#like did you honestly believe he would give the position as Hand to a Strong cripple?

[aemondbreakbones]

"Not to serve as Hand, you toad"

Yesss, humble him King

[d0rothydraws]

Part 2 of The Bet where Luke and Kieran bet you to call Sylus a good boy and then stuff happens Part 1 Here

Content: f!reader, Multiple orgasms, body worship, pet names, oral (f! receiving), aftercare

w/c: 2.3k

ao3: Here

a/n: Honestly I didn't think i would get this done as fast as I did but I was at dinner today and instead of waiting for the food like a normal person I started it and then got home and kept going until it was finished. I hope everyone likes this one as much as the first one

"You would have done the same thing if you were in my position, Sweetie." Sylus said as he looked at you, your eyes watering, lips swollen, face red from having his cock down your throat on my moments ago. Thinking you could take your time and tease him, he grew impatient. And now here you were, moments after getting face fucked about to make another damn bet.

“No, I have more self restraint than you." You said, pouting as you looked away, ignoring how raw and strained your voice sounded.

"I don't believe you." He whispered, a low chuckle. "Let's test it, shall we? Another bet perhaps?” His hand moved to grab your chin, making you look back at him. “If you win, if you manage not to touch me at all, I'll buy you that giant plushie you've been wanting.” Your eyes lit up.

“The 6ft tall one? Really? I thought you said it was ugly”

“It is ugly. But I won't be losing.” Sylus said with a smirk and you pouted. “When I win, all I want from you is simple.” He said, trailing his thumb over the bottom of your lip. “Just admit that you have no self restraint around me.”

His voice was low, quiet. Your ears tingled as you heard his words. A shiver ran down your spine and you refused to look away.

“Fine. But I won't be losing either.” You muttered and Sylus chuckled. He moved your positions so you were laying back on the bed and he was over you. His arms caged you in as the smell of his cologne and sweat filled your senses as he looked down at you.

“So feisty for a kitten who's just gotten their throat ravished.” He whispered, lips to your ear as he began. His nose trailed from your way to your neck, soft kisses against soft skin. You weren't used to him being particularly gentle. You felt your thighs push together as you took a slow breath trying to calm yourself.

As you pressed your thighs together, his knee came in-between them, spreading them again. His lips moved down your neck and shoulder, leaving a trail of red marks as he bit and nipped softly. As his lips reached the strap of your dress, he gently pulled it down.

“Let me see all of you, sweetie.” He breathed against your skin as he helped undress you. He sat back, looking down at you as your dress was diagarded. Slowly his hand moved against your spine, reaching your bra strap. In an instant it was unfastened, slipping down your arms as he pulled it off gently and let it fall beside the bed with the growing pile of clothes.

His head dipped down, the flat of his tongue dragging against the canyon of your chest. His hands gently took you in his hands as he felt the soft mounds between his fingers. His thumbs pushed against your nipples, flicking them gently. The sensation made you twitch, gasping as you watched him. He looked up at you as his eyes met yours, his lips brushing against the skin before he reached your tender nipple. His eyes never left yours as his tongue flicked out, wetting the nub before bringing it into his mouth.

You whimpered. You couldn't help it. You felt his teeth graze the sensitive skin, your hands clinging to the bedsheets in an attempt to not curl your hands in his beautiful silver hair. For a second you forgot about the bet. And you weren't going to give in that easily. Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes, arching your chest more into his mouth making him give a sound of approval.

His hands cradled and held you in a way that drove your mind to mush. His hands were rough, calloused. Big and strong. And yet, so, so gentle. As if he was afraid of breaking you. You shivered as his hands slid down your body, trailing down your sides as his body moved lower. His lips kissed down your soft stomach, feeling his breath against your skin as the sensation left goosebumps.

He took his time. Nothing he did was rushed. It was driving you insane. His hands slid over your hips, his thumbs rubbing the skin gently before hooking into your underwear. You couldn't help yourself but to look down at him, the softness in his eyes, the wetness of his lips. Your heart nearly stopped at the sight.

“You're beautiful, every scar, every so-called blemish. It makes you more beautiful to me.” He said, kissing your stomach again gently. “Say it. Say that you're beautiful. Let me hear you, sweetie.” He murmured. You blushed, biting your lip. It's not that you didn't believe it, but right here, right now, it felt so much more intense.

“I'm beautiful.” You breathed out, voice shaky. Hearing yourself say the words made a warmth flood through you, blushing as you watched his lips twitch in a soft smile. His hands slowly moved down the fabric of your underwear, his lips sprinkling more kisses over your stomach.

“Yes, yes you are, kitten. You're a very beautiful, very good girl.” He said his lips trailing down your thighs as he continued to remove the last bit of fabric, discarding it onto that pile of clothes. “You are a good girl, aren't you? You've gone so long without as much as even reaching for me. I'm impressed.” He hummed, turning to look back at you again. His head was now between your thighs, hands tracing the softness of your thighs.

You could feel his warm breath against the wetness between your thighs making you shiver. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You tried to pretend that his words wasn't affecting you but you both knew that it was and if anything, he could see the proof in front of him. Your core so wet from tonight's activities that it was almost hard for him to keep himself at bay when you were like this.

His lips were on you again, your thighs soft under his lips as he kissed up one side and then moved to the other. Your legs were tingling with the sensation but even worse you felt yourself clench the closer that he reached your core. This didn't go unnoticed by him.

“I wish you could see yourself, sweetie.” He breathed out, a finger slowly trailing up the wetness of your core. The sound loud in your ears as you gasped, your eyes rolling back at the faint touch. “Twitching, shaking for my touch. I wish I could keep you like this longer,” He said his thumb slowly circling your clit as you arched your body closer. “But I'm getting hungry”

Your breath stopped as his tongue licked a long swipe against your core. You whispered a curse as you felt his hands wrap around your thighs, moving them onto his shoulders. Seconds later, it felt like ever nerve in your body was filled with pleasure. His tongue moved against you, thrusting into you every once in a while. Thick rough fingers taking the place of his tongue after what felt like a century. First two, and then three. You couldn't think, every thought was about how good his mouth felt on you. How big his hands were, how long his fingers were and how he knew exactly where to curl them.

You cried out, body shaking and trembling at the sudden climax that you didn't even have time to process. He pulled back slowly after letting you ride it out, licking you clean and then his fingers clean. You were sweaty, panting as your body layed limp on the bed. Your thighs still on his shoulders as he kissed your thighs making you twitch.

As your mind started to clear you felt your heart skip a beat. You did it. You didn't touch him, reach out to him - you won the bet! Right?

“You taste so good, my little kitten.” He purred, the tone of his voice going straight back to ignite that flame inside you. “I hope you know that I'm not done.”

“I-i won right? The bet? I didn't touch you” You said less confidently than you were hoping. He chucked, looking at you between your thighs.

“We never discussed the finer details. You didn't think that I only planned to go one round did you?” He said as he raised an eyebrow. When you didn't answer he kissed the top of your thigh.

“Wait- that's not fai– Sylus!” His mouth was on you again, that damn tongue, those damn lips. It felt like fire flooded your blood as your head fell back again onto the pillow, your hands clenching against the silk sheets. The fingers were back soon enough. Your eyes crossed as you felt your hips move on their own accord, thrusting against his fingers as the wet sound echoed against the dark room.

“Fuck I can't God i- Sylus” You screamed, and as you did, your hands reached for his hair, pulling his face deeper into you. You heard him growl against your cunt as his tongue worked harder, fingers hitting that spot he knew so well his right until-

Your eyes widened as your body arched off of the bed. A cry of pleasure as you felt your whole body clench, toes curling inward and legs shaking. He didn't stop. Tears built as he continued to lick, his fingers hitting that same damn spot.

“Sylus please it feels too good it's so good it hurts I can't take it anymore.” You gasped as the pleasure built again only moments apart from your last climax. Your heart was pounding, your body shook and twitched as you clenched around his fingers almost wishing it was his cock. You moaned, gasping, the idea almost sending you over the edge.

“You can take it sweetie. You're being so good for me.” He said moving away only long enough to speak before his lips moving back onto you. Your body twitched, the sensation built more than before. Your hand tightened in his hair. Fuck the bet. Who gives a shit when Sylus was between your thighs eating you out like a man starving. You couldn't care less at this point.

It hit like a tidal wave. Your scream muffled by your hand that definitely will have a bite mark on it in the morning. It was so powerful you couldn't even move, your eyes rolled back as you twitched, whimpering nonsense about how good you felt.

Sylus kissed you softly, muttering something that you didn't quite get before leaving. The sound of rushing water from the bathroom reached your ears. Sleep found you quickly even as he picked you up, sitting you on his lap as he bathed you. You only made soft noises as he dried you off and laid you down in bed, resting your head on his chest. His hands combed against your hair, kissing your forehead before he fell asleep himself.

The next morning you stirred awake, groaning at your sore thighs and hand from where you bit, earning yourself a tooth shaped mark on the side of your hand. Sylus was still deep asleep, you weren't sure what happened after the last orgasm, but one thing did ring in your memory. You were pretty sure you lost the bet.

It wasn't fair though, you didn't set the rules first and it wasn't even his bet to begin with! It started with Luke and Kieran. For him to just uno reverse-

The sound of him groaning brought you out of your thoughts as you looked at him, moving an arm over his eyes. There was no sun in the N109 zone, but the moon could still be really damn bright sometimes. As you shuffled off the bed to go close the curtains, a hand wrapped around your waist pulling you into him.

“And where do you think you're going.” He grumbled, half asleep.

“To close the curtains. I thought the moon was in your eyes.” You said laying back down as he moved his arm off of his face, blinking a few times before rubbing his eyes.

“What's wrong?” He said suddenly looking at you with knitted eyebrows. “I can tell, there's a look in your eye.” He said, gently taking your cheek in his hand, his sleep forgotten all about.

“Nothing it's just the stupid bet. I know technically I lost but I still don't think it's fair-” his chuckle cut you off as he shook his head.

“It was just for fun, though I can admit that you are right. It wasn't even.” He said humming softly. “Get dressed and come to the kitchen. I'll make some breakfast. And maybe we can try again later.” He said, his voice teasing as he slid off of the bed, walking out of the room after kissing you gently.

You blushed, his words processing and sighed. Try again? Later? He was going to be the death of you, you swore it. Your stomach growled, keeping you on track as you stood, grabbing some clothes quickly and ran to the kitchen.

As you rounded the corner, on the counter was something you never expected to see.

The giant Wasabi Octopus plushie you wanted. The one that the bet was about, the one he said he would get you if you won.

“How- when..” you said walking to pull the big red plushie into your arms, in shock but the sparkle in your eye didn't go unnoticed.

“I had planned to give it to you anyways, as a small gift. You were going to get it either way, and besides..” he trailed off stepping closer to you, looking down as you nuzzled into the plushie. “After last night, you earned it.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

HEYYYY

Soo I'm here to rq another Damian x reader(platonic). But real quick, I'm sorry if I'm requesting too much or being a nuisance. Pls lmk if I am so I can stop! It's just hard to find somebody that writes for him like dis.

Anyways, basically the same thing were theyre friends but this time it's a diff scenario. So Damian n reader are obvi friends but theyre also complete oposites. Like Damian is intelegent, focused and meanwhile has reader is a bit dumber, daydreams too much, and kinder. They also get walked over a lot.

So he invites reader over to the manor and she meets his brothers n dad. It's all fine n dandy but they can't help but notice how diff they are.

Bonus points if reader talks positively abt him to his brothers and they're all like "fym he's nice?" And readers all like "fym he isnt?" (They're just not used to being treated like a normal human being) ‼️

Honestly I love writing for platonic! Damian. So pls don’t apologise for anything bc I’m having so much fun rn. 🦦plus I don’t know if this will read well as I’ve written this late at night when o should probably be in bed.

‘Am I seeing things or has Damian finally made a friend.’ Dick whispered to Jason, his eyes unable to tear his eyes away from you and Damian followed Bruce through the manor.

‘Nope, I’m definitely seeing it too.’ Jason replied also looking at you and Damian as if he was looking at the human personifications of night and day.

‘The fact that the demon spawn managed to get a friend sure is…something.’ Tim piped up, having overheard his brothers conversation from standing in between them. ‘I can only hope he didn’t kidnap the poor soul.’ Dick added as he was quick to click onto how Damian kept a hand on your arm, tugging and pulling you along when you stop to stare at a painting in awe for a little too long, gently encouraging you to keep up with him and Bruce by promising to go back to the painting later. Jason then looked over at Tim, ‘any ideas on who they are?’ Tim shrugged. ‘Only the fact that they go to the same school as Damian, share the same art classes and is known for being a little bit of a daydreaming pushover, but despite all that they’re still a kind person.’

Dick smiled sympathetically as his heart ached for you. It wasn’t easy being nice in a city like Gotham, if anything nice ever wandered into the accursed city it seemed as though Gotham itself would stop at nothing to see it destroyed, decimated and become as miserable and as bleak as the city itself; So it was rare to find someone who genuinely could still bring it in themselves to smile whilst in a city like this. And for that Dick had to give you props for being brave enough -and strong enough- to be kind in a place that would gladly take pleasure in stepping over and on you at any inconvenience. For it was truly a sign of bravery at its finest.

‘That kid is sure brave.’ Jason signed, knowing that people like you don’t last in Gotham but it was people like you that Gotham needed the most, but how could a retched place like Gotham heal when it’s always been a rotten city since it’s very conception? He didn’t believe it could be possible but there were always solutions to fighting the problem that seemed impossible to overcome. So who cares if you weren’t the brightest bulb at school? The education system in Gotham was shit anyway the last time he checked and he doubted much had changed when he…well you know…

Tim was silent. He was too busy recognising the protective measures that Damian was taking specifically for you; mainly the hand tugging at your arm anytime he thought you were getting distracted or wandering off elsewhere and muttering about how you need to keep or you’ll get left behind, despite the fact that even if you did Damian would allow himself to fall behind just so that he could walk besides you. While he might be part of the majority that didn’t think he’s ever see the day that Damian brought a friend home, never less a friend who was the total opposite of him. He couldn’t help but feel a sort of relief that Damian finally found a friend, and he knew that both Jason and Dick felt similarly from the looks upon their faces, silently observing how you interact with one another.

The one thing that Tim was confident in was the fact that Damian needed you as much as you needed Damian because you were a beacon of opportunity for his younger brother in many ways that Tim was certain you weren’t made aware of just yet. So while he and his brothers may tease and take this piss about how different you were from Damian, they mean well and express their happiness the only way they knew best; teasing and taking the piss.

‘This library is beautiful Mr Wayne! Do you have any fantasy books?’ You could be heard asking down the hallway, followed by the sound of Bruce softly laughing as he showed you the grand library. ‘This library has any book you can think of and please call me Bruce, it’s not often that Damian brings anyone home for the weekend.’ He says as you looked the Damian confused and a little betrayed. ‘You’ve got friends other than me?’

Damian groaned. ‘No. I don’t, you’re the only friend I’m willing myself to have.’

You smiled and gripped his hand. ‘Aww Dami! That’s so sweet of you to say, despite how brash and blunt you may come across, I’m glad to say that you’re the only friend I’m willing to have too!’ You said without shame. ‘Everyone else isn’t a nice as you are.’ You trailed off while a rare solemn look appeared upon your face as Damian was quick to squeeze your hand reassuringly, Bruce smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m not smart like your son mr Wayne, I can’t help it if things don’t come to me as easy as they do others but I try! I try really heard to do my best at every test but…but people tend to laugh of me because to them I’m either slow or thick.’ Damian’s jaw clenched and his brows furrowed upon being remembered of what people tended to call you.

He hated it and whenever he saw it happen, he was quick to utter some threatening words before taking his usual position as your pseudo-bodyguard for the rest of the school day. At first he wasn’t bothered but when you became restless in your pursuit of being his friend, he remembered vividly how people were mocking and making fun of you for trying to be his friend, that he often regrets not accepting your friendship sooner if it meant being able to be there when it counts.

‘When will you get it that Damian doesn’t want to be friends with someone like you.’ One person said.

‘Then I’ll just have to keep trying.’ You rebutted, still smiling somehow.

Another person scoffs. ‘Get fucking real. You’re a weirdo, no one wants to be friends with a weirdo who so fucking slow at everything.’

You merely shrugged, even when someone’s insulting you, your brain doesn’t recognises it as such. ‘I’m sure he won’t mind.’

‘God you’re so fucking useless that I’m surprised that anyone bothers with you. Let me say this in a way you won’t have to try so hard to understand dipshit. Damian. Will. Never. Be. Friends. With. Someone. Like. You. Ever.’ A third slowly spoke and Damian had heard enough and within a blink of an eye had laid them out flat. You blinked before looking at Damian with a bright smile. ‘Hi Damian! Did you hurt these guys, that’s not very nice.’

‘They insulted you and yet you defend their honour.’ Damian asked incredulously as you both walked down the hallway, leaving the three bullies to groan from their injuries. You shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

‘They were insulting you.’ Damian reiterated. ‘They insulted your intelligence and your abilities. People like them often hide bigger insecurities than others.’ Damian replied, finding your ability to keep smiling after such things both annoying as it was admirable.

‘Are we friends now?’ You asked innocently enough and Damian knew he had sealed his fate, and so he sighs and looks up to the ceiling. ‘Yes, we’re…friends.’ He mutters and doesn’t do anything to stop you from dragging him to art class.

‘I was alone before Damian.’ You admitted as you looked at Bruce with a smile as you squeezed Damian’s hand in kind. ‘But now he’s here and he’s my bestest friend ever!’ Damian honestly wishes that you respect yourself more because you could claim that he saved you multiple times, but you’d never acknowledge the times where you have saved him by being unequivocally kind, sweet and over all a better person then all of Gotham’s civilians combined. ‘I was finding my first week at school horrid before I befriended l/n.’ Damian admitted as you softly cooed. The boy then swallows thickly. ‘Their friendship is much appreciated.’

‘Aww! Dami!’ You cried as you crashed into him, causing you both to hit the floor in a heap of limbs.

While Damian was cursing mom lethal threats and you were laughing, Bruce had already made his mind up about you and was certain to make sure to have Damian invite you over as much as possible. It was obvious for him to see that you and Damian were good for each other despite your vast and glaring differences, however that’s what worked in your favour, the power to have over come all odds was incredible; not to mention the fact that your friendship with Damian had lasted as long as it has was another impressive feet on top of that. Bruce knows it’s been hard for Damian to fit in and find a friend, but he couldn’t have made a better friend than he did in the likes of you.

You were more than defiantly welcomed back to the manor if Bruce had anything to say about it.

‘Get off of me!’ Damian shouts.

‘Damian, I think my foot is stuck with yours.’ You reply, scared.

‘That’s your own foot- how did you manage to tangle yourself up in yourself? You landed onto of me?’ Damian asked incredulously.

‘Sorry.’ You apologised.

‘Don’t be.’ Damian said.

Bruce smiled one last time before leaving you both alone in the library to untangle yourselves, only to be greeted by Tim, Dick and Jason. ‘Can I help you three?’ Bruce raised an eyebrow at the boys.

‘Nope.’ Dick started.

‘Not really, just…seeing how the little scamps are dealing.’ Jason followed after.

‘Damian? Nice? The same Damian who tried to, oh I don’t know…KILL ME?!’ Tim asked, revealing to Bruce all he needed to know, their breathing behind the library door was telling that they were clearly eavesdropping on the three of you. Jason and Dick looked at him displeased as Tim looked back at them. ‘I’m not the only one of us who thought that.’ He defended himself. ‘I mean it’s nice that he’s looking out for y/n but still that’s not something someone casually forgets.’

Bruce merely leaves Tim, Dick and Jason to their own quarrel, he loves his boys he truly does, but sometimes they’re more trouble than what they’re worth. He can only hope that they don’t scare you off from coming back for good because he was already planning your next visit.

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 22 | 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, FLUFF, some angst, mentions of drugs (including descriptions of harmful use), very plot-heavy chapter, SLOW BURN

words: 18k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 22 ► if you want an enemy, i’ll be the last one that you ever meet

Jungkook marvelled at how quickly he got used to the peace he felt with you in his hotel room. It was strong, too, this peace. Stable. It seemed to him, as you slept on the bed right by his side, that nothing could disturb the walls of his room.

Sid’s Instagram post had been nothing but a picture. Neither of you interacted with it, nor did you respond to him—although, like a true pest, he continued to message you both throughout the night.

The picture remained as it was: largely anonymous, because Sid, in his petulant haste to post it, had not tagged you. And, from the looks of it, he had not realised he hadn’t tagged you.

The people in the comments—Jungkook checked, after making sure you’d fallen asleep—tried to guess what was happening. Most of the comments, with usernames that made Jungkook chuckle, seemed to recognise him (well, a few people did, and others jumped on this bandwagon with a heedless excitement that brought another smile to his face—they were thrilled to find him in this seemingly random picture, and he was thrilled by their thrill), but no one could understand the context.

So happy for you, Sid’s caption read. But happy for what? Happy for whom?

You’ve both decided to raise this issue with the band before the concert tomorrow. There was very little you could have done this late at night anyway. All the staff had a day off, and you did not want to disturb them over a personal problem that had escalated into something bigger than you.

Jungkook was delighted by your choice to stay in his room. He interpreted your decision to wait until morning as a confirmation of your deeper desire to prolong your time together. He preferred to believe that this was the reason, rather than the circumstances, that allowed you to stay.

And since you were sleeping next to him right now, your chest rising and falling gently under the covers, it was all too easy to give in to this belief.

When Jungkook woke up a few hours later, the room was bathed in a golden glow. The sunlight filtered through a gap in the curtains that he must have overlooked last night.

You weren’t next to him.

Panic seized him almost instantly, and he realised that the peace he had felt last night with you beside him was not quite as stable as he had believed. Now you were awake, and you were not here.

He flipped on his back and pushed himself into a sitting position. He even searched under the bed in irrational desperation—as if you had decided to play hide-and-seek and give him a heart attack for breakfast. And then, as soon as he threw back the covers and scanned the room, he heard your voice—a lifeline, really, amid his suffocating thoughts.

You were still here, in the bathroom, either talking on the phone or to yourself. Honestly, that part did not really matter to him, as long as he knew you were here.

Outrageously relieved, he collapsed back onto the pillows and buried his face in his hands, a ridiculous smile spreading beneath his fingers as his heart continued to race in his chest.

He realised that he was a little out of his mind.

You were on the phone, as Jungkook would later learn, with the founder and CEO of Jett Records, Christian Jett—or simply CJ, as he insisted you call him, even though you’d only spoken to him once in your entire time at the company: right now. You figured one of the reasons he insisted on the abbreviation was that his full name could have worked incredibly well as a Christian rock band name.

If Jungkook had known who you were talking to, his panic might have resurged. Your hands were shaking, too, as you clutched your phone to your ear and took in CJ’s rapid news.

In just one breath, CJ shared his thoughts on Rated Riot’s reception in Europe and outlined his vision for the coming months. He also surprised you with some good news, and you tapped your fingers on the hotel sink, eager to tell the band.

Then, CJ, your new best friend by the sound of it, turned the subject over to you.

“Here’s what’s going to happen in the next few weeks,” he said, speaking so quickly that you barely had time to react. By the time your stomach clenched in anticipation, he had already informed you of his plans. “I’ve personally put together a team, just a couple of execs and someone from HR, to recruit support staff for you. We’re thinking two people should suffice for now.”

Your pause seemed incredibly long compared to his—which was virtually non-existent, and CJ opened his mouth to keep speaking.

“I was also thinking that—”

“I—sorry, uh,” you interjected, finally finding your words, “w-what support staff are you referring to, sir?”

“Assistant managers,” CJ replied with a chuckle. “I should’ve started with that, you’re right. You’ll have a team. Naturally, you’ll be promoted to Head of Management.”

You needed some time to process that. It was the “naturally” in particular that confused you because none of this seemed very natural.

When you woke up and saw ‘Christian Jett’ on your phone (the device even vibrated differently, almost nervously), you immediately assumed the worst: Sid had done irreparable damage to the band’s reputation by hard-launching a relationship that no one at the label knew about, and now you were going to be fired because you had not contained it.

That was the only thought you had when you took the call. But you were actually being promoted. Naturally.

Did he even know about Sid?

“That—that’s great,” you managed. You sensed CJ’s anticipation for a more effusive response and he grumbled in mild disapproval when you did not offer one. “I am very happy to hear that.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled again. He sounded like a train veering off its tracks when he laughed, which was very odd, yet somehow felt comforting. “You don’t sound much like it.”

“Oh—m-my apologies, I’m just surprised.”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be,” he said. “Others are trying to scout you for their own bands—fucking Reconnaissance, of all people—so, of course, we have to promote you.”

