#but like we shit talked away from the phone quietly or like. after the call.

[buddysblogs123]

TEEN READER X ARSENAL

Found Family pt 2

A few of your teammates ended up staying at yours the night, to make sure you were okay. But when they woke up you were no where to be seen. Alessia was the first to notice as she woke up to the empty space next to her.

"y/n?" alessia called out as she sat up in bed rubbing her eyes, instantly worrying about your disappearance. Her of all people knew that you weren't an early bird, opting to sleep in for as long as you could instead of getting up early.

Getting out of bed alessia walked into the living room where Leah, Steph, Kyra, Caitlin and Katie were sitting on the couch talking quietly.

"Where's y/n?" Alessia asked confused, not seeing you with the group. Alessia was met with confused and concerned looks.

"She's not still in bed?" katie asks confused, alessia shook her head before noticing a large note on the fridge.

Walking over she took the note softly, reading it out loud to the group.

"I couldn't sleep that well so i went for a run, i have a few things to do so i'll meet you guys at training. Feel free to stay at mine for as long as you want xxx

(P.S- don't drink all my coffee please and thankyou)

- Y/n L/n ❤️"

A few of the girls sigh sadly at the fact that you couldn't sleep and that you were overworking yourself with a run before training. Alessia stares at the note for a few seconds before placing it on the counter.

"Did anyone hear her leave?" Leah speaks up, getting a few no's from the girls.

"Well we mays well get ready and meet her at training then" caitlin speaks up.

After waking up at 4 in the morning and deciding to go for a run you stop at Alex's house, where harry and jacob happen to be. Before you knew it you were all in the garage working on a song you had written called 'Run away' (p!nk). The song represented your backstory and somewhat your old home life when you were living with your parents.

Playing and writing music with the boys came freely, you all matched each other perfectly so it wasn't suprising that the song only took an hour or two to finish. Playing it together one last time whilst recording it you nodded your goodbyes and started walking to the training grounds. Arriving earlier than the other girls you set your stuff up in your cubby and made your way onto the pitch.

You don't know how long you were out practicing for but soon enough your teammates make their way onto the pitch, watching as you kick every ball you had set up, perfectly into the net. Alessia smiles to herself proudly before yelling out and waving you over. You look over quickly before running to collect the balls you kicked before you approach the group.

"hey guys" you say a bit out of breath with a smile.

"What time did you leave this morning?" Kyra asks as she slings an arm over your shoulder.

"er around 4" you say unsurely.

"Y/n..." Leah starts with a concerned expression which matched the other girls.

"yeah, yeah i know" you mumble right before your all called to start training.

Training went by quickly, and it's only now you realize that not sleeping and overworking yourself with a run and extra training wasn't the best idea. You walk next to Alessia as you make your way to your cubby, quickly changing out of your training kit and into a pair of trackies and one of Alex's hoodies. Your to zoned out to notice how the girls were in the corner of the change room gathered around the phone. You were so zoned out to the point that it didn't register what sound it was playing.

"holy shit" katie whispers, watching the video from her phone with the rest of the girls gathered around her.

"She's blowing up" caitlin says in disbelief as she looks at the amount of likes on the video. 

"Should we talk to her about these lyrics?" Steph asks unsurely as the video starts playing out loud again. The sound of your voice fills the girls ears again as they watch through the video. You stood in-front of your band playing the electric guitar, belting the lyrics with such unmistakable passion. The vulnerability in your voice while singing was noticeable to your teammates as your voice would crack every so often.

" And i wonder,

If i was a mistake,

i might have no where left to go,

but i know that i cannot go home,

these voices trapped inside my head,

tell me to run before i'm dead,

chase the rainbows in my mind,

and i will try to stay alive,

maybe the world will know my name,

why don't you help me runawayyyyy"

"I think there's a bigger story behind her home life then what she told us" leah murmurs quietly getting a few agreements from the other girls. Their attention was interrupted by a phone ringing, looking around to find the source of noise their eyes land on you.

"Kid your phones ringing" Katie shouts, snapping you out of your daze. You send her a quick thanks before reaching for your phone. The girls watch as your facial expressions drops, they see you panic slightly before getting up and walking outside the changeroom.

"no no no no, not now, why now" you mumble as you lean on the wall and sink to the floor. you feel your breathing pick up rapidly as you stare at your mums phone number on your screen. Tears flow down your cheeks as you attempt to regulate your breathing, using strategies  the boys taught you to try help you calm down. It wasn't working and it was getting harder to breathe. You flinch when you feel someone touch your shoulder, not being able to register who it was.

Alessia held your shaking body close to her, pulling you so you were sitting in her lap.

"hey, hey follow my breathing y/n" she spoke as calmly as she could, freaking out on the inside as she's never seen you in this state before. You try your best to follow her breathing, listening to the sound of her heart beat.

You were still shaking slightly as alessia held you, your breathing now slightly shaky but back to normal. She pulls you in closer, resting her head on the top of yours.

"your okay love" she whispers, kissing your head softly.

"s-sorry" you murmer

"you have nothing to be sorry for, what happened?" she said gently, you didn't have the voice to tell her, so picking up your phone you opened you missed calls, passing the phone to alessia. Alessias face dropped as she read the contact name.

"what does she want" she whispered angrily to herself. You didn't reply instead leaning into alessia more, but her attention was fixed on the text you had just gotten.

'if you don't answer this phone brat i'll travel all the way over and beat you again, your choice'

Beat you again? Alessia's heart dropped, quickly she took out her own phone, taking a photo of the text without you noticing and quickly sending into a group-chat.

NORTH LONDEN IS RED ❤️🤍

Attachment image- Guys...

Leah- wtf

Katie- "Beat you again" what the fuck

Steph- oh god

Kyra- is y/n okay?

Caitlin- Where are you two?

Alessia- Y/n just had a pretty bad panic attack, i calmed her down but she hasn't seen the text yet. I don't want her to freak out again.

Leah- good job less, why don't you take her home, we'll meet you guys in a bit x

Alessia reacted to this message: 👍

The drive home was silent, not like awkward silence, you were half asleep leaning on the car door while alessia's eyes glanced at the road and then to you every minute. Once you got home alessia guided you onto the couch, putting a blanket over the both of you as you choose a movie to watch.

"y/n? Can i ask you a question?" alessia spoke up nervously.

"yeah" you whispered back.

"your mum didn't hurt you physically did she?" she asked hesitantly. The silence was all she needed to know what she asked was true.

"y-yeah sometimes" you say quietly, alessia pulls you closer into her, heartbreaking as she tries not to let her tears fall.

"c-can we not talk about this right now?" you whisper gently.

"yeah, but you understand that i have to tell the other girls right?" she says back protectively.

"y-yeah i know, are they coming here?" you ask looking up to alessia.

"yeah in a bit" she says back, kissing your head softly.

"can you tell them when i'm not there, i don't really want to see their reactions" you say hesitantly.

"yeah of course, whatever you want" Alessia whispers gently.

It wasn't long until you fell asleep in her arms, totally exhausted from today you didn't hear the knock on your door. Your teammates walked in and their hearts instantly melt at the sight of you sleeping.

"how is she?" kyra asked gently, sitting down next to alessia.

"She's been pretty quiet, but there's something i need to talk to you guys about" alessia said the last bit coldly, making the girls look at her confused.

Carefully getting up, alessia walked towards your kitchen, motioning for the girls to follow her. So standing around your kitchen alessia started talking.

"she said her mum used to hurt her physically, i don't know how bad" alessia said quietly, looking at the floor while she chews her nails. The girls hearts drop at the thought of their little sister figure being hurt by her own family.

"so the text wasn't an empty threat" katie whispered in disbelief.

"no, her mum actually used to beat her up" alessia says with tears falling down her cheeks.

Kyra slowly walked up to her, wrapping her arms around alessias waist as she cried. Alessia hugged back tightly. The moment was interrupted by you stumbling into a kitchen, not saying a word as you weaved through the girls and reached on top of your fridge. Picking up your note book and pen you walked over to your dining table quickly writing something down.

"are you alright kid?" steph says argently, quite confused by your strange behavior.

"yeah sorry, two secs" you mumble, still scribbling words down with your pen. Once you finish writing you sit deep in thought, tapping your pen on the table.

"what are you writing?" caitlin asks gently, standing behind you while rubbing your shoulders.

"just some chorus lyrics before i forget them" you say back, still deep in thought.

"care to share?" kyra asks eagerly, peering over to your note book.

"oh um, yeah sure, i'm going to record the vocals now anyway" you say softly getting up from your seat and walking towards a closed room.

"I'm here all the time and i've never seen what's in this room" alessia says in disbelief, as you find the key to unlock the door.

"oh yeah, i normally don't let anybody in here" you say unlocking the door and turning on the light. The girls were amazed by what they saw.

"is this where you record your music" leah asks amazed, looking around the room.

"yeah" you say, sitting down and preparing your recording gear. Putting your note book down, you switch on your microphone.

"erm can you guys be quiet for like 30 seconds, just so i can record these lyrics quickly" you turn around and ask them with a hopeful smile, getting a few nods in return as they sit around the room, their attention on you. You take a deep breath before you start singing.

"And i don't know what i'm crying for,

I don't think i could love you more,

It might not be long, but baby, i

I'll love you 'til the day that i die,

'Til the day that i die

'Til the light leave my eyes

'Til the day that i die"

"Okay finally" you say, quickly adding the vocals to the song you were working on.

"right, 4th song down, we can leave now" You say happily, turning around in your seat. The girls look at you in shock.

"ill never get over your voice" Katie says in disbelief.

"can we hear the full song? what's it called?" Kyra speaks up quickly.

"Yeah sure, it's called 'birds of a feather'" you say with a smile, pressing play on the audio. Music fills the room as you bop around to the beat, lip syncing the words.

"That's really impressive y/n" leah says in admiration.

"thanks lee" you say back with a smile.

The girls look at you with a smile on their faces, seeing you happy compared to how they saw you last night.

"Speaking of your music y/n" Caitlin speaks up, you look at her with a curious expression, once she gets your attention she speaks again.

"have you seen what's been put on social media about it?" caitlin asks, pulling out her phone, your face drops.

"no why, is it bad?" you ask freaked out.

"no no it's good, really good actually, here" she reassures you, passing you her phone.

Rising soccer star Y/N Y/L/N breaking the internet with a new version of herself. The young 17 year old was seen performing original songs with unknown male band mates, taking the music industry by storm. So far the young talent has produced three songs- Touch back down, Lunch and recent song Runaway. But there's a few things fans are dying to know, what's the backstory behind the songs? and when can we hear more?

comments

'I need more 😩'

'she's so hot'

'Runaway has me in my feels'

'Album drop?'

'it's been two days and she's already got 3 songs produced. crazy'

'New career path?'

"wow that's crazy" you say in disbelief, scrolling through the comments before handing caitlin her phone back.

"You're really picking some fans y/n, maybe one will be your future girlfriend" katie says teasingly causing you to scoff.

"i'm happily taken" you mumble under your breath before turning around back to your computer. What you failed to notice was their reactions as you didn't realize they heard what you said.

"WHAT YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!" Katie yells, spinning your chair around so you're facing them.

"yeah why?" you say casually, getting up from your seat and walking out the room, the girls follow behind you closely

"since when?!" Steph asks protectively

"a few months?" you say as you check your calendar.

"why didn't you tell us?" kyra speaks up.

"i was still in the closet remember, keep up Ky" you say teasingly.

"can we meet her? what's her name?" alessia begs

"sorry lessi but no, we're keeping our relationship between our selves for now, hopefully you'll meet her soon though" you say sweetly making her nod her head in understanding.

"how old is she?" leah asks over protectively.

"18" you shrug, there was only a year difference between you two so it wasn't that bad.

Before they could ask anymore questions your phone started ringing, checking the contact hesitantly you sighed in relief after realizing it was Alex.

"hola, como estas" you say with a smile. The girls totally forgot you spoke spanish.

"muy bein gracias" you say back after a few seconds.

Your teammates listen to the one sided conversation in complete confusion, not understanding a single word you were saying. Soon enough your conversation was over, walking back over to your calendar you grabbed a pen and started scribbling down a note.

"M G?, what does that mean?" kyra asks from behind you.

"music gig" you say as if it was obvious.

"jesus kid, you really are going places" leah says gently, causing you to chuckle.

"also, since when can you speak spanish?" alessia asks the one question they had all been wondering.

"not sure actually, grew up speaking it i guess" you yawn.

"you tired child?" steph asks, wrapping her arms around you from behind causing you to lean into her.

"yeah just a little" you say back quietly, which was an obvious lie as you stood half asleep.

"alright bed time for you" alessia pulls your arms softly.

Giving each of your teammates a hug you slowly made your way to your room, changing into a pair of pajamas and getting in bed. The girls sat with you until you fell asleep, watching as you looked the most peaceful compared to how you were these past few days.

"come on" leah whispers once you were asleep, motioning for the girls leave as she shuts your bedroom door quietly.

"i can't believe she has a secret girlfriend" steph says in disbelief.

"maybe we can figure out who she is when we pick her up from school tomorrow" kyra says excitedly

"i think that's the smartest thing you've said this week" alessia laughs quietly as kyra has an offended look on her face.

"hey!" she bites back

"no arguing now children, you both need to go home and get some sleep aswell" leah speaks up.

"but what about y/n" alessia asks hesitantly.

"should one of us stay the night?, just in case?" katie speaks up.

"yeah i will, i'll drop her off to school tomorrow aswell" leah says as she stretches. The girls agree, packing up their belongings they slowly disperse from your house. All but leah as she makes herself a bed on the couch.

"Leah what the flip are you doing" you suddenly appear in the living room, scaring the shit out of her.

"jesus y/n, i'm staying the night on the couch" leah says as she flops on the couch, just to be dragged up by you.

"The couch is so uncomfortable, just come sleep in my bed, i want cuddles" you say as you drag her to your bedroom. You lie in bed cuddled up to leah as she plays with your hair.

"you'll wake me if you can't sleep again okay? i don't want you overworking yourself with another morning run" she whispers

"yeah okay" you mumble before you fall asleep.  Leah falls asleep shortly after you.

If you were being honest you were absolutely terrified for your teammates to meet your girlfriend, not wanting them to accidentally scare her off or embarrass you. But over the past few days you've opened up more than what you have your whole life, so hopefully things go your way and the girls don't go full overprotective sister mode and ruin it for you. Even if they did, you could never stay mad at them, they're the family you've never had and you would do anything not to loose them.

(the endings so bad 😭😭 but i'm tired so i'm posting this then going to sleep so i hope this is at least half decent) also defs not proof read

[lilgynt]

supervisors not explaining things clearly at all even when i say hey i have never done this and then i can hear the merchants making fun of how long this call is taking in the background

[mariespen]

Who? ˳༄꠶

jealous!Rafe Cameron x fem!Reader ༄꠶ summary: “No way am I sending my girl on a study date with another man." warnings: very very mild sexual concepts, jealous Rafe

based on this request!

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Rafe Cameron was looking right at you with a death glare, the kind of look you’d pin on horrible people who were only doing horrible things. You’d think your boyfriend would understand that being in college requires unavoidable group work, which leads to unavoidable conversations with people you would much rather not know at all. Naturally, you were wrong. Devastatingly wrong.

“I don’t get it.” He said plainly for the fifteenth time that night, “You don’t even need this class if I’m honest.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to focus more on packing your things rather than the hole he was staring into your back.

“Don’t do that shit.. c’mon baby..” Rafe said, getting up to stand closer to you, a persuading hand on your hip, “M’working so hard to give you a life where you don’t gotta work and-“

“Rafe, we’ve talked about this too many times.” You cut him off in hopes to finally shut him up.

“Well why don’t we talk about it again,” He said, a tiny smile on his face, “Like right now? Over dinner?”

“Baby you know that my group members will kill me if I don’t pull through.” You shrugged past him, walking to put your shoes on.

You weren’t wearing anything near special. Sweatpants and one of Rafe’s oversized hoodies were all that you were planning on showing off. But in Rafe’s eyes, HE would fuck you in that, so who’s to say that no one else would? Naturally, he carries a heavy bias considering that Rafe would fuck you in anything, but he says ‘that’s not the point.’

“So what, you’re gonna spend all night with people you don’t even like?” He asked with a scoff.

You gave him an annoyed nod, trying to prove your point.

“That’s gotta be like.. bad for your uh.. mental health. You should stay in.”

“Rafe stop-“ You started before getting a ping on your phone. You groaned to finish the sentence, storming off to get your shoes on.

“What?” Rafe called after you, quietly shuffling behind before picking your phone up and looking at the recent notifications.

Connor: When r u getting here?

“Who’s this?” Rafe asked, pointing to the phone with a look of pure hatred in his eyes.

“One of my group members, love.” You said, trying to stifle a giggle over how protective he was over you.

“Another man? Absolutely not,” He said, turning away from you to block the door out of your shared apartment before continuing his rant, “No way am I sending my girl on a study date with another man. Who do you think-“

You pushed past him, backpack already slung over your shoulders as you made your escape to the front door.

“Nope.” He said plainly, grabbing the back of your bag and making you look at him, his fingers tracing your jaw and holding your eyes to his.

“Rafe..” You whined, but his touch was strict.

“You’re mine, baby. Not Connor’s, a’ight?” He said, brushing hair from your face.

“I’m yours.” You repeated, standing on your tip-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

His eyes softened and he thought he got you wrapped around his finger, pulling away to look at your flushed face. Instead, you darted to the door when his touch weakened, hand on the knob before Rafe could get another word in.

“Love you!” You said, closing it before everything caught up to him.

The group work went fine and almost exactly like you thought. A long session and a gut wrenching feeling of exhaustion afterwards. It’s never your favorite event but there were worse things that could happen. Things like walking back into your apartment after narrowly escaping your boyfriend’s possessive hand. 

You opened the door quietly, which was already unnecessary. Of course he was still wide awake, waiting for you like a father punishing his daughter for sneaking out. He was sitting on the couch, arms crossed and scowling at you.

“What the fuck?” He asked, getting up to meet you at the front door.

You shoved your shoes off, setting down your backpack and walking closer to Rafe. “M’tired baby..” You said, making every attempt to walk past the intimidating block he made in the hallway.

“No, no no.. this isn’t how it’s gonna work,” Rafe said, using both of his hands to hold your shoulders and forcing you to stand right in front of him as he lowered his voice, “Can’t just do that baby.. a’ight?”

“Sorry..” You whispered, breaking free of his hold on your shoulders and instead pulling yourself into him, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

You could feel the slightly annoyed laugh that bubbled from him, but you could also feel the chaste kiss that he left on the top of your head. Rafe’s soft spot for you would always shine through his anger. You let yourself melt into his arms while you contemplated falling asleep standing.

“C’mon..” He whispered into you, equally as tired from staying up and waiting for you to come back to him.

You felt him pick you up cautiously, kissing your cheek as you let your eyes start to close.

——————————————————————

The next morning was a beautiful Saturday, which of course was the day you woke up to about 15 messages from your project’s group chat. Somehow you managed to squirm away from Rafe’s death grip over your body to check your phone. Casual conversations relating to different parts of the project and other things that you wanted nothing to do with flashed across the screen.

Over your shoulder you heard Rafe groan and felt him reach for where you weren’t. He looked around for you, watching groggily as you typed out a response on your phone.

“Baby..” He trailed off, rubbing his eyes.

“Sorry.. group project.” You whispered, giving in and letting yourself melt back into his arms.

“At 9 in the morning?” Rafe mumbled into you, an annoyed sigh died in his throat when you ran your fingers through his hair.

Sleep clouded your mind as the two of you held each other close again. He wasn’t trying to show it, but his possessiveness and jealousy were leaking out of him like a faucet.

“G’morning princess..” You heard Rafe whisper from above you, brushing the lazy hair from your cheeks.

You groaned and shifted, trying to find the warmth in the bed now that Rafe had gotten up.

“Let’s get lunch, hm?” He asked, gently moving you to face him again.

You nodded, trying to nod away the urge to dive back under the blankets.

Getting ready wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, just because Rafe had already bought you the perfect outfit and you didn’t have to fight off your hair as much as you normally did. Whenever you got ready, Rafe would always finish before you and sit on the edge of the bed, admiring your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your cheeks would flush up and you could never get your blush right anymore because he somehow always had your face a pink shade of red.

Rafe grabbed your bag for you, a small purse that fit your pretty dress. He also went to get your phone from its shameful place at the bedside table because of course you had forgotten to charge it last night.

One text had lit up your screen and his eyes narrowed the moment he saw it was from Connor.

“Baby, why is Connor texting you?” He asked, walking to your spot in the bathroom and shoving the phone in your face to quickly get your attention.

You took the phone, opening the notification while Rafe watched from over your shoulder.

Connor: Hey, I have some ideas for the paper. You want to meet up to talk? I was thinking a Cafe or something.

You could feel the angry red heat of jealousy seeping out of Rafe’s body.

“I told you.” He said, taking the phone from you and staring at the message again, almost dumbfounded at Connor’s audacity.

“M’not going.” You said plainly, looking at him with a lightly apologetic look.

“Damn right you’re not.” He replied, throwing your phone onto the bed and looking at you with an angry glare staring down at your face.

You watched an idea form in his head. It was easily not anything good considering the way his lips turned up in a thin smile and his gaze moved between you and the phone in a heartbeat.

“Y’know.. I really don’t want my girl missn’ anything..” He trailed off, walking to where he threw your phone originally.

“Rafe..” You tried to protest, not fully understanding where his head was at.

“No.. I think I gotta be a good boyfriend here.” He nodded to himself before looking at you with an unforgettable smirk.

“Baby I don’t want to go.” You said, walking up to him and trying to read his cocky expression.

“You, go?” He asked with faux confusion, cocking his head to the side, “No no, you’ve got it all wrong.” 

Rafe stood up, taking your hands in his and kissing your knuckles before looking back down at you. Now it was your turn to be confused, furrowing your eyebrows.

“You think I’m stupid, baby?” He mocks, kissing your up jaw and stopping by your ear, “M’gonna go in for you.”

Whatever hint of a smile you had on your face slowly disappeared as realization dawned on you.

“I think I’ll text him right now and let him know I’m on my way. Give him a nice surprise when he realizes it’s not the pretty little girl that he wants.” Rafe said slyly, pulling back with a malicious smile.

“Then he and I can really talk, hm?”

The next day, Connor dropped the class.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

[evie-sturns]

"fuck off" - Matt Sturniolo

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summary: matts ice-hockey team has a rough loss, you try to comfort matt after the game but he snaps at you.

warnings: fighting, swearing, angst, SMUT.

