped, the air stinging at your wet hole and thighs.

“Starting from the morning, tell me exactly what you did today that was so important you didn’t feel the need to entertain me with your company. If your mouth stops moving, so will mine.” He brought his lips to your other thigh, nipping at the skin.

“I made your coffee but got a call about a resident.” His finger pressed against your entrance before breaching.

“Oh, it has been awhile. I thought you were just being modest”, he laughed, your embarrassed expression spurring him forward. He hadn’t expected you to be so tight on just a single digit.

“She feels unsafe, there’s a jackal demon on her floor who keeps”, his finger curled, hitting that bundle of nerves that made your eyes cross, “who is giving her really scary looks.” He bit down again, breaking the skin. You yelled, yanking your leg back but he didn’t release you. “Alastor- please. This is cruel enough.”

“You haven’t even begun to see me be cruel.” He lapped at the wound, finger in you slowly dragging out before entering again. Still bent, it would hit your spongey g-spot with every move. “After that?”

“I had a meeting with Charlie. About the different growth activities.” Eyes closed, you could feel your pleasure slowly inching up that peak. “I needed to organize the files first, so I ate at my desk again.”

His lips cupped your clit as he began to suck. Your hips rose off the bed and his mouth went with you.

“It’s a lot of paperwork, you won’t let me use a computer for it.” His hand pulled back as a second finger joined. The way your cunt was gripping his fingers, he couldn’t imagine how much you’d hiss around his cock. His hips rutted against the air beside the bed, out of your view.

You put your arm over your eyes to hide yourself in some way, breath hitching when his fingers began pumping in and out of you. The moans tumbling from your mouth made Alastor’s grip on you tighten further. His cock leaking into the front of his pants.

When his tongue stopped flitting over your clit you groaned a complaint.

“Ffuuuck, Alastor. D- Uh, Room 127 hates the view o-,” your jaw clenched around the words, “something something blah blah blah —nngh” your head went back, your hips now fully grinding into his mouth. You needed more friction, your orgasm rolling just to the precipice.

His tongue slowed.

“He- he uh, I said he could move,” his fingers curled, pressing over and over into your g-spot, “when he stops being such an asshole. fuck me, please don’t stop—,” you reached down for his head and took a fist full of hair, earning you a surprised moan from him.

Alastor removed his hand from your leg to palm his clothed erection. His nose buried into your bush as his own breathing picked up.

So close.

“-and now I’m here and you’re here,” your words breathy, “and I’m gonna cum—I’m so close, so close,” your lips tingled from the way you were panting.

You choked out a moan as your orgasm reached its climax and pleasure wracked your body. Your grip on his hair stinging, your pussy sucked his fingers in with so much need he closed his eyes and let himself cum against his palm at the thought of his cock in their place. He felt the warmth soak into his pants.

Both of your hands came to your face, too embarrassed to speak.

Alastor placed your shoes and tights beside you, and rested both of his elbows on either side of your head. His weight pressed into you, and you finally looked at him. He was resting his chin on his cradled hands, staring down at you.

With a smug grin and raised his eyebrows he said, “Apology accepted.” He pushed off of you, bringing both fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean with a wet ‘pop’. “See you in the sun room at 8am! Bring that cheery smile I’ve come to enjoy!” He sunk back into the shadows and was gone.

You looked around, you were back in your office. He’d transported you seamlessly from lying on his bed to lying on your desk.

“Yes, sir.”

*get it? He wanted to “get ahead”… head. The slang for cunnilingus ? I’ll see myself out

༻Masterlist༺

[mbsneur]

5 in a row

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: you give alexia what she wants after she wins the world championship

WC: 2,5

Warnings: Smut18+, Cunnilingus, multiple orgasmn , strap using- reader-receiving,rough sex,

My Masterlist

Hello, lovely readers! I hope you enjoy this story, even if it's not my best work. I'm always open to feedback, wishes, or questions, so please don't hesitate to write me a request. For more information, you can check my masterlist. I'm truly grateful to everyone who reads my work.

I have a feeling that not many people are seeing my work or my fics, and that they're not getting much attention. I've noticed this with several other writers, too. Do you know why that is? I'd love to hear your thoughts and ideas on how I can improve! And please, have fun reading! 😊

and that's how it is. spain is world champion. your girlfriend is world champion.

You party all night, you walk the streets of Australia, you haven't seen Alexia this happy in a long time.

You're happy for the chicas, it's what they wanted the most, so all the promises came true, and so your promise was "if you become world champion, I'm all yours" were your words, of course you belong to Alexia, but you meant it in a different way.

She was kept from keeping her promise most of the time you were partying and now you are all having lunch together most of you are tired and forced to be there.

When you finally wanted to leave, Alexia was stopped again: "You have a meeting to attend, ale lo siento, I don't want to stress you any more today, but it will be quick," her manager tells her expressively, and Alexia sighs and rolls her eyes: "How long will it take?" she asks annoyed, "an hour at the most," her manager replies, "I'll go first, please be right there," she adds.

Alexia turns to you and comes closer. "I'm gonna fuck you senseless. Don't worry, neña. I'll hurry," she whispers into your ear. You feel her warm breath on your pulse point and sigh against her. She moves away from you and winks at you before she leaves.

//

Time has passed, you saw with the others in the hotel lobby.

Alexia came.

"the superstar is back aye" oihane shouts across the room and alexia blushes slightly she comes over to you she leans down and gives you a soft kiss on the cheek "do you want to go upstairs?" she whispers as you walk past and you nod gently at her alexia starts to light up "The superstar is leaving, I have to do some things," she says playfully to Oihane and everyone looks at her as she pulls you up by your hand, "Do what you couldn't do with y/n for 3 weeks because she had to be able to walk somehow," Jenni shouts playfully and laughs out loud, She gets a playful slap from Misa.

alexia rolls her eyes slightly as you walk towards the elevator

//

alexia presses you against the door her lips are all over your neck your hands are tangled in her hair the air is thick alexia kisses you with so much hunger and lust

Her strong hands press firmly into your ribs, and you let out a deep, gasp. She nibbles at your skin, making sure she marks what belongs to her. Her tongue extends and licks a long strip from the end of your neck to your ear and licks at the shell of your ear. You squirm, and she giggles. "Use me, do what you want with me, but please let me forget my own name," you moan breathlessly.

Alexia stops nibbling on your neck to look at you, her pupils get bigger and she looks at you with her head tilted, her eyes full of fire, her hands literally itch because they miss your pussy so much "do you want that amore" she asks, her voice getting rough "yes please" you answer.

"I need you. I've missed you so much," you say, your head leaning against the door. Your eyes are small and glassy, and you are so wet. You're sure your underwear is ruined. She grabs you by your hips again and leads you to the bed. She sits down and taps her lap to make you realize that you should sit down.

As you sit on her lap, you put your hands on her neck and pull her towards you for an intimate kiss. She sucks on your tongue, your kisses are messy and wet. Her hands, move up to your tits and take them in her hand. You moan softly into her mouth and start rubbing yourself on her. Your hips rock against her, and her hands knead your tits.

She can feel your hard nipples through your bra, and it makes her whimper. You have a hard time kissing her back, One of her hands reaches your ass and gives you a light slap, and you moan out loud. You reach for her hand and guide it to your waistband. "Don't waste time," you say. "Please, Ale, I beg you. I need you so much." You moan, and Alexia's hand slides into your pants.

She teases your hole and you rock your hips against her hand. She has stopped kissing you and puts her forehead against yours. "Please don't tease me," you say, whimpering. Alexia gives you what you need and lets her finger slide into your hole. "fuck, you are so tight," she says, moaning and swallowing hard.

You are trying to block out the sounds that you are making by burying yourself in Alexia's neck.

She grabs your hair and yanks you forward, saying, "Stop hiding your noises. I don't care if everyone hears you." She then inserts another finger into your hole, making you moan and lean back as you ride her fingers.

"I've missed this so much," you say, and Alexia smiles at you. She speeds up with her fingers and hits your G-spot exactly. You kiss her neck, which makes her put her head to the side. You suck and lick her skin. Her fingers curl, and her palm hits your clitoris perfectly with every thrust.

"babe i'm getting closer," you whisper moaning against her sensitive skin "come whenever you need to," her words burst like fireworks in your belly, your teeth biting into her neck as your walls tighten around her thick fingers, your legs pressing tightly against her side and with a muffled whimper the orgasm you've been waiting for so long comes.

She turns you around so that you land on your back on the bed. She climbs on top of you and spreads little kisses on your face. "Put your arms over your head," she says in a soft voice, and you do as you are told. She pushes up your shirt and her eyes widen. She teases your belly by spreading wet kisses on it. Your skin twitches with every touch of her lips.

"You wanna be good?," she says against your stomach before coming up and pulling your shirt over your head, practically drooling at the sight of your hard nipples "I want to be your good girl," you say embarrassed and Alexia gives you a familiar smile and caresses your cheek lovingly.

Her hands ran along the waistband of your pants before she finally took them off completely. You helped her by kicking your pants off with your feet. Despite the stress she's been under, Alexia is relaxed. You've never seen her so relaxed during sex.

She knelt in front of the bed and took your thighs in her hands, pulling you closer to her. You were so wet that Alexia moaned at your smell. She moved her mouth to your core, sucking on your clitoris. "God ale," you moaned, looking down at her. She alternated between licking and sucking on your clitoris.

your hand reaches for her hair to pull her closer to you, your head dropped into your shoulder. Alexia let go of you with a popp "i said keep your hands above your head venga lie back down" she snapped at you, her forehead furrowed, and her eyebrows knitted together. You dropped down annoyed that you couldn't watch her "stop bitching" she added and her head went back to your pussy she teased your entrance before shooting her tongue inside you

Your back arches in response to her touch, and you perceive her smile against your skin. As she engages in oral intercourse with you, her nose makes contact with your clitoris, and her tongue moves in a rapid, deliberate manner. You experience a sensation of thickened blood in your veins, and the inability to move your hands intensifies your arousal.

your eyes roll back into your head as you feel the knot in your stomach again your legs close around her head and shake "fuck ale you're driving me crazy" you whimper feeling your pulse quicken, her tongue still in your hole she feels you coming closer your walls twitch around her tongue "you can cum I want to feel you baby" she says letting go of you for a moment

Your legs are moving and your back is bending throughout your orgasm. She's overstimulating you. You're trying to squirm, "A short break, please," but Alexia doesn't listen. Your body slides backwards to get away from her, but she gets up, grabs your legs, and pulls you to the edge of the bed. Two fingers poke into your hole, and her tongue lands right on your clit again.

You let out a scream and a few tears as she continues to pump into you at a relentless pace. Your legs are still shaking, and your clit is pressed tightly between her lips. She sucks with the expertise of a world champion, and your body shakes, your hips wiggle, and you moan, "Cumming again." You add, "Fuck,fuck" and claw at the bed.

you cum with a deep cry, you see stars. You haven't even noticed alexia let go of you, her lips swollen and wet, her fingers soaked in your cum, she laughs dazed.

"Ready for my strap," she grins mischievously and winks at you, "do I have a choice," you say sarcastically, "not really," she laughs back and gets up to go to her suitcase, she has brought the longest one, "for special occasions," she points out.

//

she climbed on top of you, "please" you blink at her you have recovered a bit from your previous orgasms. "please what?" she asks stupidly "fuck me" you say with rolling eyes

You look into her hazel eyes as she guides her cock to the perfect spot to penetrate you with a muffled moan. She's inside you now. She kisses you, your tongues playing with each other. Your cunt clutches her cock. You take her in completely.

"your cock feels so good babe" you grunt as alexia looks down to see the toy sliding into you. Your hands scratching her clothed back you moan into her neck you love this closeness her warmth

she accelerated and the sound of skin slapping echoed through the room, her hips dug into yours. Your breath caught, your throat constricted you moaned her name over and over. Her energy is so boundless she could pound you into the mattress all day like this

her breath is hot on your neck "i'm so close" you moan, as alexia looks at you "yeah? cum for me show me how much you want it" she says moaning as she gets faster lifting your legs over her shoulder to get deeper inside you, your moans become breathless. You feel like you are being kicked off you cum breathlessly and without a sound

alexia grabs your hips to pull you onto your stomach, she pulls you onto all fours. Your legs are shaking you can barely hold on „I can't fuck..." you cry as she pushes further into you "don't cry you can take another one I know you can" alexia says moaning grabbing your hips to pump harder into you

"that's it look at you such a slut for me aren't you? close again" she says after she circles your clitoris tightly you literally see stars

your head presses deeper into the mattress with each bump, the bed hits the wall. You are sure the whole hotel can hear "do you want to cum? shall I give you what you want?" she asks whimpering "words baby" she adds "yes please am so fucking close" you sputter out

"good girl cum for me" alexia says and after a few thrusts you come again alexia pushes you away so that you land on your back your face is all fucked up you can't think straight your vision is blurred all you can see is the mattress giving way as alexia kisses your torso

"you were so good baby I love you" she says caringly "can I get you something?" she adds "just stay with me“

„i love you too“

[6esiree]

Why Alastor Wanted To Adopt Your Daughter

As a new mother without any family or a partner to rely on in an afterlife where you were damned, you managed to get by with the help of a certain individual—the infamous Radio Demon, a dealmaker and one of Hell’s most terrifying and bloodthirsty overlords. Vaggie warned you to stay away from him after she brought you to the Hazbin Hotel, a place to rehabilitate and redeem sinners. But did you listen? No, not at all, and you didn’t regret it one bit.

“Hey, Al! I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could look after her while I get some chores done—“ You started as you descended the stairs, the exhaustion evident on your brow as you readjusted your daughter, only 10-months-old then, on your aching hip.

Before you could finish your sentence, he manifested in front of you with an unmistakeable excitement etched onto his sharp features.

“I was actually on my way to meet Rosie for a cup of tea,” Alastor informed you, his eyes darting between you and your daughter as he opened his arms for her, “But of course, my dear! I would just love to take the little one with me.”

Your daughter instinctively reached out towards him, her little hands making grabbing motions, unfazed by the razor-sharp grin that usually instilled fear in the hearts of most sinners. A static-like hum seeped past his teeth as he took her from your arms, a shiver traveling down your spine as your hands brushed against each other.

He felt it, too, but he didn’t know what it meant at the time, so he chose to believe that his body reacted that way because he was unfamiliar with you and physical contact in general, even though Rosie, Mimzy, and Niffty were quite handsy with him… and he didn’t snap at you like he did with the other residents when you accidentally touched him, whether it was your shoulders from sitting too close to him on the couch, or your soft, delicate hands just now—

“Are you sure? I can just ask somebody else,” You said, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you watched your daughter curiously feel the lapels of his coat, sucking on her pacifier all the while. “I don’t want her bothering you on your outing, she can be quite a handful when she gets fussy.”

“Oh, I don’t mind one bit, truly!” Alastor waved you off, his eyes squinting in what you could only assume was adoration as he stared down at her. “She’s always so well-behaved that sometimes, I think she descended from the heavens—an angel in disguise, I daresay.”

An angel in disguise, indeed, her chubby little fingers tugging on his bowtie and unraveling it with one good tug, his collar consequently falling open and revealing the rare sight of his skin. ‘I fear I may have spoken too soon,’ Alastor chuckled, and so did you, although it had more to do with what your eyes had been graced by and less to do with what your daughter had done. But you were thankful for her either way.

“Very well, then! I must get going to do… um, what was it again?” You quickly turned away from him as you tapped your chin with a nervous finger, trying to hide the slight blush gradually taking over your features. “Chores, yeah! Chores.”

You bounced on your toes and gave your daughter a quick kiss goodbye, your eyes fluttering shut in the process. Because of that, you missed how Alastor’s pupils dilated at the sight of your supple lips disappearing in her rosey cheek, that unfamiliar shiver he felt earlier wracking his spine once more. And as you briskly turned on your heel with a ‘Have fun!’, he found himself pressing his thumb where you had kissed her.

“Oh, of course I will, my dear!” Alastor announced, the sensation of your warm lips still present on her skin. “Now,” He said to your daughter, withdrawing his hand and snapping his fingers, another bowtie appearing around his neck, “Let’s go see your Aunt Rosie, shall we?”

A gasp seeped past Rosie’s lips as Alastor walked into her emporium with a toddler on his hip, the chubby little thing clutching onto a tie and innocently sucking on her pacifier, her big, round eyes darting across the place, unfazed by the curious gazes each cannibal sent her way. He had mentioned in passing about a baby being in the hotel, but she never anticipated that he cared for her in his spare time.

“Alastor, dear! Who’s this little darling you’ve brought with ya, hm?” Rosie excitedly inquired, her hands clasped in front of her chest as she stared down at your daughter. “Oh, I haven’t seen a baby in a good while, especially one as adorable as her!”

Alastor chuckled, leaning in and offering her up to Rosie, eliciting an excited squeal from the usually composed woman. She unclasped her hands and allowed him to transfer her to his arms, cooing at her before promptly turning on her heel and gesturing for him to follow her to a more private area with her shoulder, away from all the cannibals who couldn’t seem to mind their own business.

“I was about to scold ya for showin’ up late,” Rosie started as she took a seat and adjusted your daughter on her lap, her eyes flitting up to Alastor. “But now I can’t do that, at least not with this little darling here.”

“Oh, but you can’t stay mad at me either way,” Alastor pointed out, making her roll her eyes; but it was true, she could pardon him for being late for their afternoon tea by a few meager minutes. “I am just as adorable as the babe on your lap!”

Rosie tossed her head back with a laugh, her shoulders shaking, the loud nature of the act scaring your daughter. She dropped the tie and pushed out her pacifier from her mouth, twisting her little body towards Alastor’s direction, making grabbing motions with her hands. Of course, he immediately reached out to her from over the table… but then she suddenly said ‘Dada’ between her cries, making his ears fall back in complete and utter shock.

“Oh my goodness, she…she just called ya her daddy,” Rosie stuttered, amazed… until she noticed the corners of Alastor’s lips twitching downwards, a sympathetic smile overtaking her features.

She couldn’t recall the last time Alastor put on such a vulnerable display in front of her, better yet frown, but it must have been a long time ago for the sight to make her heart ache. ‘She’s asking for ya, Al, come on,’ Rosie whispered as she stood up from her seat, holding out your daughter to him in encouragement. The feeling of her chubby little hands grabbing onto the lapels of his coat snapped him back to reality.

“Dada,” She repeated, her cries dying down as he pulled her into his chest, burying his frown in her soft hair.

“Was that her first word?” Rosie asked, crouching down and picking up the pacifier from the ground, grimacing at the dirt on it.

Yes, it was, but Alastor didn’t respond, his eyes fluttering shut and his brows knitting together as he continued to gingerly hold your daughter, her face smooshed against his chest. Rosie smiled at him in understanding before wordlessly stepping away with the pacifier in her hand, allowing him to bask in the 10-month-old’s milestone in a comfortable solitude, the distant sound of running water resonating throughout the room.

[flemingsfreckles]

Koala

Synopsis: you surprise your girlfriend at her game after not seeing each other for almost 3 months

Warnings: none this is soft and fluffy

WC: 1.2k

A/N: okay this is inspired off the fact that this woman loves jumping into her teammates arms as celebration, so I wanted to write a little blurb about it.

It wasn’t easy sneaking around Jessie. The girl was too smart, she knew you too well. You also hated lying to her, but sometimes you had to. It was less lying, and more withholding information about your plans and your whereabouts.

She didn’t know you were in Montréal, she didn’t even know you were in Canada. But you were, you had managed to take the flight from London to New York, scheduling it for when you knew your girlfriend would be asleep and unsuspecting of your lack of cell service. You had then sent her a casual good morning text, she suspected nothing.

You hadn’t seen Jessie in ten weeks. You had visited her in Portland shortly after her move but only stayed for a few days before you had to return to London for work. Leaving her was the hardest thing you’d ever done. Walking through the airport doors and looking back to see her bawling in the front seat of her car was the most gut wrenching sight. You had almost quit your job at that moment.

But you couldn’t quit your job, that wasn’t realistic. You know you would move in with Jessie eventually, the two of you had already lived together shortly in London, but with her career, the potential of her moving in the future, you weren’t sure where the two of you would end up so you stayed in London at your stable job for now. Except you weren’t in London anymore, you had taken a week off from work to come watch Jessie play two friendlies before getting to spend the rest of the week with her at her childhood home. Jessie didn’t know that of course, she knew she was playing two games and then getting to have a break at home.

It was easier to avoid Jessie on a game day. It was typical that you wouldn’t hear from Jessie until after the game with the exception of maybe a good morning text, she was busy, captains meetings, team meetings, warm ups, practice, pregame, team meals, it took up a lot of her time, and you knew that. It just so happened that while you usually miss her more on game days, having less communication, it was the perfect excuse to avoid texting her.

When you left your hotel that morning you had thrown on your Canada jersey, an old one of Jessie’s, a pair of jeans, a hat, and sunglasses. You planned to stay hidden, undercover, until the game was over, you didn’t want to distract Jessie with the surprise, so it seemed like the best option.

Ashley was the only person at the game who knew you were there. The two of you had met through Jessie and had become quick friends, you had simply sent her a photo of your boarding pass with the text ‘Don’t tell Jess.”. She promised she wouldn’t and expressed her excitement for you.