Your fingers stilled on the cool porcelain of the sink.

He said they had to promote you: as if it was a decision forced upon them by some foreign threat, rather than your efforts and the unprecedented growth of the band.

It would have made sense to expand your team eventually—when the tour ended, for example, and everyone could see how far Rated Riot has come. But now, apparently, your career would abruptly progress just because you received an offer from another band.

“Respectfully, sir,” you said, avoiding his nickname, “may I ask how you came by that information? I was under the impression that the offer from Reconnaissance wasn’t official.”

“It’s a small industry,” CJ replied. “We consider any offer aimed at our talents official.”

He gave no further explanations. You had questions, of course, but did not know how to say What the fuck is that supposed to mean? in Corporate.

Instead, you said, “I see.”

“I’ll send one of my assistants and a couple of people from our legal team to go over the new contract with you in the next few days,” he informed you.

You wondered what time it was for him, wherever he was, because here in London, it was far too early to talk about legal teams. The magnitude of the situation made your empty stomach churn.

“Your new contract won’t be much different,” CJ continued. He sensed that the mention of lawyers had unsettled you, and his tone softened. “Bigger pay, a few extra tasks, a more defined division of labour. Your assistants will handle the routine chores, allowing you to concentrate on promoting and advancing Rated Riot. That’s the direction we’re moving in right now, and that’ll be your main priority.”

“I understand, sir,” you said, although you understood fragments.

They could have hired a marketing specialist instead of two assistants for you if they wanted to focus on the advancement of the band. Rated Riot did not even have their own publicist right now. There was one at the company, but she juggled several bands and rarely ventured beyond arranging an occasional interview for Rated Riot if someone contacted the company, and not you.

Evidently, they chose to promote you to Head Manager and Publicist instead of hiring a different person for that job.

“You’ll stay with the band and work on location,” CJ said. “That arrangement seems to bring the best results, especially regarding the band’s schedule. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied, recognising that CJ probably had the authority to teleport you out of London immediately should you disagree with anything he said.

“Excellent,” he said. “I’d like to move forward with this while the band is still on tour, so you could train your assistants as soon as you are back. From then on, you’ll focus on effective representation and the strengthening of their brand, marketing strategies, bigger shows, more advertising—well, you know the drill.”

“Right,” you said. “Of course.”

You chose not to point out how far these new duties deviated from your original job description. You were already doing all that anyway, even if you weren’t, technically, required to. And they clearly seemed to think that your extra work came without saying—of course, you’d do everything. When have you not?

“And mostly everything else on the contract will remain as it is,” CJ finished. “The legal team will go over the rest with you. It’s the same things: compensation, conflicts of interest, obligations, bonuses, the whole bunch. You know. You’ve done it before.”

You haven’t done it before, actually. When Rated Riot hired you, the company emailed you the contract, you skimmed it, understood about half, and e-signed it without any meetings with HR, let alone the legal team.

Nevertheless, you responded obediently, “I understand. When can I expect to meet with them?”

“Let me check your schedule,” he said. You heard the faint clicking of a laptop mouse and assumed he had Rated Riot’s schedule at the ready. “Alright, you’re in London for the next few days, then almost a week in Paris. How about one of the days there? My assistant will email you later with a more specific time and date.”

“Okay, that sounds perfect,” you replied. “Thank you for taking the time to personally inform me about this, CJ. I—I’m very excited to start this new chapter with the band.”

“I’m excited as well,” CJ said, glad to finally hear your use of his name, even if you wavered while saying it. “Let’s keep this discreet, though, yeah? For now. I’ll mention the changes in management and the band’s upcoming promotions at the executive team meeting next week. Namjoon will update you on how that goes. Until then, let’s keep this within our circle.”

“I—of course, sir,” you replied. CJ allowed you a moment of thought and did not interrupt your silence this time.

You worried that his strong emphasis on discretion indicated his knowledge about something else. And even if it didn’t, you thought it would reflect badly on you later if you did not mention Sid right now, when you had the perfect opportunity for it.

“I’m—I would also like to address the recent speculation online regarding the, uh—bathtub picture,” you said, trying to choose your words without sounding like a three-year-old imitating a businessman. “I want to assure you that—”

“Oh, yeah, no—Namjoon called me earlier. He filled me in,” CJ said. “I hadn’t even seen the picture before he mentioned it. That Sid’s a weird character.”

Your heart jumped over a beat, chilling the blood in your anxious veins.

“Uh—yes,” you played along, wondering all the while where Namjoon was, and what he had done on your behalf. “He is.”

“I trust you’ll ensure no one else leaks the band’s album covers in the future, though,” CJ said. His words sounded like a demand—half a step away from a threat—but you could not recognise your reflection in the mirror all of a sudden and could not reply. “Maybe reset your systems or something.”

Namjoon had called CJ. He had deflected from your relationship with Jungkook and shielded you from what could have happened if someone discovered who the people in the picture were.

Sid leaked the album cover.

You took a fractured breath and leaned against the counter, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Yes—yes, of course,” you finally managed. “We’ll take every precaution to make sure these incidents are avoided in the future. Th-thank you, CJ.”

You could no longer tell if you were still coherent or just trying to be. CJ’s unusual pause seemed to indicate that he sensed your unease, but he chose not to comment on it. He thought you just felt uncomfortable that the album cover had leaked.

“Alright, happy to hear that,” he said. “Talk to you soon. Keep up the good work.”

He ended the call before you could voice any more platitudes about looking forward to hearing from him again. You weren’t. You were looking forward to finding Namjoon and possibly offering your soul to him to repay the debt.

Namjoon had resolved the issue that Sid had caused—the issue you considered personal, because you were keenly aware of the causal relationship between Sid’s post and your relationship with Jungkook: if you hadn’t spent so much time with him on this tour, if you’d kept your professional distance, if you’d closed the damn door in that hotel bathroom, there wouldn’t have been any picture at all.

However, there was more for you to fix. Namjoon had helped you now, but Sid was still at large, wild and unpredictable.

And as you glanced at your phone, you also remembered something else that CJ had said about your contract: conflicts of interest.

In your initial contract, you had declared none, despite already knowing that Jungkook was in the band. You hoped you could carry on quietly enough—as though you had never met him, really—and no one would mind. That more or less worked out, up until this point.

Now you wondered if you could still claim no conflicts of interest without any consequences. Was that what your relationship with Jungkook was, in the eyes of the company?

You took a deep breath and decided to ponder this elsewhere because the bathroom was getting stuffy and the clothes you’d worn for a comfortable film night suddenly felt suffocating against your skin.

Stepping out of the bathroom on the tips of your toes so as not to wake Jungkook, you turned the corner and locked eyes with him right away.

“Hi,” he murmured, the edges of his morning voice hoarse and groggy as he watched you from the mess of sheets on the bed.

Despite hoping to find him still asleep so you could slip back into bed and have the morning together that had been stolen from you, you didn’t feel disappointed that he was awake. He had a lazy smile on his lips. His hair was dishevelled and he kept bringing his hand through it.

There was a glow over your face as you approached the bed. “Hi.”

“I thought you’d left,” he said, his eyes following your every movement as you settled back next to him.

“Do you want me to?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, closer to him. He wasn’t sure if you were even aware you did that, it seemed subconscious, but it prompted his hands to reach for you.

He touched your cheek, running his fingers over your jaw before leaning in to press his lips to yours—quickly, just to remind himself that he could. And to steal just one breath from you.

“No,” he said then. “Never.”

He saw your eyes soften and your smile grow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He traced his thumb over your lower lip before pulling away to sit up on the bed. “Who, um—who was that on the phone?”

The question was expected, but you didn’t have an answer for him personally—you’d planned to explain everything to all of Rated Riot later today.

“Uh,” you leaned against the headboard of the bed, “the label.”

“Yeah?” he encouraged.

“The CEO, actually,” you added briefly. “But I should probably discuss this with the whole band.”

Startled, Jungkook gripped the sheets in his hand. He was worried—rather obviously—that this was about Sid or still about Reconnaissance, and he couldn’t decide which he dreaded more. He was absurdly quick to convince himself that the CEO had told you something so serious that you didn’t even see the point of talking to him about it.

“Did something happen?” he asked, feeling the tips of his fingers grow numb.

You recognised the concern on his face with half of a glance. “Yeah, but it’s something good.”

Relief, excitement, and curiosity replaced the previous anxiety in his eyes at an impressive speed.

He shifted on the bed with a newfound energy, crossing and uncrossing his legs. “Well, tell me!”

“We’ll have a meeting—”

“That’s fair,” he said, moving closer. “But tell me now.”

You were too excited to dwell on the fact that this was the precise conflict of interest that had unsettled your mind earlier—this perception of favouritism, this special treatment that others might assume Jungkook received because he was in a relationship with his manager.

“You’re doing festivals next summer,” you said, pausing for emphasis, “and they’re extending your tour. We’ll be going back to at least five countries in Europe for encore shows.”

You still had to confirm the dates with the venues and perform several additional bureaucratic tasks so your team could stay in Europe longer, but all of that seemed irrelevant in light of this news.

“Ah,” Jungkook replied—happy, but not nearly as exuberant as you’d hoped. “That’s cool.”

You realised quickly that he must have misunderstood.

“No, Jungkook,” you said. “In arenas this time—with a capacity at least three times larger than we have right now.”

Instantly, his eyes ignited with the flames you’d looked forward to before.

“Oh,” he said and now the tingle of adventure was finally there, glistening fervently in his burning eyes.

But he looked at you again, and he thought there was something you hadn’t told him yet. It was the way your lips curled—smiling, but not quite.

“But you look—was there something else you talked about?” he asked.

You were surprised. You had hoped—naively, you now realised—that you could continue to talk about the promising parts of all that CJ had told you, leaving the more questionable parts to wait until the rest of your thoughts had cleared.

“They’re, uh, holding interviews for assistant managers and promoting me to Head Manager,” you said. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, but you continued before he could interject, “they’ll send people to Paris for me to sign the new contract.”

“To—oh, shit. Fuck.” His shock turned to laughter. Just moments ago, he was worried you’d have to leave the band. Now you were signing a new contract to stay. “Oh, but does that—does that mean we will see less of you? Is that why you—why you don’t seem very happy about that?”

“No, it’s—I am happy,” you said. “I’ll stay on-site with you guys. But the focus is—they’re saying we’re focusing more on promoting you and ‘strengthening your brand.’ That was cool, by the way. Your brand. I liked that part. But, uh—that will be my main priority, apparently. I guess I’m not really sure how that’s going to go.”

That wasn’t the only reason for your apprehension, but you did not want to mention Reconnaissance and the unexpected impact that Nick’s offer had on your sudden promotion. You preferred to see Jungkook smiling at you from across the bed—even more so when he was smiling right next to you.

“Well, what will you have to do?” he asked. “I mean, exactly?”

“I guess I will be making phone calls the whole day,” you replied, hoping secretly that this would not turn out to be all you’d have to do. “It also means that none of us will be going home longer than it takes for you to record a new album.”

“Oh.” Jungkook attempted to control his facial expression. For him, this arrangement—album, tour, album, tour—sounded almost ideal. “Well, that’s honestly fine by me.”

You knew he would not mind. But you minded. You had not said anything about your own workload to CJ, but you were prepared to use any threats necessary to ensure that Rated Riot had enough time to breathe.

“You say that now,” you pointed out, “but it will eventually get tough, being away from home for so long.”

“I have you,” Jungkook said. “I am home.”

He said that like it was the most obvious statement in the world—the grass is green, the sky is blue—but subtle magic was laced in every letter of every word. When he closed his eyes, when he couldn’t see the unfamiliar surroundings of the hotel room, his senses recognised the warmth of your presence as home.

Unfortunately, the darkness in his thoughts was unforgiving, and he had to ask you something else—but then he lost his resolve momentarily when he met your soft gaze and realised that you’d placed your hand on his.

“I, uh—” he tried, but several more moments had to pass before he sobered, “he—did he say anything about Sid?”

You exhaled. “Yeah.”

Jungkook nodded contemplatively and took a breath, bracing himself. Although it was difficult to imagine what the label could have said about Sid, considering the abundance of good news, he knew better than to expect something positive.

Another book his grandmother had read with him when he was young suddenly returned to his mind, the dark cover with thick red lettering vivid in his memory: Something wicked this way comes.

The book had been sinister, completely unfitting for a child of his age at the time. Just like Sid.

“What was it?” Jungkook asked.

“That picture he posted,” you said, “is apparently the cover of your upcoming album.”

“It—oh.” He looked away, puzzled, suddenly, by the shade of the wallpaper behind the bedframe and the questionable events that had led the label to that conclusion. He tried to say more and managed a very successful, “ah.”

You lowered your head, tugging on the edge of the duvet. “Namjoon, uh—he took care of it before I got the call from CJ, so I don’t know much about what he said to him.”

Jungkook was not sure if he should have been relieved that Sid’s damage had been neutralised seemingly so effortlessly. He could never know with Sid; his refusal to give up rivalled only Voldemort’s immortality. Only Sid’s horcruxes were, apparently, pictures and videos he used to manipulate others.

“It’s a good photo for an album cover,” Jungkook finally said.

“It—it is,” you agreed. “And it’s also—well, you know. A good explanation.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll inform the label about us before I sign the new contract, though,” you decided. “I’ll talk to them. I thought maybe this could wait, but they’re sending over lawyers, so it’s—”

Jungkook’s breath got lodged in his throat and he had to cough several times to clear his airways, interrupting you.

“H-hold on,” he said. “You need lawyers present when you tell them we’re together?”

“They’re coming for the contract,” you explained. “And I’ll have to talk to them before I sign it because I figure you might be my conflict of interest.”

A sudden surge of very different emotions made Jungkook purse his lips. He found himself wondering if there was any term starting with “my” you could have used to describe him that he wouldn’t have liked. My boyfriend. My source of headaches. My biggest nuisance. Ultimately, all of that still meant that he was yours.

Reasonably, however, he did not like the sound of this.

“Huh,” he mused. “Doesn’t work as a pet name. Call me something else.”

“Yeah.” You chuckled. “I don’t like that one, either.”

You did not look particularly troubled. Everything was going to be fine, you were sure of it. You just weren’t sure how soon, and what this “fine” would look like.

“Come here,” Jungkook said before you could begin thinking about the possibilities and the risks.

You moved closer, happy to relish in the warmth of the room for a few more minutes as he wrapped his arms around you.

This was the morning you were looking forward to. Everything else could wait.

The second you stepped out of Jungkook’s hotel room and headed towards yours to pack for the day, Maggie startled you by calling out your name in the otherwise empty, echoing corridor. She appeared a little worried when you turned around, and that was so unbecoming on her normally laid-back face that you took an instinctive step back.

“Is—are you okay?” you asked.

She seemed surprised to see your surprise.

“I slept the whole day,” she explained. She was carrying something in her hands, but she kept it behind her back. “Feels like I was out for a week, actually.”

You smiled. That was hardly anything new.

You remembered the fright of your life that Maggie had given you the first time the two of you went out together. She had an alcohol tolerance that should have been outlawed, so she always drank more than Jungkook could ever handle (though he would argue otherwise, of course). By the time you got her back to your apartment that night, she was already barely conscious.

She had collapsed on your bed and when you brought her a glass of water about three minutes later, she was already snoring. And she’d slept—you counted—for twenty-two hours and thirty-three minutes. You had spent the last eight hours keeping watch over her, periodically checking if she was breathing, with your finger hovering over the emergency number on your phone.

To your amazement, she woke up the next morning without so much as a hint of a headache, perplexed by the concerned look on your face. She looked a bit like that now.

“Yeah,” you replied, a little jealous of her dangerous, but seemingly foolproof ability to avoid hangovers. “Maybe we should have stopped before the tequila shots.”

“Hmm.” She scratched her forehead. It was hard to tell what she was feeling; hesitation flickered in her eyes when she looked at you. “Was, uh—was Jungkook in my room yesterday?”

“He—oh, yeah,” you recalled. “I asked him to check on you.”

“Oh.” Relief washed over her face, adding some vibrancy to her cloudy features. “Okay. So I didn’t hallucinate that.”

You smiled again. “No.”

“I took your jacket,” she said, revealing the item she’d been clutching in her hands. “I don’t remember doing that.”

She seemed to remember even less from last night than you did, which was not uncommon for Maggie. She had a terrible memory in general—she took notes and then forgot she took notes—but this time, you could not help her remember, either.

“Thanks,” you said, taking your jacket from her. It still smelled faintly of your perfume and too much liquor. “Jungkook told me you had it. I still have one of your shoes.”

“Yeah, I—I have yours somewhere, too,” she said. “I assume you have my phone, too, then?”

You looked up. “Why would I have your phone?”

“Hm?” she asked as her heart began to pump blood a tad more effectively than necessary; you hadn’t even properly answered her yet. “But—you—didn’t you put it in your bag last night?”

You stilled and the surprise inside your stomach grew large, floating inside you as if it were a heavy, helium and anxiety-filled balloon.

“I… I had my bag with me?” you asked very slowly, but Maggie still did not understand the essence of your question. She looked around as though she’d just realised she was accidentally having this conversation in a language she did not speak, and she needed someone to translate it for her.

You were baffled. You knew you’d left your phone in your room before you went out with the girls, it was entangled in the sheets when you woke up the next morning. But you couldn’t remember whatever happened with your handbag; you had assumed it remained in your room as well.

“I’m pretty sure you had it with you,” Maggie said. Your heartbeat sped up, matching the frantic rhythm in your friend’s chest. “You took our orders on my phone because you didn’t have yours. And I assumed you put it in your bag after that.”

You turned around, frightened goosebumps rising on the back of your spine as your trembling fingers fumbled with the lock on your door.

“Jungkook said I didn’t have my bag with me when I got back,” you said as you entered the room, your gaze sweeping the space with an ever-mounting sense of panic. “I assumed—I thought I just didn’t take it with me. Nothing was missing. I had my keys in my jacket—I took them out at some point, before the jacket ended up with you—a-and my phone was here.”

You attacked the room, lifting suitcases and inspecting empty closets. Since you hadn’t fully unpacked, there were not a lot of places where your handbag could have been. Maggie tried to help you by holding up furniture for you to check underneath—just in case, she’d said—but it became increasingly clear, with every nook and cranny you searched, that the bag was simply not here.

“Okay, shit,” Maggie finally concluded as the two of you knelt side by side on the floor, the room in disarray around you.

Among the useless clutter, you found a lot of dust, someone’s phone charger, and a forgotten USB flash drive under your nightstand.

“Wait, so—wait, wait.” You stood up, stumbling slightly as your knees cracked. “So, you don’t have your phone?”

The question was redundant, but Maggie didn’t mind repeating herself. She was just as confused as you were. And the handbag was the least of your problems: you did not carry a lot of cash with you when you travelled, so if you didn’t find the bag, all that you’d lose would be a travel-sized container of hand sanitiser, an old tube of lipgloss, and a package of tissues. It was Maggie’s phone that you were worried about—you couldn’t even remember putting it in your bag.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Her eyes seemed even wider than they had in the corridor. Her hair fell in chaotic curls over her face. “I couldn’t find it anywhere. I tried Find My iPhone today, but it didn’t show anything. Maybe the phone’s dead? I don’t know. I didn’t check right after we returned to the hotel, because I was sleeping. And then, this morning, I thought, well, of course the app won’t tell me where my phone is. Because you have it, and you’re right next door.”

You clenched your jaw. “Okay. Okay, I-I must have left my bag at the club. Or someone took it. We have to call them.”

“Call them?” Maggie repeated, standing up, too. She glanced around your room once more to make sure your bag had not decided to grow feet and return on its own. “What will we say?”

You did not mind the pointlessness of her question, either. Evidently, now was the precise time for stupid questions.

“That I lost it. I don’t know,” you said. “Let’s just see. Maybe I left it there.” But you hesitated as soon as you pulled your phone out. “Shit. Do you remember what the place was called?”

“Oh, yeah, I have the directions open on my pho—” She stopped tapping the pockets of her jeans, realising. “Oh, shit.”

“Fuck.”

It took you less than a second to find the solution to your new problem.

Luna and Taehyung’s room was just down the corridor, and Luna opened the door as soon as you knocked, almost as if she had been waiting for you to require her immediate assistance in this crisis.  

She could not remember many details of how the three of you got home, but she readily supplied the name of the club. Then she joined you and Maggie in your room, where your friends tried to reconstruct the events of the previous night and you dialled the number of the club, your shaky hands and frazzled mind leading you to hit all the wrong keys on your phone.

Finally, the call connected, and a cheerful, young voice introduced himself as, simply, Tom, barkeeper—although your frantic mind interpreted that as Tom Barkeeper initially, which, honestly, seemed like a fitting government name for someone tending the bar.

“Hi!” you said, your nervous voice nearing a screech. Luna and Maggie stopped talking and turned to you. “My friends and I were at your club on Wednesday night, and I seem to have misplaced my handbag. Is there any chance I left it there?”

“Let me check, miss,” Tom Barkeeper replied. You heard the faint sound of his footsteps in the background. “Could you describe it for me?”

“It—well, it was black,” you said, your palm pressed against your forehead. “With a large grey metal zipper, and sort of a—a little chain on the—”

“Er, actually, no, we’ve got no handbags at the Lost and Found,” he interrupted. “Got five watches, though.”

He chuckled lightly, and you looked up at your friends. There was a frown on your face that they immediately took to mean danger, and moved closer, settling on either side of you to listen.

“Uh, right,” you said distractedly, putting the call on speaker. “Are there any phones, by chance? There was a phone in my bag.”

“We had a couple of phones left here, but both have been picked up by their owners,” Tom B. replied. “Sorry.”

You turned to your friends, silently asking them what to do next.

“Perhaps you left your bag somewhere else?” the barkeeper suggested over the phone. “A taxi?”

Maggie, who remembered glimpses of your taxi ride, shook her head.

“Hmm. Or it was stolen,” you speculated.

Tom Barkeeper seemed surprised by this and he stuttered for a second—he had a thick accent, and even his, “well, er—I’d—uhm—” sounded really quite elegant—until he finally composed himself.

“Well, it—it does get rather busy here,” he admitted, and his voice sounded even younger all of a sudden. “I—er, was it very valuable? You could try filing a report, then we’d get our security here and rewind the CCTV footage.”

You glanced at Maggie. She shook her head again. She doubted they could find her phone in time if it really was stolen; you’d be leaving for Paris soon. She was embarrassed, too. There was nothing she could tell the police if you filed a report.

When have you last seen your phone, miss?

I have no idea, officer. I was shitfaced the whole night.

“I think we—no, that, um—we’ll try to see if there are any other places where it could be first,” you told Tom, trying to come up with a logical plan on the spot. “And then I’ll—”

“Yeah,” the barkeeper cut in, sounding relieved. “You check and call us back if you haven’t found it.”

“Yes. Thank you. Sorry to bother you.”

“That’s alright, miss,” he said. “Hope you find it.”

You ended the call with a disheartened sigh and turned to your friends.

“Well, they don’t have it,” you declared, as if they hadn’t heard everything.

“That’s great,” Luna observed. She glanced around the chaos inside your room. “And it’s definitely not here?”

“You can go ahead and look,” you said, stepping back to gesture at the piles of clothes. “I don’t know where else it could be.”

“Okay, well, Maggie and I both remember you having it with you on our way to the club,” she said. She tapped her chin and, because she had her glasses on and wore a sweater with a long white dress shirt underneath, she looked a bit like a heroine from an old Agatha Christie novel. “I remember the pins on my dress getting caught on the chain on your bag in the taxi.”

“That’s right,” you said, pointing at her, although you weren’t sure if you remembered the moment under discussion, or just the way the three of you had laughed about it later that night.

“So maybe you left it there before we even got to the club?” Luna suggested.

“No, but she still had it with her in the club!” Maggie interjected, frustrated. Her hair kept growing wilder the longer she stayed here, tousling it nervously every few seconds. “When she took our drink orders! My phone and her bag were both there.”

You and Luna both groaned, realising Maggie had already mentioned this. You were aware that the three of you had turned into a mess after just one night of drinking. Perhaps the next time you went out, you should consider bringing a chaperone, because this right now felt a lot like the blind leading the blind.

“Right,” Luna mumbled. “Sorry.”

“It’s starting to seem,” you said, “that either I left it in the taxi at the end of the night, or someone grabbed it at the club.”

Maggie nodded, agreeing with these options, even if she did not know what to do with them. You didn’t, either. Was there a Lost and Found for items accidentally abandoned in taxis? Should you have filed a report with the police, after all? Surely, they dealt with drunk people losing their belongings all the time. And maybe they could search for the phone even if you were across the strait.