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another goal to the other team. matt's team was getting destroyed by the opposition and he was not having it, "what the fuck are you on ref?" matt shouts at the referee as he skates away. BUZZ the buzzer signalling the end of the match echos throughout the arena and i instantly turn to nick, whos sitting next to me on the bleachers "hey nick im gonna go find matt alright?" i say to nick as i gather my things and speed-walk towards the changing rooms.

i wait outside the mens changing room for 10 minutes until the doors swing open, "matt.. hey, you alright?" i say looking at him but he just pushes past me and out of the facility, into the parking lot. i quickly chase after him as he storms towards the car "matt?" i call out as i catch up to him and he swing around to face me "just fuck off y/n, ive had a shit day and your annoying ass isn't helping." matt growls at me as he looks down at me. my eyes widen and my eyebrows furrow, the uncomfortable silence grows, i shake it off temporarily and grab his bicep "matt i know your angry, but please dont talk to me like that." i say gently trying to calm him down "ill talk to you how i want" he snaps back then pushes me off him, opens the door to the car and climbs in in a huff.

i look around to try see if nicks coming, but i assume he's getting a ride home with chris so i open the door to the passenger side and quickly climb in. matt starts to drive forward as soon i shut the door and the rest of the drive is silent apart from a few grunts from matt.

we pull into the driveway and matt instantly turns off the car, grabs his hockey back and gets out of the car, stomping up to the house and letting himself in, not even bothering to look back. why is he acting like this, its just one loss?

after a few minutes of attempting to calm my anger down and failing, i get out of the car and slam the car door shut behind me and running up to the house. matts locked himself in the bathroom so i run into our bedroom, and push the door shut behind me. i change out of my thermals into a matching brandy melville pyjama set and i crawl into bed.

after 45 minutes of scrolling on my phone i hear a soft few knocks on the door to the bedroom and i sigh quietly and ignore it. 3 more gentle knocks. i realise hes not planning on going away so i mumble "come in."

the door pushes open and matts face peeks in, he comes into the room in silence and lays down on the bed next to me, flat on his back. i roll over away from him to face the wall, and i can hear the soft clicking noise of matt biting his nails. i feel 1 warm hand on my shoulder which rolls me over onto my back. matt rolls onto his side to face me and he looks me in my eyes. "im so sorry y/n" he says calmly and quietly but i stay silent. "i didnt mean anything i said, and i was a total dick. i dont know if you knew but that game was the decider if i got a scholarship, and i totally fucked it up." he continues, "a-and i was so mad at myself, that i took it out on everyone, like in the locker room i was cussing everyone out, and im not proud of it, at all" matt says, "and now i dont know if im gonna get the scholarship and im so fucking stressed, but i am truly sorry on what i said." he groans. "close your eyes matt." i say softly and his eyebrows furrow out of confusion "huh?" he says, definitely not expecting that response. "trust me" i say again, with a smirk playing at my lips and he squeezes his eyes shut.

i shimmy my way down to the middle of the bed, right next to matts lap. i silently pull my tank top off and place it beside me as pull down matts sweatpants down slightly, almost letting his cock spring out and his breath instantly hitches "fuck. please.." he groans as he balls up his fisted and rubs both of his eyes. i see his bulge grow bigger. i plant gentle kisses on his clothed bulge as he whimpers desperately, "matt, i am about to suck your cock until you cum down my throat, and if you open your eyes, i will stop." i say softly, taking control of the situation and he nods "okay- fuck yeah okay" he says frantically nodding. i pull down his sweatpants all the way and his cock springs out onto his stomach, his tip is the exact shade of his lips and is leaking precum. I lick my lips and grab his shaft, only putting the tip in my mouth, he lets out a long groan and pushes his hair back with his tattooed arm. I suck his tip gently then take it out of my mouth, and he whines. "patience matthew" i giggle and then trail my tongue from his balls up the long vein going up his dick. "please.. let me fuck you oh my fuck-" he groans quietly and thats enough for me to take his whole length in my mouth, bobbing my head quickly up and down. i quickly take my mouth off him after a few minutes and his eyes stay shut. hes so stimulated that he doesnt even notice me crawling ontop of him and hovering above his tip. he lets out a soft moan and i sink down onto his length. "what the f-" he gasps quietly and his eyes spring open to look at me. his hands instantly grip my hips and push me down further onto him "good girl." he groans as he pulls me up and down on his cock "fuck- so tight" he growls out as he goes faster "close-" i warn and he guides me up and down faster.

i let out an almost pornographic scream as i orgasm all over his cock. "fuck-" he stammers as he cums inside of me. i collapse onto his chest with him still buried inside of me. he holds my ass gently as he catches his breath "you're so perfect you know?" he whispers into my ear and i groan into his ear. "you want me to.. you know pull out..?" he says embarrassed.

"not really honestly"

"oh.. do you forgive me?"

"after that orgasm, yeah."

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hoooottttt anyways leave requests, they can be anon!! theres a little button on my page.

hope yall liked this!!

[scuderiahoney]

Oscar Piastri x reader // in motion part 7

summary: a hockey watch party, one last data point for the pizza theory, and one last chance at the national title. Word Count: 7.2k

warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mentions of bullying, & some very mild angst

You watch the second round of the hockey championships from the floor of Lily’s apartment, surrounded by friends and friends of friends and anyone who cares enough about hockey to be there, really. You’re in a pair of Timberwolves sweats, your jersey, a team logo beanie, and even your socks are Timberwolves blue. The apartment gets warm, eventually, but you refuse to take any of it off.

They play a good game. The other team is good too, though. You hold your breath for almost the entire third period- it’s tied, 3 to 3. Alex makes save after save. Max takes shot after shot. Nothing is working.

Then, Oscar comes out onto the ice with just a few minutes left to play. You reach behind you and grab Lily’s hand. Lando snatches the puck away from the other team and sends it off to Max. Max passes it through a gap to Oscar. Oscar takes the shot.

The puck hits the net. The goal horn goes off, and the apartment falls quiet. Everyone is holding their breath now. Nobody dares to celebrate yet.

“There’s still a minute left,” you say, like you’re not all aware of it.

The seconds tick down. They feel endless. But when the buzzer sounds, the Timberwolves are up by one. They’re headed to the semifinals. The apartment erupts into cheers, and all you can do is finally breathe. Behind you, Lily does the same, melting into the couch.

“Guess it’s time to book flights to St. Paul,” she says, when you turn to look back at her.

You take a shot of tequila with her in the kitchen, and then you get seats next to each other on a flight out to the semifinals. Your phone rings nearly immediately after that- the apartment is noisy, but it’s Max, so you answer anyways.

“Bunny!” He yells. “We fucking did it!”

“I know!” You say back, feeling nearly as giddy as he must be. “Holy shit, Max!”

“I know,” he says back. You think he might be crying. “You’re gonna come, right?”

“Booked our flights already.”

Lando’s the next one on the line, and it’s pretty much a repeat of the same conversation. It continues. At one point, Alex is talking to both you and Lily on separate calls. You hope someone snaps a picture of him with two phones to his ears. The call lasts through their bus ride back to the hotel, and you want to ask for Oscar but you can’t, really, not when-

“Hi?” Oscar says, voice slightly confused. “Someone handed me the phone, I’ve got no idea what-“

“Osc,” you say, softly.

“Bunny,” he whispers, and the tone of voice makes you melt. “Hi.”

“Good job,” you say. “That goal…”

“Fucking insane,” he says, voice cracking slightly. “I’m so happy.”

You grin. “Me too.”

“I wish you were here,” he says, quietly.

You know somewhere during the call they’ve gotten off the bus and headed inside somewhere- maybe the hotel, maybe a restaurant. You wonder if he’s snuck away to talk to you, or if he’s counting on everyone being too excited to pay attention to him. Either way, you don’t mind. It’s enough to hear his voice, to hear the warmth in it, to know that he wants to talk to you too.

“Me too,” you say. Lily’s motioning to you from across the room, holding up the bottle of tequila. You nod, and she pours you another drink. “But Lily and I just booked flights for the semifinals.”

“Really?” He says, sounding a bit awed. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you murmur.

“I- I’ve gotta go. We’re out for dinner, Seb’s buying, and-“

“I know,” you tell him, smiling to yourself. “I’ll talk to you soon. Have fun. Congrats.”

“Thanks, baby,” he says.

Then the line goes dead. You take your drink from Lily and take a sip. She gives you a look, a knowing smile on her face. You blink back as innocently as possible.

“You spent that whole call looking happy,” she says. “And then you got to the last five minutes and you looked lovesick.”

“Did I?” You ask.

She’s become convinced that your mystery boyfriend is someone on the team. She’s right, of course, but you’ve refused to tell her. You’d have told her tonight if they lost the game, but it’s the playoffs. You can’t do anything to mess this up for Oscar or the rest of the team. They’ve been so close the last 3 years. This is Lando and Max’s last chance. You’d do anything to see your best friends win.

“I’ll ask Alex who had the phone last,” she threatens.

“No, you won’t, because you won’t violate my trust like that.”

“Don’t call my bluff,” she groans. “Why won’t you just tell me who it is?”

You sigh. “They’re in the semifinals, Lily. I don’t want to do anything to fuck it up.”

She sighs and pouts back at you. “He’s one of the good ones, right? It’s not, like…”

“He’s amazing,” you say, both to reassure her and because it’s true. “Trust me.”

…..

“Hey,” Oscar says, nudging his foot against your ankle. “I have a question.”

It’s late, probably near midnight. It’s a Wednesday, the night before the team flies to Minnesota for the playoffs. You look up from your laptop, propped on your knees in front of you, and blink away the blurriness to look at him. He’s sitting on the other end of your couch, a mirror image, soft and cozy in the warm glow of the lamps in the living room. He’s not doing anything other than scrolling on his phone, but he’d insisted on wanting to be here tonight. To spend the night with you.

“Yeah, what’s up?” You ask. Your homework can wait. You’d much rather talk to him.

“Why does everyone call you Bunny?” He asks. “Like. I get the idea, but how did it even start?”

You blow out a breath and click save on your document. “That’s a long story.”

He shrugs and sinks further down on the couch, leaning against the arm of it. His calf slots between yours, warm and comforting and there. The two of you have been busy the past few days, weeks even, with end of semester work and practices and everything in between. It’s all you can do to just be there for each other. To just spend time together, even when you’re writing an essay and Oscar is trying to decipher math problems. It always feels better when you can feel him next to you.

“I’ve got time,” he says.

“It’s almost midnight,” you respond.

He shrugs again. “I’ve always got time for you.”

And. Well. There’s not much you can do to argue with that, not much you could say back. It sort of makes you melt, really. You let out a low breath and sink back against the arm of the couch, moving your laptop to the coffee table. There’s a loose thread on the blanket that lays over your knees, and you twist it around your pinky finger.

“It was, uh. One of my old teammates,” you say, focusing on the string around your skin, not wanting to look up at his face. “I went to a party with Max and Lando after I got off the crutches, and she was there, and she… yeah. Said a bunch of shit, called me a puck bunny. And back then, Max was a bit more hot tempered, and obviously he didn’t hit her but he started yelling, and then she started yelling, and then so did Lando, and we got kicked out of this party, and-“ you close your eyes, remembering the moment, when the three of you had tumbled out onto the lawn, into the cold air, and when they both turned to check on you- “it was all so absurd, so stupid, so- she was supposed to be my friend, you know? So I just started laughing. And Lando was looking at me like I was crazy, but then Max started laughing, too, and Lando dragged us both home and ordered pizza, and Charles was still up, so he heard the story. And the name stuck. Honestly, I like it. It’s a way to reclaim the insult, you know?”

You look up and find him watching you, drumming his fingers against his knee. There’s a soft, sort of sad look on his face. Your cheeks grow warm. He makes you feel so seen, in this way that feels a little overwhelming at times.

“You and Max have this thing in common,” he says. “You tell these borderline traumatic stories like they’re funny.”

You scoff. “Me getting mildly made fun of by an ex teammate is not on the same level as Max’s stories.”

Oscar blinks. “But it’s not about the level of it, right? And that was a low blow from her, after you’d lost your sport and your support system, to say that about the friends you’d made. I mean. I get that it’s funny or ridiculous, but. It’s okay if it hurts, too. It can be both.”

You stare at him for a couple seconds, a little in awe of him. Of his kindness, of how much he seems to care. You shift on the couch to crawl over to him, pressing yourself into his side and smiling when he wraps his arms around you and giggles. He sinks down onto the couch and pulls you with until you’re cuddled up together, a mess of limbs and blankets and comfort. He kisses your forehead.

“Thank you,” you say.

There’s more you could say, but you don’t think you need to. He knows you so well already.

“Anytime,” he says. “I mean it.”

Before he leaves the next morning, he digs through his backpack in your living room, brows furrowed. “Swear it’s- aha!” He exclaims, pulling something out of the depths of the bag.

He hands it to you carefully, gingerly, like he’s a little nervous. He’s smiling, though. You take the brochure, eyes widening when you see what’s written across the top.

“No pressure,” he says, so quiet and soft. “You said you wanted to find a connection to soccer again, and I saw this, and…” he shrugs. “Thought of you. We can talk about it if you want, or not at all, or-“

You interrupt him, because you think he might be on the verge of rambling a bit. You stare down at the brochure in your hand and smile. “Thanks, Osc. This means the world to me, you know that? You mean the world to me.”

His face breaks out into a warm grin, and you can’t help but kiss him. He smiles into it, the way he always does when you first press your lips to his. Like he can’t quite believe it. You know the feeling.

He’s off to Minnesota in just a couple hours. You’ll be on your way shortly after that. You slip the brochure into your already packed carry on with a warm feeling in your chest.

…..

The guys fly out together, but you and Lily head there separately. The hotel you’ve booked is near the rink, just to make things easier. Max is the one to get you both set up with tickets to the game, since he’s the captain, so they’re relatively good seats, with a good view. By the time the game day rolls around, you feel like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin. Lily seems to be the same. You have a little pregame in your hotel room, just to take the edge off, really.

The arena is cold, like most of them are. It feels strange. You’re so used to the home rink that this one feels new and weird and sort of wrong. You file down to your seats and try your best to take it in. You look down at the ice, where in just a little bit, your friends will be playing their hearts out. Your boyfriend will be playing his heart out. You feel nauseous, suddenly.

Lily grabs your arm and squeezes softly. “Your stomach?” You nod, and she smiles sympathetically. “Yeah. That’s normal. I get it every big game Alex plays in.”

You frown. “I’ve watched so many games, though.”

“It’s different when it’s someone you… care about.” She says.

Her suggestion for a cure to the nausea is soft pretzels, so the two of you make friends with your seat neighbors, leave your jackets there, and head off in search of warm bread. It doesn’t take long to find it. You take small bites of the pretzel as you wander the arena. They’re selling merch- jerseys and beanies and anything else you could imagine. Both of you stop to buy something, wanting to remember this. Lily picks up a t-shirt for Alex. You buy a beanie for yourself and a baseball cap for Oscar. She studies you carefully, but she doesn’t ask any questions.

You stop her just before you get out to the rink again, in the walkway to the seats. “You know who it is, don’t you?”

She laughs and reaches for your arm again, squeezing. “Babe, it’s not hard to figure out. But what you said at the apartment, after the last game- it’s the playoffs. If you’re superstitious about it… I can wait to confirm.”

You take a breath and nod. “Okay.”

“But as soon as this is done, I’m kidnapping you and making you tell me everything,” she says. She squeezes your arm again. “Also, I’m very happy for you.”

You melt. “Thanks, Lily.”

The two of you get back to your seats just before they take to the ice for warmups. You catch yourself holding your breath as you watch Oscar skate loops and patterns around the rink. He goes through his normal warmup routine, he chats with Max and Charles along the way, and then he takes a second, spinning slowly on the ice and looking up at the crowd. You wave when he faces you. You don’t expect him to see it, but then he waves back, and your heart stutters in your chest. Lily’s not looking, too focused on Alex. You let the moment take a little weight off your shoulders.

The team hasn’t made it to the semifinals since you became friends with them. There’s something strange about this atmosphere. There’s so much resting on the game. You feel like you can’t quite relax, and maybe you won’t be able to for the whole thing. Then the puck drops, and Max takes it down the ice, and they score within the first two minutes, and you start to wonder if you ever had anything to worry about.

They win, easy and beautifully, and keep a solid two goal lead on the other team the whole time. They’re through to the finals. You and Lily hug each other in the stands, and you think she’s crying. You think you are too. Oscar’s down on the ice, hugging his teammates. Max stands in the middle of it, talking it all in. Lando bumps into him, grinning. Your boys. They look so proud. You’ve never been more proud.

You tell them as much when you find them after the game. They don’t have a lot of time- Seb’s set a strict hotel curfew, and you probably won’t see much of them until after the last game.

Lando pulls you into a hug in the parking lot of the rink, his face pressed against your shoulder. “One more game,” he says, quietly, and your heart breaks.

“One more,” you say, as Max comes up and hugs your other side. “So we make it count, yeah?”

Lando’s done after the finals game. It’s the last of competitive hockey for him. Max will be off to another team, hopefully, but he’ll be a rookie instead of a team captain. This last game will hold so much weight for both of them. They’re tired and nervous and you can feel it seeping out of them.

“How about I sneak you guys some pizza?” You suggest, and Lando pulls away, face lit up. “Not exactly on the meal plan, but…”

Max pulls back with a grin. “One last data point for the pizza theory.”

“Yeah,” you agree, ruffling his hair before smoothing it off his forehead. You do the same to Lando. “I’m so proud of you two, you know that?”

Any other day, they’d tease you for being cheesy. They’d roll their eyes and duck their heads and do anything to get you to stop. But today, Lando pushes his head against your head, a bit like a cat, and Max smiles, all squinty eyes. You smile, too.

Behind them, Oscar’s leaning on a barricade, talking to Alex and Lily. You want nothing more than to run over and kiss him, but the playoffs aren’t done yet. He smiles softly at you, and you smile back.

You order the pizza to your hotel and then walk it over to theirs, because Seb would definitely not approve and he’s more likely to catch the pizza delivery guy. Max lets you know that they’re hanging out in one of the conference rooms, and gives you directions on how to get there. The boxes are heavy in your arms- Lily had offered to come with, but two of you together would be even more suspicious.

They’re having some sort of movie night- a way to wind down and celebrate before practice tomorrow and the final game the day after that. You knock on the door lightly and hold your breath. Someone shuffles behind the door and then opens it.

It’s Charles. He grins, widely, and doesn’t even make a comment when you peer over his shoulder. They’re watching something with racecars on a giant projector screen. You hand over the boxes.

“Hi,” Charles whispers. “Thank you for the pizza.”

“Of course,” you whisper back. You know you won’t be invited in- the superstitions are running high, now. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

Charles grins. “Thanks. We will see you soon, yes? Oh, and- you should take the stairs down.”

You blink at him, but you figure he’s just worried about you getting caught by one of the coaches. You nod. “Okay. Tell everyone I said good luck, yeah?”

He nods, and then he shuts the door.

You head off for the stairwell at the end of the hall, figuring it’s better to play it safe than sorry. You nearly jump out of your skin when someone clears their throat when you open the door. You come face to face with your boyfriend, and you can’t help the smile that washes over your face. You understand the direction to take the stairs now.

“Osc,” you murmur, stepping closer. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says, all pink cheeked and smiley. “You got my message, huh?”

You nod. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that Charles knows.”

Oscar nods. “I can’t stay long. They’ll get suspicious eventually, and… you know. But I wanted to see you.”

You smile and cup his face in both of your hands. He grins into the kiss when you press your lips to his. His hands fall to your hips, warm and broad, holding onto you to keep you both steady.

“You’re going to the finals,” you tell him, pinching one of his cheeks as you pull away. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

He blushes even more at that, eyelids fluttering closed. “Just one more game.”

“One more game,” you agree.

Your heart twists in your chest. You wonder if he’s feeling what Max and Lando are feeling too, though maybe to a lesser extent. Last game with this team. One last time on the ice. Do anything to make it count. You hadn’t known your last game would be the last game. Oscar has a whole season left after this one, but it still must sting, you know it.

You kiss his cheek. “Go hang out with your teammates. One more game. I got you guys extra breadsticks, but if you don’t get there quick Carlos will definitely eat them all.”

Oscar sighs, rolls his eyes, and kisses your forehead. “Thank you, baby. I’ll see you soon.”

He disappears into the hallway without a trace. You find that you miss him nearly immediately.

…..

When they take to the ice for the last game- of the playoffs, of the season, of their time as a team, as this team- they don’t look nervous. You can feel the nerves in every inch of your body, every hair standing up straight, every muscle tensed. You’re shivering, but not from the chill in the arena. They look calm, cool, and collected. You suppose that’s a good sign.

Lily grips your hand tighter than ever as you wait. Every second ticks by so, so slowly- the anthem, the announcements, the pre game warm ups. You swear you’re going to have a heart attack. Oscar’s down on the ice, running his typical warm up drill, the one you know all too well. Skate from one side to the other. Shoot 3 pucks. Skate back to the other side. Find Charles, who’s waiting. Fist bump. Helmet pat from Max. Deep breath. Shoulder shake. Okay, here we go.

You hold your breath through the entire first period. No goals. You swear you can see the sweat dripping from Alex’s brow in the goalie box, even from up in the stands. Lily’s taken to gripping onto the armrest now, after she squeezed your hand a little too hard and you yelped. You’re leaning forward, elbows on your knees, chin in your hands. Neither of you move during the period break.

They come back out onto the ice raring to go, ready as ever. The other team has two near goals. Max snatches the puck, finds a gap, takes off down the ice, and- he scores. You can’t even scream- it’s more of a sigh of relief, really. Next to you, Lily’s on her feet. You follow suit.

The other team follows it up with a goal of their own five minutes later. Lily winces when Alex hangs his head. You watch Oscar skate over to him, giving him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. He’s come so far, really, from staying by himself at practices to this. It warms your heart.

You grab Lily’s hand and squeeze. “It’s okay,” you say, deciding to be sure of it. “This is it. They’ve got this.”

When the final buzzer rings out through the arena, you’re still holding her hand, fingers knitted together. You think she might be crying. You’re pretty sure you’re crying too. Nobody would blame you, really. There’s loud music playing, confetti flying through the air, and down on the ice-

A sea of blue jerseys, blue sweatshirts, Timberwolf blue, everywhere. Max is already holding the trophy, high above his head as he ping pongs back and forth between his teammates on the ice. They did it. You knew they would, but they really did. The Timberwolves are the national champions. Your heart is pounding in your chest.

By the time the two of you get your legs to work and make your way down to the ice, they’re already clearing the team off of it. They’re headed for the locker room, wide grins on their faces, yelling back and forth. Max is the first to spot you, followed by Lando- they’re sweaty and gross but you try not to make a face when they wrap you up in hugs- ones that are frankly uncomfortable with all their pads on.

“Bunny!” Max yells, basically in your ear. You’re searching the crowd over his shoulder, watching for Oscar. “We did it!”

You pull back and ruffle his hair, grimacing at the sweat. “I knew you would.”

Lando grins and knocks his shoulder against yours. “Yeah. Always been our biggest believer, huh?”

Your chest warms and tightens. You feel like you could cry again, but you’re smiling so, so wide. Oscar’s nowhere to be seen. He probably has no idea you’re even down here.

“We’re going to change,” Lando says. “And then we’ll see you at the bar down the street?”

You nod, sure your eyes are shiny. “Yeah, sounds like a plan. Time to celebrate.”

“One more time,” Max says. Lando nods.

“One more time,” you agree.

Lily finds you seconds later and tells you she got the same message from Alex. When you see Charles on your way out, you stop, tugging on his wrist.

“I couldn’t find him,” you say, hating how pained your voice sounds, how obvious it all feels. Charles smiles. “Can you tell him…”

“I’ll tell him you were looking and that you’ll meet us at the bar,” he agrees.

“Okay,” you nod. “Proud of you, Charlie.”

He grins and wraps you up in a quick hug. “Merci, lapine.”

…..

After a quick stop back at your hotel room to change and freshen up, you find them in the bar, nerves coursing through your veins. They’re easy to spot, decked out in playoff and Timberwolves gear. The song that’s playing is loud in your ears, but not loud enough to drown out your racing heart. Lily squeals and drops your hand when she spots Alex, taking off across the bar to get to him.

Oscar’s in the middle of the sea of people. He has a drink in one hand, and his other arm around Charles’ shoulders. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. His hair’s a half dried mess, his cheeks are flushed, and there’s a wide smile on his lips. He’s a national champion. Your national champion.

His eyes light up when he sees you, and it pulls you in like the tide. You cross the room, and he drops his arm from around Charles. If you’d been paying attention, you’d have heard Max yell your name, or seen Charles hold Lando back with an arm, or noticed Lily tugging on Alex’s arm to get him to look. You don’t, though. It feels like a movie, the way the whole crowd disappears. It’s just him and you. He hauls you into his arms when you get within reach, and one hand slip to hold your lower back as you wrap your arms around his neck. When his lips touch yours, the music and flashing lights fade away. All you can feel is Oscar, and the way he’s kissing you. He steals your breath away. From that very first day, when he walked into the house, bright eyed and new, to now- it’s all been leading up to this. He cradles your face in his hand and tugs at your lower lip with his teeth. You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair. And then-

You’re in a bar. Surrounded by your friends, his whole team. You’re pretty sure the coaches are here somewhere. You remember that, suddenly, when he pulls away abruptly. Your face is hot, his cheeks are red, but both of you are smiling. He’s so hot like this, oozing confidence and pride and you nearly lean in to kiss him again.