You started to feel nerves as you made your way to your seat, a bubble of excitement in your stomach. You didn’t know how you were going to be able to sit through 90 minutes with your girlfriend just feet away from you, but you figured it out. You watched the game, mainly your eyes following Jessie around the field, paying less attention to any of the other players. It was weird not seeing her in weeks and then being so close to her without her even knowing.

The game ended Canada up 1-0, you watched as your girlfriend made her way toward Janine and the two of them started to make their lap around, thanking the fans. That’s when Ashley took the chance to come over to you, waving you down and helping you over the railing onto the field.

She gives you a quick hug before putting you behind her. “Just follow me.” She says before walking off in the direction you assumed your girlfriend was. You removed your sunglasses and the hat you put on, not needing a disguise anymore. You followed Ashley as she brought you to the middle of the pitch.

“Stay there.” She said before taking a few steps away from you. She pointed in the direction of Jessie who was gathering her things from the bench. “Jessie!” She shouted.

You watched as your girlfriend picked up her head quickly turning to face where her name had been shouted. She threw her hands up questioning what Ashley wanted, clearly not paying attention to you standing next to her. It made you laugh, your girlfriend was usually so observant, but leave it to her to not notice you standing there. Helping the poor girl, Ashley turned, her arms stuck out in your direction as if she was presenting you to Jessie.

You watched Jessie’s jaw drops, along with everything in her hands, her phone, water bottle, shoes, coat all thrown to the ground. Janine turns at the sudden crash of all her belongings, looking and seeing you. Suddenly Jessie was sprinting at you, full speed, her arms out in your direction. As she got closer you could see the giant grin on her face and suddenly she was lunging at you, jumping and clinging to you. You stumbled back a few steps before regaining your balance. Jessie grabbed you tightly, her legs wrapping around your midsection as her arms looped around your neck, she held herself up for a moment before your arms wrapped around supporting her back and butt.

The two of you just stayed there for a moment, taking in the feeling of being back in each other's arms, her tight hold on you and the way you squeezed her impossibly closer into your chest. She had her face tucked into your neck, your chin rested on her shoulder.

“You’ve got yourself a koala.” Vanessa says from behind you, referring to how Jessie is clinging to you. “Good to see you by the way.” She says before patting your back and walking away.

“Oh my god.” You heard Jessie murmur into your neck. She had been silent since jumping onto you. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just in town, figured I’d say hi.” You jokingly say back to her. She releases the hold her legs have around your waist and puts them back on the ground, leaving her arms around your neck, pulling you slightly over as she stands looking up at you.

“You’re here.” She’s got tears in her eyes as she blinks up at you.

“I’m here.” You nod, knowing your eyes looked similar to hers, overwhelmed with the emotions that were rushing through your body. Feeling Jessie’s body under your hands, hearing her voice, the smell of her sweaty kit, it all held so much meaning behind it, so much worth to you, you loved this woman more than anything.

You bend down, placing a quick kiss to Jessie’s cheek, knowing she wasn’t a big fan of PDA you withhold your desire to have your lips on hers. Hearing an ‘awwww’ from the side you turn to see a handful of Jessie’s teammates looking at the two of you.

“Shut up.” Jessie says as she tucks her head into your side, hiding the obvious blush she had.

“Oh please Jess, you two are cute.” Ashley says. The two of you pull apart and you tell Jessie you’ll wait for her at her car before heading out so she can finish her postgame routine. You can’t help but smile to yourself when you hear Vanessa teasing Jessie as you walk away.

“You’re just like a little koala.”

She probably wasn’t going to live that nickname down anytime soon and you knew you’d be to blame but you really didn’t care, letting her jump into your arms was the best feeling on earth.

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Secret Lovers

Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

Simon wasn’t someone who very willingly opened up to anyone, his teammates were no exception either, save for Price. It was always better to keep things quiet and let people assume what they pleased instead of trying to answer their questions. Better to remain mysterious than show your cards to the wrong person. a/n:this was originally started because of a snippet @thebeesatemyknees had written, thank you so much for letting me turn this into a full fic! I hope I was able to do it proper justice warnings:none, just tons of fluff Part 2

Simon wasn’t someone who very willingly opened up to anyone, his teammates were no exception either, save for Price. It was always better to keep things quiet and let people assume what they pleased instead of trying to answer their questions. Better to remain mysterious than show your cards to the wrong person. Johnny had badgered him from day one if he had a partner, going on and on about how much he loved his girlfriend. SImon wasn’t going to tell him anything, no matter what he’d keep his lips sealed.

Kyle was the next one to ask, though it was more in passing rather than a true and genuine question when he cornered the older man. They had been discussing mission details when the topic arose, did he have a next of kin? And if so, who would be the one to inform them if Ghost were to be KIA’d? He never asked Simon after that day, instead going on to different topics whether they had to do with the mission or what they wanted to eat. Kyle treated him like a friend, it was nice.