Then you noticed that Luna was biting her lip, seemingly lost in a recurring thought.

“What are you thinking?” you prodded. She did not react. “Luna?”

She looked up from the floor, surprised to be addressed.

“Nothing,” she said, hesitating. “It’s sort of a conspiracy theory more than it is based on actual facts. But, um, you did mention seeing Sid and Jude at the club.”

You watched Maggie pull on her hair so hard that a few strands stayed in her grasp when she let go. Neither of you liked how plausible Luna’s not-fact-based theory was.

“You think they took my bag,” you surmised. “But why?”

“I don’t know,” Luna replied. “Why does Sid do anything?”

Your frown deepened. She had a disturbingly solid point. Sid was diabolical.

“That’s…” you faltered, thinking. “Well, he could have—although I didn’t even have anything in my bag except for Maggie’s—oh. Shit.”

Your sudden realisation—and the subsequent horror flashing across your face—surprised both girls. Maggie stepped closer to you.

“What is it?” she asked.

You pulled out your phone and opened Instagram.

“Sid posted a—he posted the picture,” you explained, scrolling down your feed, then abandoning this decision and going directly to Sid’s profile. “The one Maggie showed us at the club.”

You found the post and turned your phone towards the girls. The expressions on their faces made it very clear that Luna’s hypothesis was not far-fetched at all. Maggie looked delightfully murderous.

“Jungkook thinks Sid got it from his phone,” you said, “but what if—wh-what—”

“My phone was in your bag. He could have downloaded it from my gallery,” Maggie concluded, staring at the screen.

She wasn’t just angry about her stolen phone or the filter Sid had put over a perfectly good picture. She was also angry about him using a photograph that she was proud of to stir up trouble.

“That fucking loser,” she said. “That massive fucking piece of shit. Fucking good-for-nothing rat. Motherf—”

“Yeah, Mags,” you interjected, knowing she might not stop for a while. Last week, she had kept mumbling curses under her breath for forty minutes straight after Jimin ate the last pack of tomato ketchup crisps that she’d brought with her on tour. “We agree with you.”

Luna continued to bite her lip until it took upon an angry shade of red. She did not want to be responsible if she’d just led you in the wrong direction. Maggie already seemed prepared to crush your phone in her hand as she stared at Sid’s post.

Luna tried to reason, “we don’t know if that’s really what happened, though.”

“No, but it makes sense. You have to be right,” you insisted, glancing at the clock above the door. “Fuck. I—I have to—I have to get the band together before their soundcheck, but after that, I’m—I’ll talk to Minjun.” You brought your hand through your hair, angrier at yourself than you were at Sid right now. “We should have left the club right after I talked to Jude. It was a shitty call to stay there. But we’ll find your phone, Mags. And if Sid was really the one who took it, he’s—well, he’s not going to be taking shit from anyone anymore.”

Some of the tension in Maggie’s posture eased at your words.

“Well, we couldn’t have known they’d do something like that when we decided to stay,” Luna said, her voice comforting. “If they indeed—”

“Alright,” Maggie interrupted, taking a deep breath and returning your phone to you. “Let’s kill him.”

The room fell silent. You did not know if Maggie was aware of the undeniable resolve in her voice. She’d said that like she would have said, “let’s get lunch,” while already holding boxes of take-out in her hands.

“Or, you know,” she added in response to your and Luna’s expressions, “let’s beat him up. That’ll work, too.”

You glanced at Luna and the smile spreading on her face made you lose your calm, too.

“We’ll do that,” you promised Maggie, grinning as you wrapped an arm around her shoulders and leaned your head against hers. “If we can’t come up with anything better.”

“Hell yeah,” Luna agreed, joining you on Maggie’s other side. “He’s got a few teeth left, right? We can start counting who knocks out more. Jungkook is in the lead right now, but I don’t like losing, so—”

You and Maggie burst into laughter so loud and sudden that Luna flinched in surprise. Maggie even had to clutch your arm for support as she bent over, struggling to breathe in between wheezes. Her laughter was so infectious that Luna couldn’t keep a straight face much longer, either.

You were convinced that you would fix everything.

You’d find Minjun and ask if he had talked to Sid or Jude since Wednesday. If not, you’d get to the two of them yourself. Maggie would take care of them if they had your bag. And if, by some lucky chance, they would turn out to be innocent, you’d go to the police to find the real culprit.

You gathered the band—and Namjoon, of course—in the changing room of the venue before the soundcheck. Mindful of your limited time, you started by sharing the updates from CJ – the festivals next summer, the arena tour, and finally, the strategic shift that Jett Records was planning for Rated Riot, including your promotion and the expansion of the management team.

Once the cheers and the high-fives died down, you asked the boys to settle down for one last thing.

“The opening act,” you said, scrolling to the very bottom of the meeting agenda you’d prepared on your Notes. “Ren is still recovering from his broken foot, so we—”

“Because Ren is a whiny baby,” Jungkook chimed in helpfully. He was leaning against the wall instead of sitting around the table like the rest of his bandmates.

You gave him a look that was not particularly grateful but lacked any real threat. He grinned.

“So, Poison Tongue might be out for the rest of the tour,” you went on. “We’re talking to several other bands that might join you instead. Ivy will continue to support you on the upcoming shows in London and Paris.”

The band members nodded. They’d grown accustomed to Ivy’s presence—she used to be a tattoo artist and brought her equipment with her when she travelled, which everyone on tour appreciated. You and your girls personally found it wonderful to have another girl around.

“Alright. That was the last thing on my list, but it—there’s something else we have to discuss,” you paused, glancing around the room to keep your voice steady. Jungkook gave you a firm nod of support from the back of the room, no longer fooling around. “Uh, there was a picture posted last night. I’m sure you’ve all seen it. Namjoon took care of it; he informed the label that it’s the leaked cover of your upcoming album. But I want to emphasise that it doesn’t have to be the cover of anything. We can say it was one of the options, but we settled on something—”

“I like it,” Taehyung interjected. “The picture, I mean. I think we could use it as the cover for our next single, at least. It fits, right?”

“It does,” Yoongi agreed. You felt a tingle of unease creeping down your spine. “The lyrics match the picture very well.”

That was understandable, given the subject matter of the lyrics, but you were grateful that Yoongi did not elaborate further. You felt Jungkook watching you from across the room and your skin was burning.

“And it fits in with the rest of our album covers, too,” Hoseok joined, solidifying the consensus.

The decision had already been made, so Jungkook only shrugged when your eyes slid over to him.

“I say we use it,” he said. “It’s a great shot.”

For the first time since you joined Rated Riot, you genuinely worried that you might not keep your composure.

Every person in this room—and many people in the corridors, working on Rated Riot’s show—knew that you and Jungkook were the people in the photograph, and they all agreed to help you hide your relationship in plain sight. Aching discomfort and heartfelt gratitude fought a fierce battle inside your chest.

“Well, then, alright,” you said, your voice quivering slightly on the last syllable. You fixed your gaze on the white table. “That’s, uh, settled, then. Thank you, Namjoon, by the way. That was great quick thinking on your part.”

“No problem,” Namjoon replied. Hoseok leaned back in his chair to pat him on the shoulder and Namjoon gave him a smile before explaining, “I didn’t mean to jump the gun, but—”

“No, no,” you cut him off. “You did great. It’s—well, it’s good PR, claiming he just leaked the cover art. Thank you.”

He shrugged. “Maggie’s the one who took a great picture.”

Hums of agreement filled the room, and you nodded, too. Maggie had always been a field photographer. She felt claustrophobic in a closed photo studio, she needed the space, the action, the emotion. And she knew how to capture it all. It was a great picture. It was a shame what Sid was trying to do with it.

“She did, yeah,” you said before noticing the time on your phone. “But, uh, anyway, that—that was all. Any quick questions?”

No one spoke, and the momentary silence in the room felt a little disconcerting. These were the loudest people you’ve ever met, so you did not enjoy feeling like a teacher, asking for volunteers to solve an excruciating equation. Actually, you did not enjoy standing here at all right now; pins and needles chased each other all across your body.

“In that case,” you locked your phone and set it down on the table, “go out, and get ready for the night. It’s going to be a good one.”

Someone cried out, “fuck yes!”—it was hard to determine who, due to the immediate shouts of agreement that followed—and the boys tumbled out of the room, making as much noise as they could. Right away you felt a little better. Everyone had already been excited about the concert tonight, but the news about the extended tour and bigger venues only amplified their emotions.

You ended up watching each of the boys leap over the threshold of the door for no reason whatsoever, just to see who could jump the farthest—until Jungkook smacked his head right into the top of the door frame.

Pouting, he walked over to you after everyone else had finished laughing and left. You fixed his hair, trying to bite back your laughter, and he pulled you into a hug, groaning in disapproval when he felt you chuckle softly against his chest.

“Is your head okay?” you asked, the humour in your tone undeniable, despite your attempts to suppress it.

“No,” he said, tightening his grip on your waist until he heard your quiet gasp. “Oh, now it’s a little better.”

“Oh, it’s better,” you retorted, evidently taking up the challenge. “I see.”

The force of your grip was nowhere near as strong as his—although it was very impressive, he had to admit; he did lose his breath for a split second—but you felt his smile spread as he leaned his head against yours, and that was good enough.

He hummed against your neck, swaying with you in his arms, and you realised that you could not think about Sid’s picture or Maggie’s phone now that it was just the two of you in the room. That was good. You wouldn’t have wanted to speak to Jungkook about any of that right before his concert anyway.

“Now it’s okay,” he whispered. “Fifteen more minutes and I’ll be good as new. Maybe twenty.”

You smiled, but one of your hands had stopped drawing soothing patterns on his back.

“You have to go, though,” you reminded him reluctantly. “Jin will rip you a new one if you’re not on stage in two and a half minutes. He and Jimin got into an argument with one of the local sound engineers earlier today, so he wants to finish the soundcheck as quickly as possible.”

Jungkook groaned, releasing you, but keeping his gaze on yours.

“Can I just tell him I hurt my head,” he asked, “so I deserve special treatment?”

“Not sure,” you replied. “I think that only works with me.”

His laughter was loud and unapologetic. Before you could say anything else, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you back into his chest again, resting his forehead against yours.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, concerned about his poor time management and the relatively open space that you were in. The door was closed this time, but not locked.

“Nothing,” he replied softly. His lower lip brushed against yours as he spoke. You felt dangerously light. “If you say I’m late.”

“Well, n-not yet... You have about,” your breath hitched momentarily when he pressed a gentle kiss just under your jaw, “a minute and forty-five seconds left.”

“Well, then,” he lifted his eyes to look at you again, but only for a moment, “I have to make the most of my,” his lips touched yours slowly, but firmly, “one minute and,” his quick kiss gained more force, “thirty seconds.”

You were laughing by the time he kissed you again, and he could not stop himself from smiling, too. He knew he was running late, but he kept his lips on yours, the kiss focused, lingering, and locked your taste in a separate part of his brain—a part so full of you that it was beginning to overtake other, much less important parts.

“I love you,” he whispered, pulling away.

His lips glistened slightly from your gloss. Your heart, having already finished three laps around the venue, had now taken up parkour in the crevices of your chest.

“I love you,” you replied. You ran your fingers down his cheek, forgetting yourself, almost, when he leaned into your touch. Then you pulled back and nodded at the door. “Go now. I’ll see you after the show tonight. There’s, uh—I have a plan I want to discuss with you.”

Jungkook was about to object—you couldn’t remove your hands from his skin so abruptly, there was a certain procedure you had to follow to ensure he could still breathe when you were no longer touching him, similar to replacing nicotine patches for someone trying to quit smoking—but then he realised what you were saying.

“Oh.” He raised an eyebrow and stayed still despite your utmost attempts to push his shoulder to get him to turn around. “About Sid?”

You nodded. “Yeah. But I’ll explain later.”

You expected him to question this, to try to find out what the plan was right now, but he did no such thing. He felt happy and optimistic—kissing you might have helped with that—so he did not need to know more. You could have said that you were taking all of your staff to Argentina to escape Sid, and he would have grabbed his sunglasses.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m in, either way. Operation Cobra-Rabbit.”

“Operat—” You scoffed, suddenly remembering your conversation after the film yesterday. “We’re not calling it that. It’s not a secret operation, it doesn’t need a name. You’re going to your soundcheck now, and then we’ll—”

“How about Operation: Escape from London?” he suggested, dragging his feet as you pushed him towards the door. “Since, you know, we’re in—”

“No,” you said. “Go.”

He didn’t protest this time, because Seokjin’s angry, hurried footsteps were already reverberating down the corridor, and Jungkook did not want to piss him off more. Still, he paused again by the door, giving you one last overly dramatic nod over his shoulder as if he were in a spy film. Then he left with a triumphant fist in the air after finally earning a chuckle from you.

You shook your head as he shut the door of the room behind himself, leaving you alone—not for very long, however.

Less than a minute later, as you returned to the table that Hoseok and Yoongi had dragged to the centre of the room for your meeting, you heard the door open again. You lifted your head, ready to scold Jungkook, and saw Namjoon instead, peeking inside sheepishly.

“Hey,” he greeted, hesitating in the doorway. “Didn’t want to interrupt your meeting, so I, uh, waited until it’s over. Do you have a minute?”

A knot tightened in the pit of your stomach. There were too many things that already took you by surprise today. You were not sure how many more of them you could take.

“You wouldn’t have interrupted,” you said, mustering a smile. “You’re part of the team. Come in.”

Namjoon slipped into the room without any sound at all and took a moment to close the door, his hand lingering on the engraved knob.

“Yeah, uh—I just want to have a quick word with you,” he said, turning around. “About why I called CJ in advance.”

“Oh. You don’t have to explain that,” you said. “It—that was a good decision. Thank you for thinking of it. You might have really saved—”

Namjoon started to speak in the middle of your sentence as if he hadn’t heard you.

“I was with Yoongi in his room, working on the song, when we saw Sid’s post,” he said, clearly battling his guilt about the extra attention the picture had gained because of him. He wanted you to know that he had no bad intentions. “It was about four in the morning when we—well, actually, a fan sent it to Yoongi, and asked, “oh my god, is this the cover of your new album?” Obviously, Yoongi and I thought that was impossible; we haven’t even decided when we’re releasing this new song. We could tell that Sid was just trying to mess with Jungkook, and that it had to be you in that picture with him.”

Self-conscious when he gave you a questioning glance, you brought a hand over your neck. “It is.”

“Yeah. So, I called CJ right away,” Namjoon continued. “I don’t think I even had a clear plan of what I was going to say to him or what time it was for him. But he picked up, and I just blurted out, “our album cover leaked,” because that was what that fan had assumed. And why not, you know? If the fans think that’s what happened, why not utilise that to eradicate whatever Sid was trying to do? The picture’s really good. Might as well use it for—for a good cause, instead of whatever Sid was hoping for.”

“Right. Yeah. Exactly,” you said. The more words you used to agree with him, the clearer it became that you still wished you could have escaped this situation. “And now Sid’s caption makes it seem like he’s just—”

“Congratulating them,” Namjoon finished for you. “Happy for you, he’d said. Makes sense.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you allowed for several quiet moments to pass, lost in your own thoughts. Namjoon shifted his weight to his right leg and tucked his thumb into his belt loop.

“I, um—I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, though,” he said, looking up. “I knew things might get… weird if I didn’t do anything. The picture itself might not have caused any harm, but given the speculation surrounding it, and your upcoming promotion… I thought that using the picture as an album cover was just safer.”

“Yeah, it—no, I—I’m glad you did that, really,” you said, a little thrown off by the mention of your promotion. “I don’t know if I would have thought of a solution like that.”

Namjoon believed you would have come up with a similar plan quite easily. The problem was that you did not want to draw even more attention to the picture.

“Y-you said—um,” you added, “did you know that CJ was going to call me?”

His pursed lips turned into a timid smile.

“I heard some things…” he admitted.

You arched a surprised eyebrow. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I hear a lot of things you wouldn’t want to know.”

You nodded. You were fortunate to work with many amazing people, but you had heard their stories. You knew what this industry had been like to them before they reached this point. And you felt very blessed that these same people now shielded you from the negativity that they had not been able to escape themselves.

“Alright,” you said. You were glad, all of a sudden, that CJ had not elaborated on his decision to suddenly promote you. “That’s fair enough.”

You returned to your belongings, sliding your phone into your pocket, and Namjoon observed you in silence for a second, only moving to assist you when you began to push the table back to its original place by the window.

“So,” he said, once the room was restored to its former order, “how come you look so worried? Head Manager! That’s great.”

“Oh,” you said. “It is great.”

Namjoon knew there was more. The two of you hadn’t had many chances to have private conversations during this tour, but usually, you were the person he came to talk to about the problems in his job, and he expected the same from you.

He gestured towards the couch next to the table and waited until you took a seat before sitting down next to you with an expectant look on his face.

“It—well, really, this is great,” you said, clasping your hands together as you rested your elbows on your knees. This was standard, Namjoon knew. You needed a minute to admit what was bothering you. “I’m grateful. There’s just a lot of stuff going on right now. Nothing I want to trouble you with, but, uh, this promotion feels… well, it feels like my work had very little to do with it. They found out about Reconnaissance and just decided to promote me. I’m happy, of course, but I wish they had waited until after the tour, so I could say, with confidence, that this was due to everything I’ve achieved with Rated Riot. And not just because Nick Zhou called me one time.”

Namjoon appeared to be highly interested in one specific crack in the floorboards.

“But this is because of everything you’ve achieved with Rated Riot,” he said, not looking up. You wondered if he did that on purpose, to make you feel less like you were talking to a specific person, and more like you were just talking—so you would not feel bad about sharing your troubles. “You took the abstract concept of a European tour and brought it to life. And then Rated Riot got on stage, and the whole Europe fell in love with them. But you brought them here. You looked after them. And the staff. And, actually, their personal belongings. Sorry about Tilburg.”

You smiled, recalling the Lost Laptops of Tilburg.

“It’s nothing. I was just doing my job,” you said. “And everyone on this tour looks after one another. That—well, that’s the whole point, I—”

“No,” he disagreed, finally giving you a look. “You’re never just doing your job. You’re always doing more. You earned this. Accept it.”

Namjoon had used a very similar tone to defend you from bitter, middle-aged men who had a problem with your promotion after CJ’s assistant had brought it up at the last Zoom meeting with the executives at the company. Their issue was your young age. Namjoon did not think a person needed to start balding to be awarded for their great work.

“CJ actually didn’t even give me the option to refuse,” you said, your smile turning wry. “He just told me I’m getting promoted and I felt like I had to go along with it.”

Namjoon nodded knowingly. He had several similar experiences with Christian Jett before. He had even played tennis with him once and called him Chris—not CJ—by accident. Luckily, he managed to duck before a tennis ball came hurling at his head. Namjoon knew CJ did not give suggestions; he gave orders.

“Would you have refused, if he’d asked?” he asked you.

“No, but…” You spun your ring around your index finger and settled back against the couch. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I am—honestly, I’m also worried about my relationship with Jungkook,” you said.

Namjoon noted that this was the first time you brought this up to him without encouragement. Despite his surprise, however, he did not want to let the awkward silence take over the room, so he coughed politely into his fist and tried to reply, not particularly smoothly.

“What do you—what are you worried about?” he asked, even though that was obvious.

“I talked to Jin the other day,” you said. “He said that as long as the band makes a profit, no one’s going to care—which is true enough. But with this happening, with Rated Riot growing more and more popular, with my promotion… they will have to care. Our relationship has, obviously, never been strictly professional. And now it could hinder their plans for the band.”

Namjoon mulled over this for a minute, his gaze drifting to the expanse of the empty room. He had obviously had similar thoughts as you when he made the call to CJ, but now he realised that this was only half the picture.

“If they’re promoting you,” he began, his voice steady against the subdued air in the room, “that obviously means they want to keep you in the company. So, when they learn about your relationship, they definitely won’t immediately decide to fire you. I suppose they will ask you to end the relationship, or they won’t care about it at all. Those are the only two logical possibilities, right?”

“Right,” you agreed.

“If they tell you to end it,” Namjoon continued, “I think you’re in a position to present them with a similar ultimatum. Tell them that you will leave if they won’t accept your relationship. That is risky, I’ll admit. But they need you. And, from what I hear, they know you have other options.”

There was a quality about Namjoon that you really admired. Often, when people wanted to make someone feel better, they said things that they knew would lift their spirits—you appreciated that as well, just in a different way. Namjoon, on the other hand, managed to offer comfort tempered with rationality.

You took a deep breath and stretched your legs.

“Yeah,” you said. “Negotiate, is what you’re telling me.”

“Yes. More or less,” he confirmed. “But, of course, you have to decide what, uh—what you will do if they refuse to do it your way.”

You shook your head.

“I’ve already decided,” you said. The smile on your face was as sad as smiles could be. “If they will tell me it’s one or the other, I won’t choose to stay at the company. I’ll choose him.”

Namjoon nodded and hung his head. He hoped you would think he did that in solidarity, but, really, he was trying to hide his smile. Of course, he was a little worried about the label’s reaction. But he was also happy for you and Jungkook.

Not to mention, he had been roped into joining the bet about your relationship backstage—Seokjin was very loud, and Namjoon embarrassed very easily—and now he might have been the first to find out that he’d won.

He couldn’t resist the urge to ask, “I—are you guys, um, back together, then?”

“Honestly,” you said, snickering at the absurdity of your position, “at this point, it feels like we never even broke up.”

Namjoon’s smile was too big to hide it. “So, you are, then.”

“We are. And, it’s—you know,” you said with a shrug that was not one bit nonchalant, despite your best attempts to make it seem so, “I’d love to still be able to keep working with you guys despite that, but, uh—I’ll deal with whatever happens. If they will think this is unacceptable, I’ll leave.”

“It may not come to that,” he said, his tone reassuring, yet grounded. “There’s still a good chance that the label won’t care. I mean, Taehyung is in a relationship.”

“Yeah,” you gave him a skeptical look, “but Luna isn’t working with him.”

“True,” he acknowledged before pursuing his point further, “but that relationship only has a positive impact on the band. He’s relaxed when she’s here, her presence helps him cope with the stress of the tour… on and on this list goes.”

That was a great observation, of course. Not to mention, you enjoyed having Luna around, too. But you knew that there was more to the story.

“I had to fight for that, though,” you said. “Jett Records didn’t think we should allow any girlfriends, friends, or relatives on tour. I had a different opinion.”

Namjoon did not know this, but his surprise quickly turned to pride.

“Oh,” he said, beaming. “But you won, though. They allowed our loved ones to join. You got your way.”

“Yes, but that could be because they didn’t think the tour would be this successful,” you countered. “Sure, most of the dates sold out before we came here, but it—that’s the minimum requirement. You know that. So, alright, the label already knew that Rated Riot would gather two or three thousand people every night. But they didn’t realise there’d be another thousand waiting outside the venue in every city we visited. Their attitude might change now that they know about the level of interest in the band.”

Namjoon noticed a tentative smile tugging at your lips. Despite your concerns about the future, the fact was that this tour—with all its mishaps and accidents—had already surpassed everyone’s expectations. Rated Riot were on a clear path to success and the unexpected crowds at each venue made it impossible not to feel excited, no matter what happened next.

“That’s just the thing, though,” Namjoon said, his eyes kind. “When you came to manage Rated Riot, they were still playing in bars and restaurants. All they had was potential. But with you, they’re starting to live up to it. Not to mention... there has to be a reason why Nick wanted to scout you for Reconnaissance. The label knows they need you. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be in such a rush to promote you without even asking if you agree.”

You realised you hadn’t thought of it like that. But Namjoon was right. Everything he’d said to you was true.

You loved your job, and you were good at it. It was just this one hiccup in your otherwise excellent performance as the band’s manager that made you doubt everything you’ve done for them: you were dating the lead vocalist.

But you listened to Namjoon now, and you realised your thoughts weren’t fair. Your relationship with Jungkook did not—and never would—impact your ability to do your job, and do it well. It was not an indicator of the quality of your work. It was not proof of your lack of effort or motivation.

You were learning, through agonising trial and error almost every day, that these two roles—manager and girlfriend—could co-exist. You did not need to relinquish one to succeed at the other.

Namjoon noticed that your eyes seemed brighter, your shoulders were less hunched and you no longer averted your gaze when he looked at you. The melodic strains you heard as the band finally started their soundcheck likely helped you calm down, too.

“I realise,” you admitted, “that I am nervous about big changes. About multiple big changes, concurrently.”

Namjoon had to lean in closer to be able to hear you—Hoseok pounded his drums behind the wall as if his life depended on it.