A hand appears between the two of you, and Oscar bursts into laughter. You turn and find Max and Lando standing there, looking utterly bewildered. You start to laugh, too.

“She has a boyfriend,” Lando scolds, eyes wide. “Bunny, you have a-“

Max rears his head back. “Lando, you are even more dumb than I am. He is the boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Lando says, though he’s in a bar so it’s more of a shout. “Oh! You fuckers, why didn’t you tell us?”

“Shots?” Carlos says, popping up next to Lando. He has a tray of shot glasses and limes in his hand. “Celebratory shots, anyone?”

You and Oscar both take one of the glasses eagerly, matching grins on both your faces. You cheers with each other and throw them back, reaching for lime slices at identical times, fingers brushing each other. You start to giggle again, feeling giddy. Carlos blinks around the circle at you and Oscar, and then his gaze settles on Lando.

“What is happening here?” He asks, jabbing a finger into Lando’s shoulder. “Lando, you look upset.”

“They’re dating,” Lando says, and Carlos is fighting a laugh, you can tell. “Each other. Apparently.”

“We will need more shots for this,” Carlos says, eyebrows raised. “I will be back.”

You and Oscar spend the next five minutes dodging slaps on the back and congratulatory hugs from the rest of his teammates- not on the win, but on your relationship. Carlos returns with more shots and Charles in tow. Charles, who’s got a wide grin on his face. You wince.

“I am so glad everyone finally knows,” Charles says, and both Lando and Max frown. “I’m very bad at keeping secrets, you know.”

“You knew?” Lando asks, blinking between you and Charles. “You told Charles first?”

Max reaches for a shot and throws it back as you start to explain. “He… figured it out. I didn’t tell him.”

Charles nods. “I am very perceptive.”

“But, but- we were looking for clues,” Lando whines, elbowing Max. “We had theories and evidence and— I almost bought a corkboard. And frickin’ Charles figured it out before us? And the whole time it was frickin’ Oscar?”

Max snorts and passes Lando a shot. “Mate, I think we are maybe just oblivious.”

Lando opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again. He blinks at the shot glass in his hand. He holds it up and switches his gaze to your boyfriend, and then takes a deep breath.

“If you ever hurt her-“ he starts.

“Lando, we can give him the talk later,” Max interrupts. You breathe a sigh of relief. “Right now, we have a lot to celebrate.”

Lando rolls his eyes but nods. “True.”

You reach for one of the shot glasses. Everyone else follows suit, and you clink them together in the center. “To the national champions!”

“Hey, that’s us!” Lando yells giddily before he knocks the shot back.

Oscar deposits his shot glass back on the tray and pulls you under his arm. He’s not big on PDA- the kiss a few minutes prior being an adrenaline fueled exception- especially when being stared down by his team captain, your best friends. But the little bit of contact is nice. The heavy weight of his arm around you is comforting. Max turns and nods his head towards the bar.

“Alright, kids, first round of drinks is on me,” he says, grinning. “What will it be?”

He takes the orders, and Lando goes up to help him carry things. Lando gives you a hand motion, a vague sort of I’m watching you gesture. You roll your eyes. Oscar laughs. Next to you, so does Charles.

“This is all fun and games,” Charles says, pointing at Oscar, “until you have to ride back on the plane with them tomorrow. No escaping.”

Oscar pales and swallows tightly. You pat his back soothingly.

Max comes back with drinks and a grin on his face, Lando tagging along behind. It’s then that it hits you, square in the chest- their senior year, their last game, last chance, national championship. They did it. The thing they’ve been trying to do for years . Max is grinning so bright, so wide. Lando’s eyes are red rimmed like he’s been crying. They did it. You feel your own eyes start to well up.

“M’so proud of you guys,” you say, voice wobbling.

“Oh, shit,” Oscar mumbles, already rubbing your shoulder soothingly, studying your face. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“She’s only two shots in,” Max says, sounding fond. “It is early for her to be this weepy already.”

“Shut up,” you grumble. “I’m emotional.”

“We have time to be sappy later,” Max says, patting the side of your head. “Tonight, we celebrate.”

It’s nice, more than nice, really, to get to be with Oscar like this. To lean against his shoulder without fear of what anyone else is thinking. He makes you feel so bright. It’s something about the way he looks at you every time he tells a joke, already laughing, looking to see if you are too. His cheeks are flushed, eyes wide and shining. When he leans down and kisses your cheek, you feel like you’re shining, too.

You dance badly with him to the bad music in the bar. You sit on barstools together and shout to be heard over the cacophony. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, because it’s with him. The two of you make the rounds with the rest of his team, and you tell them all congratulations on the win while they say the same about you and Oscar.

Logan grins and nudges your side. You ignore the fact that he’s far too young for this bar. “Should’ve known when you bought all that Australian food, huh?”

The truth is, you hadn’t even known then, not really. And yet, you think he might be right.

…..

Halfway through the night, you spot Max sitting in a booth in one of the corners, alone. You frown and nudge Oscar’s side, nodding your head towards the team captain. Oscar frowns, too, and shrugs. You frown deeper. He nudges your side, then, urging you towards Max. You lean up and kiss his cheek softly, giggling at the near immediate blush that rises up under his skin, and then head towards Max.

You slide into the booth across from him. He’s nursing a gin and tonic, and he gives you a smile when you sit down. It’s forced. You frown deeper still and tilt your head at him. It’s loud in the bar, but the sigh he lets out is big enough for you to hear it loud and clear.

“I’m fine,” he says, which is so obviously not true that you almost laugh. “Seriously, Bunny, go celebrate with your boyfriend.”

You’re a bit taken aback by the tone he uses, by the way he nearly trips over the word boyfriend. You blink at him. He sighs again and scrubs his hand harshly over his jaw.

“Talk to me,” you insist, knocking your glass against his lightly. “Come on, Max, you’re a national champion. You shouldn’t be pouting in the corner at your own party.”

He huffs, rolls his eyes, but his shoulders sag. “Everything is changing.”

You nod sympathetically.

“Everything,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s my last game, and soon it’ll be graduation and I’ll be leaving everyone, and Lando’s not even playing hockey after this, and you don’t trust me anymore, and-“

He tried to keep rambling, but you cut him off. “Max, what?”

He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “It’s good, you know. To see you come out of your shell. I’m glad to know that when we leave you will have other people but- I know I look like my dad but I’m not him, Bunny. You could have told me,” he says, “and I would have been happy for you. I wouldn’t have called you a puck bunny. And I-“

You feel sick, all of the sudden. He called her a puck bunny last year. He did what? Max had a heated argument with his dad before he left after the game, one you heard about from Lando and in whispers between Charles and Carlos. The stress of everything is weighing so heavy on his shoulders, but for some reason this is the straw that’s breaking the camel’s back. You reach over and grab his wrist lightly.

“Max,” you say, emphatically. “We didn’t tell you because it happened on spring break and we wanted a little time just to ourselves,” you say, quietly. “And then it was the playoffs. Nothing changes during playoffs. My boyfriend has facial hair right now and I’ve put up with it because of the playoffs.”

Max looks up at you. A little anguish melts away from his face. “That is stupid superstition,” he says.

“Tell that to your beard,” you mutter. He laughs. “Max, you may look like him, but you are your mother’s child, through and through. I know who you are. That was never what it was about,” you say, shaking your head. “I just knew how important the championship was to the team. To you. To me. I didn’t want to do anything to mess it up.”

Max sighs and shakes his head. “Your happiness is more important than some stupid trophy.”

“I am happy,” you say. He’s lit up by the soft glow of a hanging lamp, and you see him smile a bit, something lighting up in his gaze. “Happier now that I got to tell you guys, but. He makes me really happy, Max.”

The grin that breaks out across his face is contagious. “Then that’s all that matters,” he says. “That’s all we’ve wanted for you since the day we met you.”

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry or do a mixture of both. Max seems to sense it, and he reaches out to squeeze your wrist.

“Come on,” he says, nodding his head towards the bar, where Oscar is currently being interrogated by Lando. “We can be emotional later, yes? Right now, we have a championship to celebrate, and you have a boyfriend to celebrate with.”

…..

The night ends with you and Charles toting a very drunk Lando, Max, and Oscar back to your hotel. Lily had let you know ahead of time that she’d be heading back to Alex’s room with him, so yours is free. You’d much rather it was just Oscar coming back with you, but you couldn’t leave them all to Charles to watch over.

Oscar’s not a big drinker, not a heavy partier, but tonight he’s a national champion. You’d taken it easy and taken the responsibility off his shoulders. Now he’s leaning heavily against you as you walk back, his arm around your shoulders, his head knocking against yours. He’s rambling about something, words slurred. You’re nodding along like you can understand.

He stops on the sidewalk, mid sentence, even as Charles tries to corral Max and Lando out of the road. Your boyfriend turns to look at you, eyes wide and bright.

“I really like you,” he says, the clearest he’s sounded in at least an hour. “You know that, right?”

You laugh and press your hand to the side of his face. “Yeah, Osc. I really like you, too.”

He nods, reaching up to place his hand on your cheek, too. “You’re really cute. Can’t believe I get to call you my girlfriend. And I get to tell everyone now.”

You laugh and pinch his cheek. “You’re cuter.”

“Bunny!” Max yells from up ahead. “Stop eye fucking your boyfriend. You have the room key.”

You scoff. Oscar blushes. The two of you hurry down the sidewalk towards your friends.

You drag all of them up to your hotel room with you, because Max and Lando shouldn’t really be left on their own, you want to keep Oscar with you, and it would be rude to leave Charles out. They fumble into the room, full of giggles. Max flops down on one of the beds. Lando lands on the other.

“Nope,” you say, shoving at Max. “That’s my bed.”

Max grumbles but rolls over anyways, sliding onto the floor between the bed and the little balcony. You snort out a laugh. Oscar sits down on the end of your bed and grins at you, cheeks rosy. You smile right back at him.

“Hey. You two,” Lando says, voice slightly muffled by the pillow he has his face smashed against. “No sex while we’re in the room.”

“Oh my god,” both you and Oscar say at the same time. You tack on a “Shut up,” for added effect.

Charles rubs at his face sleepily. “I need to sleep.”

Everyone seems to agree with that. You crawl into bed, and Oscar follows, seemingly too sleepy to be apprehensive about it even though your friends are in the room. He leans over and kisses your forehead.

“G’night, champ,” you whisper.

“Goodnight,” he mumbles back.

“We are all champions,” Max calls out from the floor.

“Go to sleep,” Charles says with a whine.

…..

You’re the one to get all four of them up the next morning, ready with coffee and pastries from the hotel lobby to try and fend off the hangovers. You hand Oscar the hat you’d bought for him the night before, and he takes it gratefully, shoving it down on his head to cover his messy hair. There are bags under his bloodshot eyes, but he’s grinning so wide. He’s subdued this morning- they all are, nursing the hangover of the century- but he still finds a second when nobody’s looking to pull you in with a hand on your hip and press his lips to yours. It makes your heart skip a beat, and you feel a little ridiculous for it, but when you pull away his cheeks are red, and you think maybe he’s feeling it too. The pride, mixed with getting to spend moments like these together. Celebrating together, recovering together. It’s all you’ve wanted.

You corral him, Charles, Max, and Lando out of the hotel room just before their call time to get on the bus. You walk them all the way to their hotel- it’s not far. Sebastian is standing outside, a baseball cap pulled low over his own eyes, clipboard in hand. He laughs when he sees the five of you.

“Carlos said you would have them,” he says, gesturing at all of you. He has one eyebrow quirked, like he’s trying to assess exactly what’s going on. “They are lucky their teammates were nice enough to gather their luggage. And, probably, that you were there to… take care of them.”

You shrug. “I’m not running a brothel or something, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“Jesus, Bunny,” Max says with a roll of his eyes.

Seb balks. “That is not what I was saying, because that would be weird and inappropriate.”

“Forgive her,” Lando says, patting Seb’s shoulder. “She had a hell of a night.”

“She did?” Max snarks, nudging your shoulder before he follows Lando. “Do you remember what happened when she walked into the bar?”

Charles laughs, shakes his head, and gets on the bus, too. You’re left standing there with Oscar and Seb. Oscar pouts- he’s not one for PDA, especially in front of his coach, it seems- but he pulls you under his arm and dashes a soft kiss against your forehead. It’s enough, for now. It’s more than you’ve had before, really.

Seb clears his throat. “Sorry, lovebirds,” he says, pointedly looking up at the sky. “We’ve got to go.”

“Good luck with them,” you say, nudging your shoulder against Oscar’s.

He nods, making a solemn face. “If I don’t make it back, you know who to investigate first.”

You nod. “Carlos, probably.”

Oscar laughs, eyes crinkled at the edges, and then he’s stepping away onto the bus. You feel the distance in your chest already. Then you hear his teammates start to holler and whistle at him, and you laugh. They wouldn’t do it if they didn’t love him.

Seb nods goodbye as he climbs onto the bus. Then he turns back over his shoulder, voice low, as he says, “you really brought him out of his shell. Thanks.”

The door closes before you can respond. It’s okay, though- you think it’s pretty plain to see, to anyone who’s ever looked at the two of you together- Oscar’s helped you just as much.

…..

note: thank you ALL so much for sticking with me & this story. i’ve got plans for one last part, but these next few weeks are going to be a bit hectic so please bear with me! tysm for reading, hope you enjoyed!!

series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @putting-it-into-parc @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @not-nyasa @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom @lalloronaisreal @fangirl125reader @tpwkmera @booksandflowrs @elizanav @lightsoutletsgo @meko-mt @customsbyjcg-blog @bingussthirdtoe @sideboobrry11 @tsireyasgf @si1ver06 @scopeiguess

[bluebeary-jay]

If I could hold you for a minute

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: Javier wants nothing more than to go home to you. And thanks to his partner's generosity, he gets to.

Tags: just pure FLUFF, mayyybe a sprinkle of suggestive humor, established relationship, Steve teases Javi a bunch, Javier is a BIG SIMP (i'm serious)

Warnings: none ♡

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: something different for you guys 🙈 i'm sadly still on semi-hiatus because of my finals, but I managed to finish this little fic as a break from my angsty Joel pieces. i reaaaally hope you all will like it 😌💕 also, it's dedicated to my dumbass in crime @lily-inbloom 🫡😘 luv you babes

This was one of the worst days agent Peña had in a long time, and he wanted nothing more than to go home.

First, two people from Escobar’s inner circle managed to escape the raid on the laboratory in which he and Murphy participated, leaving both of them exhausted and frustrated. Then Melissa gave Javier a bunch of shit because of some documents, and on the way to his desk some asshole bumped into him, making him drop and break his phone. And now they had to stay after hours to wait for Carrillo.

“It’s for you, Peña.”

So yeah. His day was shit so far.

His pity party was cut short when Steve sitting across from him hissed his name again. Javier shot him an irritated look and flipped him off, not in the mood to talk to any informants or their superiors.

“Not now, Murphy,” he grumbled, but his partner still handed him the stationary telephone from their desk, ignoring the hostility radiating from the man.

“Just take it, asshole. She’s worried you’re not answering her calls.”

At that, Javi sat up straight and in a split second took the handset from Steve, pressing it to his ear.

“¿Querida?” he asked quietly, paying no attention to Murphy rolling his eyes and chuckling to himself. There was a sigh of relief on the other end of the line and he furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Hi, Javi,” your voice came through the receiver. “You weren’t picking up.”

Almost instantly the tension was lifted from Javier’s shoulders and he exhaled deeply. You had a talent of putting him at ease, even when you weren’t by his side.

“Lo siento, cariño. Some idiot broke my… you know what, it doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just wanted to ask when you finish work? I can swing by and we can go grab some food on the way home.”

He sighed tiredly, rubbing his brows. He hated saying no to you and if he could, Javi would give you the world on a silver platter – but some things, he didn’t have any control over.

“No sé, cariño. We have a shitton of papers to read with Steve, and we’re waiting for Carrillo to fill us in on the latest action. I’ve got no idea how long it’s gonna take, sweetheart.”

Steve lifted his head and shot Javier a teasing look, but Peña ignored him, turning his chair to the side.

“Alright, so what do you say I’ll bring you some takeout? You can also ask Steve what he’d want, I’ll be at this place we went to a week ago–”

“No, querida, no,” he sighed, this time with affection. Your voice was a temptation enough to throw everything to hell and run home to you, but to hear the kindness and love in your words, without even seeing your expression… It was heart-clenching. “We don’t need anything, you just go back home safely. I’ll try to get away from here as soon as I can.”

You didn’t answer at first, but then hummed half-heartedly.

“If you say so. But please, eat something.”

Javi smiled absentmindedly, covering his eyes with his fingers. He imagined your concerned expression, the receiver nestled next to your ear, near the spot he so liked to nuzzle with his nose. “How do you know I haven’t already?”

He could hear a trace of a smirk in your voice.

“I know you, Peña.”

“Too well, I think.”

“You love it, though.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe.” He heard you yawn and the smile disappeared from his face. “You’re tired.”

“No, I’m not. I’ll get to bed when you’re back.”

“I won’t be home for at least a couple more hours, sweetheart,” Javi told you softly. “You can go to sleep.”

“I’ll wait for you,” you repeated stubbornly.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, cariño.” There was that sweet, teasing note in your tone, and a grin spread across Javier’s face again. “But that will just give you more reasons to come home quickly.”

“I’ll try,” he just offered in a whisper, resting his forehead on his fist. “Call Steve if anything happens, alright?”

“Okay, okay, I will.” Long since gone were the times you’d argue with him about that. You knew how terrified he was at the thought of losing you. “I love you, baby.”

“También te amo.”

He didn’t immediately hang up, waiting just in case you wanted to add something else. The line went dead, however, and with his lips pressed Javi put the phone back in the center of the desk.

“You have it bad, Peña.”

Of course. Javier should’ve known Steve will start to nag at him again.

He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and put it between his lips. He knew you’d complain about the smell on his hair and clothes when he got home, but he was already too stressed out and in a desperate need of a smoke.

“I’m not in the mood, Murphy,” he muttered, pulling out the lighter.

“I thought a conversation with your sweetheart would brighten up your day?”

Javier looked up and just as he suspected, Steve had that same stupid grin on his face, like every time the topic was brought up.

Ever since your and Javi’s relationship became more serious, Steve was taking every opportunity to tease his partner. If Javi was feeling generous, he could kind of understand where his friend is coming from – after all, he himself didn’t think he’d ever act like a dumb teenage boy in the presence of a woman. But something about you mesmerized him from the very beginning, and, miraculously, here you both were, in a steady and loving relationship Javier Peña was always afraid of hoping for.

But alas, it was not a day to be understanding. He glared at Steve when the fellow agent didn’t take a hint.

“Shut up.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a food delivery, you know,” Steve spoke up with a smirk under his mustache. “I’m quite hungry.”

“I’ll sooner hire Escobar to make you sandwiches than let her do it.”

“You wound me, Javi. And to think I was about to take care of Carrillo and let you go home early.”

Javier looked up in surprise at his friend’s knowing smile. Then he blinked, slowly and tiredly, wondering if he didn’t misheard.

“Really?” he asked suspiciously, to which Steve shrugged.

“Why not? I’m in no rush since Connie and Olivia are in Miami, and as funny as it is to watch you yearn and pine, your brooding gets annoying after a while.” Javi didn’t move from his place, so Steve nodded in the direction of the exit. “Just go home to her, Peña. Before I change my mind.”

The face of the agent broke into a smile before he could collect himself. He stood up so quickly that he bumped his hip against the desk, but it didn’t phase him one bit. With a quick shove across the desktop, he swept all the documents to the folder and took his gun from the drawer, tucking it into his jeans.

Murphy was watching him with a smirk.

“You owe me, Javi.”

“Sure,” his partner replied over his shoulder, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll get you a sandwich tomorrow.”

A quiet laugh followed him when Peña promptly ran out of their office.

*****

After the call with Javi you tried to find yourself an occupation, intending to stay up as long as you could. He was working like crazy lately, sometimes not even coming home for the night, so a chance to finally spend some time with him – even if it would only be for half an hour – was something you didn’t want to miss.

So you wandered around his apartment. You read a little, watched TV, tidied up the cutlery drawer, folded Javi’s shirts, and now you got onto washing the dishes left from your dinner two days ago.

You were humming quietly, that stupid song which seemed to play on every radio as of late, when you heard a small sound from the hall. You paused and turned off the tap, your heart pounding in your chest, and sure enough there was it again – but this time you clearly recognized it as a key turning in the lock.

Before you could think of what to do, the door opened and Javi came in, locking eyes with you immediately. You blinked slowly, rooted to the spot with your hands lifted, still covered in water and soapsuds.

“Javi?” you asked in surprise. “What are you doin–”

Without saying a word, Javier came up to you in two long strides and put his hands around your waist, dipping you back and kissing you deeply. You made a noise in your throat, moving your wet hands aside, but then sighed contentedly as his lips caressed yours.

“I missed you, cariño. So much,” Javier murmured, not moving further away from your lips than two millimeters apart. “Couldn’t wait to get home to you.”

“But what about– Steve, and…” you tried to ask during those brief moments when he gave you a second to take a breath, but was unable (and unwilling) to move away when he was holding you so tightly.

“They’ll be fine,” Javier murmured, moving his hands to your cheeks to cradle them tenderly. “Steve said he’ll handle it.”

He firmly pressed his lips to yours one more time, his eyebrows scrunched with affection. You didn’t ask anything else, instead wrapping your arms around his neck, still careful not to get his clothes wet. After almost a minute of tender kisses and whispered Spanish phrases, Javi rested his forehead against yours with a content sigh. His eyes were closed and he just hummed when you nudged his nose with yours.

“You weren’t supposed to be home for the next few hours,” you said quietly.

“It was a damn torture. I couldn’t wait, hermosa,” he murmured and exhaled heavily. “God, I needed this.”

A bright smile spread across your face at the thought of this man thinking about and longing to see you so much. He sounded so stressed out and tired over the phone, but now it was like all nerves left him for just a moment.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat?” you asked in a whisper, but Javi shook his head.

“No. Just stay here.”

“I have to rinse the dishwashing liquid off my hands, though. And you need to take a shower.”

“Are you saying I smell?”

“A little. But I mostly mean the cigarette smoke on your hair.”

Javi sighed, murmuring something under his breath. You gave him a peck on the lips. “Go on, cariño. I’ll get everything ready and then we can lay down.”

Javier grumbled, displeased, but didn’t argue any further. “You’ll have to make it up to me, sweetheart.”

“If you manage to keep your eyes open.” Your comment made him crack a smile and you mirrored it. “Go shower. And then come back to me.”

Javi sighed but obediently went towards the bathroom, putting down his aviators and the gun on the table on the way there. You watched him fondly, your heart still swelling with love at how relieved he looked to see you. He must’ve felt your attention on him, somehow, because he turned around in the doorway and sent you a smirk.

“If you like the view so much, you can hop into the shower with me,” he teased, and you hummed, pretending to consider it.

“I would, but then it wouldn’t be a ‘quick shower’.” He smiled knowingly, and you scrunched your nose at him. “Javi, the longer you stand here, the less time we’ll have for cuddles.”

“You raise a good point, hermosa.”

With one last look he disappeared in the bathroom and you shook your head at his antics. A few seconds later you heard the sound of rushing water, so you hurried to your shared bedroom to get everything ready.

You pulled down the blinds and flipped the pillows to the colder side, and then swiftly changed into one of Javier’s shirts you liked to sleep in. You also took his gun from the table, knowing he preferred to have it within reach when he was resting with you.

Earlier that day you started to clean the cupboards, so the room was pretty messy. You spent a couple of minutes putting the piles of clothes and various knick knacks in their places, trying to be as quick as possible. Then you heard the water in the bathroom stopping, and it only took Javi two more minutes before he emerged from the bathroom in nothing but his boxers.

His hair was wet and chest bare, and exhaustion was marking his handsome features, painting shadows over his face. Without a second of hesitation Javi went up to you and wrapped his arms around your middle. You wanted to say that you’ll be done in a moment, but didn’t get a chance – he hid his face in the crook of your neck, grumbling tiredly, and started dragging you backwards to the bed. You swat at him with laughter, but those strong arms of his just held onto you tighter.