And John, well he knew all about Simon’s personal and very private life.

~~~

You were a new addition to the team, a medic that could stitch up a wound within a minute and get you back on the field within five. They were thankful to have you come around with them, helping stitch up a wound on Johnny’s arm, or cleaning up a gash on Kyle’s head. The only person who seemed to be a little wary around you was Simon, which both Johnny and Kyle felt odd. You fit in their group like the puzzle piece that was missing, and yet Simon acted as if he wanted nothing to do with you. Surely he’d warm up to you a little more, they were all sure of it.

“Thank you all for meeting me on such short notice. We’ve got word that an arms dealer is hosting a gala and we need to get more intel before we can swoop in.” Kate was a woman who took no shit and left no prisoners, she wasn’t going to risk this.

“Who do we want to send?” John was nervous, his men were trained for this, but putting them into a situation where they’d have to become someone else entirely? Nerve wracking.

“I was discussing it with Shepherd last night, and we’ve decided that Simon and Y/N will be going on this mission while the rest of you stake out the building.” All eyes suddenly shifted to Simon who looked calm as ever.

He’d forgone the mask for this mission briefing, knowing that only his teammates and Kate would be in the room with him. Knowing that you were going to be there made things a little more tense, could he handle something that dire?

“If you think that’s what’s best, I fully support the decision.” John wasn’t going to argue, Simon could be suave and charm the pants off of anyone if needed.

“Thank you, we’ll be heading out tomorrow and meeting up at the hotel. Promise me you’ll behave so no one suspects you, please.” Kate knew how much of a troublemaker that Johnny and Kyle could be, given the opportunity of course.

“I’ll make sure of it myself if need be, don’t you worry.” John smiled up at her, leaving Kate to wonder how much trouble there would be.

They would need to debrief you on the plane ride over, given that you weren’t even in the room with everyone. Having something like that just dumped on you with no time to prepare was the worst, how could they manage? Simon would just have John give you the rundown so he could worry about more important things, like how he’d have to act like the two of you were so desperately in love.

You would have an entire day to get comfortable in the hotel room, there would be a few people lingering so you’d get used to being stared at. Simon knew they’d mainly be staring at you, you were downright gorgeous. And with the clothes that had been picked out? A deep navy blue tux, with a pitch black button up and black silk tie. It perfectly matched the dress they’d picked out for you, a deep V down the front that left just enough to the imagination. The color matched his tux almost identically, the only difference was your dress was silk. 

“They’ve packed everything for you to do your own hair and makeup, we don’t want you to stand out too much, better to blend in.” It was the smartest idea, if you or Simon were to attract too much attention things would end badly.

“Yeah, Kate told me as much as she could, I made sure to pack my best heels.” You were nervous, it’d been so long since you’d been able to go out to something fancy.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” John knew you were smart and quick witted, but something about this mission unnerved him.

“I’m positive, Simon and I will get the intel and get out before anyone even notices we’re missing.” You were confident everything would go smoothly, Simon could be silent if needed.

John nodded at you, settling back into his seat as the plan began to descend down onto the tarmac below. Simon was staring at you from across the way, palms sweating slightly as the time drew closer to getting inside the hotel. Johnny was going to see how nervous he was and make comments, he was sure of it. The sound of tires squealing brought everyone’s attention to high alert. It was time to grab your things and head to the cars, you were driving over with Simon, leaving the other three to their own car.

It was mainly to not raise any suspicion, if you were seen driving with any man that wasn’t your husband word would spread before you managed to make it to the party. You were absentmindedly playing with your ring, twirling the obnoxiously large diamond with your other fingers. It was a habit you picked up whenever you tended to wear jewelry, though it was much better than picking at your cuticles.

“You feeling alright hun?” Simon glanced over at you, though his own nerves were shot, he wanted you to feel comfortable.

“A little nervous, but that’s to be expected considering the circumstances.” You kept twirling the ring, glancing between Simon and the road ahead of you.

Simon took a quick breath and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together without skipping a beat or taking his eyes off the road. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, you had been waiting to see how long it took before he finally felt comfortable around you. You’d need to practice around everyone else if you were going to look natural around a bunch of strangers. Everything was going to be just fine, you were sure of it.

John had set up everything in the hotel room, along with hanging up your dress and Simon’s tux to help steam out any wrinkles if needed. So far there was nothing to worry about, save for Soap acting like a little shit and pranking Simon and Kyle for the most part. You’d all settled in, changing into comfortable clothes and ordering food so that you wouldn’t have to leave. Simon was cleaning up the kitchen so he could sit down and enjoy dinner with you.

“Do you need any help?” You walked over to him, pressing your hand against his lower back.

“Nah, just need to finish cleaning this plate and we can eat.” Simon smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Whatever you say.” You patted his back gently, heading over to the small kitchen table.

Johnny raised a brow at how you and Simon seemed to naturally work with one another, he didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Kyle on the other hand was ignoring him entirely, digging into his own meal and scrolling through his phone. Simon had finally finished, grabbing his plate of food and heading over to sit with you. He could faintly hear that you were both discussing the mission and going over your alias’ one last time.

“Simon, you need to wear your ring.” You’d gotten on his case the entire day, he kept taking it off complaining that it felt weird to wear it.

“I’ll wear it during the mission tomorrow.” Simon brough the fork to his mouth, focusing on his plate rather than your raised brow.

“You say that now, but when we end up leaving you’re going to forget it and then we’re going to have to drive all the way back because you won’t wear your ring.” You had put yours on right away, mainly because you were forgetful and didn’t want to end up forgetting it.

“Are you really going to make me wear the ring all night?” Simon’s expression would normally terrify a recruit, but you’d gotten used to it.

“If I want to make sure you have your ring on? Yes, I’m going to make you wear your ring until we get back on that plane and go back home.” You’d glue it on if need be, but Simon knew better than to disobey orders.

John chuckled to himself watching the two of you, it was a dynamic he hadn’t seen in quite a while and it was pretty funny to witness. Johnny on the other hand was now even more flabbergasted at the way you worked together. Why did you seem so comfortable arguing with a man who’d killed for less? This was something sinister and it unnerved him to no end, he’d get to the bottom of this.

You’d offered to clean up everyone’s dinner dishes, carefully cleaning any knives before laying them on a towel to be dried by Simon. He walked over to where you were, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull your bodies flush together. Johnny’s jaw dropped open as he slapped Kyle’s arm to get his attention. The playful bickering was one thing, but watching Simon the Ghost Riley be so affectionate? 

“Damn, he’s a good actor.” Kyle watched the way you and Simon began to sway gently, giggling at something he’d whispered into your ear.

“Scarily good, didn’t think he had it in ‘em.” Johnny shook his head, turning back towards the computer in front of him.

It wasn’t until the sound of someone kissing caught their attention once more. Simon had dipped you, lips pressed against yours as his arms wrapped around your waist. Johnny’s jaw dropped wide open, well if you weren’t together already that was surely going to change. You pressed your hands against Simon’s chest, laughing happily as you stared up at him.

“Cap, do ya think Lt and the medic are gonna get together after all this?” Johnny had high hopes, no one gets kissed the way Simon kissed you and simply part ways.

“What’re you talking about?” John barely lifted his gaze from the screen, typing up the pre mission notes to help catch up on them before.

“Simon’s practically tonguing the medic! He’s gonna woo her.” He waggled his brows at the older man, cackling when John rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yeah that’s not gonna happen.” John’s attention focused back on the task at hand.

Johnny’s laughing abruptly halted, what the hell had he meant that Simon wasn’t going to woo the medic, it was obvious! Clearly John had no idea what he was talking about, Johnny could see the little twinkle in your eye from across the room.

“Gaz, am I wrong or do ye think Ghost and medic are gonna end up together?” He was determined to get someone to agree with him.

“Oh, if they don’t I’m asking for her number for him.” Kyle may have had a slight crush on you, not that he’d ever admit it.

John sat upright in his chair, focusing on Johnny and Kyle who thought they were being more subtle than they actually were.

“Have you ever looked at their name tag by chance?” John wanted to see if the other two would finally catch on.

Both Johnny and Kyle shook their heads, neither of them had a reason to over analyze your name tag when they had injuries to be taken care of. He sighed softly to himself before glancing over to you and Simon. You were laughing at some bad joke Simon had whispered to you, a bright smile on his face.

“Her last name is Riley.” John watched as realization dawned on their faces.

You’d been married this entire time and no one, besides Price, was none the wiser. How the hell had you managed to keep it hidden from everyone? Then again Simon wasn’t the most overly friendly or affectionate when it came to anyone. You were his wife though, that was different! Surely you could bring out a different side of him, something that no one usually got to…of course.

“Would’ve been nice to know at least.” Johnny shrugged off his disappointment, this was a big thing to keep hidden away.

“It wasn’t my place to tell, just remember that.” John wanted to respect your privacy, it was the least he could do considering your line of work.

Johnny and Kyle understood why Price hadn’t admitted to questions about your relationship, but knowing the truth? It felt good. They watched the way you and Simon danced to the music playing from your phone. Simon’s arms were wrapped around your waist, pressing kisses all over your face as you tried to squirm away. It was a side of their teammate they’d never thought to see, and no one outside of this hotel room would ever get to see it.

At least, not until after the mission of course.

tagging: @gaylemonshark

[faeriekit]

New In Town (dp x dc)

ALRIGHT! 👏🏽 A prompt. (Or, well. A premise.) I’m schtealing a lot of worldbuilding from @mediumsizedpidegon‘s post here so bear with me please.

The Bats, however they catch wind of Amity, catch wind of Amity Park. Of course they do. Amity Park has a very distinct presence— Or, well, a lack of a presence. It may have an abundance of documented weirdness online, from folk stories to abandoned livestreams to concerning details in expats’ online blogs.

But there is no online evidence of Amity Park that leaves Amity Park.

So. What is a family of detectives to do when confronted with the need to gather physical evidence? Road Trip, baby!🏄🏽‍♂️🚗🚞🚡

Everyone hops in the car/Batplane and makes their way to Amity Park; they make hotel reservations, ring up the only reasonably rich enough people to even touch their social circle (the Manson family, and Vlad Masters, apparently), make an itinerary for all the documented tourist stops to hit up while in town off the town website, and prepare themselves for whatever dimensional weirdness is causing a complete tech blackout on the town and an inability to be found by satellite.

They get about ten feet into Amity proper when they meet the first local.

His name is Danny. He’s nice! Affable. He looks a lot like any other Wayne sibling, actually, if a little on the younger side. He notices it’s their first time in town. Do they need any help getting around?

Best way to get information is to ingratiate with a local, so...sure, why not? They get a free tour guide, Danny gets to show off his town; they see all the sights, like the local burger joint, the school, the Manson home, the town hall, the city proper. They’re having a clothing swap in the temple parking lot, actually. You should go check it out!

For whatever reason, it’s all...Punk? Goth? There’s a couple of lolita dressed tossed in, and some crocheted things. Everyone has a trunk out their car, eyeliner, and at least two piercings in their face; everyone here seems to know each other on a personal level. Well, small towns are small towns. Whatever.

Danny isn’t deterred by their reactions. If they want, there’s the movie in park tonight! If not, they can catch dinner, though; their hotel restaurant closes at 8pm sharp. (He just...knows this off the top of his head?)

They split up. Some of the family people watch at the restaurant. Everyone is...weirdly courteous to them. A little standoffish. But not at the Wayne name, just at...them being there.

The people at the park find out they’re watching The Night of the Living Dead. This would be much more normal if the park wasn’t also clearly the cemetery, in the middle of July? Which is. Why? It’s not even for any holiday or special time of the year? It’s just...clearly a movie night in the summer? There are little kids here, playing among the gravestones while their parents set out blankets and snacks. Why is this considered a family event??

Well. At least Jason has fun.

Everyone goes to bed and reconvenes in the morning. When they wake up and roll out for the day, Danny manages to find them again, this time with two new friends, bright and chipper in the morning. There’s a farmer’s market today! Everyone’s worked really hard on this week’s harvest; don’t they want to see?

...Sure?

And the longer they’re in Amity Park, the more they begin to realize how convenient it is, that they’re ferried around so easily; that there’s immediately a local who takes a liking to them, that there’s always something else to do; how suspicious it is that no data can get in or out of Amity now that they’re in it, or how they can’t seem to get close to any of the more suspicious parts of town they want to infiltrate. The town is entirely closed to outside influences. The fashion trends are strange and foreign. They only eat things grown in the area, by people they know, and it’s all sort of...green. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone knows where to go. Who to talk to. The superstitions— make no wishes, step on no cracks, wear no large jewelry, cross no shadows of any person (living or dead, apparently), speak to no one without full view of their eyes. 

But nothing seems dangerous— not until a few of them try to investigate Axiom Labs, a subsidiary of the otherwise national Dalvco company, and are met to the face with a blaster that uses tech they’ve never seen, by a red fighter in an ultra-synthetic suit.

Overnight, the extremely polite and welcoming town becomes a hostile entity to fight their way out of.

[morganbritton132]

…… this is Eddie rn……..

Eddie is a menace to society in general, but also specifically to his PR team. Once he knows that he can stir up a lot of drama by being vague about Steve’s job, he’s going to do it.

Of course, he is.

He once took a call mid-live interview because Steve was calling him like, “Oh, my husband is calling. He must be at recess. Hold on.”

He then proceeded to say on a hot mic, “What’s up, big boy?”

Eddie once said on a live-streamed game of D&D that Steve couldn’t join them because he was “doing homework.” Steve was working on a lesson plan in the literal same room as him.

Eddie was a featured guest at a convention and Steve was supposed to go with him but woke up that morning feeling off so he decided to stay behind at the hotel. Eddie obviously wasn’t going to tell people Steve’s private information so he said instead that Steve couldn’t come because, “He’s got a bad case of summer school.”

Without fail, someone inevitably takes the statement in the stupidest possible direction and Eddie gets a strongly-worded email from his PR Manager telling him to knock it off but also to clean up his mess. So, Eddie gets to shove a camera in Steve’s face to prove that while his husband is aging gracefully and beautifully, he is definitely not eighteen.

“Right, baby?” Eddie asks.

Steve pushes the camera out of his face so he can go back to cooking, “Right.”

“That was a pretty good explanation, right?” Eddie continues. Steve hums back in response so he asks, “What grade am I, Mr. Harrington?”

Steve, who is tired of his work friends making fun of him over this, doesn’t even look up from his cutting board to tell Eddie, “You’re a grade-A dick.”

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby (part 5)

(angel w/ angel daughter reader)

(caution!!!!!: mild descriptions of violence)

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hotel. angel reader resembles a fawn.)

(tags: @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @just-here-reading @avitute @iam-d3ad-ins1de @des-deswain5621 @xephieeee @glowymxxn @potaturkey17 @insomniacfigure @pooplyface1423 @mo-0-o @thekanrojimitsuri2 @nevermorekisses @wildfire153 )

My lovely editor<333: @kruncher

You were now in Rosie’s Emporium.

In Cannibal Town.

God.

In absolute shambles you were.. if it were in any other place it would be embarrassing seeing your state but considering the drastic circumstances and absolute 180 in the changes of temperatures, colors, smells, energy and even uncovered emotions that you haven't felt since you were a human finally coming out of the shadows and resurfacing, it all simply felt too much and was overwhelming your psyche.

Yet despite this— you knew you had to tough this out.

But here you were, gentle hands trembling and holding a cup of.. tea.

At least you really hoped it was tea.

“Now sweetie what in the unholy world are you doing down here? Hm?

Now now don’t keep me in suspense, if it helps any I’m not going to let anyone else’s filthy hands get on your pure little self!

Oh and me included, minus the filthy hands, mine are quite taken care of.”

This lady only made you cower a bit more simply by talking. Her sharp teeth and this confident air around her only intimidated you more.

If that’s the case.. how’d you even get in this building? Surely you had enough time to run from her in the middle of it..

Well, it's simply because she kept you from getting eaten by yet an oncoming crowd that saw the interaction with you and this apparent 'Susan' to which they seemed to have taken the old lady’s comment a bit.. too much to heart.

Their claws and baring mouths full of sharp bone, tongues salivating in wanting to try a taste of your fresh golden blood that gave off a sweet scent to them from afar.

She managed to scurry them all off with a few demands and a set of sharp words of her own, keeping you safe from becoming cannibal food for the day and honestly you'd rather be on this lady's good side if she had that kind of power to drive away the cannibals the way she did.

Your wing was even cleaned and bandaged by her despite your constant flapping in distrust and fear when she came near, feathers sprawling everywhere as if several pillows were ripped open in a kind of violent pillow fight. You were seated at a table with two chairs facing each other on each side, a bit farther back in the emporium.

“…Promise you won’t eat me, miss..”

The lady smiled fondly, her expression looking like she’s smiling towards a young child scared of the big wide world. She seemed to be genuine and true with her actions but you just really wanted to get to the hotel as soon as you could..

“Of course little thing, I promise I won’t.

Oh and where are my manners! The name's Rosie, sweetheart, I own the Cannibal Town and I lead the Cannibal Colony. Absolutely pleased to meet you."

You looked up at her with eyes full of fear and a hesitance to trust her, to give her any information at all about your circumstances.

But you weren’t raised to lie.. maybe twisting the truth wouldn’t hurt much? Keeping a few things under the rug?..

“Nice to meet you too miss Rosie..you may call me-- uh- ______.

Look I’m.. Im just looking to get back home. I heard Charlie Morningstar can help since she was in heaven awhile ago and she's the Princess of Hell, I must speak with her soon..”

The woman’s face brightened up like the sun with her sharp-toothed smile widening in remembrance. Spooking you out a tad..

“Charlie Morningstar! A real sweet thing that girl, adorable little blonde. Just a few months ago she came about and managed to convince my town of misfits to help her in preparing to defend the hotel against the angels! My goodness did she sweep them off their feet!

But yes, I know exactly where her hotel is! I can take you there as well, not a long stroll from here I'm sure. Oh but.. "

She paused with the back of her hand gently grazing your spread injured wing, it recoiling back at her touch.

"Wouldn't be surprised if any other wild sinner would want to hunt you down for sport, so maybe a nice stroll would be out of the question."

Her pale hand then moved to hold the end of her chin, the other resting on her hip as the gears in her heard started moving to find a safer passage to the hotel for you to get there.. her piqued interest in you has her wanting to see you advance a bit to see what potential you could have in this entire quarry between the both worlds at war.

"Aha! Perhaps we could have you hide inside one of those delivery carriages the townspeople have been taking in and out here to bring materials and food to the hotel. That way you avoid being seen by any potential eyes that could bring bad luck to you."

She walked up towards the large window illuminating the inside of the emporium as well as the two of you with light from Hell's pink and red hues that brighten the entirety of the realm. Her eyes now searching for a particular large object and... voila! She found it right across the town square and standing right in front of a local shop.

"Oh isn't this just perfect! There is one right there, the timing couldn't be more convenient."

You inhaled a quick breath and exhaled it as fast as it came, somehow still incredibly nervous being in a small space with this woman. Oh geez..

But you couldn't exactly complain since you did contribute in having yourself in this situation.

"So.. could we perhaps go.. now? I just.. want to head home as soon and safe as possible ma'am.."

She then suddenly turned to look at you, dress twirling and the feathers on her hat swaying in a way that indicates their movements could barley keep up with hers.

"Oh but of course! Considering half of the town's population is working on the hotel I must visit and check up on them as much as I can. I also must visit a dear ol' friend of mine, real gas that man is.

Well, then let's hop to it now shall we? We better hurry up while our tool of transportation is still here."

Your ears peaked up in slight delight at the fact that you're actually going to be heading over to the hotel now! So soon as well! This saves you so much more time, effort, and blood in trying to find the place you just knew you had to thank the woman in dark fuchsia and gray for taking you all this way. A little voice couldn't help but nag at you at how too convenient this all is.

Too bad you didn't think too much into that.

"Y..Yes! Yes ma'am!" You got up from your seat and set down your cup saucer on the table and scrambled to catch up to her and her pace with your heart pumping in your chest.

Both of you strolled across the Cannibal Plaza towards and up to the local shop with two large delivery carriages that seemed to lean on to a more older style, with them seemingly from the 1900s and were designed as if they were to hold containers like dairy and such and even people, it includeda large window on the driver's seat where they could peak in by turning their backs and looking down.. oh and it'd be a crime to not mention the horses! Although they seemed more undead and violently volatile like their cannibal owners they still were a nice touch.

Rosie and you approached them, Rosie with more confidence and you.. the opposite. "Walter, George," she spoke, an air of casualness persists "Good to see your faces alive and well! Hope you two got a minute to speak to two esteemed gals?"

The men, named Walter and George, looked up at the two of you with interest.

"Well if it isn't our Rosie! Good to see you as well madame, we sure hope you're enjoying this fine day with glee!" the man, seemingly the one called Walter spoke.

Rosie chuckled, "Oh I sure am, I even found myself a new little friend here! Which leads me in having to ask the both of you for a favor that is of most importance."

The other cannibal that goes by George focused his eyes on her and her words, "Why, anything for our beloved Rosie! What can we do for you ma'am?"

You hid slightly behind Rosie, feeling a strange comfort in just her status and power over rest of her people that made you feel at least a bit more safe from them. You would've continued listening to her conversation with the two men if the distant yet also near sound of explosions echoed across all of Hell which made you jump a little and stifle a gasp ever so slightly.

No one exactly noticed this or acknowledged the sounds too much which got you thinking if this is truly just an everyday thing.. of course it is it's hell but-- geez.. how can anyone live like this! Explosions, blood, guts, corpses, drugs, diseases, infections running rampant and indulged in the way pigs would at old farm food.

Just the thought of that damn severed hand being eaten by that little kid that you stumbled upon earlier just made you sick.. ugh.

Is this what Alastor indulges in as well?.. in his own sick way? Is he truly comfortable in a place like this?..

He must be, if he's murdered as many as he did when he was alive, you didn't dare think how many he's hurt and murdered down here as well.

He truly did belong here, in hell. He was a sadist and a psycho through and through.

And that's what disgusted you the most.

"You hear that dear! One of them is half near empty! Let's head on at once!”

Rosie finally snapped you out of your thoughts, you then just nodded as if you were present in the moment this entire time.

Rosie put a hand behind your back to guide you to the back of one of the delivery carriages and as one man held the doors open for the two of you, you both went in and sat down on the neat little benches on the inside and you couldn't help but to acknowledge the several boxes of nails and other unmentionables that you assumed was meant for the hotel and the people working on it.

Eventually after the doors closed you managed to get light by the large window that brightened up the darkness in your new much smaller environment.

“You know ______ darling, you remind me of someone I know.”

Rosie’s sudden voices spooked you quite a bit, it was a bit out of nowhere as it interrupted the awkward silence between the two of you.

“I.. do?”

She nods as her hands rested on the handle of her closed umbrella, sitting in a most elegant way.

Thank goodness she was versatile, considering the circumstances.

“You remind me of a certain friend I’m going to see when we reach the hotel, you see he’s a very powerful fellow. Charming and helpful but.. what interests me more is how alike you both look..”

It’s starting to click slightly once she said ‘he’.. god you just hoped she wasn’t referring to Alastor -- even though you knew how likely it is that she was.

"Oh? Really?.. " acting oblivious I see, but before you could properly respond to her the sound of a whip could be heard with the loud neighs of a horse following right after, making the carriage start moving.

The ride wasn't too bad, a bit traumatizing sure and you really got a good experience of hell.. more or so decent.

In the middle of your ride you seemed to have passed by a rival gang having a shootout considering the two flying bullets that punctured your vehicle which most definitely tensed you up, yet you tried to relax seeing Rosie's opposite reaction.

Then you heard many yowls and screams of ache and pain, all with their own sounds of bodies falling or the sound of wet and squishiness following the disgusting act of puncturing with some sort of weapon you couldn't even imagine can be heard despite passing by the sounds quickly.

The live murders made you feel queasy in ways that made you almost want to throw up but knew you had to keep your head up high.