“I think that’s normal,” he noted. “Who wouldn’t be?”

He hoped to remind you that it was very easy to get lost in your feelings and experiences, and convince yourself that you were going through them alone—but you weren’t. And you saw that very clearly today.

“And it’s okay,” he continued. “I can’t make decisions for you, but you’re—you have us. We’ll always have your back. We won’t sit idly if we find out the label made you resign.”

You took a breath and finally allowed the gratitude in your heart to really settle.

“Thank you,” you said. “For everything. I really liked your advice about standing my ground. I think I’ll try to follow it.”

Namjoon smiled at this and nudged your shoulder with his. Smiling in response, you nudged his right back.

You’ve found your family when you met Rated Riot. They made bets about your relationship, they teased each other at nearly every possible moment, they complained and argued, but they supported each other with unwavering loyalty. And you were prepared to fight, if it came to it, to stay with them.

You were convinced that CJ had put a hex on you, because you had to spend the rest of the day on your phone, arranging interviews, giving comments about the band’s plans for the future, and pacing in the corridors of the venue. You could not even return to the hotel to pick up your forgotten laptop, you had to do all the work on your phone.

You still had to figure out what happened to Maggie’s phone, but you resolved to track down Minjun and ask him about Sid and Jude later, after the incessant calls stopped. For some reason, everyone demanded to talk to you in Dutch or Swedish or something that sounded vaguely German, and all you could gather from their speech was ‘Rated Riot’ and a questioning tone at the end of the sentence.

You still hadn’t finished by the time Rated Riot began their set on stage, so you had to return to the dressing room for some silence, no matter how much you’d missed hearing the way the audience responded to the band. Thankfully, you only had two more calls to get through—both in Swedish, much to your enormous joy.

After you left the changing room to finally join Luna by the stage, you heard a peculiar sound—a soft, conspiratorial shushing from somewhere in the corridor backstage, like someone trying to beckon a cautious cat.

“Psst. Psst. Pss—hey!”

You did not immediately realise that this was aimed at you. Stopping, you looked around warily until you finally spotted Minjun’s head peeking out from behind the corridor wall. He was trying not to attract too much attention to himself, so he did not use your name.

“What’s going on?” you asked, approaching him. “Why—”

“Come with me.”

“Wh—” you began, but Minjun’s hand darted out from behind the wall, joining his head, and he seized your wrist.

He pulled you down the corridor with an urgency that made your heart drop to your knees and he refused to stop no matter how much you struggled to watch your steps.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, altering between genuine fear and irritation.

“Jude’s here,” Minjun said and tripped over something as soon as he did, forcing you to stumble, too.

“Jude—with Sid?” you asked, your insides stirring with newfound horror.

Jude never went anywhere alone, and you did not like this rush that Minjun was in to get to him. You tried once more to stop running, or slow down at the very least, but Minjun was a train, running late on schedule.

“No,” he said, his grip on your wrist firm, his eyes frantic. “Alone.”

“Why?” you pressed.

He did not reply until he brought you to a halt outside the door at the far end of the corridor, leading to what appeared to be either a utility closet or an unusually small dressing room.

“Come in,” he said then, without any explanation, and held the door open for you.

You pushed the door further.

Jude stood before you inside the room. He looked more transparent than he had at the club the other night, and you weren’t sure if this wasn’t just a hazy memory. He was holding your handbag in his hands.

You wished you were back on the phone with the impatient Swedish journalist from before.

“Hi. This is yours,” Jude said awkwardly, extending your bag towards you.

You stood in the doorway and did not move. “How did you get that?”

Minjun had to gently push your arm with his shoulder so he could enter the room. Jude appeared very small as he held out your bag and tried to find his words.

“I, um—after I talked to you at the club,” he said, “I told Sid that I saw you, and he—he made me hang around and wait until you weren’t paying attention. I told him I knew which table you and your friends were at, and he thought—h-he wanted your phone.”

He waved the handbag, his alarmingly thin arms growing tired, and you finally took it from him. Maggie’s phone was inside, snug among scattered receipts.

Luna had been right—not that you doubted her for a second. And it made sense now, why Jude had lingered that night: he was waiting for Maggie and Luna to pick a table.

“I ju—I just had to wait until you all went dancing,” Jude continued, his voice unsteady. “A-and I was supposed to grab your phone. Sid was—he was desperate.”

Your posture was rigid, your eyes locked on Jude in a way that stopped him from breaking eye contact, and even Minjun felt a little uncomfortable. He knew more of what happened, after all; Jude had to explain it all to him to persuade him to find you. Minjun did nothing to interfere now, however. Jude was the one who wanted to talk to you, so he should have been the one to convince you to listen.

“Why?” you asked finally, your voice cutting through the tense silence, and slicing into Jude’s fragile confidence.

He glanced at Minjun, who gave him a small nod. Encouraged, Jude rubbed his hands together and began to speak. He could taste bile at the back of his throat, but the bitter sensation had been there for a while.

“He was looking for something to use against you and Jungkook,” he explained. “He hoped to find an old picture or video of the two of you together. When you were—when you dated. He wanted t-to cause a little trouble. If he couldn’t find anything, then h-he would have called Jungkook from your phone to, um—to give him the wrong idea.”

You gritted your teeth, reminding yourself that Jude was the accessory and the messenger. Your desire to slam someone’s face into a wall was not aimed at him.

“This isn’t mine, though,” you said, nodding at the phone inside your bag.

“Well, wh—it doesn’t matter,” Jude dismissed it with a shrug that seemed to propel his whole body backwards. “There were a lot of pictures from backstage in the gallery. Sid thought that was good enough.”

You wished Luna or Maggie were here with you right now, maybe both. Granted, Maggie might have attacked Jude—and you weren’t sure if you would have tried to restrain her, given your own urges—but at least you wouldn’t be standing here alone, trying to make sense of what was happening. Minjun’s quiet presence in the corner of the room did not offer much comfort. He was poised to intervene as if he was waiting for you to throw a punch.

“And why are you here?” you asked Jude.

You noticed that he was leaning slightly to one side despite standing firmly on both feet, and you wondered if this was a sign of how accustomed he was to standing on Sid’s right. Or maybe he was just drunk or under the influence of something stronger.

“Because you—you don’t owe me anything,” Jude replied, and you felt even more confused. His eyes looked watery, the edges of his pupils blurred. “You hate me, actually. And you have that right, I haven’t—I haven’t been very nice to you over the years. But you—you’re the one who told me to be careful. And Sid—I was—he left me for dead when he got bored later that night.”

You frowned, meeting Minjun’s brooding eyes across the room. He knew about this, you could tell. But he wanted Jude to do the talking.

Jude continued, “it started with a nosebleed. Then, I couldn’t breathe all of a sudden. I don’t—I don’t know what happened. Sid tossed me another bag of ice as if I hadn’t already taken enough.”

You were slow to grasp that “ice” did not mean frozen water in this case, and you wondered how many different ways to describe meth Jude knew at this point.

Then you needed another second to stop your heart from overexerting itself. Your initial plan for Sid paled in comparison to the new one burgeoning in the dark depths of your mind.

“A-and then he left the hotel between my third and fourth wheeze,” Jude finished. “He said he didn’t have time for this shit.”

You allowed Minjun to give the appropriate reactions to the story—and he nodded empathetically every few seconds—while you were only half-listening.

This happened in their hotel room, then. And Jude had said, another bag.

How many bags of methamphetamine did Sid keep in his hotel room in a foreign country with possibly very strict drug regulations?

“I-I remembered you, sud—suddenly,” Jude stammered when you did not respond. You looked up, surprised by the weight of your presence in his memory. “You told me to drink water. I drank a lot that night, but it—it obviously wasn’t water. Water was—it’s not what we usually drink. I didn’t—but there was half a bottle in the room, so I finished that. I could see a little clearer after that. Or so I thought. I went to the sink, and—and drank as much tap water as I could bef—before I threw up.”

“You might have overdosed,” you observed, studying his appearance again. His bronze complexion had taken an unsettling, ashy pallor. His hands were shaking and he kept rubbing them together. He looked cold, but beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead. “Are you—”

“I don’t—it’s not my first time taking a bit too much,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow after he sensed your scrutiny. You blinked and looked away. “I’ve never really—never thought I would die before, so that was new. B-but I don’t think that I—I didn’t overdose. I think I just lost track of time because I was—I was waiting to steal your bag. For Sid.” His right hand trembled so awfully that he had to clutch it with his left to steady himself. “I’m really sorry.”

“Jude, I’m—”

“He left me for dead,” he reiterated before you could suggest calling a doctor. “You were right. He doesn’t care. I-I could have—I was de—dehyder—”

“Dehydrated,” you supplied.

“Yeah. That,” he affirmed, pausing to give you a grateful smile, then looking at Minjun for approval. Minjun did not move. Jude lowered his gaze again. “A-and he thought I was being a nuisance. He thought another dose would help me, and he just left.”

“And are you sure you don’t need help?” you finally asked. Your tone was strict, but Jude was touched by the sentiment so much that he swayed slightly on his feet. “You look like you could use some.”

He cast a pleading look at Minjun, and you feared that he was teetering on the verge of tears.

“Shit—y-you see,” he said, though it was not clear if he was addressing you or Minjun. “That’s what I mean. I don—I am—I’m fine now. I’m—I’ll be fine. I’m going home. I won’t go back to the hotel.”

Your surprise was quick and obvious, prompting Jude to launch into a hurried, almost fanatical explanation. He was eager to break through the formidable barriers of his usual reticence, which felt awkward and embarrassing now that Sid wasn’t here to tell him to keep quiet.

“I don’t want shit—I don’t want to deal with his shit anymore,” he said. “I’m flying home. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you that. Y-you don’t even—you didn’t have to say anything to me, especially after all that I’ve done, but you said that, you told me to look after myself, a-and I don’t know. You might have saved my life that night. And—and you’re—y-you want to help me now. I’m—I’ll be okay. I’m just—I’m sorry.”

You winced at his exaggeration about your conversation at the club, but Minjun was the only one who’d noticed it. Jude was oblivious in his fervent need to get the words out, to explain, to apologise, to tell you how thankful he was.

You thought his gratitude was misplaced. He would have realised what to do in that situation anyway; he’d said something similar had already happened before, even if it hadn’t been as severe. He knew he had to drink if he took substances that could lead to overheating—you just happened to repeat it to him at a convenient time.

But just as you prepared to reply, the words died on your tongue.

You realised you could use his gratitude and guilt.

“Jude,” you said, breaking the rhythm of his laboured, frantic breaths. “If you really are okay, how—how would you feel about getting even with Sid for treating you like that?”

He stopped breathing for a second, confused. “W-what do you mean?”

Your gaze shifted to Minjun, whose initial surprise quickly melted into a realisation that lit up his features. He nodded enthusiastically.

“I have this idea,” you continued, returning your attention to Jude, who remained anchored against the back wall of the room, resembling a child caught drawing on the walls with a permanent marker. “But I would need you to stay in London a bit longer. Just a day or two. Could you do that?”

“That would be fair, I think,” Minjun added hastily. Jude hadn’t even processed your request yet. “It’s the least you can do after she practically saved your life—which she really didn’t have to do. I mean, you stole her bag.”

“I—but Sid asked me to do that!” Jude protested, panicked once more. He looked at you, his brows knit in an expression of profound desperation. He genuinely felt indebted to you, and he was dying to make it right. “I wouldn’t—I didn’t want to. You’ve never done anything wrong to me.”

“Well, exactly,” Minjun continued before you could respond. He could tell that Jude’s abnormally energetic apologies troubled you. “You kind of owe her, you know?”

Jude knew. You could tell he knew because he began to rub his hands together faster, his fingers restless, agitated as they ran over his calloused skin. He looked frightened. He looked like half of a person.

You felt the first threads of remorse coil around your mind for taking advantage of him in a state like this.

“Well, I—I—o-of course, I guess,” Jude acquiesced, though his compliance seemed strained—much like the rest of his actions, really. He needed to lie in bed for a week or two. “W-what would I have to do?”

You turned back to Minjun, who appeared to be waiting for you to give Jude any command whatsoever. Jude, in turn, appeared willing to comply with any command.

It occurred to you that perhaps Jude’s obedience to Sid did not stem from a specific attachment to him. Perhaps Jude had simply chosen to surrender his free will, and now he gravitated towards anyone who could make decisions on his behalf—as long as he could justify it to himself: a decades-long friendship with Sid, or a perceived debt he owed you.

Jude—as Minjun had suggested before—just didn’t know any better. And it was so easy, so very simple for him to just let someone else take the reins. To float down the stream instead of fighting it.

“Just keep spending time with Sid like you used to, okay?” you instructed. “Act as if nothing happened between you, like everything’s alright. Yeah? And we’ll be in touch with you.”

“Yeah,” Jude replied slowly. It took him a few seconds to grasp what had been said to him. You wondered if he’d always been this way, or if this was a lingering effect of all that he had to endure in the past twenty-four hours. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“That’s great,” you said. And then, because he continued to look smaller than his shadow, you added, “I, um—I understand you’re not a fan of hospitals, but how do you feel about pharmacies? They have a great selection of supplements I think you should try.”

You handed Minjun your handbag and he watched, in bewilderment, as you led Jude out of the room. You gave Jude step-by-step instructions—in excruciating detail that Minjun thought Jude did not deserve—about what to say at the pharmacy, which vitamins to seek, what nutritional products to consider, how to drink water, what fruit to buy on the way back to the hotel, and what to tell Sid if he asked questions about any of this.

Jude wrote it all down on his phone—a process that consumed an additional twenty minutes outside the venue—before he finally thanked you, apologised another dozen times, and walked away, leaning against the side of the building for support.

When you rejoined Minjun, you felt like you had just finished teaching six kindergarten classes.

“He’s gone,” you announced, sinking into the only armchair in the cramped room. Your foot came to rest on the handle of a discarded broom. You still weren’t sure what the purpose of this room was.

“Why’d you do all that for him?” Minjun asked, handing you your bag and leaning against the wall.

“Because I don’t want Rated Riot’s opening act to be Jude dropping dead,” you retorted. “He’s severely malnourished. Does he even eat when he—anyway. I don’t know what’s going on with his nervous system, he was shaking the whole time he was here. I don’t—I’m not Sid. I can’t stand to talk to someone half-dead without trying to do something.”

“Yeah,” Minjun said, still a little amazed at your lack of hesitation when you walked Jude outside. Jude had certainly never been as terrible as Sid, but he was still Sid’s closest friend. Yet, you were eager to help him feel better, when even Minjun had given up. “You’re not Sid. That’s what got us to this point. But you, um—you still didn’t have to go to such lengths for Jude. He… he’s always had withdrawal issues. He’s going to take something as soon as he goes back to the hotel, and he’ll probably be fine again.”

You exhaled. Probably was a very heavy word to carry on your shoulders everywhere you went.

“Yeah, but at least now my conscience won’t keep me up at night,” you said, stretching your arms over your head. “Besides, we’re kind of using him, so we obviously need him alive.”

“True…” Minjun faltered, his eyes shifting to the only minuscule window in the room and squinting. He could not see anything beyond the thick glass, obscured by rain residue. “It, uh—it’s great that Jude can be our man on the inside. I’m glad he realised what a fucking bag of shit Sid is. But, honestly, I’m not sure we can trust him if we send him straight back to that hotel. He might have a change of heart.”

“I know,” you admitted. Even if Jude felt indebted to you and demonstrated that by returning Maggie’s phone, his gratitude could prove temporary. Sid had an exceptional talent for coaxing good people into bad deeds. “That’s why I’m not telling Jude anything else we’re going to do.”

Minjun turned back to look at you, intrigued. “And what is it that we’re going to do?”

“I need to do some research first,” you said, your thoughts speeding a hundred miles per minute. “Did Sid reach out to you at any point over these past few days?”

“No.”

“Alright, so it’s just Jungkook, then.” You leaned forward, considering this. “I-I don’t get it, to be honest. I mean, I get that Sid is the spawn of the devil, but really, why is he—why does he care so much? Because this isn’t some prank. He’s digging up old videos, posting pictures that could have serious consequences for us, and he’s—he made Jude hang around the club to steal my fucking bag. That’s so stupid and over-the-top that I’m not even—I mean, does he really have nothing better to do?”

Minjun did not seem to share your confusion, and your shoulders slumped in disappointment. Clearly, Minjun did not think this was out of character for Sid at all.

“Well, yeah, he doesn’t have anything else going on,” Minjun said. “He doesn’t have a job. He has money and twenty-four hours in a day. Might as well torment people. Besides, he feels wronged. He won that bet he had with Jungkook, but—”

“No, I get that,” you interrupted, your gaze drifting to the same window that Minjun had attempted to look through before. “He’s always done this. But it makes no sense to me. Fucking with people just because he thinks they’re not miserable enough. That has to be some sort of a latent inferiority complex, this need he has to prove to everyone that he’s better than them. But I don’t—he’s going to have to take his insecurities elsewhere. He’ll have to fuck off. We’ll leave him no other choice.”

When you did not succeed in seeing past the thick fog over the glass, you turned back to Minjun again. He was grinning, for some reason, his bright smile standing out against the sombre atmosphere in the room.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing.” He chuckled, excitement twirling in his eyes. “I’m glad you and Jungkook are back together.”

You looked away, pensive.

“Come on,” he said, pushing himself off the wall. “Let’s go defeat evil. I’ll help with your research.”

Minjun ended up providing fantastic assistance, and by the time the two of you had exhausted all the keywords in your Google search, you had a rough outline of what you’d do with Sid. You and Minjun both agreed that you needed Jungkook’s input, so the three of you would need to meet sometime later to finalise your strategy and set it into motion.

In the meantime, you had to find your friends, return Maggie’s phone, and update them on everything that had happened since you’d last seen them.

When you entered Rated Riot’s dressing room, the walls were pulsating with the beat of an old Arctic Monkeys song, blaring unapologetically from Yoongi’s Bluetooth speaker. You had thought you felt completely drained from this day, but the sight of everyone celebrating as they always did—as if it were the final show of the tour, the venue filled with their laughter, the floor wet from their spilt drinks—lifted your mood and your energy levels immeasurably.

Maggie was the first to catch your eye in the crowd of people. As soon as you returned her phone, a tipsy Yoongi interjected affectionately, “you find everyone’s lost eletornicks!”—which was almost an actual word, so you figured he still had room for more alcohol. He drifted away before you could say anything else, moving his shoulders to the rhythm of “Snap Out Of It” and joining Hoseok by the drinks table.

Luna noticed the slight commotion and approached you. As soon as you finished telling the girls what happened to your handbag, she broke into a surprisingly graceful, but very, very drunken performance of flailing her limbs and singing, “I knew it! I fucking knew it!” while Taehyung watched her from the doorway with unmistakable fondness. He had genuinely never looked more in love.

Then Maggie caught you off guard by wrapping her arms around you—as if you’d crossed Middle Earth and battled Smeagol for her phone—and you realised how safe, happy, and comfortable you felt here. It was such a stark contrast to the unease you had felt in Jude’s presence that you found yourself laughing, your chest feather-light.

Someone behind you suddenly cleared their throat—with such force that it sounded like they coughed up half of a lung—and Maggie pulled back, allowing you both to turn around.

Jungkook looked like he had been waiting for you to notice him for a while. Your friend snickered and hugged you once more before taking an intentionally ostentatious step back and bowing.

“She’s all yours if she wishes,” Maggie proclaimed to Jungkook, who turned to you, his eyebrows raised.

You nodded. “She wishes.”

Chuckling, he pulled you close. He was still high from the concert and just as lively and animated as everyone else in the room. The second he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck, he refused to let go, finding that only fair since you had ended up missing his show tonight.

You realised, while fighting for breath in his suffocating grip, that the two of you did not look strange or inappropriate to anyone who noticed you, despite standing almost in the middle of the room, wrapped around each other. You expected to feel anxious about the public display, and were surprised to feel comforted instead.

No one cared.

Unbeknownst to you, the bet backstage had ended, and now that everyone here knew that you and Jungkook were back together, they were no longer invested. They won their money—or lost, in a few cases—and moved on to make bets about whether Taehyung, who was too prideful to sing without his bass, would start singing along to Luna’s playlist on Yoongi’s phone.

No one cared.

Surrendering to Jungkook’s touch, you abandoned your other plans and relocated with him to the far corner of the room, separated from most of the dangerous festivities—Seokjin and Hoseok had bumped foreheads while dancing just as you walked past them—by a heavy rack of clothes.

Jungkook lied down on the couch with his head on your lap, recounting how he had accidentally turned off his microphone in the middle of his break during the encore and had to yell his speech at the audience because he couldn’t turn it back on.

“I’m glad your throat is alright,” you remarked. The warmth of your touch and the lightness of your tone filled him with something that tasted like honey on his tongue. “The rest of the guys also sound like they just got off the tallest ride at the amusement park.”

Jungkook’s laughter was soft, laced with a lingering echo of the concert that still reverberated in his mind amidst the lively chatter and the music in the dressing room.

“After the show,” he said with an unusual gravity in his tone, juxtaposed against the serenity in his eyes while you ran your fingers through his hair, “someone asked Yoongi and me about our new music. They asked if the picture on Sid’s account was a leaked album cover. We said yes. So, that—that’s confirmed now.”

Your hand stilled, and Jungkook lifted his head. He did not like the emotion he saw in your eyes when he looked at you and he felt melancholy, all of a sudden, for the moment you’d just shared. He wished he hadn’t said anything.

“Oh,” you replied. “That’s good.”

But it didn’t feel good. He couldn’t shake the memory of the way you’d looked after the band had unanimously decided to use the picture as the cover art for their next single. It seemed like the fact that everyone knew about your relationship was physically weighing on you.

He hadn’t said anything to you earlier, not wanting to exacerbate your anxiety, but he couldn’t keep this to himself now.

You’d promised each other communication.

“I—uh,” he sat up properly and you felt an odd ache inside when his head was no longer resting in your lap, “I know you’re not comfortable with us using the picture for that, um—for that particular purpose. And—and I get that. I just, uh—I just wanted to ask if y—if the actual problem here is that others know about us.”

The look on his face was an echo of your conversation last night. It threw you off balance, this statement, not even an actual question, and you were all the more aware of the loud beating in your chest and in your head. The music drowned out any chance of others overhearing your conversation, but it also muffled your thoughts.

You took a deep breath, so you could explain everything.

“No,” you said. Then once more, to make sure he heard you, “no. That’s not it. I don’t want—my problem is that we barely had one day together, you know? I would have liked some time alone with you before it all exploded. But Sid posted that picture, and now—now everyone in this room knows we’re definitely together. I mean, they already suspected it, since we’re not as discreet as I liked to think. But, uh, still. I am learning to be okay with others knowing, though. And I want you despite that. Despite others. Despite everything. I want to be with you. I just wanted to reveal our relationship to the public in our own time. Not Sid’s.”

Jungkook was not sure if you said anything else after I want you, because he certainly had not heard a word.

Frankly, he didn’t care about any public pictures. He wouldn’t have cared if a hurricane swept through the place, tearing down buildings and leaving debris that spelled out your names in the shape of a heart. But he knew you cared.

And yet—I want you despite everything.

He was crazy. Positively mad. A raving lunatic, really. He wondered if there was any medicine to subdue his symptoms because he did not think this was good for his health.

“Okay,” he said, looking down to get his feelings and his thoughts together. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re good,” you said. “It was—a lot of things happened today, and I was—I feel like I’m losing my head a little bit. But you and I are not—we’re not one of the things I’m confused about.”

He gave you a concerned look as he settled back on the couch. “What happened?”

You took a breath and recounted the story about Maggie’s missing phone, Luna’s observation—manifestation, almost—and Jude’s visit, which sparked the idea to include him in your plan to retaliate against Sid.

Jungkook spent a minute nodding, rubbing his chin, and moving his eyebrows up and down and sideways.

“Okay, that—that’s a lot of—and, uh—” He leaned forward, feeling a bit like the two of you had lived through an entire decade in one day. He could not summarise it all in one word. “What’s your plan?”

You took another breath. You and Minjun had checked and double-checked everything, so you were sure you had this part of your research right. The challenge of your plan came from the parts that couldn’t be researched in advance—the parts where you needed Jungkook.

“Did you know,” you started, “that the penalty for methamphetamine possession in the UK is up to seven years in prison? Apparently, it’s a class A drug.”

Furrowing his brows, Jungkook gave a slight nod of his head. “Uh… okay.”

“Right. Well, see,” you were sitting on the very edge of the couch, restless suddenly, “Jude mentioned tripping on ecstasy and speed that night I saw him at the club. And now, while returning Maggie’s phone, he mentioned Sid casually giving him a bag of meth. Just there, in his hotel room.”