“Cariño, I still have to finish–”

“Leave it. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Javi…”

“Come lay with me, mi sol.” He softly pressed his lips to the sensitive skin on your neck, making you shiver. You felt him smirking. “Come on. Please.”

You faltered at this word, so rarely used by him. He sighed into your shoulder and swayed you two gently from side to side.

Javi was right. Everything else could wait.

You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles gently, feeling him relax behind your back.

“Alright,” you murmured. “Come here, baby.”

He hummed and kissed your neck again, then your shoulder, sneaking his hands under your – technically his – shirt.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you look in my clothes?” he asked quietly.

“Every time I wear it.” You felt him take a breath, but you beat him to it. “And don’t say they’d look even better on the floor.”

Javi chuckled and hugged you tighter, still slowly moving backwards with you. “Not this time. Just wanna have you in my arms.”

“You mean in your bed?” You couldn’t help but tease him, and yelped when he bit your neck lightly.

“Don’t tempt me.”

When you two reached the bed, Javi stopped and slowly turned you around before sitting down. You took his face in your hands, staring down at him lovingly, while he gently ran his palms up and down your thighs. He did look tired, with the exhaustion and sadness swimming in his beautiful dark eyes. After a moment he exhaled shakily and leaned forward, resting his forehead on your stomach.

“Wanna lie down?” you whispered softly, and he nodded without a word. “Okay. Come here.”

You gently released yourself from his hold and laid down, immediately reaching for Javier and tugging him to lay on top of you.

The moment his head touched your chest, Javi exhaled heavily with relief, closing his eyes. You ran your fingers through his hair, brushing the wet strands aside.

“Do you need anything?” you asked quietly, but he just muttered 'no' with a light shake of his head.

“I’ve got everything I need right here, querida.”

You grinned warmly, though he couldn’t see it. “You’re quite a romantic, Javier Peña.”

He chuckled under his breath, lifting himself slightly to meet your adoring gaze. “I thought you already knew all about it.”

“Did I?” you asked playfully, to which he lifted his head.

“What more can I tell you?” he murmured, leaning over you and smirking when your breath hitched in your throat. His brown irises danced across your face, drinking your features in. “Do you wanna hear how all I think about while working are your lips and the sound of your laugh? How the time spent together isn’t nearly enough for me to fully revel in you? Or…”

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said sheepishly, making Javi grin victoriously. “You’re probably spending that time in the office not thinking about me but of ways to mess with me.”

“Tal vez, mi sol.” He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth and moved lower, whispering into your skin. “But I do wish I could spend more time with you.”

“I know, cariño.” You brushed his hair to the back with your fingers, scratching his occiput. “But it’s not your fault.”

He hummed without conviction, still busy kissing every inch of your skin he could reach. One of his hands went to your waist, his thumb tracing small circles there, while the other climbed up to your hand, entwining your fingers together.

“Didn’t you want to get some rest?” you asked breathlessly, trying to keep your composure. Your face was hot, and Javi hummed smugly at the pitch of your voice. He lifted his head and brushed your cheek with his knuckles, his hand still holding yours.

“I wanted to spend time con mi hermoso sol.” He touched his forehead to yours lovingly, gazing deeply into your eyes. “I was serious when I said you’re all I need.”

“I think you need some sleep, too.”

Javi grumbled, seemingly giving in, and kissed you sleepily one last time. His eyes were already closing and his mustache scratched your skin lightly.

“No, querida. Just you.”

*****

The next morning, Steve came to work to the sight of Javier trapping you with his arms against his desk. He was leaving soft pecks on your lips every once in a while – so unlike the Peña Murphy had known before – murmuring something to you with a smile, causing you to giggle, too. You tried to slip out of his grasp, but Javier just pulled you closer. The pair was obviously lost in the moment because neither of them noticed Steve, until he threw a pile of files onto his desk.

“Morning, guys,” he said nonchalantly, eyeing your bashful beam and Javi’s crooked smile with a smirk. He noted that his partner looked way better than yesterday. “D’you get any sleep?”

“Actually, I did.” Javier gazed over at you and squeezed your hand with this look of a lovesick puppy that Steve mocked so often. “Don’t remember the last time I’ve slept so well.”

“Happy to hear it, because we have a lot to do today.” He sat down and began organizing the notes from Carrillo’s report yesterday, wanting to fill his partner in as soon as possible. He heard Peña sigh.

“Of course.” He glanced up to see the other man stand up and kiss you lovingly – once, twice – before you lightly shoved him back onto the armchair. Steve rolled his eyes when Javi brought your hand to his lips, leaving one last lingering kiss, and then finally letting go of you.

“I’m gonna be late because of you,” you accused him, but he only smirked.

“Lo siento, cariño. Have a good day.”

You said your goodbyes to Steve and turned back to the exit. Murphy shook his head and met his partner’s dark eyes, sparkling with adoration.

“You really have it bad, Peña.”

He didn’t receive any answer, so he just smiled to himself and got back to arranging his desk.

He didn’t get a second of peace, however, because suddenly a paper bag was dropped on the documents he was just filing. Two – a bit squashed – sandwiches were peeking out from the brown paper.

Steve lifted his head, ready to throw another teasing comment, but Javier’s eyes – still full of that raw love – were focused solely on your figure leaving their office.

*****

querida - dear/darling

lo siento, cariño - I’m sorry, darling/honey

no sé - I don’t know

también te amo - I love you, too

hermosa - beautiful

mi sol - my sun/sunshine

tal vez - maybe

[breeloveschris]

You’ll Never Understand

Pt 2

pairing: Chris x reader

summary: Y/n always been best friends with the triplets.. until one random day in sophomore year Chris despised Y/n, and till this day Y/n still don’t know why. Nick and Matt will never understand why Y/n has never stopped being sweet and caring to Chris as if nothing ever happened.

warnings: cussing and the fact this is my first time writing anything 🤷🏼‍♀️

When Y/n got a text at 12AM that her bestfriend wanted her to come over to go see a new movie, she quickly got out of bed and was heading to her bestfriends house. Y/n didn’t get ready, all she did was throw on a hoodie and called it a day.

All that could be heard was loud music and wind coming in from the windows as Y/n was driving. She would’ve thought everything was against her because she was hitting every red light making her 15 minutes late.

As soon as she got to her destination she threw her car in to park and made a bee line to the door. When she raises her hand to knock on the door someone was already opening it. Y/n’s smile grows seeing Chris but he freezes. “Hey chris, how are you?” she said lowering her hand. All she got from Chris was a mumbled “good” as he brushed past her shoulder.

“That’s good!” she says as she turns to watch him walk away without dropping her smile, Chris continues to take the trash out without another word. Y/n would say she was hurt but truthfully she’s used to it. She makes her way into the house and up the stairs seeing Matt and Nick sitting on the couch both on their phones.

Nick looks up from his phone due to hearing footsteps and he immediately smiles and gets up to bring Y/n into a hug. “I’m so sorry i’m late, i kept getting stuck in red lights” she says with a groan, “You’re good, the movie doesn’t start till 1 so we still have time” Nick said with a smile. “Hey i’m here too” Matt says waving, Y/n laughs and makes her way to hug him.

As she’s mid hug with Matt, Chris coughs and says “when are we leaving, i wanna be able to get snacks and Y/n being late is already making it harder”. Y/n sighs and said she’s sorry in a small mumble. “Are you dumb? You can get snacks during the previews” Nick says with an annoyed sigh. “Whatever let’s just go” Chris said obviously annoyed.

Y/n is sat in the back of Matt’s car with Nick, showing each other funny memes and Y/n must’ve laughed a little to loud causing Chris to whip his head around and yell “shut up! Your so annoying” with an eye roll turning back in his seat. Y/n bites the inside of her cheek and sits quietly for the rest of the ride with a small smile to Nick every now and then.

In the movie theater, Nick and Y/n are getting drinks while Matt and Chris are waiting for the snacks and popcorn. “I don’t understand why you let him walk all over you girl” he whispered, Y/n shook her head sighing “I’m just hoping one day he’ll forgive me for whatever I did that made him so mad at me”. Nick groans loudly at the memory of his dumb brother randomly treating her like shit.

“What’s your problem” Chris randomly chimes in. Y/n looks up and shoots him a smile before walking to the bathroom. After using the bathroom, she walks out and spots Nick and Matt patiently waiting for her, with Chris nowhere in sight.

The trio makes their way to the theater talking about how excited they are for the movie. “Y/n you good?” Matt says worryingly, “yea i’m good, just kinda tired” she says with a soft smile. They make it into the theater but not going without Chris’s complaints.

After the movie they were walking back to the car, Chris and Matt walking ahead of Nick and Y/n. “Did you see how he was with her??? That’s the kind of love I want.” Y/n says with a big smile, “Girl you reject every guy that flirts with you” Nick said with a laugh.

“Only beca-” Y/n starts but quickly get interrupted by Chris, “Y/n, your never gonna find someone.” but Chris isn’t done, “remember Jaxon? Yea he only wanted to fuck and then he dipped” Chris said with a sinister laugh. Y/n stops in her tracks and huffs, “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about Chris.” she rushes past him making sure to hit his shoulder hard.

She makes her way to the car with tears in her eyes threatening to pour out. Jaxon is Y/n’s ex who broke up with her just because she wouldn’t put herself out there for him. He didn’t like that he couldn’t have his girlfriend in bed so he broke up with her. Chris knew how sensitive she was about him. So the fact he said that has Y/n steaming out of her ears. She was furious.

Matt unlocked the car so Y/n could get in, she gets in and accidentally slams the door shut. “Y/n stop being a fucking crybaby” Chris says while getting in, “Chris shut up. Deadass your gonna start something you don’t want to.” Nick says with a stern voice. “Yeah? Start what? Crybaby over here ain’t gonna do nothing” Chris says with a laugh. “Chris i’m asking you for fuck sakes, please shut the hell up” Matt says huffing out a breath.

During the whole argument, Y/n was sat there shaking with tears still threatening to fall out. Chris has never in her life gone this far, yet he still won’t stop and has no remorse for what he said. They were already half way home and Y/n was sleeping. It was 3 in the morning of course she was asleep.

“Chris, you do realize Y/n has never ever yelled at you, until now” Nick starts, “You have officially pushed it way too fucking far”. Chris just shakes his head with a laugh. “She shouldn’t have let him play her like that” Chris states with a shrug. “You don’t even know what happened, yet you’re listening to what Jaxon said?” Matt barks out.

“He was on our lacrosse team” Chris starts but gets interrupted by Nick “So fucking what?? You’ve know Y/n since the 7th grade.” Chris just sighs turning up the music which ends the conversation.

Matt and Chris make their way into the house while Nick wakes Y/n up. “Wake up Y/n/n” Nick gently shakes her. She groans and fluttered her eyes open. “You staying the night?” Nick asks as she was getting out of the car with a stretch. “If you don’t mind, I’m way too tired to drive right now”

Y/n walks in the house straight to the kitchen to grab water, only seeing Matt on the couch. “Did Chris go to bed?” she asked with a soft mumble. “Yeah I believe so” Matt says with a sweet smile. She slowly nods and walks over to hug both Matt and Nick. Nick whispered while hugging Y/n “I love you girl, i’m sorry he’s like that”.

She shrugs with a sigh and walks up the stairs to Nicks room with a small “goodnight”. When she opens the door, her eyes widened and she lets out a loud gasp.

AHHHH MY FIRST STORY EVER 🥰🥰🥰 should i make this a series??

taglist: @lacysturniolo

[jut-and-dae-enthusiast]

Behind Closed Doors {k.s.m}

Kim Seungmin x gn!reader, established relationship, seungmin brain rot, my bias wrecker of all bias wreckers, kinda proofread but im sure there's errors pls just ignore them thanks.

“Are you sure everything is okay with you and Seungmin?” Your friend asked carefully over coffee one day. 

“Uh, yeah, everything’s great?” You looked at her with confusion before setting your drink down to fully understand what she was trying to say.

“It’s just…” She hesitated. “We’re just worried about you y/n. We all know you deserve someone who’s absolutely obsessed with you, but I don’t think we’ve even seen the two of you kiss yet. And you’ve been dating for well over a year now.” You sighed and looked down into your drink. “I mean, the most contact we’ve seen between the two of you is that you sit semi-close to one another and occasionally hold pinkies.”

What she didn’t know was that it was always like this with him in public, shy minimal touches but eyes filled with adoration. There was the rare occasion where he would even hold you a bit closer, but that was on days he was feeling extra clingy. PDA was something that made both of you a little uncomfortable, so your public excursions usually consisted more of longing gazes and flushed cheeks. You had tried to explain this many times, but your friends wouldn’t have it.

What they don’t see is the fact that the second you are securely behind the closed apartment door, you can’t seem to get rid of him. Like a golden retriever thinking it’s a lap dog, he will fully lay on you while reading or scrolling through his phone. He’s so extremely clingy, following you around just about anywhere (he lets you have your privacy for the toilet but even that is a stretch). 

He has to be touching you in some way, whether it’s your feet in his lap or his hand on your thigh. He’ll never admit it, but physical touch is very comforting for him and he tries to fill up on it as much as he can when the two of you are alone. 

It was a point of conflict early in your relationship, mainly because your friends (continuously) expressed their concern about how cold he seemed. The way he would tease you mercilessly (but they didn’t see the heart eyes he had when he called you an idiot). They would also make passive aggressive comments to him and you had no idea it upset him. You found out on a seemingly random day when you got home from work, excited to be mauled by him. However you were greeted by silence, Seungmin laying quietly on the couch with his hood on and headphones secured over his head. 

“Hey, Minnie, I’m home.” You called softly, setting your bag down and gently patting the top of his head. He looked up at you and nodded, flashing a tight smile and looking back down at his phone. You smile softly, assuming he’s tired and decide to just go get changed out of work clothes. 

Once comfy, you come back and squeeze yourself beside him on the couch. He sighs and moves away, making your heart drop a bit. “Are you… upset about something?” You ask, leaning forward to try and look at his face. 

“I’m just acting the way your friends think I do.” He mutters, standing up from the couch. You furrow your brow, looking up at him. 

“What are you talking about?” He scoffed at your response, walking into the kitchen. You follow after him, watching as he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. 

“Your friend said the other day that I must not show you a whole lot of affection.” 

“Min, she was just teasing. She didn’t mean it.” 

“Yes she did. She says out of pocket shit like that all the time. All of them do.” He sighs, pulling his hood off his head to make eye contact with you. “And you just laugh it off every time. It’s like you agree with them.” His expression is serious as he holds steady eye contact, keeping his tone level and calm. Your chest tightens, realizing that your friends had been hurting the one you love all this time and he just took it without saying anything. 

“Seungmin, I… I don’t agree with them at all I swear. I know you’re so full of love and I am so sorry I didn’t realize their words hurt you.” You feel your eyes begin to water, turning your head to try and hide it. “I’ve tried explaining to them how much pda kinda freaks us out but they just have these preconceived ideas about what a relationship looks like… I’ll talk with them.” You promise, swiping the stray tears from you cheek. “I’ll, uh, give you some space then. I’m gonna head to bed. Love you.” You smile assuringly and pat his arm on your way past him. You’re only about two steps away when you hear him murmur, 

“Dumbass.” Before you’re engulfed in his arms from behind. “I wanna hold you even if I’m upset with you. It’s annoying.” He sighs and rests his chin on your shoulder. You silently stand in his grasp, holding back the tears that are trembling in your eyes. 

“Min, I really am so sorry.” You whisper, leaning forward to kiss whatever part of his arm was closest to your mouth. You can feel him hum against your back and his hug tighten ever so slightly. 

“You’re the person I love the most in this world. I hate the idea that you might doubt that just because I’m a private person.” He nuzzles his face into your neck, sighing softly. 

“I have never ever doubted you, Seungmin.” You smile softly, turning to look at his face. He nods, smiling back. 

“Good. Now give me a kiss before I die.” He chuckles, leaning in with a wide smile. 

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 24 | 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: mentions of drugs (not graphic), depictions of smoking, explicit language, SUGGESTIVE THEMES (jungkook is a teasing little shit, there's also a Shower Scene at the end), angst, fluff, SLOW BURN

words: 23k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 24 ► soon, you'll be nothing but a memory and i won't keep you company when everything falls apart for you

When you woke up next to Jungkook on your final morning in London, the sun was already high, casting patterns shaped dangerously like his sleeping features on the walls of his hotel room.

You thought you had just closed your eyes two minutes ago, but you felt very well-rested, albeit not fully convinced that you were conscious yet. Jungkook was asleep next to you, your hands still locked together and your bodies so intertwined that it would take at least a few minutes for you to disengage from each other.

Naturally, you thought this was another one of those powerful dreams that would stay with you for the next few days after you woke up because of how much you wished it was real. But then you checked your phone, noticing several missed calls, and your mind finally sobered.

Jungkook stirred when he felt you reach for your phone, and he realised right away that your morning together had ended before it even began.

“I was hoping we’d sleep in,” he mumbled, startling you as you tried to quietly climb out of bed.

Your determination to start working melted at the sound of his groggy, somewhat uncertain voice, and you turned back. His eyes flickered open and met yours briefly before succumbing to heaviness again.

“It seems like we have, actually,” you said, lingering on the edge of the bed, and forgetting, almost, that the vibrating sound in the background of your focus came from your phone.

“It doesn’t count if we wake up and get out of bed right aw—” He paused to yawn, then rolled onto his back, looking at you through half-closed lids. “Sleeping in means we stay in bed, and—well, there are things we could do.”

He struggled to keep his eyes open—clearly, the only thing you’d do if you stayed in the room was actually sleep—but you couldn’t help but smile at his effort.

Just as you were about to respond, Jungkook pushed back the covers and your eyes drifted down to the angry red nail marks on his chest. He met your gaze and followed it downwards, raising his eyebrows before breaking into a grin.

“Hmm,” he mused. You already knew what his next words would be but couldn’t stop him in time. “These are exactly the things I was talking ab—”

“I know,” you finally cut in. “I figured.”

He returned his gaze to yours, cocking a tired eyebrow. “Yet you’re rushing out of bed?”

You lifted your phone and the display lit up with multiple notifications. He noticed, with his breath hitching enthusiastically in his throat, that your eyes were filled with regret. You didn’t want to go.

“Duty calls,” you said.

He looked away and muttered disdainfully, “I’m your duty.”

“Exactly,” you replied, smiling at the childish entitlement in his voice. “Your band is the reason I’m getting out of bed.”

You took your foot off the mattress and stood up properly, pausing as Jungkook groaned—deliberately, of course, to make you think he would say something else and have you stay in the room longer while you waited for him to speak.

To be perfectly honest, though, you didn’t linger in the room because you thought he still had something to say. You lingered because you wanted to stay here until you absolutely couldn’t anymore.

“Okay,” he finally said, looking up at you again. “I promise that our relationship won’t interfere with your career. But I really do wish you’d stayed with me for the rest of the morning.”

It took you considerable effort—and you would attribute this to professionalism when you inevitably started doubting yourself later—to resist the temptation to climb back into bed.

“I wish I could stay, too,” you said—firmly, so he wouldn’t try to persuade you, because you knew that he’d eventually succeed. “But I’ll see you after the show.”

“Before that,” he said.

You nodded. “If we have time.”

“No,” he disagreed immediately. “We’ll make time.”

Your smile grew with affection and warmth.

“Alright,” you said. “I’ll see you a little later then, yeah? Will you be alright for a few hours?”

He exhaled very theatrically. “I suppose I’ll live.”

“Good,” you leaned over the bed to press a soft kiss to his cheek, “I love you.”

He reached out to interlace your hands for just a second before you pulled away again, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “I love you.”

Reluctantly parting from his warmth, you finally left the room, and Jungkook whined quietly to himself before starting his day as well. He knew his uncontrollable yearning would drive him to the brink of insanity even before the band’s rehearsal later today, so he was desperate for company until then.

He took a quick shower, then crossed the corridor to Minjun’s room where Minjun was binge-watching Evangelion, and dragged him outside for a coffee and a cigarette.

It was a beautiful morning: a little cold, but unusually sunny after yesterday’s storm. The rain had quickly become his favourite scent, and Jungkook took a deep breath as it lingered in the air. It was laced with faint traces of wet grass, and there was something else, too. Something woody, yet light, with heavy undertones of you.

He and Minjun settled in the shade outside of the hotel. Jungkook lit his cigarette, then passed his lighter to his friend and looked around.

The garden behind him was impressive. He hadn’t noticed the peonies before, but as soon as he did, he remembered bringing bright pink and gently lilac bouquets for you before your dates. You didn’t have a favourite flower, but he’d discovered that peonies lasted the longest in your dorm room, so he continued to get them for you.

He realised with a sigh that having Minjun here wasn’t much of a distraction, not even when he brought up Sid. Everywhere he looked this morning, he still thought of you.

“Oh, shit!” Jungkook cried suddenly, pushing his cigarette to the corner of his mouth as he spoke. His exclaim distracted the two of them from an anxious discussion about all that had to happen today. “Look.”

Minjun looked at him first, then followed his gaze to the street, where a Volkswagen Beetle was driving by at an extraordinarily slow pace. He wasn’t sure if Jungkook was amused by the car model or its speed.

“Hmm?” he asked. “At the car?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement. “It’s the exact colour of her eyes.”

“Her eye—Jesus Christ,” Minjun groaned, nearly choking on the smoke of his cigarette. “Do you see what I’m doing right now?”

Jungkook did not tear his eyes away from the car as it inched closer to the intersection at the end of the street. “No offence, man, but I really couldn’t care le—”

“I am cringing,” Minjun informed him anyway. “You made me cringe.”

Jungkook continued to watch the Beetle with an alien fascination that Minjun could not understand. He thought that Jungkook looked as if he was reliving some sort of a dream, with this wistful, melancholy smile on his face—or he was stuck in an unfathomable, endless déjà vu.

“I’m serious, though,” Jungkook said after a moment, a deep exhilaration in his voice. “The exact colour.”

Minjun shook his head, half disbelieving, half resigned. He was not a doctor, and he would never claim to have any medical knowledge, but even his amateur eye could recognise lovesickness when he saw it.

“You are so fu—” he started to say, but did not get to the end of this diagnosis that, in his humble opinion, would have perfectly described the state that his friend was in right now.

Jungkook blew out the smoke with a heavy—and violent, too—groan, and it cut Minjun off. “I love her so much.”

“We know!” Minjun said, exasperated. His teeth dug into the filter of his cigarette. “We can tell. All of us. Now if you try to tell me that that cloud over there, above the hotel, kind of looks like her, I swear to God.”

“Please.” Jungkook scoffed but still glanced at the sky. “Clouds don’t look like—oh, you know what, maybe that one over there kind of does. When she wears her hair up, and—”

“I am going to slap you,” Minjun interjected, “if you don’t get yourself together right this second.”

The Beetle had finally turned on the left turn signal as it reached the end of the road next to the two of them. Jungkook lowered his eyes and smiled at the vehicle again.

“I’ve never felt more together,” he said, smoke passing through his lips.

“And I’ve never felt more like a third wheel,” Minjun retorted. “And it’s only you and me here.”

Jungkook grinned dreamily, following the car with his gaze.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” Minjun asked.

“Not really.”

He sighed and turned away. “Hmm. Of course not.”

The Beetle finally disappeared down the street and out of their sight. And now, with no new reminders of you in his immediate vicinity, Jungkook realised that he missed you too much to merely stand here, and that the company he had did not matter as long as it wasn’t you. He finished his cigarette in two quick drags and pulled out his phone.

Minjun knew exactly who he was texting without having to ask. And he certainly did not have to ask who had texted him back when his phone lit up not even ten seconds later.

You and Jungkook were both terrible—almost unbearable at this point, really—and Minjun was very glad that you had found your way back to each other. He didn’t think the world could have handled more of the two of you alone.

When you arrived at the venue a few hours later to see Jimin before the band’s soundcheck, you ran into the members of the band outside. They’d gone out after their rehearsal and ended up right in the middle of a commotion outside the building.