God, knowing you can't see anything but still hear everything is absolute torture for your wild imagination.

"Miss Rosie, does this--" a loud boom from afar interrupted you, making you almost shrivel up "--does this.. amount of chaos truly...happen everyday?.. I know it’s.. hell but-- isn't there at least one day where this isn't happening?.."

"Oh it never stops darling. It's hell and it will keep going this way until the end of time. I do apologize though.. seems as if your pure little head isn't used to this kind of environment." Duh. "Oh but then that means you'll surely get along with the princess, if anything she seems to be more fit to be an angel."

You simply huffed as your hands trembled on your lap.

This place was downright unpredictable, and you truly hope you would be able to leave this place right after the war.

You miss home already.

----------------------------------------------------

Finally arriving at the Hazbin Hotel was a real treat.

Not really actually-- pfft.

At least not when you had to be around even more cannibals..

Now you knew why the town seemed a little.. empty. The rest were all here.

Charming of them to be helping out but thanks to 'Susan' you didn't want to interact with any of them.

Walking out of your carriage you felt your heart up in your throat and slowly start to beat at a violent pace. Your anxiety was rising.

Rosie lead you to the front of the hotel doors, seemingly dusting herself off fixing her hair and hat before her hand turned into a fit to knock at the door.

You did the same thing she did, except in a more nervous and trembly way. Alastor was in here.. you were sure of it. You could feel it in your bones and your veins wanting to pop blood from out your ears and nose was seemingly close to happening with how hard the beating of your pulse got once Rosie finally did what you were dreading slightly.

knock, knock.. knock.

'okay _____ stay calm. you knew this was going to be bad, but you're here now.. just breathe, breathe...' you followed your own advice and took an inhale but as you let your shaky exhale out the door was slowly opening.

your eyes were staring dead at the head of the door.

was it Charlie? Vaggie? Alastor?--

"Hello there, just came to deliver someone who was looking for the Hotel. Oh and I came to check up on my cannibals and on Alastor."

Rosie all but confirmed it.

She knew Alastor.

For some reason, your heart sank, not just because she knew Alastor very well apparently but because this feels like a sort of strange betrayal.

You really wished she would've told you.. but if she did you would've freaked out even more-- and maybe she could tell?.. wait-- how would she even know your connection to him anyway??.. looking like a fawn couldn't just straight up tell her..

Yet when you finally looked up at the now open door it was actually none of those three that you knew of.

It was a.. cat? A grumpy lookin' one.

He looked at you and up at Rosie, her arm proceeding to go behind your back to push you gently up closer to the door as if to tell the cat to let you in. His eyes widened at the look at you and your physical attributes.. your wings and halo catching his eye but your fawn like appearance only enhancing the tension in his face a lot more.

He eventually let out a husky sigh with the expression on his face relaxing, his voice being very low and his years were audible in his vocal chords he then turned behind him to loudly announce one single thing from afar:

"You've got company."

He turned back at the two of you and opened the door for you to go through, Rosie guiding you in first.

"He's inside talking to the princess, just walk ahead, take a right and you'll see him." He spoke straight forwardly and serious, it made you feel a little unwelcome. Yet as you walked in you couldn't help but feel those eyes of his stick to you like glue.. you couldn't really blame him-- you were sure they don't see an angel everyday the way you are with hell's environments.

The clicking of Rosie's shoes and the gentle pitter patter of your own gave you goosebumps up your arms, and the more you walked and the closer you heard certain voices the more your spine crawled.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Four steps...

You could barley hear anything but the thumping of your own heart.

The small area of the hotel seemed to have been a sort of living room, sets of chairs and sofas surrounding a television box that seemed to be from one of the more later years after your time.

A calm Alastor and a stressed out Charlie were seated on the two different sofa while facing each other with papers and maps scattered around the table in the middle. Rosie lead you further to have you be in the view of the both of them.. you could've sworn her smile stretched as she did so

"Well if it isn't our beloved Rosie! What a warming surprise!--" Alastor's voice cheered until the end, where a sharp radio static interrupted his sentence and irritated those ears of yours.

"Rosie!" Charlie stood up from her seat in a polite yet frazzled state "Thank you so much for visiting!.. and I-- oh.."

The silence was deafening. You waved awkwardly as you avoided eye contact with your father and faced Charlie herself, her eyes basically ready to budge out and her jaws hanging slightly.

"Just came to visit and bring a little gift! I found this little bird during my stroll around my cannibal town and she seems to need your assistance! Isn't that right ______ darling?"

Rosie finished her sentence by patting your shoulder gently before her hands finally rested on the handle of her umbrella once more. You fiddled with your hands as you shined an awkward smile.. you looked like a child about to give a powerpoint presentation to a class..

'oh dear.. "

—--------------------------------------------

It was yet another cold and dark night in the beautiful New Orleans, faint night music can be heard even in the dead of night from the nearby clubs. A fresh and gentle night,

Ah but.. Alastor wasn’t exactly getting his hours of much needed sleep, for he had been rudely awakened by the cries of a baby.

Yes, you were around ten months old at this time and Alastor was yet to get used to this. There wasn’t a day that passed by where he didn’t think of dropping you at an orphanage. But then again.. It wasn’t that hard to get you to stop crying so those heinous thoughts left very quickly. Except for this day, he was getting challenged by a ten month old you.

“Shh shh shh.. goodness _____ please just go to sleep..” he mumbled, definitely frustrated. Despite his pleas, you just kept on crying and crying while resting over his shoulder. He fed you, patted your back, rocked you to sleep.. nothing worked– unfortunately Alastor wasn’t thinking of one of the most obvious solutions to this situation since the poor guy was too tired to truly think properly.

He kept gently patting your back, shushing you and cooing softly in hopes to tire you out. Your small yet mighty cries continued to rage against his ear..

god he had no idea what to do.

That was when he held you, his hands under your arms as he had you held in front of his face. His glasses were sloppily slapped above his nose, eye bags under his eyes, and a small smile was threatening to turn into a huge frown.

“Little lady.. I don’t appreciate you keeping me up longer than usual tonight, what in the world could you want?” Alastor asked you despite knowing you couldnt understand let alone talk to him back. You simply looked at him with big innocent eyes filled with tears, your baby face stained with dry and wet tear stains and your mouth nibbling on your hand on the verge of crying all over again. Alastor couldn’t help but to look at you almost blankly, he just wanted to sleep.

Gahh but then your eyes started watering again, your little bottom lip curled up over your top one as it quivered and looked at him with these little pained eyes as if he just told you the worst thing ever.

“Oh don’t look at me like that..” he mumbled.. Dreading the feeling you gave him when you cried– it felt like your cries were hurting him, it pained him hearing you cry so hard.

He wasn’t exactly fond of feeling this.

Your loud crying resumed once again, Alastor let out a huge sigh.

“Oh fine- I apologize.. There, better now?” you cried harder, clearly.. no.

He groaned as he then rested you on his chest, your face over his shoulder once again. If your crying wasn’t going to stop he might as well listen to a song to calm his agitation. And so he did, he headed to the living room to then turn on the phonograph. With the device already having a disc in it he simply had to turn it on so it could play where it left off and the second it released the sound of bliss he let out a sigh of relief, that at least despite the crying he could at least go through this as calmly as possible.

The music wasn’t exactly loud, very faint in fact yet he could still hear it a little bit over your crying. He hummed to the tune of the song as he simply patted your back gently and waited for your cries to disintegrate.

This was one of his favorite songs as they were from a musician that is recently becoming incredibly famous in the music industry and Alastor was fascinated by their use of melody and sound.

Melodies that reminded him of the days of his mother when she was still gracing the earth, a real saint that woman was.

Sometimes he talks to her through a photo of her on the wall, asking her questions she’ll never answer, seeking advice and wisdom that he won’t ever be able to hear again.

If only her sickness didn’t overtake her as fast as it did, maybe she would know what to say to motivate him more in this moment of struggle.

He thought and thought and thought as if his head would burst if he didn't.. wondering how she would help him in raising you. What she would say, her suggestions, recommendations.. what would she do in a situation like this.

He knew he had to stay calm and stay in control, he had to keep smiling for that’s what his mother always did no matter what came her way.

She handled it with grace, poise, and with a smile.

It took him around an hour of overthinking about his mothers death, you, his future, his job, and his.. pff.. fascinations.. the lack of sleep seriously taking a toll on him as his want was slowly getting tired of patting you.

But most of all he was thinking about you. His future included yours.

How kind.. despite being so heartless.

Oh.. the song ended and all that was left was the soft static from the machine, blissful silence was all that was heard.

Wait..

Silence?

He looked over his shoulder to look at you, your little baby cheeks squished against him, your eyes closed and your breathing steady..

Finally! You're asleep.

Another sigh of relief released from his lips, continuing to loudly hum the same song that was playing earlier as he slowly walked out of the living room towards his room, now stopping at your crib.

He continued humming as one of his hands held the back of your head and the other held your back, gently placing you in the crib while humming the tune he kept you close while he set you down so you wouldn’t suddenly burst in crying again.

Once he gently managed to place you down with no fuss.. He was darn ready to sleep.

Oh but he took a moment to look at you, leaning against the railings of your ‘bed’ made specifically for you.

Your little baby fat and your squishy cheeks that made your little face even cuter– once again, he was never fond of kids let alone babies but hell if only you didn’t look at him the way you did on that rainy day he found you.. Giggling and smiling even when you didn’t have a single clue of what your situation was as a month old baby.

“You are definitely a handful.. If you kept crying I might have left you in an orphanage by now.” he whispered and joked to himself– no matter the cruel jokes he makes he’ll always find laughter in moments or scenarios of despair.

He’s too far gone now though, he’s bought all your necessities and his home basically screams of a baby’s presence, so even if he truly wanted to do that he knew it’s too late to turn back and you're stuck to him forever.. Well however long ‘forever’ is.

"Domestic life was never quite my style.. still isn't, but I can simply make a few exceptions."

“Well now.. sweetest of dreams, little dove.” he mumbled quietly before finally heading to his own bed himself.

Alastor finally settling in and finally getting comfortable and very slowly falling asleep himself.. glasses back on his nightstand and the noise around him becoming fainter and his mind seemed to finally start powering off for the night.

Finally.. time to sleep.. there's much work to do tomorrow.

Until he heard shuffling from the crib.

‘Oh god.’

(thank you so much for reading part 5 of my angel baby! the stakes are gonna get real high between the reader and Alastor! hope everything goes well for the two when one of them starts interacting!(alastor lmao) hope to see you all in part 6 if you are willing to stick around! Im really only planning to finish this series until the very end or until you guys stop wanting it but nonetheless I hope we reach the end of this story soon!!)

[ilikesillythings]

" To my darling baby; " Vox x reader TWs ;; Yandere themes, Vox in himself is a tw (If you squint enough Al stole Vox's bitch) Requested by ;; @everywherebut

"Two weeks.", Vox angrily muttered to Valentino, who, clearly wasn't listening as much as the TV-headed demon assumed he was.. or at all. But, in Vox's mind he had every right to be upset at the moment! Not only had you broken his electrical heart - he hadn't seen/heard from or of you in TWO WHOLE WEEKS! It felt like Vox's world had come crashing down!! And he only got even angrier when Val finally spoke up, in a bored, uninterested tone, "Uh.. Voxxy- isn't {Y/N} at that hotel? Y'know.. the one with the Radio demon? Thought I saw her outside it one time on one of your cameras."

This didn't sit right with Vox. His precious {Y/N}, at that shitty hotel? With radio fossil trash? This could not be happening. With quick movements, Vox ran out of the room, straight into the elevator, hands frantically pressing the 'down' button.

You, on the other hand, had been having a great time. Charlie was welcoming, when she had seen you at the doorstep, in your nightly attire, tears filling up your eyes, she had immediately taken pity upon you, ushering you inside. After two long years with Vox, you had grown to hate him. He was arrogant, loud, rude, and never spared you a glance anymore.

Running away was hard enough, as you knew very well he could spy on people through the TV screens he had displayed, the electronics from his brand, and cameras. But the Hazbin hotel was the one place you felt to be safest. Yeah, the Radio demon was there, one of the most dangerous overlords, though his reputation smudged into old tales after his absence, and yes, the princess of Hell, Charlie, ran it, but she seemed like nothing more than a harmless puppy. Alastor, on the other hand, was in fact scary as fuck,

But, he never made an attempt to frighten you, to harm you. Nor did he ever demand information on his 'rival', despite having heard about your past affiliations with the demon. He was a sort of gentleman, to most at least.

Maybe if you were someone else, you'd be eternally paranoid, for good reason, of course. You had broken up with a powerful overlord, who had many souls, and a lot of power at his fingertips. If he wanted to; he could find you. Yet, he hadn't. You were safe at this dingy hotel. Somehow you had managed to be safe.

Or, that's what you had thought up until now. To be completely honest, you had forgotten all about your ex. Until he showed up at the hotel's door.

You could hear him shouting from outside, unluckily for you, it was only you and Nifty at the hotel. "{Y/N}! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! BABY- PLEASE, I'M SORRY!" he screamed, voice sounding strained, which made sense when you realized he had been shouting for about two hours now. Not wanting to talk to him directly, you made your way upstairs, to the balcony, and leaned over the edge, annoyance evident on your face.

His electrical face lit up, digital eyes widening with awe. Perhaps for you, this was an irritating encounter, as you had been hoping to simply relax all day, still dressed in last nights clothing from when you had gone to bed. For Vox?

It was like he was Romeo, and you his Juliet. An angel sent from above to grace this poor, poor sinner. "Oh- baby! There you are!" he exclaimed, relief evident in his strained voice, "C'mon, get down from there, and we can-"

He paused as you raised your hand, "I'm not going home with you, Vox." you sternly stated to the annoyance below you, who in tern, stared at you in shock. Before guffawing, shaking his rectangular head, "You've always been so good at jokes!" he praised earnestly, clapping his hands, "But, now it's time to go home!"

For a moment, you scowled at him, before turning on your heels and walking back inside, ignoring the loud protests from Vox, begging you come out, begging you to come back to him.

[chheolie]

where kim mingyu unexpectedly encounters his first love in paris.

"bonne après-midi, mademoiselle y/n," the polished voice of the french receptionist sounded from the other side of the hotel room phone line. "the guests you were waiting for have just arrived. may i let them come up to your room?" he continued, now in english, maintaining the formality.

"of course, please!" you responded gently, with a slight smile on your lips.

dressed in a soft velvet robe with matching slippers, your hair loose awaiting an elegant hairstyle, you were getting ready for the evening. soon, the team that would handle your preparation for the event would arrive at your room.

soon, a protective cover was delicately opened, revealing the stunning dress you would wear in a few hours. seated in your glam chair, you watched through the mirror as the preparations began.

distracted, you were scrolling through your social media feed when your manager asked what you would like to eat before the event. "a caprese sandwich and a kale juice, please," you requested, and soon you were savoring your meal, already with your makeup and hairstyle done.

your hair was tied in an elegant ponytail, and the makeup, perfectly matching the black dress, further accentuated your natural beauty. after one last look in the mirror and a few photo snaps, you were finally ready for the party.

it was the usual: camera flashes lighting up the environment as you stepped out of the car, security guiding you through the crowd of fans and paparazzi. the red carpet was covered with a sea of journalists, all trying to catch your attention with questions and interview requests. the sound of cameras clicking incessantly and the animated voices mixed into an almost hypnotic frenzy.

upon entering the event venue, an efficient and well-dressed assistant immediately approached, offering a glass of champagne and informing you about the night's schedule. the soft lighting and ambient music created an elegant atmosphere, while other celebrities and influencers strolled through the corridors, exchanging greetings and calculated smiles.

the runway shows were the highlight of the evening, of course. seated in the front row, alongside other influential figures in the fashion world, you watched as the models walked the runway in stunning outfits. each collection seemed to outdo the previous in creativity and luxury. clapping at the right moments, making eye contact with the designers, and being seen appreciating the pieces were part of the game.

after the shows, it was time to socialize at an exclusive and secret after-party. the loud music, vibrant lights, and the environment filled with international celebrities provided the perfect setting for animated conversations and selfies that might never be posted.

but then, you needed to go to the venue's restroom. distracted, you followed the signs, focused on finding your destination. turning into a narrow corridor, you felt a strong bump. "fu..." you almost cursed loud as the glass was thrown to the ground. you felt the pain from the impact; the man was big and strong.

"i'm so.. y/n?" he said, surprised.

"oh my god, mingyu! you here?" you asked, equally surprised.

"did i hurt you? i'm sorry," he said, struggling with himself not to touch you.

"it's okay," you smiled awkwardly. "sorry again," he said. and you nodded, smiling as you left for the bathroom.

after that encounter, all you could see was mingyu at that party. how did you not see him before?

mingyu was also looking for you with his eyes, his mind transported to that time in the green room, when you still dreamed of debuting as a singer in a big girl group. he caught himself smiling, remembering those moments.

today, music is not your main job. you found yourself in acting and love what you do more than anything. he couldn't help but notice how incredible and fascinating you've become.

he knew you had become a great actress, but everything changed in your sincere friendship when you decided to reveal a secret to him. "well, mingyu... i don't know the best way to tell you this, but i fell in love with you," he remembered every word perfectly, the sound of your voice so vivid in his memory that it seemed like it was said minutes ago.

he took a deep breath, irritated, remembering what came next: he rejected your feelings.

mingyu closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to push away those memories that brought regret and longing.

when he came back to himself, he noticed you were no longer there. so he decided that the party was over for him too.

you arrived at your hotel room, feeling something you could barely define. seeing mingyu after so many years did you good. he used to be the person you sought when you needed a shoulder to cry on, a friend who celebrated your victories and never let you give up. maybe that's why you fell in love, maybe you confused his affection.

already in sweatpants and a clean face, after a relaxing hot bath, you got into the elevator and went up to the rooftop to get some air.

and then you realized that fate wasn't kidding that day. there was mingyu, alone, pacing back and forth, speaking on the phone in a loud and harsh tone. he seemed upset, and you felt a pang in your heart watching this scene.

he hung up the phone, and you could almost hear the heavy sigh. you approached slowly, pretending to have just arrived.

with a forced smile on your face, you disguised the worry you felt.

unlike you, he didn't bother to hide his bad mood. and you didn't think of anything else but what you would have done years ago: you hugged him tightly.

mingyu was surprised. he didn't know what to do but didn't want to think too much either. he just accepted, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to be enveloped in the embrace of someone he missed so much.

you stroked his back, showing that you were there with and for him. he understood the message, responding to the hug's squeeze. "thank you, y/n," he said.

you two let go, and you smiled at him, this time sincerely. "will everything be okay?" you asked.

"yes," he replied. "it's just a work problem."

you nodded, relieved, and he laughed frustratedly.

"i didn't expect to see you again under these circumstances," he said, and you laughed too.

"it happens..." you replied, not knowing what to say.

"sure," he mocked. and you both laughed.

"how have you been?" you asked.

"good," he said, nodding. "and you?"

"the same," you tucked your hair behind your ear. "seeing you earlier made me revisit some years ago," you confessed.

"me too," he replied, sounding sulky

"do you remember that time in the green room, when we were just dreamers?" you began, and he smiled.

"of course i remember. those days were full of hope and craziness," mingyu replied, the nostalgia visible in his eyes.

"i remember how you always cheered me up, no matter how hard the day was," you said, your voice soft and thoughtful.

"you did the same for me, more times than i can count," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

"and to think everything changed since then... we changed," you continued, your voice low.

"yes, but some things haven't changed, y/n. the way i'm feeling now being near you, for example," mingyu confessed, turning to face you.

you took a deep breath, feeling the tension in the air.

"mingyu, about that time... i didn't expect you to feel the same. i just wanted to be honest," you said, remembering the confession that changed everything.

"i know. and i regret rejecting your feelings," he said, the sincerity in his eyes touching you deeply. "i was an idiot, afraid of ruining what we had and ended up pushing you away."

"mingyu..." you began, but he interrupted you.

"let me finish. i don't know if it's still possible, but i'd like a second chance. can we start over?" he paused, "i mean. can we see each other again?"

you responded to him with the same tight hug from minutes ago. though you two couldn't see, both of you were smiling.

[think-like-a-poet]

I'd totally love to read about Kenan Yildiz tbh, maybe something where is away for Euro24 and fem!reader had to stay home. So he misses her sosososo much, and one evening he gets a call from her and while they talk she enters the room, surprising him with a surprise visit 😂

A/N: Hope you like it. First time writing about football players.

tagged: @adrianakimberly @usuiswifelol

Kenan Yildiz x fem!reader

Kenan was in Germany for the Euro cup and you couldn't be more proud of your boyfriend. He worked so hard for this and it finally paid off.

The problem is that you weren't able to make it to his games. You had your last assignments for college and your job, so you planned on watching them from home. It was painful being away from each other for so long and you wished nothing more to be there for him.

So that is what you did.

That evening, you two were talking on the phone. You had made up an excuse to not use your camera, so you could surprise him. His teammate, Arda, had helped you plan it, sending all the information about the stay and schedule to you.

"You were good today. Congrats on the win." You say as you walked through the streets of Hamburg towards the hotel that Arda send you.

Kenan was laying on his bed, hair damp from the shower he took. "Thank you. The next game is against Austria, so it would be more difficult I think, but we can do it." He explains. "How was your day?"

You had to check your google maps to look at which way to go, before answering, "It was good. It wasn't really busy in the store, so that was calming for once." That was of course a lie, as you didn't work today and took a flight to Germany. "I started reading this book, it is quite interesting."

"That sounds nice. You have to tell me about it when you finish it. Love to hear you talk about it." he let out a yawn, tired from the game he just played. It was past midnight and he should really get some sleep.

"I wish you could be here," Kenan said with sadness in his voice.

You smiled as you walked along the hallway towards the door of his hotel room, "What if I am?"

Kenan wanted to ask you what you meant before hearing the knock on his door. He dropped the phone and ran towards it to open it. You stood there, the phone still by your ear. "You're here." He smiles, happy tears in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around you.

You put the phone away and hugged him back, "Hello, honey." you kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair. He pulled away to cup your face and kiss you. You laugh against his lips as he pulls you closer. You had to remind yourself that you were still standing in the door opening and someone could walk past you.

"Lets get inside first, Kenan." He nods and lets you inside, closing the door behind you. He took your jacket and bag from you and put it away. You took of your shoes before walking further.

As he came back in the room, Kenan wrapped his arms back around you. "I missed you so much." you hadn't seen each other in two weeks, apart from the face timing, but it felt like eternity. "I missed you too."

"How did you manage to get here? I thought you had work and school." he sat you both down on the couch, playing with your hair.

"I did, but I exchanged my shift and took some time off, so I am able to come and watch you play the next match. School is over, I finished the last project, so i have a summer holiday." your head was laying on his chest as he watched you speak. You saw him trying hard to stay awake for you, but you knew he wanted to sleep.

He lets out another yawn, "I am happy that you could make it."

"Lets get to bed. You are tired, you should get some sleep after that game." he nods and led you to the bedroom.

After you changed and got ready for bed, he grabbed you close to him. "Good night."

[putellasawfc]

cata coll as a girlfriend is the type to …

-

gf!cata is the type to … keep you on facetime with her whilst she’s away from you, just to do your own things. you’ll be cleaning around the house and she’ll be watching television in her hotel room, you won’t talk to one and other, just enjoy each others silent company. at first you didn’t get why she wanted to call you if she wasn’t going to talk, but you soon understood the comfort that it brought to have the other person right there, if you couldn’t be together physically at least you had that.