“Mmhm, he—wait.” Jungkook straightened. “W-what are you saying?”

Someone jostled the rack of clothes next to your couch, causing a few hangers to clatter to the floor. You heard an excited shriek, followed by laughter, as two pairs of hands scrambled to pick up the clothes and hang them back in place.

You lowered your voice and moved closer to Jungkook on the couch. “You know what I’m saying.”

“I’m—”

“If a penalty exceeds twelve months,” you continued, “a person may be deported. That also sounds alright.”

Jungkook paused to listen to the sounds inside the room: the clothes rack had now been pushed back, shielding you from the rest of the room again, but limiting his view. He could hear Taehyung singing along to “Do I Wanna Know?” by the drinks table while Luna and Maggie waved the flashlights on their phones dreamily for extra ambience in the dimly lit room. He could also see, most unusually, the way Hoseok and Jimin seemed to be exchanging money right behind the two girls.

Jungkook leaned in even closer to you.

“You want to deport Sid?” he asked. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek when he spoke. “A-and lock him up?”

“Actually, I want to wring his neck and use his head to scare off pigeons,” you said. “But that would result in me getting locked up, and I really don’t have time for that right now.”

You watched the corners of Jungkook’s lips twitch as he tried to suppress a smile.

“No?” he teased, unable to resist. “I might like that. Think about all the street cred I’d get with a jailbird girlfriend.”

You snorted. “Yeah? Two one-hour visits every four weeks sound hot to you?”

“Hmm.” He pursed his lips. “No. You have a point, that won’t do it. I need you with me. Should we—should we tell Minjun about this plan, then?”

“Minjun knows. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow, okay? But I—I promise we’re going to teach Sid a fucking lesson,” you said. “And then I’m going to tell the label we’re together, and all will be right in the world for fucking once.”

Jungkook didn’t think he’d ever wanted to kiss you more than he did right then. The air around you felt static, and the bodies behind the clothes rack did not feel particularly corporeal. The side of his chest was pressed against yours and he could feel your heartbeat speed up when his gaze flickered to your lips.

“You know, you can be really evil sometimes,” he remarked, chuckling when you raised your eyebrows. “I love it. Count me in. Sid won’t know what fucking hit him, and I want to be there to see it. Not going to lie, though, it does sound like Operation: Escape from Londo—”

“No.”

You thought you could feel his laughter resonating in your chest.

“Can we do that, though?” he whispered after a moment. “Can we—you know? Deal with Sid? In-between dealing with the label?”

You nodded. You were determined to find your happy ending and, watching the faint lights reflected in Jungkook’s eyes, you thought you could already see it, waiting for you in the distance.

“If we handle Sid,” you said quietly, “we can handle anything.”

Jungkook liked the sound of that very much—almost as much as he liked the song playing in the background while he breathed in your scent, while he allowed it to engulf him, to drown his senses, to annihilate any sanity he had left.

However, he was aware that for a long time before this moment, he had been making all the wrong choices while dreaming of the right outcomes. It would take some time for him to adjust to the fact that he lived a different life now—a life where you were by his side, and his reality was suddenly significantly better than his dreams. He would need to hear you tell him that it was going to be okay just a few more times.

“And if the label says that no, we can’t, actually?” he asked, his tone hushed.

He was very close and you could no longer look at him without your vision clouding. Your head spun so much that your thoughts felt tipsy. You lowered your gaze to his chest, avoiding the sight of him biting his lip.

“I’ll just leave, then,” you replied.

Jungkook pulled back suddenly. “You—but—no.”

You were breathless and slightly disoriented when you raised your head. The room was very dark, and he was very far away.

“We—we’re staying together regardless,” you said, distracted.

He still looked wounded.

“But that’s not fair to you,” he argued.

You shook your head and sighed. The Arctic Monkeys song on the speakers faded, changing to Rated Riot’s “Cursed,” and the room erupted into cheers as if the band members themselves had stood up to perform the song. You shivered under Jungkook’s gaze.

“That—it doesn’t matter,” you said. “I already told you before. If that’s the only way we can work, I don’t mind leaving the company. I’ll miss everyone, but I’m—we’d stay in touch anyway, I’m sure.”

Jungkook was torn. He wanted to tell you not to go—cast a spell or a curse, whichever worked—but his song played in the background, and you were trying very hard to keep a straight face on the couch next to him. It felt like a spell had already been cast.

He didn’t want you to leave, and in this moment, he felt convinced that you never would. You were not meant to.

“At least fight back,” he said, “if these fucking lawyers have a problem with us being together.”

A smile finally broke through your restraints.

“I will,” you promised. “You want me to punch someone? Knock out their teeth for good measure?”

He grinned, too. His black eye had already healed, save for a few stubborn cuts around his cheekbone. The altercation he’d had with Sid seemed a lifetime away—a lifetime that he was not sure belonged to him anymore.

“Please,” he said.

“Hmm.” You leaned in closer, brushing your fingers over the side of his neck. “I’ll see what I can do without joining Sid in prison.”

He felt the way his skin came to life, the way all of his cells leapt up and screeched, as soon as you touched him. He thought that perhaps he had contracted some sort of eye disease on top of his blatant insanity, too, because the dark room had brightened all of a sudden.

He knew he had gone right out of his mind, and he’d never felt better.

“I love you,” he whispered, and his nose touched yours when he said it.

“I love you,” you whispered back, and the happy ending that you had seen in his eyes felt no more than a breath away.

It approached you in silence, dimming the lights in the room, and in the building, and on this side of the world, so it could light the ones in your eyes and your chests.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jungkook whispered, the tips of his fingers tracing tenderly over your cheek. He felt it coming, too. “And I hope you stay.”

You closed your eyes. “I promise I’ll do everything to stay.”

Your lips finally touched his, and he discovered that you tasted exactly like the medicine he needed to halt his descent into madness, to calm the anxious beating of his heart, to clear his uncertain mind, and to dry the ink he’d used to engrave your name onto his soul.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “exit wounds”

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[100jewels-between-teeth]

18+ Oneshot

Word count: 3055

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~ Summery: They both could not truly understand if this was the reality they were gifted, or elaborate hells that they were still stuck within. But through late night reassurances before their final fight, they both find themselves grounded in a crazed reality that could only be blissful as long as they are with one another.

Lucanis x f!Rook de Riva

Cw: Smut, just pure lovemaking smut, overstimulation AN: So... this is my first smut posting here so... well enjoy. Im def not nervous. Huge massive shoutout to @enterthedreams for the beta!!! Honestly youre my favorite person.

Something about the sound of his steady heartbeat harmonizing with the calm breathing that caressed her damp, flushed face, was nothing short of bliss. The couch had been abandoned at some point during their second round. Now they were just content to lay on the floor, surrounded by blankets and candles bathing them both in a romantic glow. Between that and the reflective veins of the aquarium above, Avantika could not help but think this all looked to be the most ethereal dream. 

To see Lucanis like this, to even hear him like this, made him more godlike than any of the Evanuris could think to achieve. Lucanis must have noticed the silent adoration that Rook was giving him. A brow arched as he reached to move some hair that remained stuck to her skin away. His hand did not immediately retreat, taking a moment to trace the outline of her cheekbone. It followed down until the tip of his finger was resting at the bottom of her chin. Without even a silent command, Rook leaned in to have her lips grace his own – a kiss of gentle tenderness and love. “What has your mind distracted, mi diosa?” The look of concern on Lucanis’s features immediately tugged at her heart, wanting to eradicate any kind of emotion that was not happiness in this moment, in this little world they had created. 

Concern was for what would take place in the morning, not now. Not here. “Would you believe me if I said you?” The smile that she gave him was one filled with dimples on her cheeks and teeth. 

Lucanis’ own reflected straight back, a smile that would tear down the heavens. It was a privilege to Rook that she had been gifted his smile. His trust and comfort. That kind of smile could only be reciprocated with another kiss, moving from his lips to the bags under his eyes. For the first time, Avantika felt the exhaustion in those beautiful eyes was warranted. They both had given up on sleep a long while ago. 

Lucanis was right. 

How on earth could either sleep when the other was like this? “I could only hope it is good. I know it has been a while so my skills might take some ti – ” Before Lucanis could even finish the sentence, Avantika was quick to cut him off. “Oh, shut your fucking mouth.” 

She all but pounced on his broad chest, attacking his face with her lips while tenderly pecking and nipping as his own laughter filled the room. Strong arms wrapped around the woman as he took her in a roll, accepting this defeat as he got Rook on her back. The sight of him above her, eyes filled with nothing but love looking into her own almost brought her to tears. But in this light, the reflections of water mixed with the flickering candlelight, she could not help but have her eyes drawn to that silver puckered skin on his chest. Which only brought her eyes to all the others that littered his body. It came with the job, the scars. 

Lucanis probably noticed at some point with all the clothes flying off that Rook had her own. Some Crows – usually Viago – would tell anyone that scars meant a sloppy job. Crows were meant to be clean. Quick in and out performances. From what Avantika could assume, neither her nor Lucanis were exactly fitting that description. 

Catching the direction of her eyes, a small smirk grew. He raised himself into a seated position on her lap as Avantika rested upon her shoulders. “My cousin gave me that one, funnily enough.” Lucanis shrugged, the pad of his thumb tracing over the two inch long pinkish line. “We were sparring in the garden, and snuck a couple of Caterina’s knives. You know how it goes, stupid kids playing with knives.” “So what you’re saying is that he beat you?” It took everything in Avantika not to let out a little snicker. “What?! No! I beat him and he gave me this because he is a sore loser!” Lucanis placed his hand over his heart in mock offence. But the flint in his eyes gave away that jovial mischief. “I killed a god, Rook! You think my cousin is going to best me?” “Okay, okay!” Rook lifted her hands in surrender, seating herself up more so that they were both level with each other. Lucanis made sure not to keep his whole weight on her legs or hips. “I'm just saying it only took until the second chance and – ” “And I did not have a demon, nor a woman like you, distracting my thoughts then, pequeña cuervo.” Lucanis’s voice dipped to a playful low growl, taking her face in his hands as he traced the tip of his nose against hers. “I'd say that is unfair.” 

For as much as this man tried to play that intimidation game, they both knew with Avantika, he could only be this soft man. “Ah yes. My fault, I see your game, Dellamorte.” Avantika playfully pushed the man away, moving to stand with the destination of nowhere in mind. “I see how it is.” 

The arm that wrapped around her waist was expected, Avantika letting Lucanis pull her back as he assaulted her neck with kisses. 

“Forgive me diosa, I mean it as the greatest compliment.” His nose buried in the thick wild mass of her hair as he took a deep breath of her scent. 

Rook felt him rock their bodies back and forth, his bare chest pressed against her bare back as his face travelled from her neck to the line of her shoulders. Avantika had learnt much from this night. Like how this man could spend literal hours just memorizing every dip and valley of her body. How there was not an inch of skin he would leave unappreciated, unadorned with his branding lips and igniting breath. How Lucanis could be so determined to find every spot that made Avantika shudder, whimper, bite her lip to suppress that moan he was chasing. 

Maybe it was for the thrill of the sexual experience. That carnal desire both had suppressed for however long in their lives, let it be their choice or otherwise.  

It was so much more than just a simple desire. It was reassurance, to make sure that what they were tasting, kissing, loving, was real and tangible. That what they were trusting with their most vulnerable hearts was real, that the safety and love they both wanted to shelter them was truly existing. 

So the lingering touches, whether it be to explore a desire or just for the comfort of feeling they were there, helped the both of them. When Lucanis kissed from one shoulder blade to another, humming happily to himself as he felt the trail he left behind bloom in blush, she smiled, nuzzling into the skin. “And the others? Were those Illario too, or do you just have that many sore losers you fight?” Rook could not help but giggle at the small bite Lucanis left in warning following a growl. 

She turned around in his arms. Now Avantika sat in his lap with both legs on either side. Leaning back, she could hear that stifled whimper Lucanis gave, not wanting her too far away from his adoring touch and gaze. Her fingers went to his lips, playfully hushing him. Those wide brown eyes looked to her with deepest reverence, his lips automatically capturing the pads of her fingertips between his lips and his beard tickled the skin he kissed softly. Finally breaking her focus away from that beautiful face, her amber eyes fell back to those scars decorating his body. Some were jagged, rough, and others seemed so precise and delicate. It truly was a strange kind of tapestry of his life he bore. Where some were faded, only a ghost of a story lingering, others seemed quite new, possibly no less than a year old. That thought made Avantika swallow the sudden lump in her throat as Lucanis reached to gently brush her cheek. Rook’s eyes flickered back to him. 

A silent question being asked as her hand fell away from his face, instead ghosting over the scar they both had just focused on. Compared to the others, it was rather tame. Of course, if touching such wounds was far too fast, too personal for Lucanis to deal with right now, Avantika would stop immediately. But with a shivering breath, goosebumps appearing on his skin, he nodded. His right hand took hers softly, directing her to another, far more jagged scar over his right bicep. Her touch was featherlight. As if Lucanis would just shatter like glass if she applied any more pressure. Whether it was her touch, or his scar being touched specifically, Lucanis let out a shudder, his breath hitching in his throat as Avantika slowly traced over every curve. His hand fell away, letting Avantika fully explore the canvas of this man. 

“Ambushed on a job.” For how jovial he sounded, Lucanis's voice was almost breathless. “Not that the target had any backup, but the attic I chose to enter seemed to have a hermit also residing there. Maybe I deserved it for disturbing the peace of his sleep.” 

When he finished speaking, a few deep breaths followed. Avantika’s hand traced over the valley of his chest, finding a scar just on his shoulder. This one was much different – not a stab or a cut, but instead a burn just slightly smaller than her palm. “A couple years ago, one of my targets really didn’t want to go down without some sort of blaze of glory.” Something in Lucanis’s voice became quieter, more wistful as Avantika’s finger traced small circles within the taut skin. “Burnt their entire estate to the ground. Still managed to get him, but I didn’t really consider the falling debris.” 

“Viago had told me about that incident.” Avantika could not help but snicker and flick the nose of the man whose expression went from light to deadpan. “Said that is the reason if you take a contract, make sure you case the home for the smell of oil.” 

But hearing the woman laugh, he could not stop the smile reappearing. Seeing the smile too, Rook nuzzled her nose to the corner of his lips, eliciting another low chuckle from the Crow as she continued her discoveries. That finger of hers trailed from the shoulder down his arm, asking about every little story Lucanis could remember. Some were from little accidents; falling from roofs, lost drunken bets, Illario being the cousin that he is. 

Others, she could feel his body stiffen at the stories, some much harder to stir in his memory than others. For those particular reflections, Avantika’s hand would reassuringly stroke Lucanis’s hair, not wanting such memories to take over his heart and mind from the small bubbled world they had created. There came a point where Avantika stopped asking. Where both of their voices just somehow drifted away as she traced over the scars over and over. 

Then she felt, to herself at least, her touches were not enough. That just a lingering touch could not help heal the wounds of memories left behind. She may not be able to heal them completely, but the least she could do was make sure he was never alone in facing the dark. At this point, Avantika had homed herself behind Lucanis, the man’s back to her chest. When her finger disappeared, and for a moment there was just the ambient air around them, a soft and fleeting whimper escaped Lucanis, having grown so accustomed to her adoring touches. But what was once just the feeling of a featherlight finger became replaced with the burning warms of Rook’s lips, capturing the puckered flesh of the healed wound between her lips. 

Where Lucanis had just let out near breathless whimpers before, this touch had made those sounds change to something far deeper, more guttural. The sound sent shivers and pleasured waves through Avantika’s body, only able to take that as the go ahead to keep moving forward. 

For the next blissful eternity, Avantika worshipped every scar, every physical remnant of a memory on Lucanis’s body. Her lips, tongue, even teeth did everything they could to kiss away whatever metaphorical demons lingered within them. It did not take long for Lucanis to lose whatever sliver of control he had over himself in this moment, his body shuddering every time her lips graced another scar. 

Bit back moans became guttural growls and whined pleading, words incomprehensible. But, slowly, so agonizingly slowly, Avantika made her way around the man’s body. From his back, down the length of his arms. Even his hands and fingers did not escape her worship, those small worn knicks and weathered callouses receiving nothing but love from her mouth and breath. By the time Avantika returned to straddling Lucanis’s hips, he had become a shivering, opened mouth mess. Gasping open-mouthed breaths, skin fire-hot and oversensitive. Avantika could only assume not once had this man ever felt this kind of care, this kind of much deserved appreciation given to his body. If together meant forever showing this man the love and adoration he deserved to feel for the rest of his life, Avantika would willingly take it. 

For the next million lifetimes over. Her lips finally broke away from her journey. Then Lucanis’s arms shot up to hold her own, white knuckled like she was the only lifeline he could cling to. For a moment, Avantika saw the panic in his eyes – one that the two seemed to share. The panic that this was not real, that the two were in some elaborate and cruel dream. His mind still in the Ossuary partly, this being some new method of torture concocted by Calivan. 

To her, this could have been another visage in the Fade. Solas being cruelly sympathetic and letting her live out the rest of existence in the Fade in some warped, tortured dream. But as his breath once again caressed her face, his heartbeat thrumming in his chest, Avantika knew that this was true. 

This was real. 

This was their eternity, together. And if she had to prove that, by the gods she would. Before he could speak of their worries, her hand found his lips again. Lucanis’s eyes rolled to the back of his head at the contact, his breath shuddering. Rook kept her own mouth nearly a breath away from his, drinking in every gasp and moan that he fed her with. His arousal was already quite prevalent against her thigh, exhausted and oversensitive from the prior adorations of the night, but still somehow more. 

For a long moment, Avantika just kept herself still, falling into the abyss that was his gaze. A stare filled with love and pure bliss at what was being held in his arms. Letting her hand slowly slip away again, she silently allowed Lucanis to help lift her waist, their faces not breaking the miniscule distance from each other. Both wanted to drink this in, drink each other in. To witness their eyes, their breaths, their very beings connecting as one. And so it did. 

Slowly, he sheathed himself within her warm walls once more. The overstimulation of the night prevented him from fully entering completely, letting out a long whine at the surge of overwhelming pleasure that shot through him. Avantika could not blame him, her own mewl following as her sex automatically tightened as much as it could from the entrance. 

Both were well spent, well satisfied, but this coupling was far more than just sex, just chasing pleasure. This was the two solidifying themselves in reality, within each other. Drinking in her moans, Lucanis canted his hips upward, sharply letting the rest of himself become engulfed. The cry that ripped through his throat was quickly devoured by Avantika’s kiss. Not a kiss of precision, but one full of teeth and tongue – one that just needed to devour him completely. 

He groaned into her mouth, his own kiss sloppily reciprocating as the two began to move together as one. Both of their hips rolled simultaneously as they cried out in a frenzied ecstasy. Rook finding all the scars again to drag her nails along, eliciting the most erotic and passionate cries from the Crow beneath her. That is when the first tear fell from Avantika’s face. 

She did not know what exactly made her cry through all this. The immense pleasure he was giving her with every stuttering thrust, the wailing cries and whimpers they both fed each other, or just the knowledge that he was here with her. 

That all of this was real. That their love was real. 

So when the tear fell to his cheek, he immediately latched his lips to her face, kissing away every exhausted tear she produced as his own materialized. Neither knew how long they rocked with each other, neither really seemed to care. Avantika had let herself go, losing count on how many times Lucanis had made her unravel into jaded oblivion. He had come with her, his seed filling her core and overflowing, dripping like the tears on her cheeks, thighs slick with the physical representation of Lucanis’s adoration. It could have been an hour, to them they did not care if it was days spent like this either. But pulling away one more time, collapsing on their side to the floor as their legs were wrapped in a tangled heap, Lucanis kissed the remaining tears away, Avantika following suit. “Diosa mía, mi vida, mi corazón y mi ser son sólo tuyos. Te amo, mi pequeño cuervo.” Lucanis followed his words with a long, lingering kiss, one that carried the love of his words.  Avantika could not help but let out a choked sob at the beauty of his words. A language she had to learn, that she thanked every god above she kept remembrance of. With her own reciprocating kiss, capturing his lower lip between her teeth, she looked up into his eyes, her hand wiping away the remaining tears staining his cheek.

“Lucanis… You're really here, we are really here. My love for you, truly, is here.”

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mi diosa - my goddess pequeña cuervo - little crow Diosa mía, mi vida, mi corazón y mi ser son sólo tuyos. Te amo, mi pequeño cuervo - My goddess, my life, my heart and my being are yours alone. I love you, my little crow.

[bosbas]

Chapter 3: best believe I'm still bejeweled

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.7k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You're struggling to find someone you're as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

May 19, 1814 - Today marks not only the birthday of our illustrious Queen Charlotte but also the grand event eagerly awaited by all of London's high society: the splendid Queen Charlotte's Ball.

The air is thick with excitement as the ton awaits the debut of our beautiful new bachelorettes for the season. Rest assured, dear readers, this author shall be your eyes and ears throughout the evening, ensuring you are privy to every scandal, dance, and whispered secret that unfolds at this momentous celebration.

The air was, as Lady Whistledown had said, thick with something, although you weren't quite sure it was excitement. Your stomach was tied in a complete tangle of knots, and said knots were doing cartwheels all over the dressing room you were currently in. Looking over at Cass and Eloise eating biscuits and giggling together on the other side of the room, you desperately wished you could stay with them rather than go to the ball.

Until this morning, you had been cautiously optimistic about the whole affair, excited about being courted despite your strong reservations about marriage, knowing it would most likely be a significant loss of your freedom. But at least in the beginning, when you didn't have to immediately think about the greater implications of courting, you could pretend that getting to know people and dancing and receiving flowers could be just fun. But now, with your mother and Lady Violet excitedly chattering around you as your lady's maids rushed to and fro, grabbing your makeup and jewelry, you were less than ecstatic.

Just as the claustrophobia was getting to be a bit much and you were quite ready to jump out of the window into the garden and take off running, Daphne entered the dressing room. Shooing the lady's maids away momentarily, Daphne offered a sympathetic look and sat beside you. You shot her a grateful smile, immediately letting out a breath, slumping your shoulders, and resting your chin on your gloved hand.

"Oh dear, I know that look very well," Daphne laughed. "It's not all bad, I promise."

Rubbing your temples, you confessed, "I know. I was excited until this morning. It's all rather overwhelming now that I'm actually experiencing it, though. What do you even talk about when you're dancing? What if no one wants to speak to me at all?"

Upon hearing the distress in your voice, Daphne quickly interjected. "Honestly, I was much more of a wreck than you were and I am frankly impressed by how well you're holding it together. My best advice would be to not think about it too much. It's harder to do in your position, I know, but you are so brilliant in every way, and everyone is dying to get to know you. It's a wonderful advantage to have. You get to be selective. So just be yourself the best way you know how and try to seek out the ones who make you feel the most comfortable."

You responded with a small laugh, "I guess it's a good thing Ben isn't here then; otherwise, I'd be spending the whole evening with him."

An indecipherable look took over Daphne's features. "It truly is beyond me why he would miss such an important day. Men being men, I suppose. But it's alright. You have the entire Bridgerton clan in his stead, not to mention your family. And speaking of Benedict, he did leave a note with me he wanted me to give you today." Daphne handed you a small rectangular envelope with your name in Benedict's scrawl across the front. Daphne reached over and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "you look absolutely stunning. You have nothing to worry about."

Giving her friend a final kiss on the cheek, Daphne stood up and joined the excited mothers on the other side of the room, allowing you a moment to carefully open the envelope in your hands.

Y/I (your initial), 

Hopefully, Daphne will manage to deliver this on time. I'm dreadfully sad I can't be there with you today, but I know you will impress absolutely everyone in attendance. Send Lady Danbury my regards. Or perhaps don't. Whichever makes it less likely I have to dance with her at the next ball I attend!

Yours, B

Smiling to yourself, you felt just a tad more prepared to face the queen in a short time, Ben's note filling you with confidence and Daphne's reassuring words soothing your anxieties.

---

An earlier conversation with Hyacinth had left you terrified of falling flat on your face tonight, so you were intently focused on completing each step as smoothly as possible. As the last debutante to be presented to the queen, your goal was to draw as little attention to yourself as possible, but you found the opposite. The room hushed as you entered, which you were worried about until you saw everyone's warm smiles and eager gazes. Newly filled with confidence, you gracefully completed your journey to the throne, where you curtseyed before Queen Charlotte.