The sight surprised you: crowds of people had gathered around the venue, chatting, waving and jumping as soon as they spotted the band. Although this was Rated Riot’s second show in London, it seemed as though twice as many people were queuing outside today.

You kept your distance but stayed to watch the beaming members stop occasionally for an autograph, a selfie, or a quick conversation as they made their way past their fans. You remained vigilant in case anyone in the crowd decided to cause trouble, although it didn’t seem likely. Everyone was just excited.

Just then, right before you got lost in the thrilled faces around you, you heard Jungkook gasp somewhere in the crowd.

Alarmed, you turned around to find him and caught Hoseok’s shocked expression over the back of Jungkook’s head. Someone had unexpectedly wrapped their arms around the vocalist in a very intense hug, taking him off guard. But Jungkook’s surprise quickly turned into appreciative laughter as he patted the person on the back and stepped away, nodding at something they were saying.

Their interaction seemed harmless, but a crowd began to gather around Jungkook and Hoseok, and you were worried about the people pushing each other. You reached for your phone in your jacket to call Mick and alert the security just to be safe, but paused when you overheard the conversation the boys were having with their fans.

“And good riddance!” someone was saying. “We saw that you guys banned Sid from your shows. We’re so glad you’re finally free.”

Excited shrieks of agreement rippled through the crowd. Jungkook turned his head to look at you, leaving Hoseok to handle the fans’ praise on his own while Yoongi and Taehyung signed autographs nearby. When you met Jungkook’s eye, the surprise on his face mirrored yours.

Maggie’s post had made the precise impact you’d hoped for; everyone had seen the blacklist.

We’re so glad you’re finally free.

It occurred to you that neither you, nor Jungkook, nor any of your friends had ever been truly alone with your hatred for Sid, because Sid hadn’t just messed with your lives. He’d messed with absolutely everyone around you. You assumed as much—he was insufferable—but hearing others reaffirm just how much they despised Sid still felt comforting. It felt energising, too.

You’d be finished with him today, finally.

Feeling reinvigorated, you informed Mick to keep an eye on the crowds and headed inside. Jimin had needed your help, but by the time you arrived, he’d already resolved the problem himself. He shuffled you out of the door instead, to fetch him some coffee for “being late to rescue me from the agony of toggling the amps on and off.”

Laughing, you walked back out, making a note to grab a few chocolate-chip cupcakes, too—for Seokjin, because he had looked dangerously pale and wide-eyed when you ran into him at the door as Jimin yelled out his coffee order at you.

You didn’t expect to see Jungkook until the end of his show later that night, and you felt another wondrous thrill in your stomach at the thought: this would all be over by then. You could finally stop dreading what awaited you next. Really, even your upcoming meeting with the lawyers from the label seemed like a walk in the park on a late spring afternoon compared to Sid. You almost couldn’t wait for it.

But then as soon as the band finished their soundcheck, Jungkook surprised you by sneaking into the dressing room where you were working on emails, your forgotten coffee already cold. He stood there, in the very middle of the room, grinning at you until you finally raised your head.

“Oh—shit,” you removed your earpods, “w-why are you here?”

He shrugged his shoulders. A few strands of his hair were stuck to his forehead; he looked as though he’d already performed the first half of the show instead of merely preparing for it.

“Wanted to check in,” he said. “You ready?”

He was asking about Sid, and you placed your laptop on the side table by the couch, making room for him next to you.

“Yeah,” you said. “Still got a few hours to go. Jude hasn’t called us yet, but we’re—we’ll be fine.”

Jungkook sat down next to you. He couldn’t remember the details well, but he assumed that Minjun and Jude had already left for their part of the plan. Now he was nervous to hear that their plan hadn’t even begun yet; what if Jude had a change of heart?

“Yeah?” he asked, despising how many tinges of uncertainty he heard in his own voice. “You sure?”

“Of course,” you said, glancing at the door before turning back to him. “Uh, listen, are you sure you can be here? You have an interview in ten minutes.”

He reclined on the couch and shrugged again.

“Well, I still have ten minutes,” he said. “The guys are busy with their instruments, but I’m good.”

You nodded, and the conversation came to an awkward halt. You wanted to steer the discussion away from Sid, but he was the elephant in the room and he had grown large enough to smother you.

“I’m, uh—I’m thinking,” Jungkook said after a minute, “what if the plan doesn’t work? I know we said we’d do something else, but—I mean, what if the police don’t arrive in time, and Sid senses the trap?”

You hoped it wouldn’t come to that, because there was nothing else you could do to get rid of Sid in the immediate future. If he realised that something was wrong tonight, he’d never lower his guard like this again.

“I—well, I have a Plan B,” you said.

Jungkook was surprised. “Yeah? What’s that?”

You turned away. Really, you did not have any backup plans. You just wanted to stop Jungkook from biting into his lip ring before he ripped it off.

“Remember how we talked about you visiting me in jail?” you said, keeping a straight face. “I’ll just—”

He groaned. “You’re not going to kill Sid.”

“Why not?” you moaned and your exaggerated tone finally elicited a chuckle from him.

“Because I need you with me,” he said.

“Maybe we can make it seem like someone else did it,” you continued, encouraged by the amusement in his eyes. “Is there anyone else you hate as much as him?”

He shook his head. “No one comes even close.”

“Hmm.” You nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe if I just beat him up really bad, but don’t actually kill him, they won’t lock me up for long?”

He was grinning. “You’re not beating him up.”

“I’d be willing to do it for the band, you know.”

“Oh, for the band,” he echoed, draping an arm over the cushion behind you. “Romantic. Makes me feel real special.”

He seemed much more relaxed now than when he first came here, and your heart remembered how to beat again at the sight of his smile.

“Look,” you said, raising your hands, “I even wore extra rings today, for a more long-lasting effect.”

He snorted as you showed him the jewellery on your fingers, and placed his hand on yours, bringing it down to your knee.

“You’re not beating him up,” he reiterated.

“Come on,” you pressed on as he locked his fingers with yours. “You knocked out his tooth, so I have to do something similar. Otherwise, it’s just embarrassing. The girls will never let me live this down if I don’t land one good punch.”

Jungkook started to chuckle—the image of your sharp skull-shaped ring leaving a mark on Sid’s cheek was very satisfying—but then your words sunk in, and his expression soured.

“Wait,” he said, leaning forward and furrowing his brows, “the girls are in on this?”

You frowned in response to his frown.

“Of course, they are,” you replied. “Why are you surprised?”

“I mean,” he looked away, assessing your friends in his mind, “I’m not surprised about Maggie. But isn’t Luna usually more practical in these situations?”

“She’s practical until she’s had enough,” you said. “And she’s had enough.”

“Ah,” he said, leaning back and looking down at your intertwined hands.

He appeared to be considering something as his thumb gently traced the side of your index finger, and you got a frightening thought that you could take down a lot more assholes than just Sid—you could even tie them up and keep them in some mouldy basement—if it meant that Jungkook could sit next to you, humming peacefully under his breath as he held your hand in his.

It dawned on you just then that he wasn’t just your weakness, he was your everything. And you loved him so much that it was dangerous.

“Well,” he finally said, “if I have Taehyung and Rue with me, it might be more fun to visit the three of you in prison. We could make a little road trip out of it.”

You laughed, leaning into him as you did, and he realised that he really only had very few worries left—and none of them were about Sid.

“That’s the spirit!” you said. “I’ll see you in the courtroom.”

He released your hand, so he could wrap an arm around your shoulders and pull you into his chest.

“No, you won’t,” he said, planting a kiss on your temple. His heart stuttered through a few clumsy beats when you leaned into him again, resting your hand on his chest. “I love you.”

You raised your head to meet his gaze, and he realised he was wrong before. The Beetle outside the hotel wasn’t the exact colour of your eyes, not really. But his heart was; it soaked up the shades of your touch and painted itself after you.

“I love you,” you said. “But you have to go back to your band.”

He ignored that and leaned in to touch your lips with his. The quick kiss unexpectedly turned deeper—really, he had no say in that, his impulse control lived a life of its own lately—when he moved his head and tasted the caramel from your coffee on your tongue.

You knew you were on a tight schedule, but you found yourself giving in to him for just a moment. You brought one of your hands to the side of his face, and you felt, right away, what your touch did to him. Jungkook shifted on the couch to reach you better, his kisses growing more urgent, more eager, more impossible and even impractical—and that wasn’t fair, because, with his mouth against yours, there was nothing more meaningful than this in the world.

You pulled back, breathless, but with a smile that imprinted itself right in his mind, and Jungkook nodded, understanding the look in your eyes.

“Right,” he murmured, standing up before he lost his resolve. “I have places to be. Things to do. Would help a lot if I knew what places and what things those were, but, uh—I’ll figure it out.”

Your laughter was light and absolutely captivating. “Maybe your band can help with that?”

“Right,” he said. “My band.”

He lingered, scanning the walls and appearing lost in thought, and your chest was so full from simply being in the same room with him that you couldn’t tell him to go again. Slowly, you stood from the couch and your movement snapped him back to reality. He turned to face you and swallowed before speaking.

“Come find me as soon as the police leave with Sid’s ass,” he said.

“If our plan works, you’ll be in the middle of the encore,” you reminded him.

“You don’t have to jump on the stage,” he said. “Just give me a signal or something.”

“What kind of a signal?”

Your question wasn’t entirely serious, but Jungkook took it very seriously.

“A massive banner,” he decided, “saying ‘we’re free.’”

The image of the fans outside the venue crossed your mind again, and you felt yourself smile. You were certain they would have appreciated the banner as well.

“Hmm. Not very classy, though,” you said.

“When was I ever classy?” he countered. He looked about ready to demonstrate his lack of refinement, and you cut in before he could give any examples to support his claim.

“Alright,” you said. “I’ll just come to the side of the stage and give you a nod, yeah? Then you’ll know we did it.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder as you spoke, and, naturally, he agreed with everything you said.

“Okay,” he replied. “That’s good enough.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm. Just be careful,” he added, and you noted with disappointment that his casual demeanour had returned to a more serious tone. “Don’t let him get under your skin.”

You already missed the ease in his voice, and it made you regret that the two of you were in a situation where you could only speak lightly at short intervals before inevitably returning to what awaited you. You could not wait to never bring up Sid again.

“I won’t,” you said. “That spot’s reserved for you.”

His face immediately brightened, and you found yourself mirroring his expression. He stepped closer to you, the shimmering in his eyes fervent enough to send sparks to your chest.

“Hmm.” He reached out to run his fingers over the edge of your jaw. “What other spot is reserved for me?”

You scowled but did not pull away from his touch. “I’ll consider answering that when you sound less like a frat boy.”

He grinned, not the least bit discouraged. “Keeping me on my toes. I like that.”

“You have to go,” you replied, suppressing your smile so as not to encourage him. “The rest of the band is about to start their interview. Yoongi will have your head.”

“Kiss me and I’ll go,” he replied, his voice softer now that his face was so close to yours.

“Oh,” you snickered despite yourself, “we’re not doing that again.”

“We won’t have to if you kiss me.”

You shook your head and gave him a warning look—but then you closed the distance between you anyway. You’ve learnt your lesson from the last time at the park, and there was no point in arguing anyway; it was just you and him here, and you were rapidly running out of time.

Your lips were overwhelmingly soft and he relaxed into your touch in a way that he only could if you were as close to him as you were now. But you pulled back all too soon.

“Go now,” you whispered—not meaning it at all. You tried again, but your words had even less conviction this time, “go.”

He heard you but refused to pull away, his lips finding yours for just one more kiss.

“I’m going,” he murmured, turning every syllable into a slow, gentle caress. “Good luck.”

“You, too,” you replied, slowly pulling back and stopping his heart for a split-second when you reached over to move a strand of his hair from his face. “We’ll be okay.”

Jungkook nodded and stepped back reluctantly. As he made his way towards the door, some unseen force suddenly tugged at his arm, and he stopped. Pivoting on his heel, he returned to you to press another quick kiss to your amused lips—the last last one—before finally tearing himself away from you.

Closing the door of the dressing room behind himself, he abruptly remembered an ancient legend that his grandmother had told him—about Orpheus and Eurydice. And he knew, without any doubt whatsoever, that if he had to walk away from you without looking back so that the two of you could live, you would both perish.

He would always turn back to look at you one last time.

Rated Riot proceeded with their scheduled interviews in the waiting area backstage, leaving you to find another quiet corner, away from the intriguing “most likely to…” discussion that the boys were having right now (just as you walked past them, Taehyung and Jungkook broke into a sudden arm-wrestling competition for reasons that eluded you and the journalist, both).

With about an hour remaining until the doors opened, you managed to email back about half of the people in your inbox. That was how Minjun found you: rocking gently back and forth on the couch at the end of the dimly lit corridor, your laptop balanced on your knees.

“Jude’s here,” he announced, and you felt a dizzying sense of déjà vu before you looked up.

He’s said these exact words to you before. But he seemed far more composed this time, and it soothed your anxiety as you closed your laptop and set it aside.

“Yeah?” you asked, not quite ready to get up just yet.

“Mhmm,” Minjun confirmed. “He said that Sid’s passed out right now, he was out the whole night. Jude’s done everything we asked, and he brought Sid’s phone here with him for us to double-check. I’ve already looked through it, everything’s gone. He, um—he still wants to see you, though.”

“Oh.” You did not like that Sid’s phone was here, and your discomfort finally pushed you to stand up. “That was—that’s good. But what if Sid wakes up while Jude’s here?”

“I know,” Minjun agreed, glancing at his phone to check the time as if he had a timer set for how long Sid would stay asleep. “We have to be quick.”

With a silent nod, you followed Minjun as he led you to an empty dressing room, much larger than the broom closet where he had put Jude last time.

Jude greeted you with an awkward “hi” as soon as he saw you. His voice sounded even smaller in the big room. He looked small, too, but brighter now, more vibrant.

It was his eyes, you realised. He seemed excited.

“Hey,” you replied and noticed quickly that your voice was small, too. “H-how are you feeling?”

Jude’s expression suddenly shifted to one of deep thought. You took note of his trembling hands when he lifted Sid’s phone.

“Nervous,” he admitted. “I brought this for you to see for yourself.”

He extended the phone towards you. You trusted Minjun when he said he’d checked it, but Jude seemed to be seeking your approval as well. You took the device from him, and he informed you that the passcode was “six sixes,” which you found very fitting for the devil incarnate.

You unlocked it, then tapped on the gallery and scrolled through the standard, abstract art images pre-installed on every phone. The generic bright colours were all you found here.

Feeling your heart rate increase already, you opened his Cloud storage. It greeted you with a message that, at this point, could have easily become the title of Rated Riot’s next album: “iCloud Drive is Empty.”

“Okay, that—uh, w-we’re nervous, too, by the way,” you said, your thoughts jumbled as you handed the phone back to Jude. Minjun’s smile widened when your eyes flickered to his; your plan was going smoothly so far. “This is—you did a great job, Jude.”

Jude’s face nearly began to glow. You shrank back, finding his beaming expression discomfiting. It did not look unnatural per se; it just looked misplaced—like someone else’s smile got lost and took temporary shelter on his face.

“I, uh,” he fumbled in the pocket of his jacket, “I also grabbed this.”

He pulled out a set of keys, and you only needed half of a glance to know that they belonged to Jungkook’s Katana. You turned to Minjun again, but he shook his head. Jude hadn’t told him about this.

“Sid had them in his jacket,” Jude explained. “Could you give them to Jungkook?”

You hesitated for another minute before you took the keys from him. And you remembered, suddenly, the first time you’d seen Jungkook with his bike: you were already working together at that point, and he’d arrived on it for a meeting at the company.

He had treated the bike with such care as he showed it to you and the band at the end of the day, almost as if it were a part of him, and Yoongi had pointed out how typical this was. How men—not Yoongi, though, he insisted—constantly grew too attached to their bikes, how they cherished them more than significant others. So, you had jokingly asked Jungkook if the Katana was the love of his life, too. And he’d responded, without missing a single beat, that it wasn’t. That you were.

He’d said it with a smug grin, so, of course, you assumed he was just teasing—because, in your defence, he often was—and you rolled your eyes and didn’t think much of it. But now, holding the keys to his bike that he’d given up, you accepted, finally, that he’d meant it, even back then.

“You did—you didn’t have to get them,” you told Jude, surprised to find yourself breathless.

“I wanted to,” he said. “We’re getting back at Sid.”

You exchanged another glance with Minjun. The two of you had worried that Jude would change his mind once he saw Sid again, but you’d clearly underestimated his desire to finally break free.

“That’s right,” Minjun said. “We are. You’ll, uh—you’ll have to go back to the hotel. Take his phone back to him.”

“I know,” Jude replied, slipping back into his role of a follower. “And then?”

Minjun looked at you, indicating for you to continue. You bit your lip, searching for the right tone to say this. You knew you were putting Jude in a direct line of fire, and you felt a little guilty because you weren’t sure if he even realised it.

“Wait until I call Sid,” you said. You put the keys in your pocket and crossed your arms. “And, I guess, after Sid leaves, let Minjun into his suite. I assume you have the key?” Jude nodded; Sid was passed out, he had no problem grabbing his room key along with his phone. “Minjun will do the rest, but you can—you could help him. We’d appreciate that.”

Jude appeared delighted. He craved appreciation, and you could tell that he received it very rarely.

“I’ll help,” he decided.

For a minute, it seemed like your conversation had ended. But Jude swayed lightly on his feet and played with his fingers, evidently gathering strength for something more.

“By the way,” he finally said, “um, there are cameras in the hotel.”

A quick new surge of anxiety washed over you, and you turned to Minjun, who looked about as stunned as you felt.

“I thought—I thought it was an old hotel,” you said, not quite accusingly but not very gently, either. Your shock prevented you from softening your voice. “Like ours. Ours doesn’t—it doesn’t even have elevators. It barely has bathrooms.”

Minjun felt guilty. He was the one who had assured you not to worry about the cameras. He knew that Sid preferred his accommodation to lack modern inventions—it helped him evade security when he brought questionable companions and dangerous refreshments to his hotel room every other night.

“I thought that’s the sort of place Sid would choose,” Minjun explained apologetically. “He doesn’t like cameras, for understandable reasons.”

“Well, th-they have cameras in the lobby,” Jude said. “And in the corridors. I noticed them when I was coming over here. I don—I don’t know what you wanted to do in Sid’s room, but it—there are cameras at all entrances. Sorry.”

The cameras were obviously not his fault, but you could see how flustered he became to have delivered the news that brought the dark clouds to this room.

“It’s—fuck, it’s not good,” you said, grateful that Jude had gained an impressive awareness of his surroundings seemingly overnight, but still anxious, nonetheless.

Your initial idea was to get Sid arrested and hope that the police would get to his hotel suite eventually. But then Minjun convinced you that he needed to check Sid’s room in advance, and it turned into an important part of your plan.

He insisted that Sid might have hidden the drugs, and he wanted to make them more noticeable for the police to find—in case Sid would bribe the officers, and they didn’t feel like searching through the whole room. Minjun figured that if the police saw questionable white powder as soon as they opened the door, easily visible to any curious onlooker, they couldn’t easily clear Sid of this.

You weren’t sure if Minjun’s idea would be considered tampering with evidence, because the evidence was, technically, already there, but you were uncomfortable with it regardless. Minjun didn’t want to ask Jude to do this, because you didn’t yet know if you could fully trust him. But you didn’t want Minjun to do this, either, so naturally, the two of you had argued about this vehemently.

You felt like having another argument with him right this second.

“Minjun, uh,” you said, “could I speak to you outside for a moment? Jude, would you excuse us?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Jude replied easily. You did not want to leave him here instead of sending him back to Sid to return his phone, but you had no other choice—Minjun was already looking for a way around the hotel cameras.

He followed you out of the room, a little puzzled. You stopped at the very end of the corridor, in front of a dusty floor-to-ceiling window, and looked around to make sure you were here alone. People were talking inside nearby rooms, so you leaned closer and lowered your voice when you spoke.

“Alright,” you said, nibbling on your bottom lip, “I don’t think you should go to Sid’s hotel. I think we should let Jude handle it.”

“What?” Minjun replied, clearly frazzled. “I thought we were involving him as little as possible.”

“We were,” you said. “But if we don’t involve him right now, then we have to involve you, and—”

“But I said I’ll do it,” he retorted, his whispers wild. “I said I’ll go to his room and check. That was the pl—”

“Right,” you cut him off. “But we didn’t know there’d be cameras. It’s a small hotel. Even if no one notices you there, they might notice you in the footage.”

Minjun’s solution to this was so quick that it made you wonder if he had thought of this several days in advance.

“Sid’s room is on the third floor,” he said. “I reckon I could climb up there from the second-floor balcony.”

“And how would you reach the second-floor balcony?” you shot back equally as quickly. “You’d have to cross the lobby to enter the hotel either way.”

He thought about it for a second longer and came up with what he personally thought was another great idea. “Maybe there are rain pipes?”

You gave him a long look.

“Minjun,” you said. “You’re not Spiderman.”

He groaned and stepped back to lean against the wall. “Fuck, I’m just—”

“Come on, Minjun,” you urged, growing desperate. “It’s not worth the risk. We have to ask Jude to do this for us. He’s staying at the same hotel anyway. It makes sense for him to be there.”

He turned to look out the window. He didn’t like this. He wanted to be sure. He wanted Sid to get burnt, not merely grazed. And, he supposed, he wanted to be the one who set him on fire.

But, logically, Minjun knew that the only reason he would have to go to that hotel, would be if you still couldn’t trust Jude.

Jude had just brought you Sid’s phone to show you that he’d done all that you’d asked. He brought Jungkook’s keys, too. He told you about the cameras. He was on your side.

Minjun exhaled. It didn’t make sense for him to go there.

“Fine,” he said. “Alright. Fine. Let’s—tell Jude to spread Sid’s shit around after Sid leaves to see you.”

Your heart rate picked up, but you tried to subdue your relief. You still had a long day ahead of you.

“Yes,” you said, turning around. “Okay. Let’s—let’s go back.”

The two of you returned to the dressing room where Jude was still waiting in the same exact spot where you’d left him. He had seemingly occupied himself with watching the walls while you were gone, but the creaking of the door returned his attention to you.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes, uh—just a quick change of plans,” you said, while despondent Minjun closed the door behind you. “We’re, um... going to ask you to do something else for us.”

Jude straightened and nodded. He looked this close, you thought, to giving you a military salute.

“Anything,” he said.

You glanced at Minjun before continuing. You knew he wasn’t pleased with this change of plans, so you appreciated the reassurance in his eyes even more. He may have been unhappy, but he was on your side.

“After I call Sid, and he leaves,” you said, turning back to Jude, “do you think it’d be possible for you to enter Sid’s room without being noticed by the cameras?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Our suites are at the end of the corridor, bit of a blind spot. The camera faces the staircase.”

“Okay,” you said, taking a deep breath. “Then go to his room as soon as he leaves, and make sure that—”

“The rest of his chalk?” Jude cut in. “I should bring it out of his suitcases, right?”

Minjun turned to you, his eyebrows raised. Jude had never been quick, for as long as Minjun had known him, but his dedication to getting rid of Sid was remarkable. He seemed to have figured out the details of your plan on his own.

Minjun gestured for you to proceed. You’ve decided to trust Jude and there was no way back now.

“Yes,” you said. “It—that’s exactly what you should do. Make sure it’s in plain sight. Not necessarily all of it, just a bag or two—or whatever he keeps it in—so the officers would see it right away. We’re sure Sid will use any means necessary to make the police think we’re framing him, so they might be neglectful. You would help ensure that they do a thorough search of his suite. You’d show them that he’s guilty.”

Jude’s eyes glittered. Minjun was very impressed by your ability to choose the precise words that Jude wanted to hear.

“But don’t touch the bags directly,” he added, and Jude redirected his attention to his friend. “Wear gloves or use a plastic bag to pick them up and throw them around the room.”

You nodded, agreeing, and Jude reflexively nodded, too.

“Okay,” he said, ever as obedient. “I’ll do that.”

“And are we sure that Sid will bring some of his stuff with him here?” you asked, glancing at them both. It would be disastrous if the one time Sid decided to leave his drugs at home would be today.