gf!cata is the type to … talk to you about all sorts of conspiracy theories that she believed. ‘princess diana’s death was definitely not an accident mi amor’ ‘the moon landing never happened it was all staged’ ‘have you ever heard about the subliminal advertising conspiracy? .. oh my god listen to this!’ though you thought a lot of her information was a little far fetched, you did sometimes find yourself nodding along and getting invested in her ramblings (though you would never admit it to her).

gf!cata is the type to … force you into taking part in some goalkeeping practice with her, even though you weren’t a professional footballer or athlete, and didn’t know how to kick a ball like a proper player would, she’d still ask you to at least try so she could work on her saves.

gf!cata is the type to … leave you covered in hickeys after a makeout session. it was like she wasn’t satisfied unless you were covered in marks, all over your neck and some on your chest. you’d always scold her for it, reminding her that you had to be seen in public with them on show - but she didn’t care. she’d just shrug with a proud smirk on her face. “at least i won’t have to worry about anyone flirting with you in the stands again.”

gf!cata is the type to … whisk you away every chance she got to some extravagant vacation. she loved to spoil you, claiming you deserved it for keeping her going and taking care of her during difficult times. it was the least she could do to repay you for sticking by her.

gf!cata is the type to … buy you both matching rings. she’d only ever take hers off during football duties, other than that it didn’t leave her ring finger and yours only ever came off during messy actives (baking, painting, etc). you loved the cuteness of it, the way she presented you with them after six months together. ‘practice for when i propose’.

gf!cata is the type to … make you two the definition of private but not secret. you weren’t a public figure, so she knew what type of reception you could receive from certain ‘fans’ if she went crazy with her public admiration for you. she didn’t want you to receive any sort of negativity from anyone who thought they knew you from a few social media posts, so she kept it tame. she’d post you on her story on special occasions, and you’d feature in some photo dumps but not too many.

gf!cata is the type to … bring you back little souvenirs whenever she went abroad for work. sometimes a magnet, sometimes a keychain, sometimes a touristy shirt. once she managed to find you a snowglobe that now resides on your shared fireplace in your apartment. you always joke that you’re running out of places to put everything, but you love the ongoing tradition and always get excited to see what she’s brought back for you each time.

gf!cata is the type to … not be shy when it comes to pda. of course, when under the eyes of fans during games and such, she limits her public affection to just a hug and a hand hold. but when it’s just the both of you on an average day, maybe you’re shopping or you’ve both gone out somewhere for lunch, she can’t keep her hands off you. her arm stays wrapped around your waist or shoulder, she’s always peppering an array of kisses along your neck, she’ll even throw in a cheeky ass grab whenever she’s feeling a little bolder.

gf!cata is the type to … get a dog with you. your first child, she liked to call him. he was a little beagle and you both smothered him with too much affection, and were definitely too lenient when it came to punishing him. but one look with his little puppy dog eyes and you were both eager to forget his misdemeanours.

gf!cata is the type to … constantly drag you into photo booths at every possible opportunity. whenever you were at an event that had some sort of photo booth, whether it was a wedding or a birthday party, or a football event. if she saw a photo booth she was dragging you there and forcing you on her lap! the amount of photo booth strips you had tucked away in your bedside drawer was crazy. but, you couldn’t deny that it was cute to look back at them occasionally and reminisce on the events they were taken at.

gf!cata is the type to … challenge you to all sorts of games, just to get pouty if you beat her. your personal favourite was mario kart, because you believed you were top five best player in the world, and it was very rare cata actually managed to beat you. she’d always accuse you of cheating or targeting her everytime you won, making you roll your eyes and call her out for being a sore loser. if she did win (which would be a miracle), she’d shove it in your face with a smug grin and eager fist pump … completely overjoyed with herself for all of five minutes until you reminded her you’d beat her six times already tonight.

gf!cata is the type to … not let you out of bed if you had to be up before her. it wasn’t often, with her being an athlete she was up early most mornings if not for a gym session then for an early morning training session. but sometimes, it was you who had to be up early and she hated it. she’d wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back into her, whining into your neck. ‘nooo, stay in bed with me please mi amor. it’s so cold without you.’ sometimes it would work, and you’d succumb to her pathetic - but adorable - begging. other times you really weren’t able to stay, so you’d have to cope with her accusing you of no longer loving her as you got ready for the day, always so dramatic.

gf!cata is the type to … want to start a family with you one day. she knew being in a lesbian relationship it wasn’t as easy as a little late night loving to have a child, but she didn’t let that deter her from having her dream come true with you. she would love to have a little boy or girl, calling her mama and running around the house wearing her goalkeeper jersey, it’s what she dreamed about. and now she had you in her life she knew she wanted you to be the one she made that happen with. you had a lot of late night talks about it, and when the time was right you were more than happy to start a family with her.

gf!cata is the type to … come to you with all the gossip. she’s that person that swears they won’t tell anyone, and then the second she’s home with you she’s spilling everything. you know a lot more than you should, but cata just can’t help it. she loves filling you in on all the drama she’s aware of, the both of you will just sit around gossiping, laughing and judging people together.

[isaidlandowecanbeworldchampion]

I’m sorry, I love you - Lost the Breakup Part 2

OP81 x reader, ex!LN4 x reader

Warnings: swearing, slut shaming, poorly written angst

A/n: hi, I'm sorry it took so long for a part two, I wasn't expecting part one to do so well and I hadn't decided where I wanted to take it .

Previous part // Next part

You shuffle into the kitchen around 7am. Oscar is sitting at the breakfast bar drinking a protein shake. 

“Morning.” You mumble, still half asleep. 

Oscar chuckles lightly and stands up. He grabs you a mug and pours a coffee for you.

“Milk? Sugar?” He asks gently. You shake your head and pull the mug towards yourself.

Oscar fiddles with the hem of his shirt before sighing. “So uh…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Can we just forget about what I said last night? Not the winning for you part, I, uh, meant that bit, But the other stuff. It was just a lot of adrenaline, you know? And I-” 

“It’s fine, Oscar” You cut him off, “Already forgotten” 

He smiles and nods. “I’m about to go on a run, but if you want to put a list together we can do some groceries later?”

“Can we stop by my old place? I need to grab some stuff.” You ask, sipping the warm coffee. 

“Of course”, Oscar heads for the door, “I’ll see you later.”

–

You slide into the passenger seat of Oscar’s Mclaren Artura, one of the perks of his job. In one hand you hold a list of groceries and the keys to your and Landos flat, in the other is your phone. Oscar seamlessly steers the car onto the road heading towards the closest grocery store. 

You glance down at your phone fiddling around to avoid saying anything to Oscar. Things had been tense since last night, despite Oscar’s apology this morning. 

Oscar glanced towards you. He cleared his throat. 

“So I need to give you a heads up about something, “ He began, focusing on the road. “Someone managed to get some photos of me dropping you off at the airport and the media is making it seem like something it’s not.” 

Your head whipped towards Oscar but he didn’t look back at you. 

“I am so sorry Oscar” You looked towards your hands on your lap, “I never should’ve gotten you involved. I can move out and find a hotel. You don’t need to be dealing with this on top of everything with Mclaren and the championship battle.” You began to pick at your nails absently, pulling up hotels on your phone. 

“Hey, whoa whoa, I never said you had to move out. I just wanted to tell you so that you’re not blindsided.” He reached over and squeezed your knee. “ I don’t care what people think. You’re my friend, I'm not going to leave you homeless.”  

Oscar smoothly pulled up outside your old apartment building. 

“Do you want me to come up?” 

You shook your head and opened the car door, “I’ll be quick” 

– 

The flat was quiet when you opened the door, maybe you got lucky and Lando was out.? You heard footsteps approaching and you knew that you had no such luck.  Lando leant against the doorframe to the living room. 

“Are you done fucking my teammate then?” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, making your way towards the bedroom. “I’m not going to even answer that question, given how ridiculous that accusation is.”

It was Lando’s turn to scoff, following you towards the bedroom where you had dragged a suitcase out of the closet and were now shoving the contents of your wardrobe into it. 

“I think it’s a perfectly reasonable assumption” He snarled, “There are photos of you basically sucking his face off and you moved in with him before we were even officially done.” 

You stood up straight and stalked towards him, “ Last I checked, I wasn’t the one who called their girlfriend who has only ever tried to support you -” Your hands come up in quotation marks. “- exhausting …on live television nonetheless  You were barely a foot away from him now, your voice seething with rage, “For your information, I have no interest in Oscar that way, but even if I did, It’s not your business anymore because we are done.” 

“Whore” Lando hissed. 

“I’ll ask you once not to speak to her in that way, Norris.” Oscar stood behind Lando, the look on his face showed that he’d heard what you said about him. 

“Or what, Oscar? You’re behind me in the championship,” Lando seethed, “and now you’re fucking my leftovers. Guess you’ll always be in my shadow, huh?”

Oscars fist cracked across the side of Lando’s face and he doubled over in pain, “Fuck!” 

“I asked you once not to speak to her in that way.” Oscar turned to you,  “Are you done? What else do you need?” 

You nodded, “I’m okay, I have everything I need”

Oscar gently took the suitcase and carried it towards the door. You bent down and lightly touched Lando’s cheek. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, “I love you.” 

“No,” You reply, gently “You don’t. If you loved me you wouldn’t have said it” 

You stood up and followed Oscar out the door. 

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@amz824 @cmleitora @herexpertcollector

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 20 | 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, mentions of drugs, fluff, some angst, SLOW BURN

words: 17.9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 20 ► so if your wings won't find you heaven, i will bring it down like an ancient bygone

The next morning arrived very quickly and not even five hours after your nightly rendezvous in the garden, you saw Jungkook again in the corridor of the hotel.

“Your room is right next to mine,” you observed with a certain surprised amusement. “Yet you thought it would be wiser to go out, find some rocks, and toss those at my window?”

Jungkook glanced at the door of his room as if he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Much more private that way,” he said with a shrug—but a mischievous grin betrayed his attempt at nonchalance. “No one suspected a thing.”

“If someone had seen you doing that, they would have probably suspected a lot more,” you said. “Compared to you just knocking on my door like a normal person.”

“I’m a romantic,” he declared, clutching his chest to emphasise his dedication to his actions, which he preferred to regard as whimsical and sweet, rather than unusual and unnecessary. “I prefer my way.”

You looked away and he wondered if he’d taken it too far. But he relaxed when he saw the corners of your lips curve into an already familiar smile as your gaze wandered from the carpeted floors to the fraying edges of the wallpaper near the entrance to the staircase.

His predilection for extravagant gestures and dramatic moves rather than simple, everyday things had been a consistent part of his personality for as long as you’ve known him. And however much you teased him about it, you still found it endearing.

Although to be fair, you found the wildflowers that he’d brought you endearing, too. Pictures that he sent you, captioned ‘us.’ The look in his eyes when he teased you about something. The way he held your hand so absentmindedly sometimes, almost forgetting about it as though your hand was a part of him.

“Should we go, then?” you asked, a little breathless. The old hotel didn’t have an elevator, and you gestured at the staircase. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to climb into the restaurant through the window.”

Jungkook took the teasing in stride, maintaining a dignified grin. “Stairs will work, I’m sure.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

He followed you, beaming as if he were a ten-year-old who had just held hands with a pretty girl for the first time during fifth-grade recess. He didn’t know how to contain everything he was feeling. He might have actually stopped, dropped, and rolled down the stairs like an exhilarated sack of potatoes if he’d known you were feeling the same.

“So,” you said, keeping your eyes on your feet as the two of you climbed down the narrow, creaking staircase. There were small, foggy windows scattered here and there, filtering beams of tired sunlight. “Escape from New York.”

It took Jungkook a few seconds to recognise that this was the film you’d talked about last night. His mind seemed to consider this information secondary—overshadowed, understandably, by his grandmother’s voice after she called him and the lingering memory of the scent of your hair.

“Yeah,” he said, stopping in front of the arch that led from the stairwell into the lobby. “I’m thinking the odds of catching it in cinemas are very slim, right?”

“They are,” you confirmed, stopping, too. “But it’s on Amazon like I suspected. We could watch it tomorrow if you’d like?”

A childlike excitement ignited in his eyes, but a sudden memory dimmed them.

He recalled you telling him that you had plans with Luna and Maggie tonight, and before that—his hands trembled a little at this particular memory—he recalled you saying that you had set an alarm to call your mum.

He was anxious, he realised, on your behalf.

“Tomorrow, uh—” he stammered, lost in the shadows on the staircase behind you as the two of you lingered by the archway. “T-that sounds good.”

You smiled and nodded—that was essentially all you did, but he felt the change. He felt how close you were, he felt your relaxed posture, your easy smile, your calm, confident eyes.

His gaze met yours for no more than a fleeting moment, but he felt the uncertainty in his chest lift, almost inexplicably so. Likely because, despite everything, you were here and nothing else really mattered. You’d be okay.

“You’re going out tonight, right?” he asked and you nodded. He tsk tsk-ed in response, feigning disapproval. “It's a school night. How very irresponsible.”

Your smile grew wider; he noticed it out of the corner of his eye. Something creaked with excitement on the stairs and inside his chest.

“You guys have a day off tomorrow, so I don’t have to babysit,” you bit. “The girls and I had actually been planning this since before we even arrived in Europe.”

“Okay, fair enough,” he said. “How’d you find a bar that’s open long enough on a Wednesday, though?”

“Maggie said she found a cool spot that’s not really a nightclub and not really a bar,” you explained, shrugging. “I’m not sure. We’ll give it a try.”

“Alright. That sounds cool. Let’s do our thing tomorrow,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Is it, uh, a girls’ night, then?”

You began to walk, crossing the threshold but slowing down so he could catch up.

“Well, yeah,” you said. “Because if I invite you, then Taehyung will insist on joining, and Luna will inevitably invite him. And then you and I will end up third-wheeling those two all night, while also comforting Maggie. She’ll have one tequila shot and spend the whole night near tears because she misses Rue.”

Jungkook decided not to admit how pleased he was that in a hypothetical scenario where Luna would bring her boyfriend and Maggie would cry about her girlfriend, he was your equivalent partner. Of course, he would have made sure to keep you company so that you wouldn’t feel like anyone’s third-wheel or shoulder to cry on, but he understood the essence of your point.

“That’s alright. I’ll keep myself busy,” he said, a bit concerned about the colour of his face. He reached up, feeling his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I, uh—I hope you guys have fun. Call me if you get into trouble.”

You raised your eyebrows, recognising his way of turning your words against you.

“As if,” you retorted. “I know how to drink responsibly.”

He could remember times when the two of you were so drunk that the sense of responsibility resembled a dystopian concept rather than something people realistically possessed, but he enjoyed the smile on your face too much to bring it up. Even more than that, however, he enjoyed the fact that your smile did not falter, and you did not pull away to a more respectable distance when you entered the restaurant and reached the buffet table with dozens of other people around.

Things were good. They felt good.

You stayed at the buffet table to talk to Namjoon, and Jungkook went to find an empty table at the restaurant. But even as he walked away from you, he still couldn’t do anything about the tint on his cheeks.

He knew he was grinning like a proper maniac as he poured milk into his cereal. But then he met your eyes, and you were smiling at him from across the room, and your face looked radiant and glowing, and he was so in love with you that he didn’t care about his excitement coming off as threatening.

Just then, Minjun approached him with a concerned expression.

“Hey,” he said, sitting across from him at the empty table. “You look stupid. Did you put too much sugar in your cereal again?”

Jungkook snorted and let the spoon clatter into the bowl. “No. Just feeling good, I guess.”

“Huh.” Minjun looked over his shoulder and caught your gaze. He turned back to his friend with a knowing grin. “And, uh… your constant glances in your manager’s direction have something to do with that, I assume?”

“We’re going to watch a film tomorrow. It’s something my grandma suggested,” Jungkook announced with a grandeur that rivalled a lottery winner flaunting their newfound wealth.

It took Minjun a moment to process the whirlwind of changes in Jungkook’s life overnight. The last time he had seen him in Glasgow, Jungkook was, to put it kindly, a wreck. Now, his grandmother was calling him, and he was making plans to watch films with you.

“I’m—” Minjun stopped. He wanted to ask questions, but he did not know what to do with the expression on his face. “I feel like I’ve missed a few episodes of this TV show, but I’m very excited for you.”

Jungkook nodded eagerly—and then hesitated, his smile fading momentarily.

“It’s good, right?” he asked. “That we’re spending time together again.”

Minjun didn’t consider himself an expert in the field of relationships, even though he had some experience. However, when it came to this particular relationship, he didn’t even consider himself an amateur. You and Jungkook operated so utterly enigmatically that he wouldn’t even know where to begin guessing what the correct answer here was.

“Of course,” he affirmed nonetheless. “So, you’re… what? Friends, then?”

“Mhmm,” Jungkook replied with a mouthful of cereal.

“And, uh,” Minjun tapped his index finger on the dent in the lacquered table, “why is that?”

Jungkook swallowed first. “What do you mean wh—”

He noticed Minjun’s deadpan expression. Friendship was not the destination that his friend had imagined for the two of you.

“Fine,” he said, wiping his palms on his pants. “Well, first of all, it’s better than nothing. And—”

“Wait,” Minjun interrupted. “Why is ‘nothing’ the alternative to friendship?”

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “Because we’re complicated people with complicated problems.”

He almost expected Minjun to laugh at the oversimplified response, but his friend remained serious—he may not have known a lot, but he knew that there was a long story hidden behind these short words.

“Okay,” he said.

“Yeah. And second of all,” Jungkook continued, and Minjun wondered if he realised how much he resembled you in the way he spoke sometimes, “if we’re friends, then we can still work together, even if we don’t actually get back together. It’s just safe for us.”

“Ah.” Minjun nodded, recognising the subtle ways in which Jungkook was making this comfortable for you. “That’s the main thing, isn’t it?”

“It’s—well, I don’t know if that’s the main thing,” Jungkook said. For him, the main thing was you staying with Rated Riot. Everything else was an additional thing. “But it’s a—it’s a thing.”

“Hmm. The two of you are a far cry from friends, though,” Minjun remarked. Naturally, Jungkook was about to object, but his friend raised a hand, stopping him. “But I’m glad you two kids are working it out. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Jungkook released his breath and nodded instead of speaking.

He decided this was enough. He didn’t need anything else—neither a pat on the back nor an empty reassurance—to confirm that things were going well.

You had practically built a castle over the ruins in his chest overnight—things were going well.

After breakfast, Namjoon needed your help with the scheduling of recording rooms for the upcoming tour dates. The boys usually used the equipment they’d brought with them, but Yoongi had barricaded himself in his room—Jimin knocked on his door for fifteen minutes to drop off a croissant—so Namjoon, Hoseok, and you decided to book a studio to lure him out.

The scheduling took a while, because London and Paris, for no reason whatsoever, emerged as the two centres of musical innovation this month. Every studio in the vicinity of your accommodation had already been booked, so you were locked in your hotel room until late afternoon.

When you finally found several available spots, Luna and Maggie had already banished Taehyung from his and Luna’s suite—they had the largest one here—and you joined the girls in the bathroom to get ready for the night.

However, even though you joked and chatted with them, you couldn’t stop yourself from mentally counting down the minutes until your phone alarm rang. You’d set it for eight, hoping this would be a convenient time for your mum. You knew she wasn’t working today.

And, shortly after the three of you got ready—six minutes to eight—you left the girls to pre-game in Luna’s bathroom, and went back to your own dark room.

You felt very silly just sitting and staring at your screen, waiting. You could have called your mum early; you were ready for it anyway. But your hands were shaking, and you decided to wait.

You had already dressed and prepared for the rest of the night, but now, as you stared at your phone—two more minutes—you wondered if that had been a mistake. What if you cried? What if you didn’t even want to go anywhere anymore?

Two minutes, as it turned out, had a habit of passing slowly when you wanted them to pass, and passing very quickly when you wanted to prolong them. You pressed the line labelled ‘MUM’ on your phone and held your breath.

You were sitting on the floor—not because you wanted to fully embrace the dramatics of the situation or because the bed wasn’t good enough, but because your phone was charging next to the door, and you couldn’t reach the charger from the bed.

You had kept the light off, so the room was completely dark—now that was because you wanted to embrace the dramatics of the situation—and you hugged your knees to your chest, seemingly sinking deeper into the shadows.

Your mum picked up after the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hi, mum,” you said, and your voice shook despite your best attempts to control it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said. She sounded a little disoriented and confused. “Did something happen? Is everything okay?”

You moved your phone away from your head and wiped your cheek on the sleeve of your dark denim jacket. You felt nervous and fidgety.

“It’s—no, everything’s fine,” you replied. “Are you busy? H-how’s Kai?”

“I was just reading. And he’s playing with his friends, love,” your mum said softly—she always spoke as if she was in a crowded room, mindful of disturbing others. “Did you want to talk to him?”

“Oh. No—no, it’s okay,” you said, nibbling on your lower lip. “You, uh, changed your mind about grounding him?”

“Well, he’s awfully lonely,” she said almost apologetically. You figured she wouldn’t stay angry with him for long, especially if he complained about his broken leg—which you suspected he did. “He can’t walk much and he’s miserable.”

“Mhmm. Right.” You scratched under your chin. “I’ll, uh—I’ll check on him later.”

“Okay,” she said, hesitating for a moment. “How—well, how are you? Did something happen?”

The repeated question in place of small talk stung a little, but you knew you’d brought it on yourself. Jungkook had told you that she’d already tried to call you when you were sick in Manchester. And it was natural for her to assume something had happened when you called her yourself in any case. For a while now, you’d both had a tacit understanding: she’d text you if she wanted to know how you were, and only call if there was an emergency—such as your brother breaking his leg. But if you really needed her, you would be the one to call.

“No. No, I just—I wanted to talk to you,” you said. “I don’t, um—I don’t really know what to do, so I wanted to… talk to you and maybe that will be helpful. I don’t know, I’m—”

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” Concern deepened her gentle voice. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m—no, I’m not hurt,” you said. You thought you knew what you had to talk about. But apparently, you hadn’t realised you’d have to articulate your thoughts to have this conversation. “It’s just… I wanted to ask about you and Dad.”

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears while your mum stayed silent on the other end.

“Oh,” she said after a minute. You heard shuffling in the background. You pictured her sitting up, putting her book on the coffee table in her living room, and pulling off the duvet. You pictured her reaching for the floor lamp next to the armchair and switching it on, wondering, all the while, what had happened. “What brought this on?”

You heard a cheerful cry from outside your room and glanced at the window. The stars behind it were obscured by dark clouds. You wondered how long it would take to recap the entirety of this past month for your mum.

“Jungkook and I were talking,” you started. You heard her hold her breath as you went on. “And I just—h-he made me realise that you and I have never really talked about this much.”

Her voice sounded distant. “Well, what is there to talk about?”

Your exhale turned into a half-choked scoff.

“A lot of things, mum,” you said.

She breathed out, then in, then out again in an uncomfortable attempt to keep her composure.

“Wh-what do you want me to say?” she asked.

“Well…” You tugged at the fabric of your black tights. “What was going through your mind when you decided to get back together with Dad?” You paused, sensing the implication in your question. “I’m—I don’t mean to insult you. I’m just—I want to understand your thought process. There seemed to be, um—so much at stake.”

“There was,” she replied with the precision of a teacher confirming that two times two was indeed four. “I had you and your brother. And I still went for it.”

An oppressive silence engulfed your dark room as your mother’s uncertainty made yours grow.

Often, when a marriage started to fall apart, the advice from well-meaning relatives—who, of course, knew more about the relationship than the people in it—revolved around the children. To you, the notion of “staying together for the kids” felt about as profound as a bumblebee repeatedly hitting the glass of a window. And the relationship that your parents had was so bad, so beyond any fixing, that no one even suggested they stayed together in the first place, not even for the children—actually, especially not for the children.

But because your mother had never received this advice—this cursed “do it for the kids”—she did not know how to explain herself to you right now.

“W-were you scared?” you forced yourself to ask.

“Every time,” your mum admitted. You felt a new, powerful surge of despair for this every time and all the years of repeated mistakes that it signified. “But I was still hopeful.”