Upon receiving the queen's enthusiastic approval, you heaved a sigh of relief. Now, you could enjoy the ball and take in all the new experiences of being out in society. The ballroom was a dazzling display of candlelight, silk gowns, and a polished dance floor as the orchestra played a lively tune. However, the moment of peace was quickly interrupted by many people rushing to talk to you at once. Gracefully moving from one conversation to another, you were enjoying the whirlwind of your debut. Invigorated by your earlier conversation with Daphne, you embraced the attention, excitedly introducing yourself and exchanging pleasantries as you attempted to move toward your mother a few yards away.

After talking to quite a few eligible bachelors and a not-insignificant amount of their mothers, you reached Countess Beaumont and the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton. "Oh, Y/N, your dance card seems to be full! Not even five minutes after you've been presented, no less! That's quite wonderful. I was worried I'd have to send Colin and Anthony to dance with you," your mother exclaimed, cheekily winking at you.

Violet laughed and shook her head. "They should be so lucky! All everyone is talking about is how beautiful you look, dear. Not news to us, obviously, but it's nice to see other people recognizing it."

Truthfully, you were over the moon. You loved to dance, after all, and looking out toward the ballroom, you could see all three of your brothers, your father, Anthony, Colin, and Daphne, scattered throughout. You felt oddly comfortable being in such a new environment, and perhaps Daphne was correct: you could be selective. You had even turned away a few gentlemen who asked you to dance before your card was full, opting to wait for the ones with kind smiles and kinder words.

Just then, Lord Marcus Thornfield approached you, having already been one of the people on your dance card, and you were once again taken aback by his piercing blue eyes. He bowed elegantly and offered a boyish smile and his gloved hand. "It's lovely to see you again, Miss Beaumont, still looking completely stunning. Would you do me the honor of sharing this dance with me?"

You could feel your face getting a tad hot, overwhelmed by the flattery, but at the same time soaking it in thoroughly. You curtsied slightly and placed your gloved hand in his. "Mr. Thornfield, I would be delighted," you replied.

Then, addressing the other two women in the trio, Lord Thornfield said, "If you don't mind, I'd love to borrow Lady Beaumont for a dance."

Thrilled about your first dance at a ball, your mother and Lady Bridgerton enthusiastically assented, clasping their hands together and waving at the pair of you as you approached the dance floor. Sporting a broad smile, you allowed Marcus to escort you away.

As you glided through the dance floor with Marcus, making soft and sometimes flirtatious conversation, you found that you much preferred him before speaking to him in depth. Although he was a complete gentleman, you often found his conversation topics tedious at best and boring at worst. Of course, it was unreasonable for you to expect in-depth and completely captivating conversations like the ones you had with Benedict, but you felt like the chat with Marcus could have at least been engaging. You could not recall a single question he had asked you throughout your interaction, opting instead to talk about himself and occasionally compliment your appearance that night. Surely, there was more to life than hearing a man drone on endlessly about his own life. Toward the end of the dance, you were glad to reach your mother once again, practically begging for an excuse to slip away from Marcus.

Your next dance was better but by a slim margin. The man, Earl Ashton, was nice enough, but you didn't quite feel a connection with him as strong as you would have liked. The following two dances and three conversations that did not involve dancing were mostly the same. The most common question you received, which often was the only one you were asked in the entire interaction, was the reasoning behind your delay in coming out. You took this opportunity to talk about literature, sometimes delving into your latest read. However, save for two or three of them, most of the bachelors you spoke with were not interested in further discussing your studies. After yet another boy refused to engage in real conversation, opting to talk about his upcoming hunting trip, you saw your mother raising her eyebrows at Violet and casting an inconspicuous disapproving look toward the man you were speaking with.

A tad frustrated by your experience, but not enough to dim the glow you were feeling, you decided to take respite at the refreshment table. You were sipping on lemonade and attempting to decipher what was missing from your previous interactions. Partially, you recognized that you were to blame for having set such high standards with Benedict. You knew meeting someone and getting to know them was not the same as speaking with your best friend since childhood, but it seemed instinctual to compare the two. Most of the men you talked to were leagues better than Marcus Thornfield, though, who, you noticed amusedly, was speaking with another debutante who looked positively disinterested.

You were brought out of your musings by the familiar voices of Colin and Anthony. "Well, hello, Miss Y/N Beaumont, diamond of the season and center of the ton's attention who is looking absolutely radiant tonight, according to possibly every single person I have spoken to tonight," called Anthony, reaching your side in a few strides.

Laughing into your cup, you smiled up at the boys. "Well, if it isn't the two most eligible bachelors here tonight, according to every eager mama. How has the ball been for you?"

Colin feigned offense, putting his hand to his chest, "For us? Who cares about us? How has the night been for you?!"

As soon as you opened your mouth to respond, Lord Reginald Harrington bounded over to your group and bowed. Very courteous, Lord Harrington asked you for a dance. Still, unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, after seeing Harrington very pointedly staring at another debutante's bosom instead of her eyes while having a conversation), you did not have any space left on your dance card. Anthony barely had time to throw out a good-natured joke about the ton's demand for you before another young man approached the trio. Quite unfortunately, Mr Geoffrey Huntington was on your dance card, so you let yourself be guided to the dance floor. As you spun and twirled with Mr Huntington, you once again yearned for something more. You did not know what, exactly. But a pleasant conversation (he asked questions about you and even made you laugh a few times!) still did not completely satisfy you.

Off to the side, Colin and Anthony were intently observing the dance between you and Geoffrey. "She doesn't quite look like that when she's talking to Ben, though, does she?" Anthony observed.

"Well, clearly not, but I do rather think she's having an alright time of it with Geoff, nevertheless. I've heard he's one of the better ones, actually showing interest in the girls." Colin responded, recounting gossip he had heard through Cass and Pen, though heavens knew where the girls had gotten that information.

Anthony looked on thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "I suppose that's alright, then. I'm still going to make fun of her when she returns," he grinned. "As much as I love poking fun at her, though, I wonder how Ben would feel about Y/N getting this much attention. I still can't believe he missed her debut. I can't believe Mother let him!"

"Oh, I can. I really can believe it. Surely you see it, too? The way he looks at her? I've no doubt he'd be fuming in the corner right about now. Seeing his best friend talk to someone else would send him spiraling," Colin responded, sending a pointed look his brother's way.

Before Anthony could respond, you had returned to them, looking slightly winded. "Well, that was quite the dance," you laughed.

Immediately upon seeing you free to talk, or at least free from anyone that wasn't your immediate family or the Bridgertons, another young man approached you at the refreshments table, handing you a glass of lemonade. Slightly annoyed but able to keep your composure, you gracefully took the glass. "Oh, Mr. Howard, you are too kind. Unfortunately, my dance card is full for tonight, but I would love the opportunity to dance with you at a later ball if that's a possibility."

Mr. Howard, for his part, was left with his mouth agape. "Oh. Yes. Yes, of course, Miss Beaumont. Thank you very much, and I look forward to speaking to you then," he responded, swiftly turning away in search of another young woman who had space left on her dance card, or at least the desire to speak to him at all, really.

Colin and Anthony could barely contain their laughter, leaving you slightly embarrassed by how forward you had been but happy to have some time without speaking to potential future husbands, nonetheless. At that moment, you would have taken Colin and Anthony's teasing ten times over talking to another man hoping to woo you.

---

In the early morning quietude of your room, you took up your quill and parchment, eager to recount the whirlwind of the previous night for Hyacinth. Of course, you could only accept when the young girl earnestly asked for a detailed recounting of every ball you attended, so you were putting in as much detail as you could remember, including but not limited to your mind-numbing dance with Marcus, as well as Bastian's comical near-fall when trying to escape a potential dance with Lady Danbury.

A knock on your door interrupted your writing, and you saw your father and Cass poke their heads in. "Good morning, darling. You've got a congregation of callers downstairs, quite the assembly. Shall I send them away?" your father inquired with a hint of exasperation. "I'd prefer not to entertain a throng of young men with no discernible connection to the Beaumont or Bridgerton names this early in the day."

You interjected swiftly, "No, Father. Just give me a few minutes, and I'll go downstairs to meet them."

With a nod, Earl Beaumont withdrew, muttering under his breath, while Cassandra, bubbling with excitement, seized your hands. "You have callers! A whole bunch of them! Y/n, this is so wonderful! Who do you expect to see downstairs?"

A tad flustered, you were scrambling to put away your half-written account of the night and making sure you had no ink stains on your hands. "Truthfully, I was not expecting this so early on. Oh, Cass, I'm dreadfully unprepared. I really didn't think I had that good of a connection with anyone last night, let alone as many people as Father said!"

Cass rolled her eyes and responded, "Obviously you didn't think you had a good connection with anyone. But if you were to forget that Ben existed for about three seconds, would that alter your perception?"

Groaning, you replied, "Cass, I don't need this from you today. Yes, maybe I compared these gentlemen to my best friend initially, but I promise I moved beyond that. Most men, like us, have ambitious mamas keen on securing advantageous matches, which might explain their early-morning presence."

"Well, perhaps. But you are in high demand either way," your sister declared, gently ushering you out of your room and toward the grand staircase. "Y/N Beaumont, if you do not hurry up and get downstairs, I swear I will start to talk to these gentlemen myself," Cass threatened, earning a laugh from you as you made your way to confront the eager line of callers awaiting your presence.

---

Amid the afternoon light filtering through the drawing room curtains, you found yourself the center of attention. The room was adorned with fresh flowers, their sweet fragrance lingering. Seated gracefully on a chaise, your vibrant eyes sparkled with curiosity and trepidation as you faced the seemingly endless line of suitors vying for your favor. You were enjoying seeing suitors more than you had enjoyed the previous night, even though you had loved dancing at the ball. Today's tête-à-têtes seemed to unfold more leisurely, offering you the luxury of time and a touch more intimacy, save for Lady Primrose and Cass' discreet presence. You discovered a certain joy in these extended conversations, different from the hurried introductions of the ball, giving you the tiniest glimmer of hope once again.

Currently, you were listening to Mr. Archibald Roxbury recite a poem he had written that had been, in his own words, inspired by your radiance at the ball, and he couldn't resist putting his sentiments into verse. The poem was sweet and not half bad, but you had been seeing suitors for several hours and were now quite exhausted.

Your brothers had been out for most of the day, but you could hear their loud voices echoing through the halls past the open door of the drawing room, questioning the queue of suitors inside their home. You almost breathed an audible sigh of relief when Alex stepped into the room, directing his attention toward you. "Y/N, a word?"

Offering a brief apology to Mr. Roxbury, you eagerly followed Alex's lead. Leaning down, Alex spoke lowly, "Quite popular this afternoon, aren't you?"

"I guess so. It's been hours! I can't believe there are people still here. I'm so tired, Alex; I need a cup of tea or something! I can't keep doing this right now," came your exasperated response.

"Y/N, these men are here for you, not the other way around. I can make them leave whenever you would like," he responded with a hand on your shoulder, surveying the amount of people in the Beaumont home.

You followed his gaze, remembering the vast number of people you would still have to speak with if you were to talk to every single young man in your home that day. "You're right. I suppose it would be nice to have a bit of a break from it all," you said, uncertain.

Wasting no time, Alex left the room, and you returned to your previous spot, where Archibald continued his recital. You wondered when your afternoon would be over. Thankfully, you did not have to wait long. A few minutes later, all three of your brothers and your father entered the drawing room. Clearing his throat, Earl Beaumont addressed the crowd of young men in their home, "Thank you all very much for coming today, but Miss Beaumont will no longer be seeing any suitors today. You are welcome to come back another time."

Amidst the disappointed faces of your suitors, you saw Theo wink at you. You played your part, gracefully feigning disappointment, thanking the remaining suitors for their gifts, and bidding them adieu. Truthfully, you just wanted to leave the drawing room and have a few moments to yourself, but etiquette called for you to wait until all the guests had left your home.

You skipped over to your father once the last suit-clad man had exited. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I thought it would never end," you said gratefully. The earl chuckled at your theatrics but agreed, "I had been waiting the whole day to send them away. Far too many people in my house!"

Ever the comedian, Theo suggested, "Perhaps try being a tad more unpleasant next time, Y/N." Chiming in, Bastian added, "Or maybe don't put as much effort into your appearance at the next ball; that way, we won't have to deal with this again."

"Great suggestions, as ever, boys," you responded sarcastically. "Now, if I may be excused, I need to not see anyone for the next three years."

---

A candle lit your room softly as you leaned against your door, relishing the memories of the lively afternoon. Your fingers traced the edges of the letters, flowers, and tokens scattered across your dressing table—a testament to the whirlwind of introductions and pleasant conversations you had the first day after your debut.

Yet, a shadow flickered in your eyes as you settled into a more contemplative mood. A silent ache enveloped you as you remembered Benedict, whose absence cast a subtle but palpable pall over the festivities. Amid all the excitement, you found yourself yearning for the comfort of his presence, the familiar cadence of his voice, and the reassuring touch of his hand. You were lost between the allure of newfound admirers and the unspoken yearning for someone who already knew you like the back of his hand.

Confusion crept in as you internalized your feelings. Even if Ben had not gone to the countryside at the same time as you were due to make your debut, he wouldn't have been present when you saw suitors, only the night before at the ball. So why did you miss him when he wouldn't have been there logistically? Lost in contemplation, you gazed out the window, the night sky adorned with stars that had no answer to your question.

---

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

[holylulusworld]

Flowers (1) - Sunflower

Summary: A sunflower brings the end. (The sunflower is seen as a sign of hope and warmth, positivity and strength, strong bonds and lasting happiness.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of FWB arrangement

A/N: A short drabble.

Flowers masterlist

A simple flower shouldn’t make you sad or break your heart.

The sunflower in his hand wasn’t for you, as you thought. He gave it to someone else.

Her name is Dolores, or Dot for her friends. A new agent, and red-haired devil. Everyone believes she’s nice and tough. You know she’s the devil in disguise.

You never liked her but tried to pretend you didn’t see the looks she gave you whenever you got too close to James.

One day she just stumbled into your life, to mess things up between you and him. Who would’ve thought that a pretty face could ruin the arrangement you and Bucky had?

It was sex only. A simple arrangement to find solace in times of need.

For almost three years you and Bucky were inseparable. You were devoted to him, and he would never leave your side for too long.

It was your fault that you believed there was more between you and the brunette super-soldier than physical attraction.

He never brought you flowers or laughed about your non-funny jokes. All he ever did was take you apart in the best way possible.

Bucky is smitten with that pretty agent, and you cannot do shit to stop him from giving her flowers. You never put a label on what you had with him. Now your decision bites you in the ass.

“They are a cute couple, don’t you think?” Another agent said. You didn’t remember her name, and honestly, you didn’t want to. “I wonder if he’s finally going to ask her out.”

You hummed and held back a snarky comment. “Why do you think he will?” You said instead. “He barely knows her.”

“Yeah, but he’s always so happy when she’s around. Usually, Sergeant Barnes is grumpy and broody. But when Dottie is around, he’s a ray of sunshine.”

“A ray of sunshine, sure,” you gritted your teeth when Bucky offered the sunflower to Dot. It hurt too damn much. “How about you mind your business?”

“No need to get bitchy,” she snapped at you. “If you don’t find it romantic when a man gives a woman flowers, it’s not my fault.”

“Well, a few hours ago he gave something better to me,” you gave her a bitchface. “He shouldn’t dance on too many parties, don’t you think?”

She gaped at you, but you didn’t give a shit. It was not the time for pleasantries. Not while you had to watch Dot squeal and hug your man.

You should’ve cried or already missed his warmth. Oddly, all you could think about at that very moment was that no man would ever feel so good inside of you as he did.

You forced yourself to turn around and walk away. If Bucky wanted the sweet agent with a heart of gold, so be it. Crying over spilled milk never was your style.

There are plenty of other fish in the sea…

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[ateezthings]

Hiiii

Can u do a non idol strangers to lovers scenario for san or seonghwa (or honestly whoever u want) pls🤠❤️

And also dont listen to ur boss ur writing is amazing

A painful meet-cute

Pairings: non-idol!San x genderneutral reader

Warnings: reader getting hurt by accident, blood, medication, San being a slight asshole in the beginning

Word count: 1,4k

Songs to listen to while reading:

cxlt., nuver – rays of light

gibran alcocer – idea 22 (sped up)

amistat – keep your head up

pvris – anywhere but here

the native - time

It was still light out, when you left the office at 8 pm. The sun had been shining all day, so the air was warm, a light breeze dancing through the streets. Some would say it was the perfect summer day.

You had a very stressful day at work, rushing from one meeting to the next. You barely had time for a bathroom break or getting something to drink. It seemed every single coworker had a task for you. Needless to say, you felt drained and in dire need of some food and relaxation.

As you slowly dragged your feet towards the train station, people passed you by, most of them smiling and talking to their friends. What were they so happy about? For you, life recently was simply getting ready for work, working, or getting home from work. These people however seemed to just be enjoying the nice summer evening.

Maybe that was the problem, maybe you should do things again outside of work, that made you enjoy life again. As you boarded the train you couldn’t think of anything that you wanted to do, so you decided to just take a walk along the river. That used to calm you down a few years ago.

Watching the blueish-greyish body of water helped you relax a lot in a short period of time. You watched couples having  picknicks on the grass, people taking their dogs for walks, some were even working out. As you walked along the river you racked your brain for activities you used to enjoy: Reading, going to cute cafes, dancing, meeting friends for boba. All of it lost its appeal when you thought about doing it. You hadn’t realized how grey and dull your life had become.

It was time to make a change. But how could you go about it, when work took up such a big part of your day?

You didn’t have time to ponder any longer, as a strong force suddenly knocked you down, making you fall over, face first. You were so surprised, you didn’t have time to stop the fall. Next thing you knew your nose was being squished on the ground. A throbbing pain started to spread from the center of your face.

“Ow, fuck” You tried to lift yourself up into a seated position.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” When you looked up to where the voice came from, you were met with dark, wide-open eyes. The person was wearing a hat and a black mask.  

“Obviously not, idiot, watch where you’re going, man” You felt hot liquid running down your face. Of course this had to happen to you. Perfect end to the perfect day.

“I’m really really sorry, my friend and I were trying to see who could run faster, and I totally didn’t see you… Shit, your nose is really bleeding”. The guy reached his hand out to you.

With one motion you slapped his hand away. “No need, I can take care of myself”

You got up, careful not to let any blood drop onto your shirt and got a tissue out of your bag. You pressed it into your nostrils. The tissue was full of blood, when you looked at it.

“Listen, I again am so sorry, for running into you like that, but I’m kind of in a hurry, will you be okay?” You picked up genuine regret from the tone of their voice, you couldn’t believe the audacity though. “Ugh, whatever, just go back to where you came from.” And he did.

For the first time, you lifted your gaze to see who the person was. He looked like a modern day ninja, wearing black workout clothes under baggy shorts. There was no telling who he was, as he was already turned away from you and about 20 feet in front of you. He had a broad back though, you had to give him that. Why were all hot people jerks?

…

The next day, you went to the doctor to get your nose checked. It was still throbbing and you were in pain. It turned out to be only a bruise and you should be fine in a few weeks. The doctor gave you a prescription for some pain killers. When you went to the pharmacy to get them, there was a long line of people in front of you. Great, as if you hadn’t already suffered enough.

Alas, you stood in the queue as there was nothing else to do. You scrolled through Instagram for a while. Somehow you were getting a lot of depressed but relatable millennial content on your feed. Times like these really made you scared if social media apps could somehow read your thoughts. No, don’t keep thinking about that brain, can’t go into full existential crisis mode.

Finally, it was your turn to talk to the pharmacist and you handed her your prescription. She looked at it for a while and pressed a few keys on her keyboard. Then she turned to look at you. “I’m really sorry, but it seemed we currently don’t have the exact ones you’ve been prescribed. Can I get you different ones? They’re not as strong as the original ones, but we currently don’t have any other pain killers.”

After you paid for your lower level pain killers you rushed to get out of there. What you didn’t expect was the tall man standing right around the corner, deeply immersed in his phone. You almost ran into him, but were able to stop before anything bad happened. He, however dropped his phone and a little box in surprise.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t see you there” As you apologized, you looked him in the eyes. Those eyes seemed kind of familiar. Yeah, you had seen them before. It took a second before you realized that those were the eyes of the person who ran into you last night. “It’s you…”

Before you could think of what to say, your phone started ringing. You rushed to pick up the call, it was your boss. “Hello? Is everything alright?” Your boss told you that there had been a series of emergency e-mails being sent to your whole department by one of your most important clients. They couldn’t reach you but had an ‘urgent matter’ to discuss with you. And apparently an ‘urgent matter’ couldn’t wait another hour for you to get back from your doctor’s appointment.

You groaned as you hung up. The mystery man, you almost ran into a few moments ago, was gone. You looked around for him, but found only the little box on the floor he had dropped earlier. It was the exact brand of pain killers your doctor had prescribed you.

…

A little sweet treat after dinner was a non-negotiable to you. So while you browsed the candy isle at the nearest convenience store, you couldn’t decide on just one treat. With your basket of sugary heaven you made your way to the cashier. There was only one person in front of you.

“Oh no, I think I left my wallet and card at home” You heard the person in front of you say.

“Well, then how do you intend to pay?” The cashier person retorted. There were just two vitamin drinks on the scanning table.

You immediately felt sorry for him. You had once been in that situation and it was so awkward and uncomfortable. Back then no one helped you and you were forced to return your items, leaving you with no sweet treat after a hard day’s work.

“I’ll pay for that.” You moved to the front, putting your stuff on the table for the cashier to scan. You noticed the person in front of you staring at you and your enormous amount of candy. You couldn’t care less though, seeing as they were depended on you in this situation. After paying, you put your yield in your bag and made your way towards the exit.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that” It was the guy for whom you had just paid for.

“Oh, don’t mention it, I was in that same situation a few weeks ago and no one was there to help me so I was happy to help.”

It was only after you both had exited the store that you looked at him properly. You saw the same broad shoulders, same dark eyes, same black mask on his face. “It’s you again?...”

“Hey, I’m San” He pulled down his face mask, giving you a smile, that sent waves of warmth through your entire body.

...

[keen-li]

CLAWED | JJK | CH 01

Synopsis: "do you honestly think I want your help? I'm desperate " you can still see the hatred he has for you in his eyes, but you can also see the desperation.

Genre: e2l, angst, fluff, smut-ish. Convict jk x police officer reader

Fem reader x jk

Warnings: none for now.

_______________________

You’ve just gotten home from a long day of working your ass off. You’re drenched from the rain that’s pouring outside. The walk from your car to your front door isn’t long but the heavy rains are strong enough to have you drenched in seconds.

Immediately you close the door you take off your now wet clothes. You live alone who's gonna see you, even if someone did see you lucky them cause you rarely take off your clothes for anyone. You don't have time for taking your clothes off for someone cause you're focused on stabilizing your position at the station.

Because you're new you have to be on your best game and show them you deserve to be there. You use the word 'new' lightly. And also because you're new the officers at the station have been giving it to you hard. Every time you make a wrong move you hear the words 'rookie behavior' it honestly infuriates you. You don't know if the phrase has always been there or they created it just for you.

But you don't let their side comments, mumbles and they're mocking laughter stop you or slow you down. It's enough that it's a male dominated Workspace. You're new and also a woman so you don't want them to see your emotional side and create a new trend of phrases like, "it's probably her hormones" or "looks like someone's on their period."

You walk into your kitchen with your phone in your hands, checking the messages your mother sent you cause you didn't have time to look at them, while you use the towel in your other hand to dry your wet hair. You're rocking your baggy t-shirt and shorts that you wear in full confidence feeling refreshed and relaxed from your hot shower.

You place the now dump Tower on the kitchen counter as you rummage through the fridge. You never had time to cook whole meals since your job had all your attention. It's funny how you neglected yourself for this job, you've barely seen your friends or family after getting this job you didn't even go out or even relax. Unless you were sleeping waiting for the sun to rise so you can consume yourself with work all over again. It's a cycle you've started to grow into.

You pull a chicken and mac and cheese out of the fridge, a leftover from yesterday. You sniff it just in case bacteria got there before you.

"Seems fine" you say placing it in the microwave for 3 minutes. This has been your dinner for over the past few days. You order food, you aren't able to finish it that same day and leave it for the next day.

"Y/n, how have you been? I haven't heard from you in a while." Your mother texts.

"I know you're probably busy with your new job, but don't forget about us my dear. We love and miss you so much." She ends.

You almost tear up because they think you've forgotten about them. Your sigh collecting yourself to respond.

" I haven't forgotten about you guys. I actually miss you so much and i hope one day I get the time to come over and visit you."

You leave the text not expecting a response from her at this late hour.

You linger over the picture on your mother's contact a picture of your father and mother and a seven-year-old you squished in between them. You've really grown from the young girl you were who truly believed she would be a princess when she grows up.