Minjun was the one to answer you.

“Yeah, he carries his shit with him everywhere,” he said. “If not in his jacket, then in his jeans. He’ll have it.”

Jude raised his eyebrows with the same enthusiasm as before.

“I can check that, too,” he offered. “If he—if it’s in his jacket. If it’s easy to find.”

Minjun turned to you again. Right away, he recognised the distress on your face—not only were you relying on Jude for half of your plan, but you were also putting him at risk. You felt awful. Minjun did, too. But he hated Sid with enough passion to ignore his discomfort.

“Okay,” Minjun took over. “That sounds good. Check his jacket, too, if you get a chance.”

You turned your uneasy gaze back to Jude. You almost expected him to demand something in exchange for helping you, but he kept nodding his head, not saying anything.

He would do this for you because you asked him to. That was how Sid kept him around for so long: by giving orders that Jude felt compelled to follow.

“I’m—thank you, Jude,” you said. “You’re doing a great job. And we don’t want you to go through anything that Sid will have to go through, okay? So, be careful.”

Jude swallowed and nodded once more.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll take his phone to him and wait for your call. After he leaves, I will check his hiding spots and bring his stash out. I’ll be careful.”

You shivered at the decisiveness of his tone. You knew that you weren’t playing a prank on Sid, you were actively conspiring against him—but hearing Jude repeat the details of your plan back to you made this feel much more significant. Much more real.

“Yes,” you said. “And leave immediately after, okay? Check out of the hotel.”

“I’ll come meet you a few blocks away,” Minjun inserted. “You can stay in my room at our hotel.”

Jude gave another nod of agreement. The anxiety rising in your stomach was starting to make it difficult for you to breathe.

“Jude,” you said, “you’re doing—you’re a great help to us. I know we’re all a team now, but still. We really appreciate it.”

Jude smiled, and this time, his smile did not look misplaced. It matched the light in his eyes, even if it wasn’t quite sure what it was doing on his face.

“Thanks,” he said. “We’re a team. I—I’m going to go now.”

“Good luck,” you said. “We’ll see you later.”

The moment the door closed and Jude’s quiet footsteps faded down the corridor, you crossed your arms and met Minjun’s exhausted sigh with a similar one of your own.

“Well,” Minjun began, “it looks like we’ll have to rely on Jude a lot more than we originally thought.”

You sighed again. “Yeah. I mean, he seems alright.”

He did seem alright. But Minjun felt an itch under his skin, and he couldn’t make it go away no matter how much he scratched and stretched.

“I still want to go in there,” he said, “and make sure we’re really good to go.”

This alarmed you; you thought you’d already decided to let Jude handle Sid’s suite.

“But—”

“No, listen,” he cut in, “Jude said Sid’s room is in a blind spot. So, how would anyone know which room I entered, even if they did see me in the lobby? Maybe I’m visiting someone else.”

“But why draw attention to yourself?” you argued. “Why make yourself look suspicious?”

Minjun felt ants crawling all over himself; he did not like your questions.

“I just want to be sure we’re good to go,” he repeated, turning away from you.

“We are good to go, Minjun,” you pleaded softly. “Let Jude do it.”

“And what if Sid hid it all,” he still insisted, “and Jude can’t find it?”

“Then you might not find it, either,” you replied. He clicked his tongue, discontented. “I just don’t want you to risk getting caught on the CCTVs there. Jude is staying in that hotel. It’d be easier for him to get to Sid’s room, it’s far less risky. It makes more sense. Let him do it.”

Minjun kept his gaze on the floor, his jaw clenched.

You knew that he wanted to finally stand up to Sid, and it wasn’t your place to intervene. But you were the one who suggested getting Sid arrested, and now you wanted to ensure everyone’s safety and limit their reckless decisions in this plan to as few as possible. Minjun walking past the cameras in the hotel and breaking into Sid’s room seemed reckless. It seemed reckless for Jude to do it, too, but on a lesser scale—this was a risk you hoped you could afford.

“Jude might touch the drugs, too,” Minjun mumbled after a minute. “I don’t know if he’ll realise not to, even if we told him to be careful.”

“Then we can call him and warn him again,” you said. “But I’m sure he’ll be fine. He—he only looks a little dumb, but he’s ready. He wants nothing else to do with Sid.”

Minjun stayed quiet, and you did not say anything, either, allowing him some time with his thoughts. He already knew how risky it would be for him to go to that hotel. He just needed a minute to push his own ego aside and focus on getting Sid arrested, even if that meant he had to stay back and just watch it happen.

“Alright,” he said after a minute. “Yeah, fine. I’ll stay here.”

A deep, resigned sigh followed his words, and you allowed yourself to close your eyes and lean against the door of the room for just a minute.

“Okay, good,” you said. “We—we should be alright.”

You sounded as confident as you could under the circumstances, but Minjun sensed every nervous undertone in your voice.

“Yeah,” he said, twisting the silver band on his index finger. “We should be. You—the more you praised and thanked him, the more willing Jude became to do anything for us. Sid had never given him positive feedback in his life, and you’re giving it all to him in one day. So, I-I think you’re right. He’s on our side. He wants to do this, too. We will be fine.”

You nodded slowly. You hoped you were right because the rest of your plan relied on this.

You were right.

Later that same day, you would learn that Jude had done a spectacular job at improvising. You’d never considered him to be particularly bright until today—actually, that was putting it nicely—but he was Sid’s friend, so he had destructive behavioural patterns ingrained deeply in his brain. That worked in your favour.

Apparently, Jude got worried that Sid would sleep through Rated Riot’s set, and that would derail your plan. So, he made sure that Sid wouldn’t wake up if touched, and strategically dangled Sid’s hand over the edge of the bed. Then, planning his exit, he opened the window to create a draft with the door. Finally, he forcefully dropped Sid’s phone from across the room, and ran out before Sid registered the noise.

The screen of the phone cracked, startling Sid awake. Right away, he noticed his outstretched hand and his broken phone on the floor, and his thought process was very simple: he dropped his phone in his sleep and woke himself up. The window was open, so the wind must have rattled the door of his room at the same time, adding to the noise. That’s all there was to it—never mind that the damage to the phone was far too bad, given the distance from his hand to the floor, and there was no wind outside the window.

Jude’s improvisation proved excellent in another way, too: Sid thought the cracked screen was the reason his phone wouldn’t turn back on, and why it appeared empty once he plugged it in to charge. He thought he had broken it, and he was very unhappy about that.

Jude, meanwhile, was overjoyed. He sent you a text with an innocuous smiley face, and started to pack his belongings.

You received his text and proceeded with your part of the plan.

First, you had to borrow an old flip phone from one of the middle-aged roadies on tour because it was the only device that could fit your prepaid SIM card.

And then, as soon as Ivy started her opening set and Rated Riot gathered in their dressing room for final preparations ahead of their performance, you called Sid.

He answered on the first ring with a word that you did not understand. He didn’t sound sober.

“Sid?” you asked.

“Yeah?” he responded, the sound slightly distorted on the old phone. “Who is this?”

“It’s me,” you said, intentionally avoiding names. You hoped he’d recognise you because you doubted many women voluntarily called him. “Can you talk?”

It took Sid a minute to place your voice, and the line stayed quiet while you waited.

“What—what number are you calling me from?” he asked. That was good. His first reaction was not, ‘why are you calling me?’

“It’s my number,” you said. “Just—I made it private, so—I don’t want anyone to know I’m talking to you.”

The number obviously wasn’t yours, although Sid wouldn’t be able to tell. The prepaid SIM card was meant to ensure your anonymity in case the authorities checked his call history and traced the number back.

“Why?” Sid asked. He didn’t sound accusing or annoyed, merely confused.

“I have something I want to discuss with you,” you said before adding a deliberately half-panicked, half-angry whisper, “but listen, no one can know.”

Sid was obviously befuddled. A long “ahhh” preceded his response before he found actual words.

“What are—what do you want?” he asked, and then, to your horror, he softened his voice. “I mean, to discuss with me.”

You took a deep breath. You were grateful that he hadn’t hung up and instead continued to speak to you in this unbecoming, warm tone, but you still felt nauseous and had to clutch the flip phone to your ear to stay in the moment.

“I—I’ve been thinking a lot,” you began, following the script you had written on a piece of paper that you couldn’t wait to burn later. “Jungkook and I—it—it’s not good. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m—listen, I don’t want to talk to you about this over the phone. Jungkook can—well, you know, it’s a phone. I don’t know, maybe he tapped it or something.”

There was a minute of silence. You wondered if you’d overdone it, if your hesitation had not sounded natural.

“Jungkook tapped your phone?” Sid asked, sounding incredulous.

“He might have, I—he’s acting very irrationally, and I’m—honestly, I’m realising that I was wrong about you,” you said. You had to pause to close your eyes and calm your stomach. Sid took the silence to mean that you were gathering your strength, and you really were, just not in the way he thought. “Jungkook is—he’s acting crazy. Ever since you posted that picture on Instagram, he’s been controlling everything I do. I can’t—I can’t do this. So, I’m—look, I need your help. I think you’re the only one who can help me get out of here. Can you meet me?”

You held your breath, expecting to wait while Sid considered your request—but he did no such thing.

His response was immediate. “Where?”

The second you heard the question, you knew that Minjun had been right. Sid would come here to see you—but not because you’d asked. He was going to come here purely out of spite for Jungkook.

“Are you in London?” you asked, your voice shaking.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“I’m at The Academy,” you said. “Can you come?”

“I’m not allowed,” he reminded you—exactly like you expected him to. “Jungkook blacklisted me.”

“I’ll talk to security,” you said. “They’ll let you through.”

He fell silent again, and you knew he had a lot to wrap his head around, yet you still worried that you might have been too forceful. But you shouldn’t have doubted this. You’d mentioned Jungkook, and Sid was deaf to everything else.

“Wh—can you just—why do you need me to come there?” he asked, sounding curious, even lazy, but not suspicious.

You supposed the text messages you’d sent him in advance had also helped, like you hoped they would. Now, your desperation to see him seemed more believable.

“I need your help, and I can’t leave the venue,” you explained. “I’m the—you know my job is to stay here. People will notice if I leave. They’ll know something is up. I need—I need you here.” You paused when you heard Sid’s garbled inhale on the other end. Loathing every moment of this, you swallowed, and continued, “Rated Riot are about to start their setlist, so no one will even know you’re here. Please? I—I really need you.”

He did not seem to notice the way you choked on the last words, but he was silent for a very long time, and you began to second-guess yourself again. You couldn’t help it—this was so unrealistic.

You’d hated Sid for as long as you’ve known him. Surely, even if he believed you needed his help, and even if Jungkook was involved, he would laugh in your face and tell you to fucking deal with it on your own.

“Alright,” he said instead and you felt shivers run down your spine. Jungkook was that much of a sore spot for him. “Fine. Yeah. You’ll speak to security?”

“I—yeah, I promise,” you assured him—and you didn’t lie, technically. You had already talked to Mick. “Come straight to the dressing rooms, I’ll be waiting for you there.”

“Alri—” Sid started to say, then stopped abruptly. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

“I can’t tell you over the phone,” you repeated. “I don’t want—no one can know, okay? It has to stay between you and me.”

“Alright. Shit,” he said, encouraged, as it seemed, by this ominous you-and-me. “I’m coming. Wait for me.”

“Okay,” you replied, trying to unclench your teeth. “I’ll be waiting.”

Ending the call, you exhaled and shook your hands vigorously as if that could help you recover from the conversation and stop shuddering.

You felt even more nervous now—if you struggled so much to talk to him over the phone, how would you handle him face-to-face?—but you couldn’t afford to lose your courage.

So many things had to fall into place for you to succeed—Jude needed to run into you in that club in London and Sid needed to leave him alone when he nearly overdosed—and it all felt frustratingly circumstantial. But all that was left now was up to you, and you’ve spent days planning this. You knew what you were doing.

You waited for Sid and paced in the room. Then, remembering suddenly, you pulled out Jungkook’s lighter from your jacket pocket—jangling the keys of his Katana as you did—and burnt the piece of paper with all that you’d written down before your call. The flames were delicate and shy. They disappeared into the air as soon as they finished the job, and not even the sprinklers on the ceiling picked them up.

It took Sid about fifteen more minutes to arrive, and he rounded the corner towards the waiting area while breathing heavily as though he’d run all the way here.

You pressed your palms into each other behind your back to keep your composure. He was wearing a thick North Face jacket, far too warm for this weather, and you wondered if Jude had managed to double-check what was inside.

“That was shit to get through,” Sid remarked once he saw you in the doorway of one of the empty dressing rooms. “Fucking Mick hates my guts.”

You’d warned Mick to be as rude as he possibly could when Sid got here, but you still didn’t like that Sid used his first name. Mick was the guardian angel of this tour; he was the quiet backbone of every concert. You wanted to punch Sid a little just for mentioning him so offhandedly.

“Yeah, he—he takes his job very seriously,” you said. “Thank you for coming here.”

Sid followed you into the dressing room and looked around. He hadn’t seen anyone other than Mick backstage—you made sure he wouldn’t—but he still seemed on edge.

“Are we cool to talk here?” he asked. “You’re not worried about Jungkook overhearing us?”

“No,” you said. “They’re about to go on stage. We’re good.”

It was easy to talk to him when you didn’t have to lie. And it was even easier when Sid asked all the wrong questions. If he had decided to point out that you hated him and asked why you’d changed your mind, you were sure you’d start stuttering again.

“Okay.” He stuffed his hands in his jean pockets while you stood across the room, your arms folded tightly over your chest. “Well, wha—why did you ask me to come?”

“I want to talk to you,” you replied. He could not discern the expression on your face or the tone of your voice.

“About what?” he asked.

“About us,” you said.

His eyebrows shot up and his mouth stretched downwards in an expression of comical surprise. “Us?”

“Yeah.”

His gaze flickered for a minute, drifting away, then returning to you again. He looked unsure of himself, and witnessing him in a similar state of disorientation as Jude had been when he was first here, was extremely entertaining. You almost wished you had a camera somewhere in the room.

“Okay,” Sid finally said, waiting for you to lead the conversation.

“What are you thinking right now?” you asked.

The question deepened his confusion. “Huh?”

“What did you think about just now,” you clarified, “when I said ‘us’?”

Sid frowned and did not reply. You could tell that he was very confused about your different mood, but he was already here, so you did not owe him any more false pleasantries. You just needed to keep him here a little longer: to get a proper reaction out of him in front of your scheduled witnesses, and to give Jude enough time to finish his part of the plan in Sid’s room and check out of the hotel.

“That’s fair,” you said in response to his silence. “You don’t have to answer.”

“I’m—why did you ask me to come?” he asked, glancing behind himself.

The room was hidden from the rest of the waiting area by an awkward corner wall, providing you with enough privacy to leave the door ajar, so it would make sense for Mick and Luna to find you here later, but it also wouldn’t make Sid uncomfortable. He seemed fairly content to leave the door open as he talked to you.

He was perplexed, however. You watched his beady, cockroach-like eyes dart between the window and the couch behind you. He wasn’t sure if he was being paranoid. He didn’t like that you did not look nearly as panicked and vulnerable as you’d sounded on the phone.

“You don’t have to look around,” you told him. “It’s just us here.”

He scoffed, not convinced. “I know it’s not.”

You felt a bubble of worry in the pit of your stomach, but you swallowed it and maintained eye contact. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You have security everywhere,” he replied.

“I told you I talked to them.”

You saw some of his armour loosen. He was still puzzled by your rigid posture, but now he seemed less inclined to flee.

“Right,” he said reluctantly. “You said you needed my help.”

“I did,” you confirmed. “Can you answer one question?”

He furrowed his brows again.

“Sure,” he said, but his response sounded like a question. He couldn’t guess what would happen next, and he was beside himself. You’ve never seen him fidget like this.

“Why did you come here?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve been texting you the whole day yesterday,” you said. “You didn’t reply to me. Then, suddenly, you did. And now you’re here.”

You already knew why he texted you back when he did; Jungkook had provoked him. But you wanted to hear Sid’s logic. This had been bothering you ever since Jungkook told you about the videos Sid had sent him—the simple why.

Sid wanted to establish his superiority, you understood that much—but why was it so important to him? After all, Jungkook had never posed any serious threat to him until now.

This was not part of the plan, but you figured that since you had to keep Sid here for a while longer, you might as well make the most of the situation.

“Oh, yeah, no, my phone—it broke, the glass cracked, all my shit is deleted,” he said. “I’m trying to figure out how to access my Cloud. I forgot my password.”

“Oh,” you said. “So that’s why you didn’t reply?”

Sid shrugged. “Yeah.”

You narrowed your eyes before quickly adjusting your expression. You may have dropped certain parts of your act, but you were still the worried, confused, and very innocent damsel in evident distress. You weren’t interrogating him.

Sid seemed to read the expression on your face as precisely that.

“Don’t worry, I’m—I would have replied to you if my phone was okay,” he said and you had already predicted that he would say this very thing. It was a standard response for guys like him: I would have replied, but. I would have called, but. I really would have, but.

You cleared your throat and hoped very much that your face would appear relieved to hear this. “Really?”

“Of course,” Sid assured. He was soothed, seemingly, by the hopeful glint he thought he saw in your eyes.

“I just—I have another question,” you said. “Are you here to get back at Jungkook?”

You could have been more subtle, but you did not want to be. Sid wasn’t expecting the question anyway, and his confusion clouded his judgment.

“I’m—why do you think that?” he asked.

“You two hate each other,” you explained. “I thought that was why you came here. Just to get back at him.”

Despite your calm demeanour, you sounded unsure when you spoke, and that helped Sid feel more at ease. He believed you were insecure about his motives. He thought you wanted to hear that he’d come here for you, only you. Not Jungkook.

“Well, sure,” he said. “But—you’re—you know.”

“No,” you said. “Explain it to me. I don’t know.”

“Well, it’s, like—I mean—you said you needed my help,” he replied very concisely.

You sensed what he was trying to convey, and you enjoyed his struggle to find the words for it. It was pathetic, though. You could tell just by looking at him that the emotions he wanted to talk to you about weren’t genuine, yet he still couldn’t put them into words.

He wanted you to think he had feelings for you, so you’d drop your guard. So you’d stop asking questions and come to him, and Jungkook would lose you. But if there was anyone in this building that Sid genuinely had feelings for, it was himself.

“Well, yeah, but you—you posted that picture,” you said, feigning hurt. He’d wounded you and now you doubted his intentions—this way, he couldn’t doubt yours. “And you sent those videos, and—I thought you hated me, too. I didn’t think you’d agree to help me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said. “This isn’t about you.”

Your overstimulated mind perked up. It finally started to feel like you were getting somewhere.

“It’s not?” you asked.

“Well, it’s a little about you,” he admitted. He chuckled here, too, and you felt a foreboding churning in your stomach even before he said anything else. “I mean, I liked you f-for a short while. Nothing serious. I think I even told you about it.”

“You did not tell me.”

As his awkward chuckling ceased, you caught your mask slipping and blinked a few times, trying to appear less threatening.

“Well, it didn’t last long, so it doesn’t even matter,” he added, glancing around the room.

“Mhmm.” You contemplated various ways to phrase yourself next, hoping that any way would work as long as your voice was quiet and unsure, maybe with an insecure chuckle at the end. “But why did you send those videos? What are you—what’s the reason?”

He closed his eyes and groaned. “How can you ask me that? After thinking that Jungkook tapped your phone? I thought you realised what he’s really like.”

You looked down, needing a moment to recall all that you’ve told him so you could continue to play along.

“Oh, no, I mean—no, I know,” you said. “I see what he’s like, I’m just—I want to know what you were trying to do, and, uh, maybe we can help each other.”

Sid appeared pleasantly surprised to hear this, but his expression quickly morphed into one of his sly grins—the sort that was toxic if you were exposed to it for too long. “Oh, yeah?”

You swallowed; you thought you could already taste the poison on your tongue.

“Yeah,” you replied.

He exhaled and took a few steps deeper into the room, right past your side. You forced yourself to stand still as he approached the window, glanced outside, and then turned back to you.

“It’s my revenge,” he said.

“Revenge,” you repeated, internally cringing at his choice of words. “For what?”

“For you.”

You raised your eyebrows and clutched your arms around yourself tighter. This was what you were waiting to hear, but, at the same time, it wasn’t.

“For me?” you asked.

“And for his band,” Sid added.

You did not reply, too worried about the turmoil you felt inside. The stirring in your stomach had suddenly intensified—as if the outer lining of your organs had begun to peel off like old paint does when it comes in contact with something acidic. You were starting to discover that Sid was toxic to be around in more ways than one.

“He’s got—he thinks he’s the shit now that he’s famous,” he continued. “Now that he’s back with you. He needs to be taken down a notch. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” you asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. Taking someone “down a notch” seemed to be a regular activity for him.

“And you don’t think that’s a waste of time?” you asked. “I mean, I think we should just leave him be and… you know, move on with our lives.”

“No, that’s not how it works,” he declared. There was a newfound intensity in his eyes, an angry flame of sorts, and it made you realise just how lifeless his gaze had been otherwise. This was truly his purpose, you realised. If he wasn’t making others miserable, he wasn’t really living. “Somebody steps out of line, you need to put them back in their place. Or they won’t learn their lesson.”

You lowered your gaze before you could start shaking your head at his self-assured tone.

“But why does it matter if he learns his lesson or not?” you pushed. “If—if we’re leaving and won’t have to deal with him anymore?”

His lips spread in a dangerous, serpentine grin.

“We’re leaving?” he asked. He sounded thrilled and you wanted to knock his teeth in.

“Well, I would hope so,” you said. You also hoped that the twitching you felt in the corners of your eyes was phantom, and he could not see how much your body detested his presence.

Sid considered this for a second. You could see some sinister plan brewing in his mind.

“Alright. Yeah,” he finally said. “I like the idea of us going away. But it’s still unfair to leave debts unpaid, you know? This shit goes back years. He’s always tried to upstage me. Picture this: on my birthdays, I usually borrowed my dad’s yacht and got all my friends. And for the last few years, Jungkook was spending the whole night at the helm, handing everyone drinks like some Great fucking Gatsby in that book, fucking singing, and just trying to be the centre of attention. It’s my fucking birthday, and he’s acting like the star of the show.”

You had to pause to allow for several bits of new information to sink in. You were surprised, first of all, that Sid knew what a book was. You also learnt that he was so far up his own ass that he could not be accurate if he was gifted objectivity for Christmas.

You had heard a different version of this story from Jungkook. When he told you about these yacht parties, he had emphasised how new these experiences were for him, and how Sid was the one who’d made them possible. He’d used one of these parties as an example of the good moments in their friendship. You could sense awe and subtle gratitude in Jungkook’s words. No malice, no jealousy.

But Sid had evidently felt threatened. Yachts weren’t a luxury to him, they were a regular occurrence. And he felt intimidated by Jungkook’s unbridled joy because he cherished these experiences in a way that Sid never could.

“Oh,” you said after a moment. “I’ve never—I didn’t know about that.”

“Yeah,” Sid said with a childish sneer. “And don’t fucking get me started on what he was like when he was still with you. Never fucking shut up about having to see you. He thought he was some king of the fucking world, thought he was better than us. He tried to make us feel like losers because you chose him. And I knew things were shit for you two because he never told us about anything that you did together. But still, he fucking—his fucking head was the size of the moon. He really thought he was the shit. And then—get this. I said I wanted to be in a band. So, guess what he did?”

You were impressed by how offended Sid sounded as he complained about Jungkook not sharing the details of his relationship with his friends. And you were just as impressed by his perverse interpretations of how Jungkook’s relationship made him feel—he felt left out. He felt jealous and angry. He always had to have more than his friends and now, for the first time in his life, he didn’t.

And you remembered this dream about their own band, too – the conversation Jungkook said he’d had with Sid, Jude, and Minjun on the beach. How Sid wanted to be a bassist, how he owned all of Sex Pistols’ records. You’d thought they were joking until Jungkook brought this up again just the other night. And now you could tell how serious they were just by looking at the scowl on Sid’s face.