“But you knew he didn’t change,” you said. “You knew he wouldn’t be a father, wouldn’t be your husband.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think that’s something you know in the moment.”

You couldn’t tell whether she had convinced herself of this later—as a defence against all the relatives who shook their heads at her—or if this was something she believed from the very beginning.

“Mum, that’s—I don’t think I can ever understand that,” you said, your words pouring out in an uncontrollable torrent of agitation. “Not after what I saw you go through. It—I admire the love that you have. But I just—I can’t help but think it had always been obvious that you and Dad would never work.”

She was silent for another minute, and you were worried that you had really upset her. Then, finally, she spoke again—her voice gentle, warm. “You told me that much.”

“I’m—I did?”

“You were very smart, growing up,” she said. “Well, you still are.”

You felt an unwelcome lump in your throat and a tightness behind your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I probably hurt you.”

“You didn’t, sweetheart,” she said, because she always did. “I know it seems—well, difficult to understand. But I really wanted this to work. I wanted to give it a chance. But at a certain point, you finally realise that this is it. It’s enough. That’s when trying becomes pointless—when you can see that it won’t work. But you can’t reach that point if you don’t even try.”

But how many times, you wanted to ask, to yell, how many times did you have to try to reach that point?

“To be honest with you, my thought process was very… well, foolish, perhaps,” she continued. “Looking back, I realise that my judgement was clouded by many of the good moments we shared—because, believe it or not, it wasn’t always bad for us. We were together for… well, for many years. We had some good times.”

Once again, you felt a little disheartened that she avoided mentioning a specific date. You wondered what number of years she would have given—you knew your parents had already been on and off even before they got married.

“So, he wasn’t always like this?” you questioned. “Cold, detached, dismissive? Not worthy of you?”

Your mum seemed a little taken aback by the exhibition of adjectives—none of which came close to the words you wanted to use to describe the man who was theoretically supposed to be your father, and the words your mother had actually used to describe him herself—but she only allowed herself half of a surprised gasp before she pulled herself together.

“He was a lot more than that,” she said. “Both, in a good way and a bad way. And I wanted to try. Our circumstances had changed, we were in different stages of our lives. We’ve both grown. Clouded judgment or not, I thought that, even if he couldn’t be the person I fell in love with, maybe he could still be the person I could love right now.”

“You thought he’d changed,” you concluded. “Grown for you.”

“I did think that,” she agreed. “I believe that people can change—and they do, really. People can absolutely transform. But your father, he—well, he hadn’t. But I wouldn’t have known that for sure if I hadn’t tried.”

You shook your head. “But had he ever—you—never mind. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable with my—”

“No, you’re—you have every right to ask me these things,” she cut in. “I understand your—frustration. But I really wanted this, and I-I felt like I owed it to myself to try everything. Just so I would know that I’ve tried everything. And even though it didn’t work out, I learned more—so much more—about love, about people, and about myself. So, I don’t regret trying.”

You needed a minute to grasp that she really did not sound regretful. But you could not understand that.

You and your brother ended up in the crossfire of it all, and she was the one who put you there, repeatedly. And then she waited for over a decade for you to find the courage to ask her about this because she never volunteered this information herself.

Was there really nothing to regret about this?

“I’m... I’m still learning,” your mum continued after a while. “Because there are some things that we can learn only by experiencing them, and I—well, I want those experiences. I don’t want to look back on my life and wonder what it would have been like if I had tried something that I really wanted, but it really scared me. ‘What if I didn’t run from it, even though running away was safer?’ That was what I thought.”

She had to be brave, you thought, to try and to stop trying. And you knew that she really was. But more than that, she had to stay true to herself as an individual. She had to follow her dreams, her hopes, her wishes. And she did.

Yet, for some reason, you couldn’t find your words.

“I think that,” she said after not hearing your response, “aside from all the other things we do for love, we sometimes need to go through these unsuccessful experiences to truly understand our boundaries and get to know ourselves. And to find peace, really, knowing that we’ve done all that our hearts wanted. At least, that’s how it worked for me. Your dad might have had other motives. I don’t think I will ever truly understand them, but his motives are his own. These are mine. So—well, that was my thought process. I think that’s all I can say.”

“Hmm,” you finally said—just to signal that you've heard her, and now you needed a minute.

She’d told you everything, then.

She was listening to her heart when she got back together with your dad. And listening to one’s heart was not an easy thing to do, you’ve come to know that very well.

But now you wondered if you were okay with her explanation. If you were okay knowing that she did that because she wanted to. If you were okay with her erasing everyone else from the equation and just focusing on herself.

Lately, you’ve come to believe that people were made up of various roles, some of which were put on their gravestones after their death: daughter, sister, wife, mother. They could be more than that, so much more. But they couldn’t suddenly be less.

You thought your mother might have actually been trying to be less.

She was trying, it seemed, to be on her own, void of any roles that framed her into a certain behavioural pattern—the sister, the friend, the wife, the mother—because this way, she could get back together with your dad because she owed it to herself. Because she wanted to try.

It was important to listen to yourself, of course. But her relationship with your dad affected her in every role she had, every role she tried to escape from. It hurt her. And because it hurt her, it hurt those around her, too: her children, her brother, her friends.

And still, she did it again. And again. And again.

No, you didn’t think it was possible to escape all of your roles like that. You didn’t think a person could wake up and, without any repercussions whatsoever, suddenly decide to be an individual, but not a parent. A partner, but not a sibling.

A manager, but not an ex-girlfriend.

A shuddered breath passed your lips, and you closed your eyes. You heard your mum’s even breaths on the other end.

If you weren’t so overwhelmed, you might have admitted to your mum that you understood certain parts of her explanation, but not others.

You understood why she did all the things you’d criticised for years. She did them because she knew that was what she wanted. That was what she believed and hoped for. And precisely because she did what she wanted, she did not regret trying again even though it didn’t work out. She’d listened to her heart, and her heart was now at peace.

And, yet—you were there. Despite her pride about having followed her heart, you were there.

You were the one helping her pick up the pieces for years after your dad left. You were there when she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get up from the floor, couldn’t stop herself from crying.

You were happy that she was at peace now, happy that she did not regret it. But you did. You regretted it for her. You didn’t think you’d ever feel her peace.

That was what you didn’t understand: how she’d erased those nights, those years when you thought you went through everything she went through right with her. You didn’t understand how she didn’t regret any of it.

You could have asked her about it, but she would have probably repeated all that she’d already said. And maybe you’d never understand her because you weren’t her—you were her daughter, and you could never escape this role. You loved her and you could not feel peace for the suffering she had to endure. The suffering you tried to take away, but couldn’t.

Perhaps you were being unfair to her. But you could only judge her experiences through the lens of your own.

She made a mistake—the same one, several times. She tried to explain it to you, even tried to justify it, but ultimately, that was the way you understood it, and you could not make yourself understand it differently.

However—and it took you great effort to admit this to yourself—just because trying again was a mistake in your mother’s case, that did not necessarily mean it would be a mistake in yours, too. There was a bright side to your lack of understanding.

It certainly seemed that your mum would continue to believe her truth, and you would continue to believe yours, but now you identified a core difference between yourself and her: you could never listen to just your own heart; you had to take another heart into account.

Your heart was frightened. It did not know what to do. But you weren’t just his manager. You loved him. And you knew he loved you. You could not let your fear win.

You weren’t your mum, and you weren’t your dad. And Jungkook wasn’t one or the other, either.

You wondered if this precise moment—this clear distinction—would finally allow you to separate your experiences from your parents’.

“Sweetheart,” your mum said quietly. Your phone felt hot due to the duration of your conversation. “Did something happen that made you want to talk to me about this now? Did you and Jungkook fight?”

You were biting into the inside of your lip with so much force that you could almost taste blood.

“We did. At first,” you said. It was futile to evade her questions now, but your throat still felt scratchy. “But it’s different this time. We’re—I don’t know what we are. We’re trying. Well, he’s trying. And I—I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Well, scared that someone will get hurt if we get back together.” You tightened your arm around your calves and rested your chin on your knees. Your room had darkened even more; it was very late. “Scared that I won’t be able to keep going if we don’t. I-I don’t know how to explain it. I’m just scared of what will happen.”

“Darling, sometimes, taking the risk is the only way to know what will happen,” she said. “You have to be brave. There are always two kinds of ‘what ifs.’ One good, one bad.”

You ran your fingers through the braids in your ponytail, nearly ruining Maggie’s work.

“You always hoped for the good one,” you said.

“I did.”

“Hmm.”

“I hope for that even now,” she replied. You closed your eyes and exhaled. “I know for certain that your dad and I cannot be together, but I know that precisely because I tried. It’s terrifying, though. I know it is. But I think that a lot of times, fear is an inherent part of love. You’re afraid of losing this person, afraid of hurting them. But you choose them anyway.”

Your hands were so cold that you could feel them over your tights when you ran your nervous fingers across your calves. You watched the hotel floorboards, attempting to make sense of your thoughts.

“Well, it—that doesn’t always make sense,” you said carefully. “Choosing to be together isn’t always, uh, the right decision.”

“Sweetheart,” she said, and you could tell from her tone that she did not understand your allusion to her own relationship. “How can it be the wrong decision for you? I know you’re really calling me because you’re scared you’re hurting him.” You inhaled so sharply here that she had to pause for a moment and continue in a gentler tone. “But you won’t hurt him by being with him. You would hurt him if you pushed him away.”

Your eyes blurred with a sudden moisture that you tried to blink away. You were determined not to succumb to your emotions—not for your parents’ failed relationship, not for the relentless gap between you and your mother that one conversation could not fix, and not for the haunting what-ifs that loomed in the back of your mind.

“I don’t know what exactly happened between you two,” your mum continued. “But I do know this: Jungkook thought you didn’t love him anymore when you broke up. He was, well—broken. But he wants to try again. That was—well, it was not the case for your dad and me. So, I think your odds are very good.”

You straightened, pressing your shoulder blades against the wall.

It was only in Amsterdam that Jungkook told you he had thought you broke up with him because you didn’t love him anymore. Before that, you’d assumed he was the one who no longer cared.

Was this what he talked to your mum about? Or was she just guessing?

“Where—how do you—h-how do you know what he thought after we broke up?” you stammered.

Another silence enveloped the conversation, and you wondered what your mum needed it for.

“That’s…” she started slowly, “another thing that sets you two apart from us.”

A secret. That’s why your mum needed the silence—to figure out how to talk to you about this.

“What is it?” you asked.

It took her another moment—six and a half heartbeats to be precise—to start speaking again.

“Your dad never wrote me anything,” she said. “Not a letter, let alone a poem. Honestly, he could barely write my name on a birthday card.”

You didn’t immediately understand what she was insinuating because you were too busy screaming inside about the irony of your mum being the one who pointed out all the times when your dad did not care about her. And yet she chose him again, and again, and—

You gripped your legs tighter to focus. “How do you know that Jungkook—”

“He sent them to me.”

“What?” You let go of your legs. “What do you—what did he send you?”

“The songs,” she explained patiently. You were too overwhelmed to notice the caution in her words; she could sense your hyperventilation over the phone. “Well, the verses of the songs that he wrote about you.”

You were quiet for a minute. Then another minute. Your mum had to gently coax, “love?” to remind you that you were on a call.

Jungkook said he had talked to your mum because he needed her help. You simply could not fathom the possibility that she was helping him with his song lyrics.

“Why…” You swallowed, trying to come up with a question that wouldn’t make your stomach clench harder. “Why did he send you that?”

“Because I told him he could if he wanted to,” she said. You appreciated her even tone. It helped to slow down the rapid beating of your heart.

“But,” you said, “we were broken up.”

“That’s one side of the story,” she replied. “The other side is that you were still in love. So, while you locked yourself in your room and forbid his name from being spoken around you, he was coping in a different way.”

The air in the room felt dense. You couldn’t tell if you were getting too much oxygen or not enough. Your head was spinning, attacked by the voices in your head, all of them shouting at you in languages you did not understand.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked—the question was heavy, and your voice lowered significantly.

“I asked him if I should tell you,” she explained. “He said only if you asked about him.”

Your heart was in your throat. Your arms were numb. You felt like you were running late for something very important, and you were not going to make it in time.

“I never did,” you whispered.

“No,” she said softly. “You never did. And I didn’t think it was my place to tell.”

“Well, how—what did he say?” you pressed. “Why did he send you th-the songs?”

“He texted me, asking for permission at first,” she recounted. “He wanted to know if—if the lyrics were okay, if they weren’t too obvious, if I would mind and if I thought you would mind.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him you might drop everything and move to the Arctic if you found out the songs were about you,” she said. You could hear the smile in her voice. “He said that’s why he asked me instead.”

“Hmm. But that only happened once o-or... you know, twice?” you asked. “Haunting” and “Cursed”—those were the two songs he’d told you he wrote with you in mind. “Right?”

You were almost desperate for her to agree with you. To say that this was it, just these two songs. It was a lot, but you already knew about them. You’d manage to carry on.

Your mum sensed the hope in your voice. Almost unwillingly, she admitted, “at first.”

You were glad, suddenly, that you were sitting on the floor as the hotel room seemed to tremble around you. The realisation that Jungkook had been in touch with your mum, that he was writing about you this whole time—that your mum knew he was writing about you—was a little too strong.

Yoongi wasn’t far off, as it turned out. He thought it was you who looked through Jungkook’s lyrics for him. Apparently, it was your mum.

“The first time he reached out was right when Rated Riot first started making music,” your mum resumed, her words sharp against the lingering silence. “He apologised, and I didn’t think he would contact me again.”

“But he did,” you concluded, almost voiceless as your words stuck in the dryness of your throat.

“He did,” she confirmed. “I think, a lot of times, he was doing it to find out if you were seeing anyone else.”

The voices in your head were quick to latch onto this phrase – a lot of times! a lot of times! a lot of times! – and they yelled it at you from every crevice of your mind.

“Every time he wrote something new about you—a song, or a verse, or even a line that he ended up never including in any of their songs—he’d contact me and ask if it was okay,” your mum said. “But I don’t think he was only asking about the lyrics. He was also asking if I was okay with him still being in love with you. He was, it felt like, trying to see if I’d tell him to stop. To meet someone new.”

You had a pained frown on your face as you brought a hand over your forehead, wondering if what you were feeling was nausea or vertigo.

“Why didn’t you say that to him?” you asked. “To stop? It’s been four years.”

“For the same reason I didn’t say it to you.”

Your lips parted, but you could not find your voice. “W-wh—what—”

“Four years is just a raw number,” your mum said. “It does not account for the days you spent intentionally avoiding each other, remembering everything, and eventually working together. It is neither big nor small, and it is completely irrelevant compared to what you feel inside.”

It seemed to you, for an unthinkable second, that your mum had been waiting for your call about Jungkook—like she knew it would come. Jungkook had called her, and you would, too. It was inevitable.

But how much time has passed between his first call to your mum, and yours, right now? You wanted to claw at your chest until you ripped out every painful needle in your heart for all the years he waited for you, and for all the years you waited for yourself, too.

“And I’ve noticed that he also tried very hard to act like he no longer had any feelings for you when he wrote many of these songs,” your mum added with a conviction that only fuelled the intense turmoil inside of you. “He always claimed that he just needed something for his lyrics. He was just drawing inspiration from personal experience. But I don’t believe that was the entire truth. The lyrics he sent me… they’re a broken heart on paper. They’re a love confession.

“Mum—”

“He tried to tell himself that he’d moved on,” she continued, “but I could tell he hadn’t. You don’t write songs like that about someone you no longer care about.”

You were shaking your head even though she couldn’t see you. You knew your mum was a hopeless romantic, you thought her understanding of love differed from yours very much, and you desperately wanted to believe that you had a rational reason to argue with her.

But really, you were just trying to trick your heart into feeling better. Into believing that you didn’t have nearly as much of an impact on him as he continuously showed you that you did.

You couldn’t breathe.

“I haven’t heard from him in a while until just recently,” your mum said, gently breaking the silence. “Ask him about the song he’s working on now, sweetheart.”

Your heart exploded again. “He—he sent you something else?”

“A few nights ago,” she said. “He said he’s done with the lyrics; he has the demo. He wants to record it now. It’s called—hold on, the title was a mouthful.” You heard some shuffling on her end, overshadowed partially by your racing heart. “Ah, here. It’s called “The Puddle of Champagne on the Bathroom Floor.””

The force of her words made your stomach plummet as goosebumps battled the heat for precedence over your skin.

The past month rushed back to you in disordered flashes – Amsterdam. Your hotel room. Hoseok’s party. Boxes of champagne in the bathroom of Hoseok’s room. The motorcycle ride in Tilburg. The bet. The IV drip in Manchester. Jungkook’s irreparable tendency for big gestures. The pebbles he’d thrown at your window. The kiss in the garden outside the hotel.

You weren’t just his manager. You’d never been just his manager.

“I—I have to go, mum,” you managed to say, leaning against the wall in an attempt to stand up.

You didn’t actually have to go; the girls had promised to wait for you. But your whole body itched with an unrelenting restlessness, and you thought your legs would turn themselves inside out if you didn’t set them in motion right this second.

“Yeah?” she asked with traces of obvious concern in her words. “Call me later, sweetheart, okay?”

“I will,” you promised, lightheaded as you stood and bumped your thigh into the nightstand next to the bed. You unplugged your phone, letting the charger dangle, and navigated the room to the bathroom. Your fingers felt numb as you clutched your phone to your ear. “I—thank you. I love you.”

“Be brave, okay?” your mum said, sending another shiver down your spine. “I love you so much.”

You mumbled something—or may have actually opened your mouth to reply, you weren’t sure of anything anymore—as you ended the call and tossed your phone onto the bed from the doorway of the bathroom.

You needed water first—to wash your face, to drink, and to possibly drown your feelings in.

You weren’t sure, after all, if you were ready to go out with Luna and Maggie tonight. You weren’t sure if you were ready to leave your bathroom at all.

And that was how the girls discovered you twenty minutes later—perched on the counter next to the sink in your bathroom, cradling a towel on your lap as your mind vacillated between impressive emptiness and a thick fog of thoughts that refused to dissipate.

“Hey,” Luna whispered as the two girls slipped into the room. Now that they were here, you thought you could remember hearing a faint knock on the door. “What’s wrong?”

The question finally forced the racing thoughts in your head to stop.

“Nothing,” you responded, using the towel to wipe the water on your face, even though most of it had already dripped onto your black tights a long time ago. You missed the look that Luna and Maggie exchanged. “Sorry, were you—”

“Babe, you’re crying,” Maggie pointed out, carefully pulling your ponytail away from your face and over your shoulder.

You instinctively reached up to your eyes.

“I’m not, this is—it’s water.” You raised the towel as evidence. “I was washing—”

Maggie rubbed your arm patiently. “It’s water coming out of your eyes, babe.”

You glanced over at Luna, but she stood with her arms crossed over her chest and a concerned expression on her face.

We’ll be here a while, her stance was saying. But we’ll get to the bottom of it.

You looked down. “Sorry. I’m really okay.”

“I know you think that if you say you’re okay enough times, people will believe you,” Luna said firmly because her heart had dropped to her heels when Maggie threw the door open, and they found you here, completely dissociated, with a dangerous vacancy in your eyes. “But that’s not what happens. People just pretend to believe you, so you’d feel better. We know you’re not okay.”

You have started to realise that over the last few days.

So, taking an uncertain breath, you told them most of what your mum had just told you: about Jungkook’s heartbreak, and about your own. About his conversations with her, and about your self-imposed vow of silence. About his songs, and about your deliberate blindness for the lyricism, which had always been saturated with sentiments from the past seven years.

You chose not to mention the emptiness you felt after your mum had explained her reasoning for getting back together with your dad because you were worried you would not have enough water or towels to conceal your emotions.

After you finished speaking, Maggie, in her typical manner, made a profound summary of it all: “Well, shit.”

Luna nodded in agreement and tilted her head.

“But wait,” she said. “Why—why is this—but why are you crying about this?”

“I’m not,” you replied. You felt the childish defiance in your tone, but it was so intrinsic for you that you just said it and gave your friend an apologetic look.

“Right.” Luna glanced at her reflection in the mirror behind you, reminding herself that you’d sooner drown yourself in the flood of your tears than admit to crying. “Why are you trying so hard to pretend you’re not crying, then?”

You had to battle yourself a little more until you finally exhaled and leaned your back against the mirror.

“I—well—mostly because it’s just been so long. Fucking ages. And I was, you know. All this time, I was playing my little game.” You raised the pitch of your voice to imitate yourself, “oh, I’m such a great manager, I’m so insanely professional that you wouldn’t even think he’s my fucking ex-boyfriend.” You scoffed, shaking your head. Luna observed the way your hands trembled when you lifted them to your neck. “And he was—he was writing fucking songs about—a-and sending them to my mum to ask for her approval. Her permission. Her—just fucking talking to her. While I wasn’t talking to anyone. While I was acting like I lived in a magic fucking kingdom with purple ponies and rainbows, and no ex-boyfriends.”

The girls shared a look and half of a whole conversation—albeit in different languages, because when Luna opened her mouth to offer comforting words, Maggie placed her hand on your arm and shook her head.

“To be fair,” she said, “before I found out he’s your ex, I would have never suspected it.”

You raised your eyes. “You—well, see! That’s because I was—”

“No, wait, that’s—” Luna interjected, then paused to frown at Maggie. “Actually, hold on. How did you find out?”

You tightened your lips and returned your attention to Maggie. Most of the staff seemed to just know about you and Jungkook—like they knew most things—and you had obviously preferred to pretend like your relationship had never happened, so you’d never asked how they learned about it. But now you were curious.

“He told me,” Maggie stated simply, pulling away from you to straighten her dress. She kept her eyes on the ground.

“Jungkook?” Luna clarified.

Maggie nodded and looked up at you, tentative. “Yeah. A-and I’m afraid I might have mentioned it to Seokjin after that. And a few people might have overheard, and it, um—well, I think the news spread. But, in my defence, the band already knew.”

“The—” You blinked. “Well, I was the one who told the band. I thought I had to, or it wouldn’t be fair.”

“Oh.” She pondered that for a moment. “Okay. So—okay.”

“But how did you find out about it?” Luna pressed.

“Right.” Maggie bit her lip. She looked at you as she spoke. “It was a little over a year ago. We were drunk one night after a gig, and you were outside with Namjoon and Seokjin, having a smoke or whatever. And one of the roadies made a joke, something about how you three always disappear together. You know, a suggestive joke.”

You groaned. Most of the road crew was not affiliated with the company, so you hired new people for each tour. You recalled a few awful experiences with them and wondered if this would be another one.

“Yeah,” Maggie agreed with your scrunched-up nose. “That’s how I reacted, too. But the roadies kept going, because, you know, it was a joke, they didn’t realise it was hurting anybody. So, they were saying how they’ve heard that you had dated some producer from the label before. And they wondered if Namjoon could have been the guy, and Jin’s just the third wheel to kind of throw everybody off your scent.”

Your frown deepened. “Oh, my God.”

“Right,” she said again, nodding. “Well, Jungkook suddenly stood up and left. I didn’t even realise he was upset or anything, but Hoseok leaned over and asked if I could go check on him, so I went. I found him in the parking lot and asked him what was up, why was he looking so irritated or whatever. And he said he’s the guy you dated, not Namjoon. He said it with so much pride, too, kind of like it was an achievement or something.”

This was the moment when you looked down, and Maggie turned to look at Luna instead. Luna was positively glowing as she processed the new information and made mental notes.

“I think I mentioned that to him, actually,” Maggie went on, “because he later said, “it’s not an achievement if I’ve lost it.” But I was so drunk that I didn’t realise what he was talking about. I asked, “what’s ‘it’? What did you lose?” and he just stopped speaking and pulled out another cigarette.”