The day you were told you weren't going to be a princess when you grow up you cried uncontrollably. Only stopping when your Dad took you for ice cream and reassured you that even if you weren't gonna be a real princess you'd always be his princess, to a younger you those words never carried much weight but now that your older and more wiser, atleast you think, those words mean the world to you.

The sound of the microwave beeping indicating your food was done snaps you out of your thoughts and brings you to your reality. You take the hot plate out, take a fork and grab an energy drink from the fridge and head to your empty and lonely couch and put on a show you haven't been able to finish in a while.

You sink into the couch with your plate on your lap and the energy drink on the small table in front of you.

You're half way through the show, your plate cleared and placed on the table and only droplets left of the energy drink, you've been surviving on caffeine for you don't know how long, you savour the last droplets as you also focus on your large screen.

You're suddenly and abruptly pulled from the show you're watching when you hear loud and rushed bangs on your front door. Who could be knocking at your door at this time and in this rain. The rain is just as heavy as when you arrived home.

The banging continues and even gets louder as you get up from the couch cautiously approaching the door. When you open the door you take in, with your eyes, the man drenched from the rain and covered in bruises. His hair sticks to his face and so does his shirt showing you all the heaps and dips of his torso, he seems like a well-built man. You watch him pant and catch his breath as you wait for an introduction and reason.

He finally lifts his eyes and they meet yours.

Jungkook.

" y/n I need your help can I stay here for the night?" He says rushed and breathless.

You watch the way he licks his rosy lips getting rid of the water that falls on them. His eyelashes clamp together with wetness as he blinks waiting for you to let him in.

"What are you doing here?" You ask and he sighs turning his head looking around your neighborhood as though checking if someone was watching him.

"Please let me in I'll explain when you let me in" his tone is still rushed but you aren't about to let him into your house just yet.

" and why would I do that, I don't trust you" you say as though your heart is made of stone.

"I know that, but I really need your help"

"Why would I help you, huh jungkook?" You say.

"Y/n I understand that we don't get along" he says softening his eyes pleading.

"do you honestly think I want your help? I'm desperate " you can still see the hatred he has for you in his eyes, but you can also see the desperation.

_______________

Next

[yuncheoligans]

Mistletoe

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x afab!Reader x Park Seonghwa

w/c: 2.4k

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Fashion Agency Owners AU!

Warnings: (Minors DNI, MDNI), Language, Smut...money?

a/n: Happy Holidays from your Secret Santa @joong-of-gold I really hope you like this, I'm not the best at writing smut! I wanted to do something really nice for you so I hope this is a nice present and surprise! You're amazing and I can't wait to grow more together over this year!!

~Masterlist~

NSFW tags under the cut

soft dom! Hwa and Joong, pet names: Baby, My Love, Darling, Angel Darling, Sweetheart, unprotected sex (wrap it), overstim, they enjoy ruining you? voyuer? Exhibitionism? idk, manhandling mxm mention (they're all three dating)...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I admitted my feelings for my long time friends, I’d never thought a year later I’d actually be thinking about moving in together. Sure they were fine with it they’d been living together for years now, as co-owners of a fashion company and life partners they were used to living with another person, me on the other hand…this was new, the only roommates I had were in college, and that ended up horribly. I vowed to live alone for the rest of my life. When I had finally told them I had feelings for them it was their company Christmas party. They always took me, I was always the plus one to events. I was always the third wheel.

“Third wheel? Darling you have never been the third wheel.” Seonghwa took my hand gently after his fits of giggles.

“You have merely always been our third.” Hongjoong kissed my cheek.

“The long lingering touches, the money and time spent, Darling we don’t do that just for any silly friend.” Seonghwa kissed my knuckles. 

“We thought you knew, that’s why you were playing along.” they finished each other’s sentences.

“Thought I Knew? Well you could’ve said something before now! Geez the nerve of you two, how I could ever fall for the two of you is beyond me!” I threw my hands up exhausted by the conversation already. 

“Look up my love.” Hongjoong had motioned up.

“Seems someone got caught under the mistletoe.” Seonghwa had smiled cupping my chin and pulling me towards him.

Maybe the eggnog was a little strong at the office party this year, I feel lightheaded. Maybe it’s the feeling of Seonghwa’s lips on mine, maybe it’s Hongjoong taking my chin from the taller man to also give me a taste of what he could provide. Yes, that must be it…it’s the way I’m intoxicated by the two men who I’ve known for my university friends.

A year later and my whole world has spun upside down, first they made me leave my long time job to come be their personal assistant. 

“No no you won’t work at some stuffy boring office job.” Seonghwa said picking me up from work. “You’ll come work for us.”

“Why would I leave one stuffy boring office job for another?” I asked eyebrow raised.

“If you think working with your partners would be stuffy then you need to come join the fun, you’ll see how stuffy it really is.”

Little did I know how they saw me.

“Ah our muse is finally joining us?” Hongjoong said as I came to work with Hwa the next day. “My love you’ll be positively radiant in this piece I’m working on.”

“I thought we agreed on my piece first Joongie.” Hwa pouted. “Honestly you’re so unfair to me.”

“Oh hush down Angel.” he smiled and kisses Seonghwa on the cheek. “How do you feel about red my love?” he asked looking at me.

Their muse? I was still processing the thought, but it was true they had plenty of photos of us in parties, they had blown up photos of my outfits and written all over them to critique how it fit. They had started this whole company…for me?

“You’re our muse my love.” Hongjoong smiled.

“Everything we make with you in mind.” Seonghwa cupped my face.

Not everything was easy and smooth, sure I had started a new job, gotten treated like royalty, had two boyfriends who I couldn’t believe I got to wake up next to, moved in together and gotten everything I had ever wanted. I craved them we’d share kisses, touches, heavy touches, breathes, in the office, late nights, in bed shared breathes twisting together. I was never satisfied. Our anniversary was approaching, and I…I had a devious plan. They were working on their most erotic set for lingerie and I was going to surprise them, model it for them, just how they had always wanted. They always do a Christmas show, would that be a good start. Yes they certainly had raised one hell of a plaything. No never plaything, partner. They loved me as I loved them.

“Darling? You seem lost in thought again.” Seonghwa smiled and took the schedule for the day from my hand. “Why don’t you clear my schedule for after lunch, I’m in need of some special inspiration today.” he kissed my cheek. “Oh and clear Hongjoong’s for about 30 minutes after, he’ll wonder where we are.”

“You are the boss.”

“And you are wearing the skirt I made for you. You know I love when you wear my pieces.” he smiled. “Maybe I should take you out for lunch today, you'll need a good meal, and I should really show everyone what they’re missing.”

“You’d get way too jealous if we went out.”

“Oh so no Trivet for lunch? Shame, you love that place.”

“Oh so you want to show me off?”

“I’m not opposed to the idea darling.”

“Try not to get jealous then Angel Darling.” I smiled and peck his lips staining them a shade of plum red briefly.

Little did he know how much I was willing to challenge his idea of showing me off outside of work. He did say he wouldn’t get jealous.

“Date stick you up?” said a smooth talker from my left as I waited for Seonghwa to arrive. “Drink on me.” 

“Oh no my boyfriend is on his way, just held up at a meeting. He cleared his schedule to be here.”

“But couldn’t even be on time?”

I did clear his schedule so I would know if he was late or not.

“Well he is important.” sleeze bag rolled his eyes.

“I could buy this whole place if I wanted to.” he smirked.

“And I could buy this whole block.” Seonghwa popped in. “Sorry I’m late darling.”

“No worries, I’ve been thoroughly entertained.” I smiled and looked at him and gave him a kiss. 

“I wish you’d have better taste in company.”

“I thought you wouldn’t be jealous.” I chuckled and we went to our normal table. 

The waiter was flirting with me, how bold. In front of Seonghwa too, I could see his jaw clench slightly every time he ignored Seonghwa in favor of staring at me.

“Could you not flirt with the waiter?” he rolled his eyes.

“I thought you said not jealous hmm? Besides what about a free dessert?”

“I could buy you a dessert.”

“But it’s sweeter free.”

They have created a monster haven’t they. Perfect little monster for them. 

Arriving back to the office Seonghwa was insatiable, free dessert in one hand, my waist in the other.

“Another lunch I wasn’t invited to? How mean my love.” Hongjoong tapped on the desk. “And don’t think I missed you clearing your schedule Hwa, perhaps we should go home and enjoy an after meal show?”

“Why go home when the show is available here. She got a free dessert from the waiter.”

“And a free drink from sleezy at the bar.”

“No wonder he thought he had a chance.” Seonghwa rolls his eyes at the mention. “You minx.”

“Isn’t tonight the holiday party Seonghwa?” Hongjoong got up to lock the door.

“I guess we’ll be fashionably late this year.” Seonghwa smiled at the man.

“I don’t have anything to wear if we stay here.” I argued.

“Nonsense darling, you have everything you could possibly want here.”

“After all these are designed with you in mind.” Hongjoong finished Seonghwa’s thought.

Who really could say no when it came to the two of them. They are intoxicating in the best way possible and so very dedicated.

“Take it off….slowly.” Seonghwa nipped at my ear.

First came my blouse, unbuttoned slowly to reveal the lace bra underneath, next came the shoes, the skirt revealing the matching set I had picked for the day, and as I went to remove the stockings-

“Those stay on for now.” Hongjoong’s gaze lowered.

The desk was cleared behind me in an instant. Designs and papers flying, not that they cared, if they were important they’d be up on a wall or anywhere but the desk. Some where just doodles done absentmindedly during meetings that they had no interest in attending. 

“I’ll show you why you’ll never want anyone else.” Seonghwa lowered himself kissing down my torso stopping above the panty line, my hips bucked up to meet his smirk slightly.

“Never wanted anyone else but you and Joongie, Hwa.” I sighed out.

“Take care of him while I take care of you darling.” he smiled and Hongjoong moved closer to my face.

“You sure do put on quite the show for us my love. How perfect you are.” Hongjoong smiled down at me.

Seonghwa removed my far too wet panties before gently blowing on my wet folds, the chill making my legs close slightly.

“Already wet for us darling?” 

“She sure knows her place well.” Hongjoong smiled and began undoing his belt. “Be good or I’ll have to tie those beautiful hands up my love.”

Seonghwa’s velvet tongue entered my folds and the moan that escaped my lips was far more animalistic than I had intended. He knew every pleasure point in my body, both of them did, the way his plush lips encased my clit and the way Joong pushed his hardened length in my mouth. My senses, overwhelmed. Joongie pushed me up slightly to get the bra off me leaving me almost completely bare to the men I know as my lovers.

“That’s it darling, cum on my tongue.” Hwa moaned against my pussy becoming intoxicated himself.

The orgasm that hit me from his tongue sent my body into overdrive, my clit bumped his nose perfectly that little tingles could be felt far after I had started to come down. In my dazed out state the two men before me positions and Hongjoong made his way between my legs to my core. He licked a bold stripe up gathering the taste on his tongue. Seonghwa isn’t usually the talker but it seems they switched today, it does happen on occasion, it means one thing, Hongjoong is needy.

“My love, look at me.” Hongjoong’s flushed face came closer to mine. “Don’t pay attention to him right now, it’s you and me. Gonna fill you up.” he snapped his hips forward entering halfway, the thickness of his hard cock stretching me out. “So tight baby. Can’t believe it, like we’ve never had any fun together before.” he smiled and captured my lips with his. His tongued danced with mine as he began to piston his hips into mine pulling a leg over his shoulder to hit as deep as his could. He pulled at one of the stockings with his teeth before finally pulling them off, he always enjoyed removing the last piece of clothing I was wearing, every time it was different.

“That feel good baby?” he growled in my ear his hips snapping against me harder.

“Y-Yes.” I moaned feeling my stomach tighten again.

“Tell Hwa how good it feels.”

“F-Feels so-so good, Hwa.” I moaned and fumbled with Seonghwa’s pants to palm at his cock tenting his underwear. “So good Joongie.” I moaned louder.

“That’s right my love. Take what I give you.” he groaned and gave Seonghwa the side-eye almost as if in some possessive dance they do. “Cum on my cock.”

“J-Joong.” I moaned and arched off the desk, my back a little sticky from the slight sheen of sweat covering my body. My second orgasm hit me like a truck, Hongjoong could feel me spasming around his cock trying to milk him dry, it didn’t take long for his to let out a guttural groan and spill into my fluttering walls.

Seonghwa had turned me over his favorite was always from the back. Where Hongjoong had girth, Seonghwa had length, he could reach deeper than my wildest fantasies. I was so full, he was fucking Hoongjoong’s cum back into me I was seeing stars from the force he held me against the desk. The subtle creak was heard as he pushed into me.

“So wet and slippery darling, messy and so perfect.” he smirked.

“F-For you.” I moaned and gripped onto the edge of the desk, my knuckles already turning white from how hard he was snapping his hips into my backside. “Fuck, S-Seo-Seonghwa.” 

“That’s it baby, so sensitive hmm?”

I couldn’t respond, my brain turning into mush with every reach his cock made inside me.

“See that Joongie, a baby just for us, can barely keep her eyes open.” he smiled at Hongjoong.

“Her eyes might get stuck in the back of her head from how hard she’s rolling them Hwa.” he smirked.

I came for the third time that afternoon in a matter of minutes, completely sensitive and overstimulated from the attention of the two men as one of them lost himself behind me. 

“Darling.” a singsong voice called out, gentle hands running up and down my spine soothingly.

“Come back to us my love.” a hand moved hair from my forehead. “You blacked out a little after that last one.” he said with a smile. “Don’t worry though Seonghwa did too.”

“Did not.” the man on the other side of me claimed.

“You were seeing stars.” Hongjoong moved Seonghwa’s hair back as well.

“How…How did we get on the…couch?” I asked coming back little by little.

“Wanted somewhere soft for you to land.” Hongjoong smiled gently, come on lets get you cleaned up and ready for the party.

I was never alone in the aftercare process, one of them always in the shower with me…yes yes stereotypical CEO private bathroom, one went to get snacks, the other water, one went to fetch clothing, the other helped me get my hair in order. A gentle scalp massage and a loving smile in the mirror never far away from the taller of my two partners.

“I love you so much darling.” he kissed the top of my head.

“I love you too Seonghwa angel.” I took his hand.

“And do you love me the same My Love?” Hongjoong came into view and took my other hand.

“Always my Joongie.” I smiled. “I was right though.”

They looked at each other.

“Dessert is sweeter when free.” I chuckled and looked up. 

Mistletoe.

Bonus:

“Y/n? I didn’t know you were seeing someone!” my coworker James had called to attention.

“James whatever do you mean?”

“I mean that necklace you have on.” he winked and I glanced in the mirror finding a long chain of blossoming bruises along my neck. 

“Oh thank you James…it’s designer.” I winked.

[deepdarkdelights]

Milliseconds (2) | 10 Series Drabbles

Fic Type: Drabble

Word Count: ~3k

Series: 10 Seconds 

Takes place almost directly after the end of the series (part 5). 

Summary: The MC has a sudden snap to clarity after hearing about the miraculous escape of another woman who was in a similar position as herself. 

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Kidnapping, Stalking, Anxiety Symptoms, Fear, Mentions of Drugging, Jungkook has baby fever, MC rationalizing toxic and harmful behavior

A/N: Hello! So the votes spoke very loud and clear that you all wanted a 10 Series Drabble! I have been thinking about writing a scenario like this one and I am pretty happy with it so I hope that you guys are too. I believe an anon did give me this idea (updated credit below 12/8) The Jin fic is taking me such a long time and I really wanted to post something as a treat for all of you before finals week - I hope this delivers on that! I love you all and I can’t wait to see your reactions in the comments and my inbox 💜💜💜

Prompt Credit: @mochi13

Drabble (1) 

It felt like you had been living in a dream state for the longest time now. 

Every thought, every memory was cloudy with a dreamy haze and tinted in shades of rose. The best way to explain it was that you were operating almost entirely on autopilot, especially when Jungkook wasn’t home.

But even in those moments when you were together, you never felt total clarity. Your relationship felt like a dream as well - the stuff of cheap romance novels and teen movies. The very thing that women, and some men alike, craved and dreamt of. No one’s life was meant to be this perfect and that should have been a clue. But the red flags that once waved proudly in front of your face were steeped in shades of gray - you had gone colorblind to his faults. 

And honestly, you could understand how that happened. Ever since the two of you had returned to the city and you had slowly introduced your family back into your life a sense of normalcy had unknowingly descended upon your fragile mind. Those unbearable months of isolation in the woods have become lost, buried in the trenches of your mind. And the way he acted now, how he held you, cherished you, loved you, it was easy to become blinded. 

You had succumbed to your worst fear and you didn’t even know it. 

Even now you melted into his touch. His strong hands settled on your waist as he pulled you back into his chest, his chin coming down to rest upon the slope of your shoulder - notching together like two perfect puzzle pieces. 

“Good morning, baby,” He whispered, his voice low and laden with sleep as he nuzzled further into your skin. 

“Morning,” You mumbled back with a wisp of a smile on your lips, your hands busy with finishing up breakfast. 

Jungkook never asked you to do that for him, in fact, oftentimes he was the one offering to care for you. But months of training from his mother had adhered stronger than you had anticipated. You rose earlier than you used to, your body doing the work for you without your input. It was hard to say if you derived joy from the task, but you knew joy when his pleased smile would spark warmth in your chest. 

Jungkook was far too hesitant to admit he did enjoy it when you did these things, domestic things. He didn’t want to make you think he needed a mother - after all he wanted you, a wife. If he wanted a caretaker he would have stayed with his mother. But god, did he fantasize about you being the mother of his children. He dreamt of those sleepless nights with a newborn baby, the first day of kindergarten, and a home filled with laughter and the quintessential pitter-patter of tiny feet. But he knew he had to wait. After all, you had brought it up first, you were not ready.

He delivered a firm squeeze to your hip, his nose brushing at the column of your throat as he let out a pleased hum. 

“Down boy,” You giggled, halfheartedly slapping his hands away, “You have work, do you really want to piss Yoongi off by being late again?” 

“He’ll be late anyways, you know he doesn’t get much sleep anymore.” He whined before acquiescing and backing off, leaning back against the island counter. 

The subtle hints again. Jungkook came home every day from work gushing about Yoongi’s baby. About how she was already saying words despite you knowing she was definitely just babbling and not comprehending whether she was saying meaningful words or not. He was absolutely enamored by his goddaughter. 

“She has the cutest little shoes,” and “She sat on Yoongi’s lap during the meeting and drooled all over his documents,” and “I got to hold her for an entire hour and she didn’t cry once, I must be a natural.” 

While it was true that Jungkook was a natural at almost anything he tried, you still weren’t giving in to the bait. But when you tried to think about why you didn’t want a child your mind wandered elsewhere and you couldn’t think of a good reason not to. There was some block, some important answer hidden right around the corner but every time you tried to reach out to it, it darted away and stayed just out of reach.

“The quicker you get going the sooner you’ll be home,” You reminded him as you turned the burners on the stove off. 

“I could just take the day off again,” He said with a pout. 

“No, you just took a week off. You’re the CFO Jungkook you know better,” You chided him. 

Jungkook had just taken the week off, declaring the two of you were having a staycation. Said staycation had really just been the two of you redecorating your shared living space, binging dramas, and fucking like rabbits - which had not been your idea but you hadn’t exactly been against it. In fact, you were laid against a few things that week. 

You probably should have made the assumption that he had baby fever sooner. 

But if you needed anything it was for him to go to work, you needed the break, all of you needed the break.  Some parts of you more than others. 

“Fine,” He groaned, “But I deserve a reward.”

“Really and what kind of reward are you thinking of?”

“You.”

“Mhm?”

“On my face.” 

“...Get out of my house Jeon Jungkook!”

“I didn’t hear a no!” He impishly called over his shoulder as he headed for your bedroom, retrieving and dressing in the clothes you had laid out for him the night before. 

You buried your face in your hands as your skin heated up with shame and another feeling you refused to recognize. Jeon Jungkook was going to be the death of you if he didn’t leave that very minute. 

Luckily for you, the rest of your shared morning went by without further incident. The sanctity of your kitchen was unsullied by his frankly ravenous sex drive that certainly had come out of the blue. 

Unlike last week. 

“Baby, where’s my kiss goodbye?” He called from the door after slipping on his shoes. 

And like the good wife that you were, you met him at the door, smoothed down the collar of his shirt and the front of his jacket, and popped up onto your toes to give him a kiss. Jungkook has many traits, but his most prominent one was that he never did anything halfway. But even with this knowledge you were still startled by the touch of his fingers to your jaw and the way he tilted your head, deepening the kiss in a way that was far too much this early in the morning. 

And then he gave you that smirk of his, that mischievous smile with a quirk of one of his dark eyebrows after leaving you absolutely breathless. 

“I love you, I’ll be thinking of you all day. And, don’t forget about my reward,” He said with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows before you were shoving him out the door and slammed it shut behind him. 

By all means, your morning had gone normally, just the way it had for the past few weeks since you had officially moved into the apartment as Jungkook’s wife. You had no inkling or hint of an idea that today would be any different. 

But it was the little things that you hadn’t even thought of that pushed you over the edge. 

Your throat had been a little sore that morning so you decided that you wanted some tea to soothe the ache. So you decided to put the kettle on and in the meantime, you put the TV on for background noise to fill the silence of a too-big apartment without Jungkook. 

You had no way of knowing that a major news story had broken that same morning. 

“After she went missing ten years ago, Cho Minji has finally been found,” The reporter’s voice echoed out from the flat screen. 

“While the story is still progressing we have learned of what happened in her ten years of captivity. Miss Cho had been stalked by an ex-boyfriend for four years after they had broken up and in those four years, he had made extensive plans as to how he was going to hold Miss Cho captive for the rest of their lives. 

Deranged notes expressing his undying love for her were recovered from the home alongside pictures and videos that he collected during their relationship and during Miss Cho’s captivity. Miss Cho claimed that she was held against her will while her captor vehemently disagreed claiming that she came willingly. Evidence suggests that Miss Cho was indeed kidnapped from her childhood home and drugged repeatedly over the duration of her captivity to keep her sedated and agreeable. During this time she planned to gain her captor’s trust and in a ten-year plan, she finally succeeded and escaped - flagging down a passing car and making her way to the authorities. More on this incredible story will come as the case continues to unfold.” 

A horrible, nauseating feeling was churning deep in your gut, one that had you leaning against the back of the couch for support. But the final push was the kettle, a sharp whistle from the kitchen striking you harder than any hit you had ever taken. In seconds you were transported back to that night and in a moment the rose-tinted glass was shattered. 

This wasn’t you. You weren’t some housewife, you and Jungkook weren’t really married, and you weren’t in love. You had fallen for his trap. You and Cho Minji were one and the same, the only difference was that she had much more mental fortitude than you did. She was successful. 

Your body was back to moving on its own, but this time you were running on adrenaline as your brain took the back seat. You were tearing the place apart, grabbing clothes and cash and whatever you could grab and stuffing it all into the first bag you could get your hands on. 

“Hurry, faster, you need to run as far as you can before Jungkook get’s back. Oh god, what would he do if he found you?” Your brain was practically screaming at you, a whirlwind of anxiety and fear sweeping you up as you stumbled out of the door alone for the first time since you had been taken by Jungkook. 

You had no plan as to where you were going to go, only the thought that you needed to flee and you needed to do it now or you would never see another opportunity like this one arise. It was now or never. 

You felt like you were doing something wrong, something that was forbidden or perverted as you rushed through the busy city sidewalks. It was a horrible cocktail of emotions, to be so frightened and confused at the same time. You had become accustomed to life with Jungkook, leaving felt wrong and right at the same time.

But the more you pushed on the more you realized you had nowhere to go. You couldn’t go to your parent's house, that would be the first place that he would check. And your friends, well you didn’t really have friends anymore and even if you did you wouldn’t want to put them in harm's way either. You knew what Jungkook was capable of, hell you had witnessed it firsthand. 

But it was also so unbelievable that hands that could squeeze someone’s life out of them could be so kind, gentle, and caring towards you. This clarity you had been thrust into was so confusing and startling that you felt like a crazed person wandering the streets. 

You were at a loss as to what to do, especially as the adrenaline began to slowly wear off, your body crashing from the sudden influx of hormones.

At the end of the day, you really had nowhere to go, nowhere to go but to him. 

You weren’t sure how far you had made it from the apartment, your feet leading you to a park bench which you collapsed against, dropping your bag to the concrete pathway. 

What was wrong with you? Why weren’t you running for the hills? What the fuck were you doing? 