“Not to mention,” Sid continued, providing you with all the answers you sought, and looking very pleased as he did. To him, this must have felt like you were already agreeing with him. “Jungkook is the only one of my friends that my mum likes. I don’t know what it is about him. She fucking adores him. Like some stray fucking cat, I swear to fuck. And, of course, every time he’s at my house, he goes out of his way to kiss her ass, and she falls for it every single time. He should have been grateful I even invited him to see me, he should have been fucking kissing my ass, but instead, he was trying to appear like a little angel to her.”

This wasn’t something that Jungkook had mentioned to you before, and you were surprised. You only knew about Sid’s stone-cold mother from what Minjun had told you.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “What was he doing?”

However reluctant Sid might have seemed before, now he looked elated about the opportunity to elaborate.

“He brought her favourite chocolates whenever he came over, he polished her car when we were working on my granddad’s collection—and nobody even asked him to touch her car. He fucking sent her cards on her birthday,” he listed off, scoffing to himself. “And then I got shit for not congratulating her right away, even though I had something planned. For later. He was—he was setting some fucking standard that I had to live up to. And why the fuck should I? I’m her only son. Who the fuck is Jungkook to her? Fucking nobody. He’s a fucking wannabe, that’s what he is. He fucking acts like he fits in with us, but you can take one look at him to know that he never will. He’s nothing.”

You glanced at the window on your side. Sid got something exactly right; Jungkook really wanted to fit in.

He wanted Sid’s mother to approve of him like he wanted everyone to approve of him. He hoped that gaining her acceptance would make him feel more included in their inner circle. He would become Sid’s friend, not just someone Sid hung out with occasionally. They’d be as equal as they could be, given their vastly different backgrounds.

But Sid saw it all as a threat. And he was envious, too. He thought he had to compete with Jungkook for everything, even his mother’s affection. And he was understandably upset because he had the entitlement, the legacy, the money. He had a whole dynasty behind him. Jungkook had nothing.

For a very long time, Jungkook had been trying to come as close to Sid as he could, even though he knew he could never have what Sid had. And now, all of a sudden, Jungkook had so much more: he had the band, a promising career, a devoted fanbase, real friends. He had the girl, too.

And you realised that Sid didn’t want to merely demonstrate that he was better than Jungkook; that wasn’t it. He was obsessed with Jungkook—because he wanted to be Jungkook.

“So you thought those videos would put him in his place?” you asked. “You thought they’d teach him a lesson?”

“That was just for starters,” Sid said, grinning again. “I was going to make sure he lost you first, then the band. And I also have his bike. He would lose everything else on his own. Not that there’s much else to lose.”

You ran your fingers over your chin. You hadn’t had a chance to give Jungkook the keys to his Katana yet, and the weight of them in your pocket was quite pleasant.

“I see,” you said.

“So, what—will we do it?” Sid asked, blowing into his fist and rubbing his palms together. “I mean, he’s already lost you.”

You realised, quite unexpectedly, that you didn’t really want to punch him anymore. He was so deeply miserable already, purely of his own accord, that there was nothing you could do to make him feel worse about himself. You just wanted to get him out of here—preferably in the back of a police vehicle.

“How would—how do you think he’d lose the band?” you asked.

“I’ll post those videos I sent him,” he said easily. “Well, after my phone gets its shit together. His band will fear for their reputation, and they’ll get rid of him. Simple. And then every time he’ll try to sing, I’ll pull up something I have in my gallery. He’ll have to live the rest of his life quietly, without bothering anybody.”

You nodded along as you listened. You and your friends had suspected Sid would do this very thing. And now the thought of him trying very hard to get back at Jungkook after tonight, but failing every time, was very inspiring.

“What are you thinking?” he asked after you didn’t reply.

You looked up at him. “I, um—do you know what time it is?”

He glanced at the obnoxiously large, diamond-encrusted watch on his wrist. You doubted he could tell time that well, and Sid confirmed it when it took him a good fifteen seconds to calculate what each number on the mechanical watch stood for.

“Nine twenty-four,” he said. “Why?”

“No reason,” you replied. You’ve kept him here for almost half an hour at this point. That was as much time as you agreed on with Jude and Minjun; Jude had to have finished by now, ideally with some time to spare. “You came here from your hotel?”

“Yeah,” Sid said. “You want to go there?”

Finally, you allowed yourself a small smile. “I don’t think either of us will be going there.”

His eyebrows gathered into an uncertain frown. “Hmm?”

“I invited you here,” you said, “because I wanted to see you one last time.”

The previous confusion you’d seen in Sid’s eyes doubled. He did not make a move, but you saw him stiffen.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, and you were close enough to see his pupils shrinking.

You were the one to shrug casually this time. “I figured it’d be quite boring without you here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied slowly, his gaze fixed on your face.

Your smile lacked any real sympathy, despite the pitiful click of your lips. “I’m afraid you’ll have no choice.”

“What?” he asked again. You watched him slide one of his hands into his jacket pocket. It must have been reflexive, he couldn’t have known that you knew what he carried there. But you were still glad. You were going to tell the police later that he kept reaching into his pocket anyway. At least now you wouldn’t have to lie.

“I’m just thinking, what else did you bring with you to London?” you asked. Jungkook told you not to beat Sid up, but he didn’t say anything about taunting him. “Something that you wouldn’t mind sharing with the police, maybe? We could have a little Show and Tell.”

You noticed his arm tighten inside his jacket sleeve; he must have clenched his fist in his pocket. “What—what the fuck are you saying?”

He had reverted to his usual manner of speaking, and you felt far more comfortable when he was foaming at the mouth instead of half-whispering just to maintain a seductive tone with you. His real face was slowly coming out. You could already see the fangs.

“Why do you look so alarmed?” you asked. “Did you bring something that you shouldn’t have brought with you, but figured, what’s the worst that can happen?”

His jaw was tight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do.”

He glared at you in a poor attempt at intimidation, and you heard the faint sound of footsteps in the corridor. You knew that Luna and Mick were right there, behind him. He was trapped.

“Is this why you called me here?” he questioned. You doubted he’d sensed the others, because he still looked fairly composed. “You’re trying to—trying to trick me into—into what? Admitting that I do drugs?”

“I’m not trying to trick you,” you countered. “I’m just having a conversation with you.”

He squinted at you. “You don’t need my help, do you?”

You almost laughed at the absurdity of the question; you knew he was slow, but this still surprised you.

“I did, actually,” you said. “And you’ve already helped me loads. Thanks.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he snapped, finally displaying some of the aggression you’d been anticipating. His hand flew out of his pocket but remained relatively close to the rest of his body. “Y-you—you think you’re going to bust me for drugs? You think this is my first time in a foreign country?”

Your smile was patient.

“You think this is my first time talking to you?” you returned. “You think I spent all these years dealing with your shit and learnt nothing?”

For a very heartwarming moment, Sid’s eyes looked ready to pop out of his forehead.

“The cops wouldn’t find anything,” he snarled, taking a step closer to you.

You shrugged and did not move. “Alright.”

“You’d be the one they question for wasting their time,” he continued, taking another step until he was a mere foot away from you.

“Fair.”

He leaned in closer, each of his words so self-assured that it was a wonder he hadn’t done a backflip yet to prove how absolutely incredible, how untouchable, how totally one-of-a-kind he was.

“You still think you have something on me?” he snarled.

You leaned back slightly to be able to meet his gaze without your vision blurring from the proximity and his awful smell. His cologne was not rich enough to hide the powerful stench of all that he’d consumed before he came here.

“Is this a threat?” you asked. Your tone was calm and you saw the way it made the veins in his neck bulge.

He scoffed. “How is that a threat?”

“I am feeling very threatened.”

“I’m not even touching you,” he retorted. He was a little nervous, you could tell. He thought he could pay his way out of any trouble, but he would still be inconvenienced if you called the police.

“Who’s going to believe you?” you countered. “You reek of liquor and weed.”

“Oh, so you’re going to frame me, is that it?” he asked, raising the pitch of his voice to mock you.

You figured he would think he was invincible until the very end, and you appreciated that his unwavering arrogance would become precisely what brought on his downfall.

“Framing implies I falsify charges,” you said.

He ran his tongue over his upper teeth. “Well, I never threatened you.”

“And I never lied to the police.”

Sid continued to stare at you without blinking. He hadn’t expected to find himself in this situation with you. He hadn’t expected you not to blink, either.

And it occurred to you, with him so close, that despite the act he put on, despite his perpetual sneer, he was truly incredibly insecure. This—standing right in your face—was the most he could do.

“Hmm. I see,” he said. You heard his jacket scrunch as he moved, but you did not look away from the slits in his pupils. “You have to understand, though, if I wanted to threaten you, I w—”

You noticed the movement of his arm out of the corner of your eye and slapped his hand away with the edge of your palm just as he reached to touch your cheek. Sid yelped and recoiled in surprise.

You had underestimated your strength when you were on so much adrenaline, and the dull slap echoed in the empty room. It took him a moment to understand what had happened.

“Fuck—y-you’re the one who just pushed me,” he said, looking at his hand as if you’d drawn blood. “And you’re the one who called me in here in the first pl—”

“Mick!” you called out, cutting him off.

Mick was standing right by the door and Sid did not get another chance to interject before the security guard popped his head inside. He looked at you, then at the increasing distance between you and Sid as Sid crossed the room away from you.

“Yeah?” the guard asked, stepping inside.

“Call 999 for me, would you, please?” you asked, keeping your eyes on Sid as he smirked to himself. “We have a trespasser here.”

“You fucking invited me,” Sid shot back, rolling his eyes. “You told them to let me in.”

“I did no such thing,” you said.

“Y—you fucking called me!” he continued, momentarily thrown off balance. “And you kept fucking texting me, and told me to—”

“I would never call you.”

The unshakeable tranquillity in your eyes as you lied right to his face made him livid. You hoped it would.

“You fucking bitch,” he spat. “I have it on my phone. The messages might be gone, but you called me—”

“Sid,” you said in a voice so indifferent that he stopped speaking and just glowered at you. “You are behaving very irrationally and posing a threat to me and your surroundings. Mick is legally allowed to restrain you until the police get here.”

Mick put his phone away and took a step closer to Sid. Sid took an instinctive step back, closer to you. He appeared so confused, so cornered, that not even his persistent scoffing—a coping mechanism, you started to realise—could help him retain his nonchalance.

“I’m behaving irrationally?” he questioned. “How the fuck am I—”

“Hey,” Luna called from the door. Your heart lifted at the sound of her voice, but faltered when you saw Minjun next to her. He wasn’t supposed to be here. “I heard yelling. Is everything alright?”

“I-I found a trespasser,” you explained. “I feel very threatened.”

“I understand,” she replied, her voice mechanical. Sid looked like he wanted to throw things, then break them when he noticed Minjun. “He is yelling at you and flailing his arms. I also feel threatened.”

Sid’s sardonic laughter gained more volume.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” he growled. “Did you all plot this together? Do you know who I am? This will never fly.”

“The police are on their way,” Mick told him. “You’re coming with me.”

You allowed him to take charge and moved towards Minjun and Luna; she immediately wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders. The three of you watched Mick grab both of Sid’s hands and dodge a clumsy slap as Sid made feeble attempts to resist.

“You have no fucking idea what I’m going to do to you, Minjun!” Sid cried. “Your family is fucked. They’re so fucking fucked!”

You reached out to touch Minjun’s arm when you saw him swallow back his anger. He glanced at you, then at Luna, and nodded before turning back to Sid.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad for us, compared to where you’re going,” he replied calmly, forcing Sid to break into another fit of incomprehensible screeching.

Mick guided Sid towards the door, using his full weight to restrain him as Sid writhed in his grip. As soon as they crossed the threshold of the dressing room—where Sid fought violently to break out and cursed Minjun to hell and back several times—Mick pulled him into himself and half-carried him to the security room.

Sid yelled all the way down the corridor, ensuring that there were plenty of other witnesses to his outburst. The venue staff and your tour staff all heard his threats, they all saw him resist Mick’s hold. You couldn’t have planned it like this if you’d tried—and it was mostly due to Minjun showing up. Seeing someone that he considered a mere plaything stand up to him had clearly snapped something in Sid’s brain.

It took the police twenty minutes to arrive, and Sid had not closed his mouth once. You found that you quite enjoyed it; every scream from behind the door of the security room about how he was going to “fuck this place up” and “find every single one of you” and “kill you, you insufferable fucking bitch” sounded very melodious. Even Minjun loosened eventually, enjoying the moment he’d waited so long for.

Despite your efforts to keep the rest of your friends away from this scene, Maggie found her way to you just when the officers entered the venue. She was concerned about the screams she’d heard from across the building, but she was relieved to see you, Luna and Minjun chuckling outside the security room.

“Get it together,” she warned you with a grin. “The police are here. We want them to take us seriously.”

“Can we watch?” Minjun asked, nodding at the security room. One of the two officers had left the door open.

You moved closer instead of replying, and all four of you peered inside.

The space was cramped, but the scene inside the room was beautiful: Sid was on his knees, pressed against the wall, and he looked feral. His hair fell in aimless, overly gelled strands around his face, he snarled and barked at anyone who addressed him, and the younger officer appeared genuinely afraid to touch him for fear of getting his hand bitten off.

The other officer turned around in the meantime, noticing you. He approached, but Sid was yelling so much that the officer could not even ask you for a quick recap of what had happened before they got here. You understood what he wanted anyway, and leaned in to shout your explanation in his ear.

“He kept reaching into his pocket while talking to me,” you said, according to your plan. “I’m afraid he might be armed. We didn’t mention this on the phone so he wouldn’t hear us a-and decide to use it.”

There were no weapons, you were sure. You just needed the officers to check Sid’s pockets with intention, not merely graze over them.

The policeman gave you a nod and turned back to face Sid. The younger officer stepped back, seemingly relieved that he wouldn’t have to touch him.

“Stand up,” the senior officer ordered.

Mick let him go, and Sid jumped to his feet with such angry vigour that he collided with the metal table in the middle of the room. He cursed again and attempted to punch the table in irrational fury, hissing in pain the second that his knuckles connected with the surface.

“I am so happy,” Minjun whispered next to you when Sid leapt in the air in pain. “This is literally the highlight of my life.”

“Mine, too, I think,” Maggie agreed, snickering. “Wish I’d brought my camera.”

Biting back your own laughter, you shushed them so the policemen wouldn’t hear.

“Stop, stop,” the older officer was telling Sid. His voice sounded a little alarmed as Sid clutched his hand and spun around. “You’ll hurt yourself. Stand by that wall.”

Sid continued to mumble profanities under his breath, but he complied. The officer approached, gently kicked Sid’s shin to get him to spread his legs, and began to search through his thick jacket.

He meticulously patted down Sid’s shoulders, then his chest, until he pressed on something—the very something you and Minjun had hoped he would press on—and pulled back with a frown. A light bag, securely wrapped in cling film, tumbled out past the various zippers on Sid’s jacket and landed on the floor.

Across the room, Maggie gasped. Both officers jumped back as if a ticking bomb had fallen out of his pocket.

You noticed that Sid looked surprised, too. You glanced up at Minjun, and he gave you a solemn nod. He already knew that Jude had to rip Sid’s usual inner pocket to make sure the bag would fall out when poked with enough force.

The older officer was the first to react as he yelled at his younger colleague who quickly sprung into action and pressed Sid roughly into the wall, effectively restraining him again. The other officer then pulled out his receiver and spoke into it with such urgency that you almost began to feel uneasy, too.

“That—that’s not mine!” Sid protested despite struggling to speak with his face pressed against the wall. “I don’t know how that—it’s not mine, it—”

The young officer pushed him into the wall harder and said something to him, more assertive now that Sid’s rage was replaced with fear. You couldn’t hear what he said from where you were standing, but you could tell from the way Sid swallowed and quieted down that it was not a phrase of gentle encouragement.

“It’s not yours,” the older officer repeated as he pushed his receiver back into the case, “but it fell out of your jacket?”

“It’s—”

It took Sid two seconds to realise that he was in deep trouble—and another two seconds to make this much worse for himself.

“I was just taking it to a friend,” he said.

You could no longer suppress your smile.

The senior officer raised an eyebrow, then quickly lowered it. He refrained from asking further questions—although he certainly looked like he wanted to—knowing that it would only incriminate Sid more.

“You can tell us at the station,” the officer said, pulling out gloves and tweezers to pick up the small bag from the floor, careful, so the white powder inside wouldn’t spill out, “about whoever you were taking it to.”

Sid noticed the way the officer’s voice changed as soon as he mentioned this friend, and he realised what this must have sounded like.

“I—no. No,” he decided, his panic deepening. He knew that supplying was a much more serious offence than possession. “I wasn’t taking it to anyone. No one paid me. I’m not selling. I was just—”

“You’re going to the station,” the officer repeated. “You can tell us about your friend there.”

“I’m saying I—I lied!” Sid shouted. He sounded frantic, desperate, scared. It was perfectly musical. “It’s not—I wasn’t taking it to a friend. It’s for me! It’s mine.”

“Oh, this much?” Maggie called out.

You were startled by the abrupt sound of her voice. Sid was too, as he whipped his head around, forcing the officer cuffing his wrists to stagger on his feet and push Sid’s head back into the wall.

“Shut the fuck up,” Sid yelled, promptly interrupting the officer as he began to recite his rights to him. “I will fucking—I will kill you—I will fucking kill all of you, I swear—”

“Son,” the older officer interjected sternly, grabbing Sid’s arm from his younger colleague and dragging him towards the door of the room. Maggie pulled you and Luna aside to make room for them to walk past. Minjun stepped back, too. “I’d like to remind you that you are under arrest.”

“Fuck you,” Sid snarled, staring at Minjun.

He glared at him all the way down the corridor of the venue, straining his neck as the officers pushed him forwards, and you followed them outside. Just past the back exit, you and your friends stopped to watch—with immense pleasure—as they took Sid to their car.

“Jungkook will go down with me, you know!” Sid yelled, resisting their attempts to protect his head as they pushed him onto the backseat. “I’m his friend. He invited me!”

You saw his flaring nostrils from afar and you could tell how much he wished that Jungkook stood next to Minjun right now. How much he wanted to get one last reaction out of him, to threaten him with payback like he’d done to Minjun. And you were glad Jungkook wasn’t here to give Sid the satisfaction of being his punching bag one last time.

“Jungkook was the one who banned you from Rated Riot’s shows,” you reminded Sid as he kicked the seat in front of him. “That was why we had to call the police.”

“Your obsession with Jungkook is really unhealthy, by the way,” Minjun added. “Maybe you should work on that before someone realises how jealous you are. That’d be awkward.”

The older officer glared at Minjun, but there was a softness in his eyes that indicated he only meant to softly chastise him for this unnecessary addition.

“You fucking cu—” was going to be Sid’s last choral arrangement, but it was drowned out when the younger officer slammed the door shut.

The officer then walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat, while his older colleague stayed back to talk to you. He told you that he would have taken you to the station as witnesses as well, but he understood how busy you were. When he bashfully admitted that his daughter was actually in the audience of Rated Riot’s show right now, you felt so high that you could have easily floated away.

He pulled out his notebook and returned the subject to Sid, asking you to be quick and concise. He said that things did not look good for Sid either way, but the procedure required him to get your statements.

Your account was very straightforward: Sid had forced his way into the venue, yelling and cursing, and demanded to see you and Jungkook (Luna’s statement confirmed this: “It was frightening,” she’d said, “I thought he was going to hurt someone.”). Then, you called security. Sid looked irrational, almost crazy, and he resisted all of your efforts to restrain him. He threatened everyone, it was so very awful—and not entirely false.

Then, Minjun recounted how he’d heard Sid’s shouts from the smoking area outside, and Maggie told him about hearing the same shouts from the bathroom across the venue.

In the meantime, you shifted your gaze to the police car. The officer inside was stuck listening to a lengthy barrage of Sid’s curses—“fucking pigs, all of you”—and introductions—“do you know who I fucking am?”—but he did not turn his head to acknowledge Sid’s hysteria. You wondered if they had any spare muzzles lying around in the trunk.

The officer emphasised to you that, after the scene Sid had caused, there was little he could do to escape punishment. And you knew that the discovery of illegal substances on his person provided strong grounds for obtaining a search warrant for his residence—where you knew he kept the rest of his supply that Jude had made sure to spread around the room.

And now even if Sid evaded possession-with-intent-to-supply charges, even if he hired expensive legal counsel, even if he tried to bribe the officers and their dogs, too – this was done.

Sid thought he was invincible, he had escaped consequences his whole life. But Jungkook was his biggest weakness, and he was the one who brought the consequences to Sid.

You were dizzy with delight.

Jungkook was so worried about your plan that it lingered in the back of his mind all through the band’s performance. But then he spotted you sometime at the end of the show, smiling at him with the stage lights reflected in your eyes, and he completely forgot what you’d just done. He was just happy you were here.

It was Maggie’s side-hug as she walked past you and seemingly stopped to ask if you were okay that reminded him. And when you looked up at him again, meeting his gaze and nodding, he knew.

Sid was gone. And you were here.

Jungkook came very close to jumping off the stage and kissing you. He would have done it, really, everything else be damned, but the song change kept him in place. Rated Riot did not have many ballads—only two, maybe two and a half if you included the first half of “Haunting”—but the few that they had, came at this point in the show.

He stayed on stage, but he was still too excited to give the songs a proper mournful mood as he kept jumping and smiling into the microphone at all the wrong moments. Nevertheless, the audience greeted his energy with unwavering enthusiasm, and Jungkook thought that this night would become another memory—one of many, lately—that he’d want to stay forever etched into his mind.

By the end of the show, he felt like parts of his skin had caught fire. He was filled with so much energy that he could have walked to Paris right now and performed a show there immediately. He even frightened a few fans with his incessant jumping as the band stayed back for their traditional informal Meet & Greet after the show.

As soon as it finished, Jungkook made his way to you backstage—still breathless, shirtless, sweaty, and ecstatic—and hugged you as soon as he found you, despite your half-hearted protests. He was damp and sticky, and purposefully holding onto you tighter when he heard you complain about it.

Noticing the sight, the rest of the band members piled into the room, hollering war cries and jumping on the two of you in a chaotic group hug. With all five of you giggling and suffocating under each other’s weight, you didn’t notice Minjun and Jude lingering in the doorway.

You were greedy for a minute—maybe two minutes—as you soaked up the band’s bliss and enjoyed the moment before breathlessly telling the boys to go and have fun. They thought you were just saying that so they’d let you breathe, so naturally, they stayed huddled together longer, purposefully torturing you. They tousled your hair when they pulled away, and ran off, seemingly bouncing off the walls of the room as they went.

Jungkook wiped his face with a towel that he’d kept over his shoulder, his smile never ceasing. When you managed to tear your gaze away from his lips, you finally noticed that Minjun was grinning at you from across the room, with an uncertain Jude next to him. Minjun had picked him up immediately after the police left with Sid.

You took a step towards them, but Taehyung accidentally hit a few chords on his bass as he was putting it back into the case across the room—the melody held an uncanny resemblance to Queen’s “Another One Bites The Dust”—and all four members of Rated Riot, in various out-of-tune voices, immediately belted out the chorus, blocking your path with their haphazard gyrations.

There was cause for celebration—like there was every night, but tonight, especially—and you allowed them to pull you into their dance.

Jungkook was still humming under his breath when he led you to the side of the room a few minutes later, eager to learn more about Sid. You motioned for Minjun and Jude to join you, too, and then stretched up on your toes to find Luna and Maggie in the crowding room. They spotted you first and approached, bouncing with excitement.

Jungkook was patting Jude on the back, but the girls pulled all of you into another group hug that sent all of you into a new fit of laughter.

“The show was that good, huh?” Jimin commented, amused by your affection, as he finished setting up the drinks on the table next to you.

You extended your hand to make room, and he snuck into the very middle of your group hug, holding onto Luna and Minjun.

“It was!” you agreed. “We’re celebrating.”

“When are we not?” Jimin replied, readily accepting the glass that Maggie handed him once she broke the hug.