Something already tight seemed to tighten even more in your stomach.

Luna was the one who replied with a shake of her head and an affectionate observation: “The two of you have some productive discussions when you’re drunk.”

“Hmmm.” Maggie pulled on the skin around her nail. Her mind was focused on the events that happened later and she turned back to you, admitting, “I-I’m sorry I might have been the one who started the chain of—well, I shouldn’t have told anyone. I only meant to ask Jin if he knew about it, and it—”

“It’s okay,” you cut her off. “No one’s ever said anything to me about it.”

Maggie bit her lip again, still uneasy. “I’m—honestly, up until a few days ago when this whole mess with the bet started, I didn’t even think about that conversation with Jungkook, because—I mean, both of you seemed so normal around each other. Well, you know. He flirted with you all the time, I now realise, but he’s kind of a little shit in general, so it didn’t feel weird. And it didn’t even occur to me to think that the reason he was upset that night was because he was drunk and angry about not being with you anymore. I thought he was just irritated for no reason.”

Your eyes were fixed on the bathroom carpet—hoping, irrationally, that if you stared at it hard enough, it would absorb the fact that Maggie had witnessed Jungkook like this in the very prime of your insistence that you could remain professional and your past relationship would never be a problem. In the very prime of your hopeless attempt to run away from yourself.

“Yeah,” Luna said to her, understanding. “He does that sometimes. Gets upset randomly.”

“Yeah.” Maggie nodded. “A little moody. Comes with the job, I guess.”

Luna nodded back. “Yeah.”

This exchange finally snapped you out of your daze and you shook your head with a resigned smile. Luna’s face brightened as she leaned her hip against the counter next to you, and Maggie chuckled, pressing her shoulder against the wall on your other side.

“You know,” Luna said, turning to look at you. “I always wondered how he managed to resist for so long. I mean, you’ve been with the band for over two years now, right? And all he did was just tease you and make jokes. Like a middle-schooler, pulling the hair of his crush. But, really. How did he hold back from doing more?”

You tried, “but why—”

“I’m sure he was doing it for her,” Maggie interjected, pointing at you as though you were an inanimate object—something placed on the bathroom counter for decoration and easily picked up to discuss. “Maybe because he didn’t think she would want him back.”

“Well, what changed?” Luna questioned. “Why did he suddenly act on his feelings?”

“Well, Sid came along.”

“Ah.” Luna nodded, remembering suddenly how Jungkook told her that the bet had given him the push he needed. “That’s right.”

Your gaze ricocheted from one girl to the other. Your mind processed their conversation as if it were the plot of a series you had watched rather than something you had lived through.

“Yeah, and look, it may not have been that hard for him to hold back,” Maggie speculated. “Jungkook is the King of Bottled Emotions.”

“That’s true,” Luna agreed. “And he put all his feelings into his songs, which probably helped for the time being.”

“Yeah. That’s probably exactly it. And I think—”

“Okay!” you interjected, smacking your palms against your thighs. You didn’t think you had it in you to handle another and. “Hi? I’m here, too.”

Both girls turned to you with grins that indicated they were well aware of what they were doing.

“How are you feeling?” Luna asked.

“Confused,” you replied, wiping the corners of your eyes with your fingers. They were stained with your wet eyeshadow.

Luna raised a curious eyebrow. “Is that better than what you were feeling before, or—”

“It’s different,” you said, exhaling with a great strain. “I have to talk to him.”

Luna looked startled as she glanced at Maggie. “Uh—r-right now?”

The unexpected question made you lose what little courage you had. “I—I don’t know?”

“I saw him in the lobby earlier,” Maggie admitted slowly, very upset to find herself as the bearer of bad news tonight. “With Minjun. They, um—they left together.”

“Oh.” You looked down. “Well, that—maybe that’s good.”

Neither of your friends thought that was good as they both looked at each other in alarm. For once, they both thought the same thing, and that was a plan of how to track Jungkook down for you. They knew you well enough to fear that if you two did not talk about it right now, you never would.

“Really?” Luna asked uncertainly. “Because we can try to—”

“No, no,” you said. “Maybe I need to calm down first. Somehow.”

The girls both exhaled quietly. Calming down first implied talking to him second.

“Would, um,” Maggie said, “getting wasted help with that?”

You looked at her, a small smile on your lips. “It might.”

It started raining while the girls helped you fix your make-up, and the three of you stepped into the empty street laughing as the wind played havoc with your umbrella while you waited for the taxi. You hadn’t had time to properly pack your handbag or take any obligatory group pictures together, but you still felt significantly better.

Once you arrived at the bar, you stopped to shake off your umbrella and briefly split from the group as the girls hurried into the warm, dry building. Standing under the canopy by the entrance, you caught something out of the corner of your eye and turned to look. It was a waft of smoke from someone’s cigarette in the smoking area by the side of the building. You didn’t think much of it.

But when you tapped your umbrella against the pavement one last time, the smoker poked his head, gazing somewhere opposite from you. You looked up to see a familiar jet-black hair, styled in an overly gelled quiff, eerily similar to the hairstyle Sid wore every day.

The person did not turn to look at you, but this was enough for dread to grip your stomach, casting a terrible shadow over your uplifted mood.

You tried to rationalise that there was no logical reason for Sid to be in London. This person just couldn’t be him. Sid had showed up in Manchester, sure, but Jungkook had been certain that this was over. Even Sid couldn’t be pathetic enough to follow him all the way to London.

A group of people obstructed your view of the smoker as they tried to pass you to enter the bar. Apologising, you opened the door and finally walked inside.

The place exuded an unexpected elegance. A bar, with numerous tables scattered about, claimed half the space, while a dancefloor was partially concealed behind a row of private mahogany booths. The music was loud, but not overwhelming, and the area was dimly lit by massive chandeliers suspended above each table in every booth. Their faint light barely illuminated the drink menus strewn across the tables.

There weren’t many people here, and this seemed like a lowkey, comfortable place for the night—provided the person outside wasn’t Sid.

“No fucking way,” a voice cried from your left.

Flinching, you turned and noticed the entrance to the men’s room first, and Jude’s expectant eyes next. A chill coursed through you, rendering your legs numb.

No.

No, no, no, no—

“What are the fucking odds?” he exclaimed, grinning. You realised how odd it was for Jude to talk to you without Sid initiating the conversation, and you dreaded, suddenly, that he might come in, too. “This must be—what’s it called when—something about kissing, I think. Kissling? You know? Destiny?”

You swallowed. “Kismet.”

“That’s the one, yeah!” Jude raised his hands victoriously. He appeared to be on something; he had never looked at you for longer than two seconds when he was sober, let alone moved around so vigorously. “Hey, are you here alone?”

“I’m not,” you replied.

“Do you want to join us?” he asked. You didn’t like the plural pronoun one bit.

This had to be a nightmare, you thought. You half-expected to glance down and find yourself standing naked in the middle of the room—and then you would wake up.

Jude’s grin widened when you didn’t respond, and looked around to see if your friends were near. They were, but they seemed to be busy choosing a table.

“You know we don’t bite,” Jude reassured as if your hesitation was about potential biting rather than the insurmountable headache that Sid and Jude collectively induced just by being in the same room with you.

You managed a weak smile. “I’ll pass. You’re hanging around here, then?”

“We were just leaving,” Jude said—who was this “we,” you wondered irritably—and, most impudently, he leaned closer. “We have some molly to keep us company for the rest of the night. They call it mandy in England, did you know? You mix it with speed, and you just fucking fly. You look like you could use some.”

He chuckled and pulled back. You wondered if your reaction showed on your face; Jude did not acknowledge it.

You did not think you needed club drugs. You thought you needed pepper spray.

“Thanks,” you said. “But I’d prefer it if you just left me alone if that’s not too much trouble.”

He laughed—a disturbing echo of Sid’s cackle—and a shiver of revulsion ran down your spine. While Jude wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around, he was usually tolerable when Sid wasn’t by his side. What had he done to him?

“Alright, well, suit yourself,” Jude responded, unfazed. “If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

You suppressed the urge to rattle off a list of locations where you would look for them—the sewers, a dumpster, a toxic waste site—and pursed your lips.

“So, you’re staying in London?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied cheerily.

You nodded. “Lovely.”

He turned towards the door with his unwavering smirk, but kept glancing back at you every few seconds, seemingly hesitating. You watched his movements like one might watch the launch of a spacecraft—counting down the seconds until it’s in the air and out of your sight.

“Well, we will see you later,” he said, one hand on the handle. He lingered by the door for a good ten seconds, letting the cold air in and clearly anticipating your response.

You cleared your throat. “Not unless I have a say in that.”

He snorted. “Funny. We’ll be thinking of you.”

You did not speak. He did not move.

“Don’t both—” you started and then stopped abruptly.

Jude raised his eyebrows in the doorway. There was something about the way he looked at you, the way he lingered here while Sid smoked outside.

God, this might have been the same instinct that Minjun had to save Jude from Sid, but you sighed and managed a quiet, “Jude, um—be careful, alright?”

A myriad of colours passed on his face as he tried to comprehend your words.

“Wha—why—what do you mean?” he asked, so wide-eyed and utterly astonished that you felt uncomfortable looking at him.

“I’m just saying,” you said awkwardly. “Sid doesn’t care about what happens to you. Make sure you look after yourself. Drink water if you’re going to be tripping on something.”

He stayed frozen, almost statuesque—not blinking, seemingly not even breathing—for so long that you were starting to worry he had astral projected, leaving his corporeal form behind.

“Thank you,” he said after a full minute, with an unexpected clarity that you hadn’t heard from him earlier.

You nodded in response and he finally stepped outside, lingering as if tethered by a new string of hesitation, before finally letting the door close behind him.

When you joined your friends at the table they had picked, you interrupted their conversation about the atmosphere inside the club. Maggie was the first to notice your expression.

“Jesus,” she said. “What happened to you?”

“Jude’s here.”

Both girls looked at each other in dramatic disbelief—Maggie even gasped—and instinctively rose from their seats to crowd around you.

“What? Did you talk to him?” Luna questioned as Maggie pulled you deeper into the booth. The two of them scanned the bar as though Jude was still here, hiding somewhere.

“I—yeah,” you said. “But he left. I think I saw Sid outside.”

Their surprise morphed into complete horror. You gestured for them to sit down.

“But wait—fuck,” Luna said, standing straight. “We can go somewhere else.”

“No, I’m—if they come back, then yes,” you said. “But if they don’t, then let’s just stay here so we don’t run into them elsewhere.”

They looked around warily once more—just in case—before reluctantly settling down. Maggie took a seat next to you, while Luna sat down across the table.

This was when the girls began to fire every question they had, and you repeated the only answer you could offer.

“So, they’re in London,” Maggie said, tapping her nails against the table. “Why?”

“I have no idea,” you said.

“Does Jungkook know?”

“I have no idea.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea.”

Maggie reclined in her seat, deciding she’s had enough of this game.

“Well,” she said, “that’s great. I need a fucking drink.”

You hummed and brought your hand over the cocktail menu. Luna offered to make the first run to the bar, effectively changing the subject.

But shortly after, when she returned with a tray full of colourful, fruity drinks, you and Maggie were already back to discussing the details of your exchange with Jude—how unusual he seemed, and the awkward turn the conversation took.

“I think that’s enough of Sid and Jude,” Luna said, sitting down across from the two of you and handing out the drinks. “Different topic?”

“Oh, but hold on—while we’re on the topic of awkward conversations,” Maggie said, earning a quizzical look from you both. She ignored it. “Have you talked to that guy? That supervisor guy—you know the one.”

“Oh, Nick?” you asked, picking up your strawberry daiquiri and sliding Maggie’s tequila sunrise towards her. You accidentally nudged the cherry on the rim, causing it to fall into the drink. “Sorry—”

“It’s fine,” she said, deftly rescuing the cherry on its stem and popping it into her mouth.

“I haven’t talked to him yet,” you replied. “But I’m not working for Reconnaissance, that’s decided already.”

“Yeah?” Maggie smirked, punctuating her words with a purposefully seductive sip of her drink. “Anyone in particular help you with that decision?”

Despite her ambiguous question, you took a sip of your drink and felt yourself slowly relax. You were here with your friends. There was no harm to be done to either of you.

“Well, Jin did, actually,” you said. “We had a very productive conversation.”

“Hmm.” Maggie gave Luna a suggestive glance. “And no one else?”

You shrugged. “Yoongi and Namjoon—”

“Okay, you queen of evasion,” Maggie gave up, prompting Luna to giggle on the other side of the table as she absentmindedly stirred her Martini with the paper umbrella. “Are you getting back together with Jungkook or not? After everything that happened tonight?”

The way she said it—almost giving you options, even—was so simple that it made you wonder how much better things might have been between you and Jungkook if the two of you hadn’t been so obnoxiously determined to tiptoe around your feelings and had asked each other questions the way Maggie asked them.

“Well, my mum thinks we should get back together,” you said slowly.

“I care about what you think,” Maggie said—just like that. Luna nodded to herself, making a note to keep drinking until she, too, could start asking complicated questions in such an effortless way.

You finished your drink before speaking.

“I want to try,” you said. “But I’m—you know. I’m also scared that we’ll end up going around in circles, making the same mistakes.”

Maggie regarded you as if you’d dropped your hat in horse shit and put it straight back on.

“Babe, that’s a One Direction song,” she said.

You scoffed and looked down at your glass. “I know. My mum’s favourite, actually. But what I’m trying to say is, I’m scared.”

“Isn’t everyone?” she challenged. “But they still try.”

“They…” Your confidence waned as you realised you might have to talk about the complexities of your parents’ history once again tonight. You wanted to leave that discussion behind, so you finished simply, “they don’t have unsuccessful relationships left, right and centre to get inspiration from.”

“Excuse me?” Maggie arched her brows. “Rue and I have been together for three years—”

“Four,” Luna interjected.

“For four years,” Maggie corrected, “and we couldn’t be happier. Are we not successful?”

Feeling a bit like prey cornered by a very determined predator, you leaned against the back of the booth and cleared your throat. “Well, y-you are, but—”

“Luna and Taehyung!” Maggie continued, fired up. “They’ve been together for a whole year and—”

“Almost two, actually,” Luna said.

“Jesus!” Maggie threw her hands in the air. “I’m bad with dates, okay? Let me live.” She turned back to you as Luna grinned. Exhaling, Maggie continued in a more patient tone, “I mean, there are successful relationships around you. You just choose not to look at them.”

She was right about that, but it didn’t seem quite as simple or straightforward to you.

“Neither of you broke up and then got back together again, though,” you said.

Maggie was mid-syllable (a very frustrated “tha—”) when she realised that she couldn’t really argue. She quieted and frowned, finding her straw with her tongue and taking a long sip of her drink.

Luna took over. “Taehyung and I did, actually.”

Both you and Maggie looked up in surprise.

“What?” Maggie inquired first. “Seriously?”

“Well, it was only for two days,” Luna explained, grabbing a napkin from the dispenser on the edge of the table. “So, I’m not sure if it counts.”

“What happened?” you asked.

She dabbed her lips with the napkin, painting it a gentle shade of plum from her lipstick, and crumpled it.

“We were together for about eight or nine months at the time,” she said. “Rated Riot were on their first cross-country tour. Remember? It was a big deal, and the guys were stressed.” She paused to wait for your nod of confirmation. “We hadn’t seen each other in weeks. He called me one night and just—he said he couldn’t do this to me, that I deserved someone better, that he couldn’t—well, you know. The textbook ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ stuff.”

You and Maggie both nodded.

“How did you make up?” you asked.

“He flew in to see me on his day off and took back everything he’d said.” A faint smile played on her lips as she spoke, but she avoided looking at either of you—the story still felt a little too intimate, too raw to share. “He said he was confused and scared, that’s why he thought it’d be better to break up. But then he said he realised he was even more afraid of losing what we had, so he had to make it right.”

“I remember him flying out to see you,” you said. You remembered yelling at him, too, for leaving the tour right before a concert—but Taehyung usually only listened to Taehyung. “I didn’t know that it was because you broke up. I’m sorry.”

Luna finally looked up, waving her hand dismissively.

“Don’t be, it’s fine,” she said. “We made up. And the break-up barely lasted a few days, I didn’t even have a chance to tell you about it.”

Maggie was smiling as she reached for the brightest remaining cocktail on the table—a Cosmopolitan—and collected the empty glasses, putting them back on the tray. She handed you and Luna glasses of faint pink, peach-flavoured cocktails and settled back in her seat.

You nodded in gratitude and turned to Luna once more. “Were you scared? To take him back?”

“No. I…” she trailed off, searching for a better way to explain herself. Maggie, in the meantime, threw her head back and finished her drink. “I don’t know. I kind of—maybe it didn’t sink in that we had broken up? It was very sudden, we hadn’t seen each other in a while, and I knew his tour schedule. I knew we wouldn’t be seeing each other again anytime soon anyway. So, it didn’t feel like a break-up. I was—I think the whole time, I felt like he would come back eventually. Is that weird?”

“It’s romantic,” Maggie exhaled, resting her head on her palms on the table, a wistful haze in her eyes.

“You’re drooling, Mags,” you pointed out, grinning.

She ran her tongue over her lips, then waved her hand around lazily. “Let me.”

Chuckling, Luna passed her a napkin.

“I don’t think it’s weird, either,” you said. “But I—I guess I never felt that certainty. I didn’t think Jungkook would come back.”

“No? Not even when you found out you’d be managing his band?” Luna asked, her smile widening. “Because—listen—I distinctly remember you calling me after you got the offer to work with them, and you were all panicked, asking me if I knew who they were.”

“Oh.” You felt your own lips stretch into a smile. “I remember, too.”

In hindsight, that day had been absurd. You were offered the manager position for a band that you had never heard of, and during the first meeting with the HR representative at the label, you pretended very passionately that you were familiar with their music and the band members themselves. And the rep, in turn, pretended very passionately that he believed you.

“I don’t,” Maggie spoke up. “You didn’t tell me. What happened?”

“Well, she asked me if I knew them,” Luna recalled and you took a moment to sip your neglected drink, “and I said I’ve heard of them. I liked “Haunting,” one of their early songs.”

The mention of the song triggered the memory of Jungkook humming it to you in the bar in Oslo when he told you that he’d written it about you. This memory, in turn, brought back the conversation you’ve had with your mum. Your pulse sped up, and you finished your drink in a futile attempt to slow it down.

“So, she came over after her meeting, and I played her the music video,” Luna continued. “At that point, I didn’t know the names of anyone in the band. “Haunting” was the only song I’d heard. So, I played the video for her, and I was talking about how I thought the bassist was cute—”

“Oh, that’s right, you weren’t dating Taehyung yet!” Maggie interjected, raising her head with a sudden excitement.

Luna nodded. “Yeah. And then I noticed that she’s just kind of staring at the screen, completely in awe. I thought she liked the song, that’s why. So, I asked, “what did you think? It’s good, right?” and she just turned to me, and said in the most blank tone, “that’s Jungkook.””

Maggie’s mouth hung open as she glanced at you. “You didn’t know he was in a band? In that band?!”

You were counting the lines on the mahogany table and stayed quiet. Maggie gestured speechlessly for Luna to please, for the love of God, continue.

“I was confused, too,” Luna said. “I asked, “what do you mean? Your Jungkook?” and she just said, “yeah,” and went quiet again. Well, she also tried to insist he’s not her Jungkook, but I’m trying to give you the short version of the story. Anyway. I played the video again to check for myself. But he had long hair in it, sort of curly. He looked completely different from what I had pictured in my head based on the few things she’d told me.”

Maggie turned to you again. “And you never showed her what he looked like?!”

“I think I did,” you replied uneasily. You had met Luna shortly after your break-up with Jungkook, but you wanted to believe that your secrecy about your relationship wasn’t that bad.

It was—and Luna grinned as she shook her head.

“She didn’t,” she said, turning to Maggie again. “She made sure to delete every single picture they had together. I only saw him once, when she and I took her dog to the vet. She was explaining the dog’s weight loss to the doctor and had to find a picture for reference. The only photo she could find on such short notice was an old screenshot from Snapchat where Jungkook was the one holding the dog. But he had… like, a bowl cut back then? Not the dog, I mean. Jungkook,” she clarified, and all three of you snorted. “He looked cute, of course. But nothing like the guy in the music video, so I didn’t even think about him when I watched it.”

For some reason, hearing about this random picture hurt. It’s been so long and, obviously, you and Jungkook have been through a lot more together—some of which was far worse than an old picture you stumbled upon in your phone by accident—and still, it hurt.

It wasn’t the memory itself that was painful, but the parts of you that were still alive in it. The parts of you that deleted all the pictures, but kept the screenshots. Threw out all the dried flowers, but kept the matching jackets. Blocked all his profiles, but not his phone number.

And there was another keepsake that you couldn’t bring yourself to delete: a video from that fateful birthday party where Jungkook had drunkenly performed a Backstreet Boys song; one of your friends had recorded it on your phone. As soon as he finished the song, Jungkook—wielding a half-empty bottle—chased after you, threatening to bathe you in champagne if you didn’t delete the video right this instant.

You still had it. You still watched it sometimes.

And then, years later, he walked into your office for the first time, his stupid silver necklace catching the sunlight and blinding you as soon as you looked up—just as it would every day for months to come—and there he was. Existing in your life all over again.

And it felt, you thought in retrospect, like he had never truly left. Every absence of him that you tried to manufacture by deleting your shared pictures only served to accentuate the fact that he’d been here once upon a time, and now he wasn’t. It was like missing a tooth—like pulling it out by force—and then continuously running your tongue over the gap.

“So, how come you still had that screenshot?” Maggie asked, her question snapping your attention back to the present.

You cleared your throat in an attempt to mask the undertow of emotions threatening to surface.

“For my dog,” you said. “He looked very chunky in that picture.”

Maggie grinned. “And what did Jungkook look like?”

“He was…” you looked for an adequate word, did not find one, and finished weakly, “there.”

“Hmm, right,” Luna said, with an ambiguous smile on her face. You were afraid of what she’d say next. “My favourite part about it all, is that you chose to accept the job even after you found out Jungkook is in the band.”

“I personally think that’s beautiful,” Maggie, who found everything beautiful after two drinks, chimed in.

You wanted to disagree, to bring up the fact that this job was a great opportunity—it really was!—and that this was the only reason you’d accepted it. Consciously, at least. But the girls were determined to fully ambush you.

“What did you feel when you saw him again as his manager?” Luna asked, shuffling to the very edge of her seat.

“Nothing,” you said, already a little dizzy from the drinks and the intense attention from your friends. You remembered feeling chaos back then; messy, uncontrollable mayhem roaming in your mind. But, compared to your feelings now, it might as well have been nothing. “I knew we’d have to work together, so I—nothing.”

“Oh!” Maggie groaned. “You’re so full of shit.”

You weren’t prepared for the abrupt shift in her tone. “Wh—”

“Let me show you,” she said, forcing the clasp on her purse open to retrieve her phone.

“Show me what?” you asked, still confused and now a little concerned.

“I’ll show you!” she cried out before proceeding to mumble under her breath with intermittent shouts, “oh, how I’ll show you—like no one’s ever shown you anything! before—you won’t know what hit! you when I show you—”

“We get it, Maggie,” Luna interrupted, reaching out to touch Maggie’s wrist. “Get on with it, please.”

“I’m looking—here!” She tapped her screen. “Here, look at this.”

She pointed her phone at Luna, who looked at it and appeared ever more confused than you felt, even though you hadn’t even seen what was on it.

“What—who is that?” she asked.

“That’s her and Jungkook!” Maggie bellowed, sweeping her arm so far back to point at you that she nearly yanked out your earring. “Sitting in an empty bathtub, drinking champagne, and laughing!”

A rush of heat surged through you as Luna gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my God!”

You leaned across the table to grab Maggie’s phone from her.

The picture was beautiful, which was the first thing that you noticed. It was black and white with melancholic shadows swirling in the periphery. It was taken, you realised, from the corridor outside the bathroom during Hoseok’s party in Amsterdam.

Your stomach dropped once more tonight, because, of course, this was the night that Jungkook had named his latest song after.

Your skin felt wrong all of a sudden, and everything inside of you wanted to come out. You gripped Maggie’s phone tighter.

In the picture, both you and Jungkook had your backs to the camera, only visible from the shoulders up because the bathtub concealed the rest. You were holding glasses of champagne.

Jungkook’s gaze, captured in the dimly lit frame, was fixed on you. His head was turned slightly, and if it weren’t for the bright smile on his face, you might not have known it was him; the photograph was too dark. You, on the other hand, had your head thrown back in laughter and blended seamlessly into an unrecognisable silhouette.

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you looked up from your friend’s phone. “When—how did you even take this?”

“You left the door open, you idiots,” Maggie replied.

“Let me see it again,” Luna asked, taking the phone from your shaking hands. “This looks like it could be an actual film poster for an indie romantic drama.”

“Titled,” Maggie added, “When In Bath…”

The two girls snickered, cracking each other up by nodding along to the joke until they were pounding their fists into the table in laughter. You wondered if this was the alcohol.