You sat there, dazed and utterly confused as you anxiously bounced your knee. There were so many thoughts rushing through your head that you were struggling to focus on the task at hand. You needed to make a plan, you needed to figure out what your next move was. The longer you stayed there contemplating the more time you lost to escape. 

Jungkook was very quiet about his friends and his life outside of you, but he had dropped hints before that his “friends” weren’t the greatest people. Of course you had met Taehyung and Jimin and they had no problem revealing their twisted nature to you. And you had met Yoongi on several occasions enough to know that he was just as obsessive as Jungkook was. But there were others, other that both Yoongi and Jungkook were reluctant to talk about, their eyes always shifting to you when the topic would come up - a promise that they would talk later when you weren’t present. 

Even if you decided to leave now, hopped on the nearest bus and rode it to the end of its route, you had no doubt that they would come for you. Taehyung and Jimin would be there without question and you very clearly remembered Jimin’s gleeful threats to you months ago. But the others, the ones that were far more dangerous would certainly join as well and that was a thought that shook you to your very core. 

Your panicked thoughts only became worse as time stretched on, your brain reminding you when Jungkook leaves work and how much time you had left to either leave or go back before he found out you were gone. 

You couldn’t believe you would even think about going back but you were. Jungkook had been good to you hadn’t he? He let you have a relationship with your family again, he had pulled the two of you out of the isolation of the woods, you didn’t have to see his family anymore, and he showered you with unrestricted affection and praise. He loved you didn’t he? He said it every day and never let you forget it. He wasn’t a good person but he wasn’t a bad person either - he too was irrevocably changed and damaged by his horrible family, you couldn’t blame him for that you don’t get to choose what family you’re born into. 

You were wrenched out of your spiraling thoughts but the sudden vibration of your phone. Despite your fear you checked the caller ID anyways and your stomach lurched as his name lit up the screen: Jungkook. 

He had gotten off of work early. 

You watched in fright as the call went to voicemail before he tried again, and again, and again, and again. The calls never stopped, one after the other they rolled in like a stubborn storm. 

You were really screwed now, he was home and he knew that you were gone. The frantic mess you had left behind had to have told him enough - that you had grabbed what you could and fled. So now you had to make a choice - run with nowhere to go, or return back to the eyes of the hurricane. You knew what Jungkook was like when he was angry - it was a deadly type of calm that was a precursor to unbridled rage. 

Your hands shook as you tapped your voicemail, whatever was there would help you make your decision. 

There was static for a moment, and then his voice. 

“Baby? Where are you? Call me back right away, okay?” He was surprisingly calm but there was a touch of fear to his words. 

“This isn’t funny, please just answer your phone, I need to know that you’re safe or I’m going to go crazy, please just call me.” 

Each message became more and more desperate until you got to the most recent one. This one was by far the worst. You could hear him crying and struggling to breathe and even dry heaving like he was so distraught he was going to empty his stomach. 

“Please tell me where you are, please baby I’m begging you, I can’t live without you I need you,” He was sobbing hysterically into the phone, “Please come home, please don’t leave me here alone,” 

In your time with Jungkook you had come to learn something about yourself, you couldn’t stand to hear or see him cry. It broke you down in a way that was indescribable. It always took you back to those days where he was broken and despondent after his father had died. Those days where he needed you to care for him because no one else could. You understood what crushing loneliness felt like and you were empathetic to him to a fault. 

Before you realized you were doing it, you were back at the front door - the skin of your cheeks tight from dried tears you had shed when you realized several uncomfortable truths. 

You had nowhere to run to

You didn’t have the strength to leave him

You were in love with him, your kidnapper

Just like Jungkook couldn’t live without you, you could no longer live without him. He had infected you with love, the roots of his carnal desire burrowing deep under your skin and penetrating your heart. 

You had delivered a single knock to the door before it was ripped open - he had been waiting there that entire time. He had given you the chance to return on your own before he had sent them out to find you. 

A choked sob parted his pretty lips before he pulled you into a crushing embrace, collapsing onto the floor with you in his lap. The skin around his eyes and nose were pink, his cheeks glistening with tears as he pressed desperate kisses to your forehead and cheeks, his hand running over your hair like you were his long lost lover returned. 

“Why did you leave me?” He whimpered, sniffling as he attempted to stop his tears. 

You knew you couldn’t tell him the truth so you did what you had learned to do best, you lied. 

“I’m so sorry, Kook. My mother called and said it was an emergency, I didn’t even think I just grabbed what I could and left but I was coming back.” You calmly explained, cupping his cheeks tenderly and wiping away his tears. 

“I thought you were gone, I thought you weren’t coming back. I don’t want to be alone, I can’t be alone,” His words rushed out, like he couldn’t hold himself together and needed to say everything he could before he collapsed. 

“I’m not leaving you, Kook. I love you.” 

“Promise me you’ll never leave me, please I need to hear you say it,” He begged, pressing his forehead against your own. 

There was a beat of silence before you spoke, your mind trying to warn you one last time not to make a stupid decision. But in the end, the heart tends to triumph. 

“I promise, I’ll never leave you.”

You weren’t Cho Minji, you had no incredible story to tell and nowhere to escape to. 

You weren’t Cho Minji, you were in love. 

Want to read the main series? Click here to read part one!

[luckycharms1701]

got a response to my last post and fuck if i didn't pull my computer out at one in the morning so i could do this particular topic justice

my "time to talk about family dynamics in tmnt" button was pushed real hard, and i don't get enough opportunities to talk about this

So let's talk about Leo's position in the family in the Bayverse movies. That's right folks, we're pulling out capital letters for the leader in blue, because this is a topic I am super serious about. Full college paper levels of serious. Gonna need to know how you want your sources cited.

This is a fascinating take tbh, and I would love to hear more about how you came to this conclusion. Allow me to show you why my position is different.

First:

I think this image says a lot. Leo's a daddy's boy long before anything like parentification could possibly come into play. Also it's really cute, look at him loving his dad!!

Second, let's talk parentification. Boiled down to its basics, parentification is when a child, usually the eldest, acts like a secondary or replacement parent. This is the part that really gets me, because I just don't see any evidence of it in the movies at all.

We do get to see some scenes from when they are kids, and no where is it suggested that Leo is anything other than another one of the boys.

Sure, Mikey hides behind him when play-fighting with Raph after the buck-buck scene, but that's just younger sibling behavior. No where is it implied that this happens because anyone expects it of Leo. That, I think, might be the closest to "parentification" that occurs in the movies.

The thing is, I don't think Leo has been the leader very long at the beginning of the 2014 movie. Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if it's a move Splinter made just before or even as the movie starts. Leo's and Raph's argument really solidifies that for me:

Raph: And who put you in charge?

Leo: You know who did.

This smacks, on Leo's part, of someone borrowing another's authority to shore up their own. That tells me that Leo at least does not feel that he has this authority on his own merit, that he's new to leadership. Raph senses this like a shark in bloody water, and he pushes because there's vulnerability there. (more on this later *rubs hands together in glee*)

I think that there is evidence in the 2016 movie that Leo is relatively new to a position of authority as well. His struggle to maintain the delicate balance of his brother's personalities and the fact that he allows his own personality to get in the way of being a good leader are prime examples.

These are pitfalls that a parentified person would already have experienced and would be able to avoid, and so they wouldn't have happened if Leo was parentified.

Third, let's talk about Leo and Raph.

So, my position here is that Leo and Raph DO have a normal sibling relationship, at least as normal as it can get when you are turtle mutants living in the sewers with only each other for company.

Anecdotal, I know, but I have a bit of experience with a similar dynamic to the one you assigned to them. I am the oldest of three, and my sister (middle) and I did NOT get along as kids. It got to the point where I thought as teens that once I left the house we would never talk to each other ever again.

Perceived favoritism was definitely an issue in my and my sister's relationship. Is it an issue with Leo and Raph? I honestly don't think we get enough time with Splinter in the movies to determine that concretely. It's definitely possible, but I believe something different is, either concurrently with or instead of favoritism, at play here.

I know it's easy to forget because they look Like That, but the turtles are teenagers. They are immature and don't always know how to express themselves. And Raph in particular struggles because he feels so strongly. It can be hard to control it when your emotions are strong like that, don't ask me how I know.

However, he gives himself away at the end of the 2014 movie. "Every time... I pushed you beyond your limits, it was because I believe in you! I believe in each one of you!"

Remember when I said that Raph sensed Leo's vulnerability and pushed on it? We've come back baby! I am firmly in the camp of 'both Raph and Leo are good leaders in their own way', and I think this is part of what makes Raph a good leader.

Sometimes Raph is actually annoyed at Leo for whatever reason, being told what to do the most common I think. But!! Remember, Raph also believes in his brothers, Leo included. So he puts Leo on the spot in a mostly controlled environment to help him learn how to be a leader. There's a lot more I could say here, but that's a Raph post, and this is about Leo.

So is it favoritism, Raph's need for independence, or Raph pushing Leo that causes tension in their relationship? I think it's a bit of all of that and more.

There is a fourth section to this post, about Splinter, but it is now almost four in the morning, I have to get up in like two hours, and I already fell asleep once while writing this. But know that in this iteration at least, Splinter is a decent single father of four boys, he did not parentify Leo, and any favoritism is unintentional.

Anyway, in my house we spend a lot of time talking about how much Leo loves his dad.

[chuuyaspinkmotorcycle16]

Day 11: Banter/Bickering of @/Black00Cat's (twt) SKKtober

Words have never been Soukoku’s thing.

Well, that’s a little bit of a lie.

More like, words of sincerity have never been their thing.

The occasional concern comes out, asking if the other is okay, or the occasional fake speech, like being indelibly fated or something.

They could never afford to express worry for the other – a knife for an enemy. 

So they made their own way.

And years of learning to wield their tongues like swords has led to honing their craft like an art.

When they were fifteen, it was simple.

Insults and ‘I hate you’s tossed so frequently and with so much vitriol they were believed.

The act wasn’t believable by the time they were sixteen and others – ahem, Kouyou and, rest in peace, Albatross – noticed them always hanging around each other despite ‘hating’ each other.

So they kept that part of the act but kept some distance between them. With their respective positions – higher-ups that controlled major financial areas of the mafia – their time together was already becoming limited. Add other friendships and time was hard to come by.

But it worked out. They still trusted each other enough to not let the other get killed, even if they told each other to do it during every mission. Their act was set in place perfectly.

And then ‘it’ happened…

They don’t talk about what happened when they were seventeen.

By the time they were eighteen, they only saw each other a handful of times in a day, brief encounters that had more to do with Executive duties than anything else. Then Chuuya went abroad and Dazai fled and Double Black was no more.

Chuuya did his best to forget about the other, how he knew every little thing Dazai meant when he spoke, how there were no secrets between the two with a trust so strong it was like they were one–

He couldn’t forget.

So when, four years later, the brunet shows up chained to the Port Mafia’s dungeon wall, it’s a test of many.

Of boundaries, of chances, of trust, of them…

“Still have terrible taste in hats, I see.”

“Still trying to kill yourself, I s’pose.”

A callback, a sign to show they haven’t changed as much as it seems.

Chuuya breaking the chains is more out of habit than anything. Dazai used to complain about how much effort it took to undo his handcuffs and Chuuya would do it to save time.

He honestly isn’t that surprised that the bastard still undid his own cuffs. It was a test of trust, after all, to see if Chuuya would even come.

But what kind of partner would Chuuya be if he didn’t come to see his masterpiece of a return gift?

Another callback, another test to see just how much four years had damaged their bond in the form of a fight.

Dazai still manages to block his blow like old times, even if the man still sucks at martial arts, and soon he places the ball back in Chuuya’s court.

Chuuya could have done it, could have sliced Dazai’s throat and been done with it, even if it meant getting executed himself. It would’ve made for a fucked-up double suicide. 

But Dazai wouldn’t have shown his face if it wasn’t for something important.

So Chuuya aims for answers. They can solve whatever is between them later because right now, there’s soon to be another mafia member coming down the stairs to witness /the/ Dazai Osamu chained to the very walls he used to torture others on.

Once he has what he needs – and what position he plays in Dazai’s schemes – he lets the man go with only a nick to his ear for the trouble.

Chuuya’s shown his trust – minimal damage, giving confidential information, breaking those chains – and now Dazai pays him back.

Information of his own, giving the knife back, protecting Chuuya from being labeled a traitor.

Words of old from both of them.

Chuuya supposes the least he could do is play into Dazai’s delusions.

And when his rich-girl impression causes Dazai to genuinely laugh, that newfound light in his eyes glowing? It isn’t hard for Chuuya to believe that time hasn’t passed for them at all.

[mammons-hubby]

THE OBEY ME BROTHERS WITH A MC WHO'S A PROFESSIONAL ASSASSIN

(I was able to recover up to Satan, the other three brothers are all new)

Lucifer:

When your resume said that you were a professional assassin he thought you would be intimidating, cold and serious.

He quickly realized he had thought wrong, as when you came all he saw was a noisy person who couldn't keep their nose on their own business.

He honestly thought he may have read the wrong paper, or that the wrong human had been called.

Lucifer also underestimated you, yes, you may be dangerous, but how dangerous could you possibly be against a demon?

This question would be answered, just as Belphegor's hands tried and reached around your neck.

In a quick, instinctive movement you were able to throw him on the floor. Even with his demon strenght, he was no match against your defense skills (although you later admit that the shocked you sent him into probably helped)

After that, Lucifer wouldn't worry as much to leave you out of sight, but to raise his ego, let him protect you!

Mammon:

Absolutely refused to believe a human could be so dangerous.

Yeah, humans were known to kill eachother, but c'mon, you totally didn't look the part!

Not only you didn't look like one, you also didn't act like one.

He would see the extent of your abilities when his usual troubles followed him on your date.

A quite terrifying which was in front of Mammon, quite angered and ready to strike-

Mammon was about to show off, after all, he wanted to impress his human!

But you didn't give him a chance, a quick punch to the nose and the witch fell to the floor unconscious.

He is literally speechless, he only snaps out of it when you hold his hand worried, then the biggest grin you've ever seen forms on his face, and he declares you the most badass human!

WILL use you to intimidate all who bother him, you're now Mammon's personal bodyguard.

Leviathan:

Your strenght and abilities as an assassin would be quickly discovered.

TSL competition, you know how it goes, in a fit of jealously and rage, Leviathan goes to deal a fatal blow.

Too bad, he didn't consider the fact that you wouldn't retreat and instead, would run torwards him.

A moment of shock was all it took for you to grab him by his pseudojacket, and throw him in the air.

While he was there, he thought "What?!, how does a human have so much strenght?! That shouldn't be able to happen!"

Once he reached the floor (which didn't took that long) his shocked was subdued, filled by a deep feeling of shame, how could he just loose to a human in front of his brothers AND Diavolo?!

Goes straight to his room, it will take a while for him to soften up, but once he does, he will compliment you always. Expect a lot of questions about your job (and Leviathan infodumping about fictional assassins)

Satan:

He prides himself in always being logical, though, he makes an exception with your work.

Can't wrap his head around you hurting someone, even less killing them.

Of course, this was before that little incident of you refusing to make a pact with him.

Full of rage at your response, he spew a bunch of hurtful words and threats.

Threats that made something click inside of you.

The moment he went to grab your arm, a quick maneuver changed your positions, now, he found himself facing one of his bookshelves, taste of paper in his mouth because of the brute force of your movements.

After the shock, he saw red, thankfully Lucifer came in and the body swap happened.

Once the whole body swap deal is over, he is extremely interested in your work and has many questions.

How did you get started? For what reasons? Similar to Leviathan, he show you his favorite book assassins and asks if their portrayals are accurate.

Asmodeous:

He was actually interested in knowing your lore and about how you became an assassin, mostly because he likes gossip.

He also wanted to know how strong you were, and see how your muscles bulged.

Thankfully for him the opportunity to see your strenght in action would arrive soon.

You both were on a date, buying cute clothes for eachother to show off on Devilgram when all of sudden a few fans of Asmo come in and spot him.

At first, it all seems fine. They ask to take some pictures and start chatting with him.

But this is your date, and as so, Asmodeous politely excuses himself.

The fans leave except one insistent demon, who grabs Asmo's tightly.

Before he could say anything however, you grabbed the demons arm, twisted it and pushed him to the floor, putting all of your weight onto him.

After the whole ordeal was done, he hugged you tightly and fangirled severely.

You're gonna become a bodyguard for two now!

Beelzebub:

It all started with food, as it tends to do with Beelzebub.

Sadly for everyone in the house, he woke up cranky and on top of that, someone dared to eat his food.

As he searched for the culprit, which he quickly found (Mammon) he was ready to blow up on him.

But you got in the way, you tried to calm Beelzebub, but there was not calming the beast once it was bothered.

As he went to put his hand on your shoulder to make himself way to Mammon, you grabbed his arm with all your strenght, pushed him backwards, then slid that arm upon his back and pushed him once again this time on the floor.

This seemed to make him regain his senses a little bit, while making everybody watching you absolutely shocked.

Lucifer quickly went to the living room, where everything was happening and harshly reprimended both you and Beel, while stringing Mammon to the ceiling.

Once you make a pact with Beelzebub, he asks what type of training you do, and if you ever need help with anything.

You both become training buddies. Of course, he is still way stronger than you, but that doesn't mean you can't try and do your best to become stronger.

Belphegor:

The attic. That's where you were going to discover what had happened and how Belphie had been able to get out with just 6 pacts.

You found the door of the room to be open, and once you entered, an oppressive force could be felt all through the room.

You wait, and you hear a step, you feel it all around your body, someone is stalking you.

He jumps at you, going straight for your neck. But you're fast, so you move right in time for him to fall in front of you.

Quickly, you kick him hard in the guts, and as he bends over in pain, you punch him straight in the face, making him fall over.

He didn't have time to regain his strenght, just as he was to attack again, Lucifer and the others ran upstairs to see what was all the ruckus.

When the whole deal about Lilith is said and done, you apologize to him. Which felt strange, as he felt as if he should be the one apologizing, werent for your quick reflexes you would be dead.

English is not my first language, so please excuse me for any mistakes I may have made!

[ecargmura]

The Yuzuki Family's Four Sons Episode 10 Review - Brocon Chain

Meet Mikoto Yuzuki! He’s 13 years old, the idol of every girl in school and the envy of every boy in school. He’s perfect, right? This boy was created flawless, right? Unfortunately, he does have one flaw in that he’s a big brocon. What I mean is that being a brocon shows that Mikoto isn’t all perfect as others perceive him to be, but at the same time, it’s his only defining character trait in a way. It’s not a bad thing to be affectionate towards a family member, but when this guy’s entire screen time revolves around Minato, it does make you wonder what sort of person he is outside of it.

Unfortunately, Mikoto is written like this. Episode 2 shows it definitively. Because Minato was the one who had the most attention from their mom, Mikoto had to hold back a lot. The only person who gave him attention during that time was Hayato who was already a teenager and understanding. Because Hayato told him that Minato acts out due to admiration of him, he realizes that since he also admires Hayato, he projects that admiration towards Minato and that’s how Mikoto becomes a brocon. This episode takes it even further that his whole world revolved around Minato since then. He even has a secret Minato collection comprised of his cringiest moments. He even explains that little brothers are a god given miracle that sort of shows his overly strong attachment towards Minato. The fact that he even gets jealous of Gakuto sort of shows that without Minato, Mikoto is inherently nothing.

Hayato, Minato and Gakuto still have strong traits outside of their family, so for Mikoto to not have that feels like a bit of a let down. I want to know what sort of person Mikoto is outside of Minato. What does he worry about? What does he think about other than Minato? The only real semblance of Mikoto as a character outside of Minato was back in the first episode where he is shown to be the one Hayato relies on and trusts the most. I feel like I’m ranting, but I promise that I am not. I just want to like Mikoto, but it’s just so hard to do so when I know little to nothing about him—this story is about all four brothers, after all. Though, I did like how that despite his sibling jealously towards Gakuto, he still does have the heart to be accepting of it as he believes Minato’s love for Gakuto has also helped him ascend onto another plane of Nirvana; the whole Nirvana thing is pretty hilarious.

On the other hand, Minato is also a brocon, but he’s also a better character because being a brocon isn’t his only schtick. Like, if you take away the brocon, Minato still has a character. I think that Minato not wanting a little brother, finding him weird and then thinking Gakuto’s the sweetest thing ever does feel realistic in a way. I’ve heard about some anecdotes with similar cases. I loved how self-aware six-year-old Minato was when it came to imagining what a little brother would be like. He exactly hasn’t treat Mikoto very well, so he was worried that Gakuto might be like him growing up. I’m honestly glad Gakuto isn’t like Minato at all. I actually found that scene where Minato was feeding Gakuto so adorable; I legit gushed just like Chieko (the mom) and Hayato. It feels like night and day when Minato was crying for his mom earlier in the episode to how he wanted to be the one to feed his little brother.

Though, if I were to give something positive about Mikoto, being a brocon helped him be a better person because without it, he’d just be in the background all neglected and jealous. Same goes for Minato. Being a brocon helped Minato be a better person as he learned to care for someone younger than him. Yeah, the overall message of this episode is that even if you are overly affectionate of your sibling to the point that it does make you feel jealous of another one, said love does make one a better person. I wonder how far Mikoto will ascend in his nirvana.

Still, there are only two more episodes left. The lack of Mikoto screen time will feel like the show’s biggest wasted potential. I’d also like to see another Hayato episode if possible, but  I doubt it. It sucks that the manga hasn’t been licensed for an English translation because it’s actually an award-winning shoujo manga series in its home country. I’d love to get a copy and see more of the brothers’ daily lives. Regardless, I still enjoyed this episode. I just hope Minato is prepared when he gets a girlfriend because Mikoto will totally be fighting her. What are your thoughts on this episode and about Mikoto as a character?

[threadsun]

🧸Asks: "I will share DoL PC stuff soonlater (got a lot of stuff to do today argh) but I had a brainrot thought that I can't let go of and I need to yeet it at you!! Bear (🧸) with me on this one, idk if you've heard similar ideas or not oop.

What if Ian found the tape first? I mean, he's starring in the reboot, the director might have handed him a box of old tapes of the show to get a feel for the character he'll be playing. Sure, it's mostly normal episodes, but one of the tapes must have gotten mixed up... Something about an '84 Incident'? But he's curious now, plays it anyway...

Jack recognises an opportunity when he sees it. I mean, this has to be fate! This little ray of sunshine is going to be resurrecting the Sunnytime Crew! But, well, this 'Ian' can't give his all to the role if he's hurting so much inside. The kids at home will know he's not genuinely happy. So Jack will just have to fix that!

Ian reminds him a lot of what he went through as Joseph. A difficult home life, struggling to fit in with peers, the pressure of the industry forcing him to do things he doesn't want to do... Jack knows about Y/N, he knows that Ian cheated, but he knows why Ian did what he did. (Patreon spoilers I guess?) And he knows that Ian still loves them.

It starts off less-than-altruistic, if he's being honest. I mean, the more Ian trusts Jack, the more open he is to 'suggestions'. He shows him how to be the best Sunny Day Jack he can be, how to be more confident, how to be strong enough to win Y/N back, to be worthy of them! And maybe a little possession could help with that, you know? Practice makes perfect. Muscle memory. Ian tries to rationalise it as 'method acting', but he's really liking this new version of himself.

Being connected like that, well, it's a closeness neither of them are used to. Ian comes out of his shell, keeping more of that confidence even when he's not possessed. And Jack, well, he starts to feel some of Ian's emotions towards Y/N. He wants them to come back, to be with Ian again, to be with BOTH of them.

Honestly idk how it would work out, I have two options in my brainsoup and both are equally appealing. On the one hand, Ian and Y/N discuss the problems in their relationship, how they've grown as people, and seeing the genuine change in Ian is enough for Y/N to give him another chance. Also Jack is there because I'm a poly bitch and Jack has two hands lmao.

On the other hand... well, Ian's already said he NEEDS to have you back in his life, right? And if Jack felt the same way, so desperate for that connection he felt in Ian's memories, yearning to be a part of it, willing to do ANYTHING for his sunshine... Two yanderes, fused into one Sunny Day Jack, would be unstoppable."

OH POLYAM IAN LOVER BRAIN GO BRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!

I love this so much, Ian is in like prime position for Jack to manipulate him!! Especially because of [REDACTED PATREON SPOILER THAT'S DRIVING ME INSANE THAT I CAN'T TALK ABOUT BUT DEAR GOD] Jack is definitely able to use his therapy speak to get Ian believing that all he wants is to help him heal from his trauma!!!

And then the two of them both getting yandere over Sunshine... I love it!!! Ian definitely has latent yandere tendencies imo, and Jack has overt ones. So like. Combined... dear lord. Good luck, Sunshine!