“Alright, alright,” you interrupted. “It—it’s a great picture. But it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means you’ve been in love with each other from the very beginning,” Maggie said, seizing the opportunity to play the role of a triumphant attorney, delivering a powerful closing statement in court. “And you can try to act like you haven’t been, like it all came as such a big shock, like you’d moved on, so, oh my God,” she gasped theatrically, “where are all these feelings coming from?!”

You groaned, but Maggie was undeterred, revelling in the dramatic momentum she had built.

“But this,” she lifted her phone as though in a poor production of The Lion King, “speaks louder than words. We know he’s loved you the whole time, your mum confirms it. But look at this. Look at how you’re leaning into him as you laugh. Look at how you’re touching his shoulder. You’ve loved him all along, too.”

Luna, definitely tipsy already, burst into energetic applause, and Maggie took a dramatic bow, her necklace clattering against the table. In her flourish, she nudged her empty cocktail glass with her shoulder, and you leaned over to catch it before it knocked your bag off the table. A few people from nearby booths turned in your direction.

“So, you see,” Maggie continued before you could ask the two of them to take it easy, “all you’re doing is just making excuses.”

“Well. Here’s another one,” you said, sliding out of the booth. “I’m going to grab us some snacks.”

The girls groaned and made various comments about how they knew this would happen—but their complaints soon transformed into a list of drinks they wanted you to bring back. You smiled, grateful for their short attention span, and diligently noted down their orders on Maggie’s phone, since you’d left yours at the hotel.

And still, even as you walked away, your heart refused to rest.

Jungkook had been right when he said that you needed to talk to your mum. Really, you did. But it wasn’t just her words, her experiences, and her arbitrary decisions that convinced you that you should have listened to the beating in your chest when he was in the room with you.

It was your friends, too—the family you had found and did not even realise it. It was their patience, their courage, their certainty, and their belief.

You felt a lot more determined to see what would happen. A lot more daring to make it happen. And a lot more convinced that it would be okay, eventually.

As soon as you reached the bar, you immediately noticed the change in atmosphere. The club, initially laid-back, had completely transformed as the clock struck midnight. Groups of young people filled the space, hanging out by the bar, dancing, or just chatting loudly at their tables. It took you a while to navigate through the lively crowd and return to your table with your order.

When you did, the girls grabbed the cocktails as if they had never seen any sort of liquor in their lives. They downed them in several big gulps, and, amused by their enthusiasm, you joined in, too.

As the glasses—and the bowls of roasted pistachios—on the tray emptied, the rest of the night blurred into swirls of clapping, laughing, spinning around on the dancefloor, meeting Mick Jagger’s doppelganger, buying drinks, swapping shoes with each other, losing your jackets somewhere around the club, having a Macarena dance battle, buying more drinks, recording yourselves singing along to an Elton John song that had no business being played in a club, starting a very successful conga line (not to an Elton John song), and stealing someone’s pink feather boa.

It was a night.

Jungkook had made plans with Minjun to distract himself from thoughts of you until tomorrow, and the two of them ended up doing very cultured things. But strolling around West End in the British drizzle wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as they had tried to convince themselves it’d be. Their enthusiasm about this excursion quickly faded, leading them to the nearest pub for a couple of drinks.

Several hours later, when they returned to the hotel, Jungkook didn’t see any light coming from under your door, indicating that you were still out with Luna and Maggie.

He wanted to text you the whole day, but he held back. Taehyung had told him to give you space; that was good advice. Jungkook only managed to follow it partly, but now that you were on proper speaking terms again, he didn’t want to ruin it by suffocating you.

He was bad at this, though.

He took a long shower and attempted to dry his hair, but the second his phone lit up with a text message, he dropped everything he was holding and executed a very intricate leap for the device—slamming his knee into the bedframe in his excitement.

Hissing in pain, he tumbled pitifully onto the carpet, turned on his back, fixed the towel around his waist, and hoisted himself with a grunt.

Droplets of water from his hair splattered on the screen as he unlocked his phone and momentarily confused the facial recognition. Cursing, he entered his passcode to check the sender and cursed once more when he saw that the text hadn’t come from you.

It was yet another message from the same unknown number, and Jungkook threw his phone back on the bed without bothering to read it.

He dried his hair first, then changed into sweats. It was then—while he was pulling his hoodie over his head���that the realisation struck him: unlike the previous texts from this same number, this one wasn’t fully capitalised.

Tentatively, he picked up his phone again and opened the one-sided conversation. He found that, throughout the evening, he’d received four messages from this number. The first contained a video attachment—the preview screen was black, and Jungkook did not want to click on it—followed by three taunting texts:

Remember this? :)

Come on, take a nice trip down memory lane with me, it’s a cute little clip

Do you think your manager would like to see this too? ❤️

He scrolled back up to the attachment and realised that his hands had begun to shake. Even though he had a feeling what he was going to see, he still clicked on the video and held his breath.

Honestly, it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. Although to be fair, his expectations might have been unrealistic. Unless Sid had resorted to secret cameras, which was extreme even for him, Jungkook had no reason to get this panicked.

But this video was still not good.

It was filmed in a nightclub and the scenes played out in short flashes under the flickering strobe lights, illuminating the dancing bodies around the person recording it. The camera panned to Jungkook and the two people he was dancing with—both dressed in dark leather jumpsuits.

Latex, he saw then. Not leather.

The dancing itself wasn’t the worst part of the video, but Jungkook struggled to decide what was. First, his heartbeat faltered as he watched one of his dance partners pour champagne into his mouth, licking off the excess that missed his lips. Then, he nearly blacked out as the video concluded with him on top of a table—dancing alone at first, and then with his tongue down someone else’s throat, and his hands—

He had a vague recollection of what happened next and stopped the video before he could see it.

It was clear that Sid had to be the one with the voyeuristic lens. Jungkook had gone clubbing with him that night; Jude was sick and Minjun didn’t want to go.

Two things happened then, and Jungkook was vividly aware of both. First, his phone froze: despite turning the video off, it continued to play the faint melody of an old Benny Benassi remix. And then a disconcerting acceleration seized his heart as though the video itself had seeped into his bloodstream.

Instinctively, he turned his phone off and tried to breathe. The hotel room around him fell into a pleasant silence, but that only made the thumping in his chest more pronounced.

Attempting to ease his rising nausea, Jungkook tried to keep his mind clear: the video had been filmed years ago. He wasn’t sure if he was in Rated Riot yet, but he was sure that the two of you were no longer together. Another helpful fact was that, since you became his manager, you have witnessed him in far worse situations—and rescued him from them, too.

And yet, he did not want you to see this.

He wanted to grow, to extricate himself from the clutches of toxic friendships, to find and build a future with you. And this video felt like a painful regression into his past. An embarrassing leap back.

Overwhelmed with discomfort, he chose to keep his phone off for the remainder of the night, even if that meant missing a text from you.

And then, later that night—or rather, in the early hours of the next day—Jungkook was jolted awake by a violent rattle of the doorknob.

Honestly, for an unsettling, half-asleep moment, he thought this was Sid barging in.

However, as his mind gradually woke up, he felt a more realistic concern: other bands had overzealous fans breaking into their hotel rooms. No one on the staff thought that Rated Riot were on a level where they’d need extra security measures, but now he worried that was a mistake.

Just to be safe—in case this was Sid, after all—Jungkook grabbed the nearest available weapon: a lamp from his bedside table. But the cable limited his reach, forcing him to crouch and lean forward to push the handle down and open the door before jumping back into a defensive position.

He nearly dropped the lamp when the door swung open, and he saw you outside.

It was your presence, in general, that he noticed first. Then it was your outfit: the short black satin dress with thin shoulder straps and thick, black tights with a curious embroidery around your thighs. Then it was your tied-back hair. Your dark eyeshadow and glistening lip gloss. A pink feather stuck to your earring.

He didn’t have it in him to move or to return the lamp to its place.

“Oh, shit,” you said, trying to make sense of the scene before you. You propped yourself against the doorframe. “My key wasn’t turning. I thought I left my room unlocked. What are you—wait. Wait, wait.”

You closed your eyes and squeezed the bridge of your nose with your right hand. Jungkook lowered the lamp to the floor, keeping his gaze on you.

“Okay, I’m good,” you decided. “The room was spinning really fast for a second there.” You chuckled, then stopped abruptly and narrowed your eyes at him. “Am I on the right floor?”

Jungkook blinked, then scoffed at the unexpected question.

“You are,” he confirmed, but, even drunk, you recognised the peculiar look on his face—as though there was something else he was waiting for you to realise.

“Shit.” Your eyes widened. You whispered, “I am still in London, right?”

This time, he couldn’t help a small laugh as he approached you. First, he plucked the feather out of your earring. Then, he led you into his room, his arm around your shoulders.

“You are,” he assured again. “You just got the wrong room.”

You exhaled in relief. “Oh, thank fuck.”

Amused, Jungkook directed you towards the bed, which was the only comfortable piece of furniture here. You plopped down on it, bouncing slightly from the force of your energetic descent.

“Can I sit down for a second?” you asked belatedly. “Fuck these shoes. They’re not even—not even mine.”

Jungkook glanced down at your feet. There was a black platform heel with an ankle strap on your left foot, and a burgundy counterpart on your right.

He lifted his eyes back to your face, very confused. “They’re—whose shoes are they?”

“The black one is Maggie’s,” you explained, reaching for the strap, but struggling because the bed was too soft, and the room spun too much. “The other one is Luna’s. We thought it would be funny.”

He bit his lip. It wasn’t the mismatched shoes that entertained him in particular—not while he was sober, at least—but rather your sense of humour when you were drunk.

“Lucky that they’re the same height,” he observed.

“No, no, no, no. We saw that they were, that is why.” You hiccupped and it veered you away from the topic at hand. “Anyway, it’s not funny anymore. Now it hurts.”

You finally reached the strap of the black heel, but could not figure out the intricate workings of the clasp on it. Jungkook lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

“Let me help you,” he said.

You shook your head, maintaining your grip on the strap as you felt his fingertips ghost over yours.

“I can do it,” you insisted, passionate about your independence even when you could not tell what city you were in.

“I’m sure you can,” he said, gracefully pulling your hand away from the shoe. “But let me do it anyway.”

You huffed—in fervent protest or in reluctant agreement, he wasn’t sure. After another half-sigh, half-groan, you moved your hand to your lap and dropped down on your back on his bed.

He smiled softly as he unbuckled the strap and slid the black heel off. As he did, he noticed that the embroidery on your tights was a thin row of roses—and it wrapped around your thigh.

He found that very interesting and looked away immediately.

“So, anyway,” he said, fighting with the strap on the other shoe. “What happened to drinking responsibly?”

You hiccupped again. “Famous last words.”

He chuckled, lifting your leg onto his knee to get a better look at the stubborn clasp. Your contented sigh was the only indication of you being aware that one of your shoes was already off.

“I spoke to my mum,” you announced without any sort of transition or buildup.

Jungkook tightened his grip on your ankle in uncontrollable surprise, forcing you to lift your head off the bed with a puzzled look.

“Oh,” he managed, releasing his hold. “Yeah?”

Another dreamy sigh passed your lips as your thoughts clouded with memories, then cleared in a blissful, inebriated ignorance once more.

“Yeah,” you said, lowering your head again. The mattress was hard, but it felt very nice. “And then to Luna and Maggie.”

“And, uh, what did they say?” he asked, finally pulling the shoe off.

He got up to place the heels in a corner by the nightstand, so you wouldn’t trip over them when—if?—you stood up.

“A lot of things,” you replied, your words floating somewhere on the edges of consciousness, leaving Jungkook to grapple with the unpredictability of your confessions.

“Okay,” he said. “Maybe we should talk about all of that tomorrow.”

A smile started to form on your lips, but it was swiftly interrupted by a yawn. “Ye—yeah. That’d be good.”

Trying to push Sid’s messages away from resurfacing in his mind at the mention of your upcoming conversation, Jungkook observed your futile attempt to sit up. Having been there before—fairly recently—he empathised with the challenge of keeping your head up when you were drunk.

“Are you sure you want to stand?” he asked as you wriggled on your back, stretching out your hands helplessly—sort of like a tipsy turtle that had tipped over on its shell.

It was dangerous, he realised, just how completely infatuated with you he was to still find this incredibly endearing.

“I must,” you declared with an angry determination. Your anger was largely fuelled by the strain in your neck, caused by your perplexing attempts to lift your head and your legs at the same time. “This isn’t my room.”

It could be, Jungkook thought, at least for tonight.

However, the right thing to do was to guide you back to your own room.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand and settling beside you to wrap his other arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get you to your bed, then.”

“That would be—” you began, gasping when he abruptly pulled you to your feet and the entire room decided to flip upside down. “Oh—you know what? I’m not sure I’m enjoying this spinning much.”

He looked at you in alarm. “Are you going to be sick?”

“I would prefer not to.”

Jungkook pursed his lips to restrain his amusement.

“I don’t remember the last time I saw you this drunk,” he noted.

“Pity,” you mumbled, your eyes closed. You tried to move your lips as little as possible, convinced that this would help with the dizziness. “If you remembered, maybe you could make the spinning stop.”

He tried to take a step forward with you in his arms. “Can you walk? Or I can carry you.”

You opened your eyes and took a deep breath. Dizzy or not, this was now a matter of pride.

“I have—” You peered down as if to check and the carpet by his bed seemed to wobble. “I have legs. Of course, I can walk.”

The proclamation proved short-lived as you stumbled over the edge of the carpet almost immediately. Jungkook shook his head and tightened his hold on you.

“Alright, come here.” He lowered his hands to your midriff. “Ready? One, two—”

“No, no, no,” you protested, pressing your palms firmly against his hands. He felt the cold metal of your room key against his skin; you must have slipped the keyring onto your finger after you tried to use it on his door. “Either I walk, or I crawl. No carrying. Too much spinning as it is.”

He doubted if carrying you would really make your dizziness worse, but he relented nonetheless.

“Come on, then,” he said. “Hold onto me.”

You finally agreed, leaning against him with nearly your whole strength as you attempted to set one foot in front of the other. Your limbs felt wooden and numb.

“You know—it might’ve been nice if you came with us,” you said.

Jungkook felt his heart rate pick up again. You probably felt it too, since your body was pressed into his, but he trusted that alcohol had rendered you oblivious to everything outside of yourself, so he did not worry about it.

“Yeah?” he replied. “I don’t think I could have walked home in your heels, though.”

You laughed so heartily that he had to pause in front of the door before opening it, a cautious—and almost possessive—instinct to shield this moment from prying ears.

“No, no. I meant because it would have been nice,” you clarified meaningfully.

His smile was warm when he looked at you. “Yeah, you said that.”

Dazed, you turned your head to meet his gaze, inadvertently granting him an opportunity to lift you over the threshold as your attention on your feet wavered. “I did?”

“Mmhmm.” He continued to look at you—while holding you so close that you were starting to question how many drinks you’ve really had tonight—as he removed the keyring from your finger. You looked down, confused. You’d forgotten you were clutching your keys in your palm. “So why did you want me to come? Did you miss me that much?”

“Hmm,” you lifted your eyes and poked his cheek in a rare moment of bold affection, “I’m not drunk enough.”

He smiled again. Holding you to him—his grip around your waist was tenacious; not even the slippery satin of your dress posed a challenge—he managed to unlock your door and open it. He wondered if you remembered that your room was three steps away from his.

“Okay,” he said, walking you to your bed in complete darkness with impressive skill. Neither of you bumped into anything or tripped. “Let’s get you into bed until you’re not drunk at all. How does that sound?”

A nod was all you could muster.

Your eyes were barely open when you felt him gently lower you on the bed. Your body, of course, succumbed to gravity with a great eagerness and you dropped onto your back with a grunt the second he let go of you. You felt a sharp corner digging into your side and exhaled in relief when you realised that was your phone. This must have been where you had left it.

Face buried into the pillows, you mumbled, “ffank-oo.”

He deciphered that as an expression of gratitude and carefully rolled you onto your back by pulling the duvet from underneath you. You were still in your dress, but he didn’t dare to go as far as helping you change. You looked half-asleep anyway.

“I’m right there if you need me, okay?” he said, untangling the dark grey duvet and throwing it over you in one swift motion. “Behind the wall.”

Peering at him with half-closed eyes, you turned onto your side.

“I’ll knock,” you said as he tucked the duvet around you in a manner that felt almost familiar, almost routine.

“You do that,” he replied. “Goodn—”

“I think Sid’s in London.”

Your words sucked the air out of the room and locked his breath in his throat.

This sudden lack of filter—or any warning on your face that you were about to say something completely shocking—unnerved him. He had forgotten what a rollercoaster your intoxication could be.

“What?” he blurted out and shook his head. “No. No, that can’t be true.”

You shrugged one of your shoulders against the pillow. Your eyes were still closed.

“I talked to Jude,” you said. “And he said he wasn’t there alone.”

Jungkook turned a few shades paler—a few more and he might have become completely transparent.

“You talked to Jude?” he repeated. “A-about what?”

“Nothing much,” you said. Irony flashed briefly across your features when you opened your eyes. “Just if I’d like to do ecstasy with them. They mix it with speed. And then they fly.”

The surprise on Jungkook’s face was loud. He could not fathom that Jude—of all people—would invite you—of all people!—to do this with them, when you never even drank sparkling water if Sid was in the room.

“Ecstasy?” he repeated.

“MDMA,” you clarified helpfully.

“No—I know what—he—what did you say?”

Your gaze met his for a moment, and the look on your face suddenly appeared very sober.

“I obviously agreed,” you said, “and a beautiful pink unicorn took me back to the hotel.”

He gave you a look and you closed your eyes again, smirking.

“I told him no,” you said. “Or something to that effect.”

Jungkook finally exhaled.

“Okay,” he murmured, glancing at the door of your room. “That—that’s good. I-I’ll take care of it.”

Your eyes flew open, alarm creeping onto your tired expression.

“No,” you said—the steel in your tone made him turn back to you. “Don’t—leave them be.”

“But they’re—”

He stopped when you reached out from under the duvet to put your hand over his outstretched wrist. He hadn’t even realised he was gesticulating—too lost in his sudden panic—but your touch grounded him right away.

“I don’t care,” you reiterated, your words slightly slurred but very firm, a bit like you were talking in your sleep—saving him in the midst of a nightmare that you didn’t realise you were having. “I don’t want you near them.”

“Okay,” he said easily. And again, “okay.”

You watched him for another few seconds, silently witnessing the storm of thoughts behind his eyes. But your own heavy eyelids soon overpowered the few semi-sober areas of your brain.

As you settled back against your pillow and let go of his hand, Jungkook grew even more aware of the texts—and the video—that Sid had sent him.

“Go to sleep,” you mumbled as if sensing his apprehension.

“I will,” he said. Your lips parted as you breathed slowly and he could tell that you’ve told him all that you could manage tonight.

“Thank you for helping me,” you added quietly.

“No problem. That’s what friends do, right?”

You snickered softly and a hazy memory of all that you did as friends rose to the surface of your drunken, tired mind.

“Hmmm.” You buried your face in the pillow, whispering wearily, “I want to kiss you. But I’m so drunk.”

Oh, he realised, breathless. So, that wasn’t all that you could manage to tell him tonight, after all.

Inhaling sharply, he sat down on the edge of your bed because he didn’t trust his legs anymore.

Your intoxication, he thought, should have come with a warning: not suitable for young children and those with faint hearts.

“You—you are,” he said. “You’re really drunk.”

“Tomorrow,” you promised.

Jungkook realised that merely sitting might not be enough to prevent his head from floating away from his body as he gripped your mattress tighter.

“Oh,” he said.

A hint of concern flickered in your drunken mind, and you lifted your heavy head. “Okay?”

“Ye—okay. Of course,” he said, rising to his feet so you wouldn’t strain to look at him. The room seemed to sway, and he wondered if your intoxication was contagious. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

His next actions were reflexive as he leaned down to press a soft kiss on your forehead before drawing the duvet up to your chest. You hummed in content and Jungkook had to turn away, frightened by his own elated expression in the reflection of your hotel room window.

Over the years, you had been the one taking care of him—almost all the time. He couldn’t even remember a lot of the times when you found him, completely wasted, and helped him get back to his hotel room. Or to the bedroom in his family’s house. But even though the details of those nights were blurred in his memory, he remembered every morning – when he woke up tucked in his bed, and the faint scent of your apple shampoo still lingered in his room.

He wondered, as he paused in the doorway, turning to look at you over his shoulder, if you’d remember much from this night.

For a minute, he watched the gentle rhythm of your chest rising and falling as you drifted into sleep, and he was alive with the realisation that the two of you finally had something that he thought you’d lost forever.

You had tomorrow.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “euclid”

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[unreliablesnake]

MDNI, mention of sex, afab!reader

That son of a bitch shot him on their last mission. König was often in the way of bullets, but this was friendly fire. Ghost and him were on the same side, yet he managed to get a bullet in his side from the Brit. Maybe he was petty for not being able to forgive him. Yes, he did say it was okay, that there was no issue between them, but deep down he was mad at the lieutenant. So what was he supposed to do? Let it go? No, that wouldn’t be right. He hired a private investigator to find out more about him, to find his weak spot.

No one was allowed to see his face, but he heard his surname on the field, then he overheard a conversation about Manchester, and later Soap accidentally called him Simon in the pub during a conversation before making König promise not to tell anyone he said that. “Especially not the Lt, he would murder me if he knew,” the Scotsman slurred with a sheepish smile. He nodded, of course, then forwarded the now complete name and location to the PI.

That’s how he learned about you. Ghost’s pretty little ex, a precious porcelain doll he should have kept locked away to keep it safe. The PI was young, barely thirty and fairly handsome, so he had no issue getting close to your circle. According to one of the women you were friends with, you were the one who ended the relationship. “She said he was away a lot, but if you ask me, it’s the age difference. He was what? Thirty-four? Thirty-five? And he acted like he was over forty. She can do better. Too bad that asshole still bothers her to get her back,” she added with a roll of her eyes.

By the time his current mission ended, König had your address and some additional information about your daily routine on his phone. According to the report, you spent every Saturday with your friends in a pub near your apartment, so he went there and watched you from afar. Then he not-so-accidentally bumped into you, his hand falling on your shoulder as he checked if you were okay. “Careful, you wouldn’t want to waste that beer,” he said with a smile, then moved on towards the bar.

It didn’t take much time for you to find him, taking the empty bar stool next to him and flashing a disarming smile at him. “Your eyes are ridiculously blue,” you blurted out.

You were drunk, it was clear as day, but he didn’t mind. It would be easier to get close to you, to convince you to go to his hotel room with him and let him fuck you stupid. He would record the whole thing, making sure your cockdrunk expression was visible on the footage so Ghost could see what he took from him.

In his head he had everything planned out right to the very last tiny detail, because he wasn’t planning to stop at one night. No. Ghost has a good taste, he had to admit that, this is why he didn’t feel like letting go of a pretty thing like you too soon. He would have fun. Maybe he would marry you. Maybe he would put a baby in you to keep you near. Yes, he could surely turn you into a trophy wife, sitting home, looking pretty, raising your kid right, and of course taking care of the man of the house.

His fingers brushed your cheek as he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes fixed on your plump lips that shined so bright from the lip gloss. There was no way to fight the thought of having you on your knees in front of him, these shiny lips being wrapped around his cock as you tried to take more of him despite your gag reflex kicking in. He would talk you through it, whispering praises as he patted your head.

When you realized he wasn’t about to talk, you turned your head a little to kiss his hand and put a hand on his thigh. “Don’t you wanna buy me a drink, big guy?” you purred with a flirtatious smile.

He had a feeling it would be easy to pick you up, but this was almost too easy. You came to him yourself; all you needed was a touch of your arms as he bumped into you and now you were pretty much begging him to fuck you. Because König wasn’t stupid, he knew that’s what you wanted. And who was he to say no? So he flashed a smile at you then pulled you into a kiss, even slipping off the chair to trap you between the bar top and his body. You had your hands on his hips, thumbs moving under his shirt to draw circles into his skin.

“I have a better idea. Why don’t we go somewhere private, hm?” he asked as he leaned closer to the shell of your ear. One of your hands moved up to his back under the shirt, long fingernails scratching his skin in a way that made him shiver. You were truly something. No wonder Ghost still wasn’t over you. “Let’s go.”