You and Jungkook distributed the rest of the glasses to your little group, and Minjun poured the tequila. Absolutely exhilarated, all of you clicked your glasses together, laughing and splattering your drinks everywhere. You were a little worried about Jude, but Minjun kept his arm on Jude’s shoulder, giving you a nod when you met his eye. He’d watch over him.

You downed your shots and realised belatedly that you didn’t have any chasers. Understandably, the only solution was to wash off the bitter taste with another shot of tequila, leading to a very entertaining rest of the night.

Just a few shots later, Jimin excused himself to find Seokjin. There was another bet backstage about whether you would finally drink after the final show in London—you hadn’t last time—and Seokjin owed him money.

Now, with only those of you who had plotted against Sid left in this corner of the room, the atmosphere darkened just a little. Your adrenaline had begun to wear off.

“Okay, I know we’ve talked about getting him arrested and whatever happens next happens, but I am curious,” Luna said, breaking the weighty silence. “How would it go in court? Hypothetically? Could he still avoid a prison sentence?”

You sighed. “He’s a first-time offender, so probably.”

“But wh—I mean, I actually doubt that,” Minjun interjected. “Considering the amount he has in his hotel room.”

You finished your shot before replying.

“There could be something else that makes the court lean towards a more lenient sentence, though,” you said. “He could—”

Minjun shook his head and cut your pessimistic approach off.

“Mitigating factors are good character, remorse, and proven steps to overcome drug use,” he cited. “Does any of that sound like Sid?”

You nodded, conceding. You’ve read about this together when you first began to plan Sid’s arrest, and Minjun had asked you the same question back then. Only a few extenuating circumstances could have applied to Sid, and even those were a stretch.

“Mental health could be a mitigating factor, too,” Jungkook added. “Sid is, I’m almost certain, insane.”

You raised your head to smile at him. At this point, everyone here knew that Sid was undoubtedly crazy or somewhere thereabout.

“That’s true,” Minjun agreed, smiling, too. “But they won’t release him back onto the streets, then. He’ll be institutionalised.”

“That’s good,” Maggie said, exhaling in evident relief. You hadn’t realised how concerned this change in conversation had made her feel. “I don’t want his ass coming anywhere near us.”

“He won’t be,” you assured. You may have been doubtful about Sid’s future behind bars, but you did not doubt that you’d never see him again. “If this won’t work, we’re all getting restraining orders.”

“Oh, nice,” Luna said, grinning. “We’ll save the officers some time if we all get one together.”

You snickered. “Exactly.”

Luna chuckled and stopped patting Maggie’s back to pour herself another drink. You and Jungkook both extended your empty glasses, too, and Luna playfully rolled her eyes before filling them.

“Honestly, I don’t even care what sentence Sid gets,” Jude said, and he began to stutter as soon as your little group turned to look at him. “I-I just want him to s-suffer a little.”

Maggie, ever as vindictive, raised her eyebrows at him. “A little?”

“For starters,” he clarified.

She nodded, much more pleased with this response, and broke into a lively tale about the positive feedback she received from Rated Riot’s fans after posting the blacklist—as though she was the one who had singlehandedly banned Sid—and the clouds of eerie disquiet above you quickly cleared.

Shortly after that, Taehyung grew bored and came to find Luna—with Jimin lingering by his side and playfully pulling Luna away from him. After Taehyung managed to run off with his girlfriend, Jimin changed his targets and continued his drunken twirling around a flustered Minjun, who kept insisting that he did not dance. Maggie had to pull Jimin away with an energetic pirouette, leaving the rest of you to yourselves.

Just then, Yoongi and Hoseok convinced Seokjin, Jimin, and Maggie to head back to the hotel, which was just a twenty-minute walk from the venue. They were all drunk enough to think they’d have a blast walking there and you had to dispatch Namjoon to accompany them. He was quite tipsy, too, but at least his limb coordination was not worse than it usually was. He’d drag them with him if one of them grew too tired of walking—you knew that one of them would and you gave Yoongi a knowing look before he left.

Minjun, Jude, Jungkook and you were the last people who remained in the dressing room to finish the drinks. You took this time to encourage Jude to tell you about what he did, and he shared the story about breaking Sid’s phone.

Happy and light from the alcohol, Jungkook wrapped an arm around your waist, allowing you to lean into his side as you listened. It was extremely relieving to laugh about everything that you’ve been through today.

“So, we’re done?” Jungkook asked after Jude finished. “This is it?”

You glanced at Minjun just as he turned to look at you; the two of you had developed a special bond over the past few days. Then you turned to Jude, too. Both of them nodded.

“We’re done,” you confirmed. “They arrested him.”

Jungkook’s arm around your waist tightened as he drew you closer.

“And the hotel room?” he asked then.

“It’s all there,” Jude replied. “I took care of it, but I-I barely had to do anything. Sid kept everything literally lying around.”

You nodded, relieved. “Good.”

“Really, Sid was the one who did everything,” Minjun added. “We just… made it more obvious. That still took a hell of an effort, but it’s all over now. Great job, guys.”

He leaned in to pat Jude on the back, and you reached out to give a supportive squeeze on Jude’s arm, too.

“We wouldn’t be here without you,” you told him, happy to notice that tequila had helped Jude’s tanned skin regain some of its glow. “The hard part’s finally over.”

“Fuck yes,” Jungkook exclaimed, perking up. “It’s fucking over.”

He reached out to high-five Minjun, then Jude, and you did the same, smiling all the while. You turned to Jungkook then, but instead of connecting your palms, he wrapped both arms around you and exhaled deeply against your neck. He settled in your embrace, showing no signs of moving anytime soon, and Minjun had to clear his throat, dramatically turning his head away.

Grinning, Jungkook released you but kept one of his hands on your back.

“Let’s head back to the hotel, yeah?” you suggested, and all of them nodded. “We all need to get some sleep. And I still need to take twenty showers in a row to get rid of Sid’s stench.”

Jungkook remained oblivious to his surroundings as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Mind if I join?”

“Ugh.” Minjun grimaced. “Get used to this, Jude, these two are fucking intolerable.”

Jude snickered at this, and you laughed, too, taking Jungkook’s hand in yours.

“Thank you for everything you did today,” you said, your gaze stopping on all three of them.

Minjun’s expression softened. “Oh. It’s all for a good cause.”

“Yeah,” Jude said. He appeared more certain now, his voice was louder. He lost Sid but found his friends. He’d be alright. “W-we did this together.”

You smiled and turned back to Jungkook. He gave you a quick nod, and you understood. Patting Jude and Minjun on their shoulders as you walked past, you excused yourself to give the three of them a moment alone.

“Seriously, guys,” Jungkook said after you left. Minjun was a little uncomfortable with the intense gratitude in his friend’s eyes, but Jude was extremely touched. “Thank you for this. You’re a fucking rockstar, Jude, shit. And Minjun, thank you for being one of the masterminds behind this. How are you so fucking smart, but friends with us?”

They all laughed at this, but Minjun shook his head while he did, lowering his gaze.

“It was mostly your girlfriend’s plan,” he said. “She, uh—she made sure my ass doesn’t get busted along with Sid, actually.”

Jungkook was beaming. He would never tire of hearing you referred to as his girlfriend. Actually, he would never tire of hearing people talk about you and him in the same sentence, but this was even nicer.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “She’d have also found a way to break you out of prison.”

Jude nodded, agreeing very strongly. “I bet she would have.”

Jungkook chuckled. He never thought he’d see the day when you would become friends with his friends, and he felt a little unsteady on his feet.

This moment here, tonight, felt very different from what he was used to, but it felt right. He hadn’t even realised how heavy the rock with Sid’s name on it had been on his chest, and how light he felt now that it was pushed off. How light he felt now that he was here with his friends. How happy.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he told them.

“We’re glad to be here,” Minjun replied.

Jude cleared his throat and raised his glass. “Fuck Sid.”

It had become their mantra, and Jungkook raised his fist in the air.

“Fuck Sid,” he echoed, grinning.

He wanted to find some additional encouraging words, but he was starting to grow restless, shuffling his feet and scratching his palms. Minjun was quick to conclude that he was looking forward to finishing the conversation and leaving the room.

“Go,” Minjun told him. “Jude and I are going to go out for a smoke. We’ll see you later.”

Jungkook looked very grateful. He would not even pretend to protest.

“Alright,” he said, already walking away. “Save me one, and thanks again! You’re two of the coolest people I know. But she is the first one.”

Snickering, Minjun called after him, “rock on. And stay safe!”

Minjun and Jude could still hear his laughter, even though Jungkook had already left the room in a hurry to find you.

He spotted you by the exit, and as soon as you extended your hand for him to take, he ran the remaining few steps to get to you faster. He gave you a quick peck on the lips, and was about to open the door when you stopped him by pulling on his hand.

“Hold on,” you said. “I have something for you.”

Jungkook was a little puzzled—and very intrigued—as he watched you search the pockets of your jacket. Never, not even when he was dreaming and couldn’t control the signals that his subconsciousness was sending him, did he imagine you pulling out the keys to his Katana.

“Here,” you said. “Jude got them from Sid.”

He heard his friend’s name, and he saw the keys out of the corner of his eye, but his gaze remained locked on yours, as though fearful that this wasn’t actually happening, that perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him.

It wasn’t the keys that he had trouble processing. It was you, giving them back to him.

“I’m…” he faltered, the rest of his sentence never making it past his lips. He tried a different one instead. “Thank you.”

You shook your head. “I’m just the messenger.”

“Well, you could have told Jude to take them back to Sid,” he pointed out, his throat dry. “I think that’s, um—that’s what I would have done.”

Observing his flustered state, you raised an eyebrow.

“Why?” you asked. “Did you change your mind about the bike? Is the paint peeling off, so you don’t want it anymore?”

Finally, his expression lightened, and a tentative smile returned to his lips.

“No,” he said. “And it would still be beautiful even without any paint. It’s what’s on the inside that matters.”

You grinned. “Very gallant.”

He remained hesitant, however, and you raised your palm again to give him the keys. You knew how much effort he’d put into the motorcycle, even though there were moments, when you first came to manage Rated Riot, where Jungkook’s obsession with his bike seemed unhealthy.

Yoongi—the self-proclaimed expert—had said that he’d seen this behaviour in almost all his friends. He was convinced that Jungkook was trying to compensate for something. Trying to fill some void in his life.

You remembered hating these assumptions. They had felt about as dangerous as Jungkook’s casual declaration about the love of his life.

“It’s your bike,” you said to Jungkook now, the keys cold in your palm. “I know how much it means to you.”

He took a sharp breath and shook his head. He did love the bike very much—as much as one could love an inanimate object, and maybe a little more—but he’s come to learn that he would give it up in a heartbeat for the things that truly mattered to him.

“It—it doesn’t mean to me nearly as much as you do,” he said. “I gave it up to keep Sid away.”

You swallowed the bitter taste in your mouth.

“You couldn’t keep Sid away even if you gave up Rated Riot,” you said. “He claims that’s what’s bothering him, but it isn’t. Not really. He just can’t stand the thought that you are bigger than he will ever be.”

“Hmm.”

Slowly, Jungkook took the keys from you, the tips of his uncertain fingers grazing over your palm. He examined the keys for a minute.

“I can put the keychain back on now,” he said. “It looks wrong without it.”

This surprised you.

“What—the “JK” one?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I had to change keys after I moved to a different apartment, and I put the pendant on these for the time being. It felt right, so I kept it there.”

He lifted the keys as he spoke and you frowned. You remembered the lurid—atrocious, really—pendant that you’d found at a fair and insisted on buying for him because it spelt out “JK” in large, jewelled letters. You were just drunk enough to find the flashy jewels enticing and very amusing.

You’d assumed Jungkook had put it on his keys as a challenge of sorts. It was very ugly and very far out of his usual taste in accessories, but you bought it, and he would rather cut off an arm than turn down a dare. You thought he’d taken it off after you broke up.

“You still have it?” you asked. “It was supposed to be a joke, I think.”

“Of course, I still have it,” he replied, almost offended. When he gave the keys to Sid, he kept the keychain. It was one of his most prized possessions. “It’s cute.”

“It’s huge,” you countered. “It ripped every pocket of every pair of jeans you owned.”

“That’s because they were shit jeans,” he said. “You leave my keychain alone.”

You snickered with a noncommittal shake of your head.

“Fine,” you said. “I’m glad you’ve grown so fond of it.”

“You gave it to me,” he said. “Of course, I’m fond of it.”

He slipped the keys into his pocket and gave you a wink as he did—to let you know that he didn’t mind ripping this pair of jeans, too, once he reattached the keychain. Then he finally opened the door of the venue and took your hand into his, leading you outside.

The hotel was quiet when you returned, but you didn’t have time to wonder where the rest of the Rated Riot members were—you’d have definitely heard them if they were here—because Jungkook pulled you into his room as soon as you climbed the stairs to your floor.

His bathroom quickly turned messy, with your clothes scattered on the cold tiles. Jungkook had the rare talent of figuring out the shower mechanism within a second, and the warm water washed over you as soon as you stepped into the cabin after him. The glass panels on either side began to fog when you slid the door closed.

You knew Jungkook preferred his showers ice cold, but the water right now was scalding hot. He didn’t even ask you about it, didn’t try to negotiate. He simply made this comfortable for you and wrapped his arms around you, his grip unreasonably tight.

Hotel bathrooms, you realised, had become a significant part of your relationship.

“You still have to show me your playlist, by the way,” he murmured, following the path of the water droplets down your spine.

You sighed, feeling his chest move against yours as he chuckled. “What do I have to do to get out of it?”

“Show it to me,” he replied. “And I’ll shut up.”

“You never shut up.”

He laughed again, pulling back slightly to look at you. His hair fell in clumsy ringlets around his face—not wet enough to fully straighten yet—and you needed to remind yourself to keep breathing in, then out. He leaned in, wearing a teasing smile on his face, as if he knew that you’d stop breathing again as soon as he did this, and pressed his lips to yours.

You could taste the liquor that you’d shared backstage on his tongue and felt his warm breath as he exhaled against your mouth. Your touch on his neck was so delicate that he wasn’t fully convinced it was you, and not the stream of water that touched him. He wanted to hold you tighter to really feel you here, and he lowered his hands to the small of your back, gently drawing you closer.

Steam rose from the shower floor, and the glass turned grey from the fog. Jungkook would have been suffering in this heat if he had felt any of it. All he could focus on right now was you, and how you still tasted like a distant dream, no matter how many times he’d kissed you.

The shampoo remained untouched as your fingers explored each other’s skin, jealous of the courageous water drops—they dared to touch everything that your hands longed to reach.

Eventually, he blindly found the bar of soap on the metal shelf behind him, and broke away from the kiss.

Before you could say anything, he instructed quietly, “turn around.”

It took a moment for you to comply—not because of some defiance, but because the tattoos on his arm, when they were peppered with glistening droplets of water, were captivating in a way that they’ve never been before.

He rubbed the soap between his palms and massaged your arms and back, lathering the foam on your skin. His touch was slow and careful, although not particularly calculated as his hands kept wandering to every soft part of you. Every single one of his caresses seemed to cleanse something from your skin that mere water could never wash away.

A soft sigh passed your lips as his fingers followed the traces of bubbles on your navel, and you forgot everything that you were still supposed to do today. By the time he leaned in closer, his chest pressed against your back as he ran his hands over your collarbones, your chest, and your stomach, you forgot everything you’d done before today, too.

You realised, as you felt his breath against your neck, how calm you felt. How absolutely at peace—and how much you’ve waited for this. How much you wanted these moments to stay frozen in time, just yours and no one else’s, surreal and dreamlike even as you lived through them.

Jungkook noticed your closed eyes, and whispered softly, “are you okay?”

You hummed. “I love you.”

He felt your heartbeat under his fingertips. He felt the way your words echoed in his chest. And he realised that he was stupid to think he’d already experienced every human emotion in his life, because these sensations in his stomach were new. They felt like scattered branches of fir trees. Like the sharp edges of young pinecones. They stirred within him like a forest of evergreen trees: vibrant, timeless, and beautiful.

You’ve opened something inside him that he didn’t realise had been closed. And you’ve closed everything he regretted opening. You were every breath he took, every scent he smelled, and every flavour he tasted. You were every beat of his heart.

He did not think he could ever adequately express the depth of everything you made him feel.

“Thank you,” he said, because he couldn’t not say anything, “for everything.”

You turned in his arms, a little confused about his abrupt gratitude. Jungkook swallowed hard, his gaze locked on yours.

“I can’t—I don’t know how to say what I feel,” he admitted. “You change my life every day. Maybe that’s all there is to it.”

The look in his eyes as he said this reached something very deep inside you—something that had been waiting for him every day for the past seven years, and all the years before that.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” you said again.

“I love you,” he replied, pressing his forehead to yours.

You felt his chest move as he breathed, and you closed your eyes again. You knew now that this was your safe space.

Contrary to Jungkook, who needed company to drown out the noises in his head, you were very fond of your solitude. Being alone with your thoughts provided you with a sense of security that you could never find with other people—because, as much as you loved them, they were still other people.

Jungkook did not feel like other people. He felt like you, as much as you felt like you. And right now, with the water running from his skin to yours, you felt calm. Easy. Solid, but serene.

He was your safe space.

“I have a meeting with the executives when we get to Paris,” you whispered, your words barely audible over the running water. “And—also the law team.”

He stilled in your arms for just a moment, then his fingers went back to their race against the water on your lower back.

“They set a date?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “The day after tomorrow, before your first show in Paris. Nine in the morning.”

“Oh.”

Taking a deep breath, you said, “I’m going to tell them we’re together.”

He pulled back a little and waited until you lifted your head so he could look at you.

“Okay,” he said. “Are you sure?”

The question was painful. You made a mental note to show more confidence when you gave him the answers that he wanted—because these were the answers that you wanted, too.

“I’m sure,” you affirmed.

He nodded, running the tips of his fingers over the ends of your hair. “Should we—um, do you want to—”

“Let’s meet after,” you said, answering his half-question.

“Yeah? Coffee?” he asked.

You nodded. “Definitely.”

He leaned into you again, inhaling the smell of the lilac-scented soap on your neck as his arms found their way back around your waist, and he hummed against your shoulder.

“You know…” he murmured. “If I had your playlist, it’d be easier for me to wait until your meeting was over.”

Your cheeks stretched before you could stop your smile. “What playlist?”

The circles he was tracing on your back turned teasing, chaotic. He felt you squirm at the tickling sensation.

“Don’t play dumb with me now,” he whispered. “Give me the link.”

You pulled back and squeezed his forearms to get him to stop moving his hands over your sides.

“Say please?” you said.

The request took him a little off guard, but his surprise quickly shifted into an impressed grin.

“Hmm,” he said. “Is that how you want me? On my knees and begging?”

You shrugged, trying to fight against the fog from the shower as it began to gather in your head. “I do sort of like the image of that.”

“Please?” he said—right away.

You watched him for a second, your chest alight with flames, and you decided that with the subtle curve of his lips and the sparkle in his eyes, right now was the most beautiful he’d ever looked. It wouldn’t last, though. You were sure he’d take your breath away again tomorrow.

“Mm, I’m not convinced,” you said. “Say it with your chest.”

He poked his cheek with his tongue, giving his head a slight shake. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know.”

He shook his head again, then took a deep breath and pouted his lips.

“Please let me listen to the playlist you made about me,” he said, making sure to keep his voice devastated. “Please, please, plea—”

“Alright,” you said.

He was already about to start arguing, but he closed his mouth and grinned instead.

“Oh,” he said. “That was easy.”

You gasped, but the offence that barely appeared on your laid-back features made him chuckle. Stepping back, you gave him a look that was only stern in theory—there was no serious substance in the soft shade of your eyes.

“Don’t make me change my mind,” you warned.

“You can’t,” he replied, pulling you back into him. He seemed to know no other way: you were very close, and his hands were free. Naturally, he was going to reach for you. “You made a promise.”

You frowned. “When?”

“When you got into this shower with me.”

Your brows furrowed further. “I didn’t promise you anything.”

“You did,” he insisted. He was grinning mischievously and his eyes were narrowed—you could guess what he would say next.

You still bit, “alright, what did I promise?”

He looked triumphant.

“To be with me for the rest of my life,” he said.

You clicked your tongue, but your expression was luminous despite your attempts to hide it.

“That has nothing to do with my playlist,” you said, deliberately looking away. “And I don’t remember promising that.”

“Hold on,” he said, turning his head to meet your gaze, and gently lifting your chin to get you to look at him again. “You have objections?”

You had absolutely no objections and he could tell as much from the sparkling in your eyes. But you weren’t going to make this easy for him, and he expected as much.

“I mean, what if you have a change of heart?” you said. “And then having me around for the rest of your life starts to feel more like a curse? Although that’d be fun for me, I imagine. I’d love to mess with you. But it wouldn’t really be fair to you.”

He found the suggestion ridiculous. His heart had your name engraved on it in golden letters. There was no situation, as long as you were with him, that he’d find unfair.

“Unless hell freezes over tomorrow,” he said, “I’d say your odds are good.”

The corners of your lips twitched. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Having you with me will always be a blessing.”

The clumsy cartwheels of your erratic heart forced you to look away again, and you tsked, making his smile widen with each disapproving shake of your head.

“You know, you say things sometimes,” you said, “and I know you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Really?” His voice was exuberant. “Are you swooning for me, then?”

You grimaced. “I wouldn’t call it swoo—”

“Getting weak in the knees?”

“I don’t get weak in the knees.”

“No?” he teased. “But I’m literally holding you up right now.”

You glanced down, as if to check, and took a moment before raising your head again.

“That’s—for different reasons,” you said, and remained, very comfortably, right in his arms.

“Different reasons,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Such as?”

You did not spare him a glance. “Maybe I just enjoy having you so close.”

His grin was so proud, so radiant that you could see it without looking at him. It was loud, too; it drowned out the sounds of the shower and all sensations of the hot water on your skin.

“Oh,” he said, drawing you closer to his chest in one remarkably swift motion. “Now you’ve done it.”

You craned your neck to meet his gaze. “Done what?”

“Now I’m never letting you go,” he said, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “Literally.”

You chuckled softly and allowed him to drown you in his touch. It didn’t matter anyway—you couldn’t breathe very well unless you felt him next to you.

“That’s hardly possible,” you teased. “We’re very busy people.”

“I’ll make it possible,” he said. You remembered having a similar conversation with him before, but he had significantly more confidence in his voice now. “We got Sid fucking arrested. Everything else is easy. I can figure out how to keep you right next to me for every second of every day for as long as we both live.”

You were a little concerned that so many years had passed since you met, and the butterflies in your stomach only seemed to grow larger, bolder, and much more restless with every passing day.

“I still don’t think that’s possible,” you replied quietly, “but I don’t mind seeing you try.”

“Good,” he said, lifting his head to look at you. “You know I’ve never lost a single challenge I’ve accepted.”

You lifted one eyebrow, amused by his claim.

“Technically,” you said, “you lost the bet to Sid.”

“Oh—” the syllable got caught somewhere in his throat. “Fuck.”

He looked almost appalled, and he suddenly felt a little nauseous, too.

“Too soon?” you asked. Your lips twitched as you fought back against your laughter.

He dug his teeth into his lower lip and wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, maybe a bit.”

“Oh, no,” you whined. “Should we avoid talking about it? Is this a taboo topic?”

He watched your theatrics and realised that anything that didn’t kill you really did make the two of you stronger, because he had convinced himself that he’d never survive the aftermath of the bet—and now you were teasing him about it.

“No,” he said. “No, you’re right. In the grand scheme of things, I’ve done far stupider shit to have you with me again, so we should be able to joke about this.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, grinning. “At least you didn’t get a concussion this time.”

Jungkook didn’t think that not having a concussion was what made this better. Although, to be fair, he hardly remembered anything after the forgotten kettle fell on his head while he was trying to plan a date night for you—but really, you were more hurt by his pain when he told you about it years later than he was in the moment it happened.

“I hurt you, though,” he said slowly. “That’s worse.”

You gave a firm shake of your head.

“It wasn’t the bet that hurt me,” you said. “But you fixed every problem that did. We actually put one of them in the back of a police car tonight. And you and I learnt how to talk to each other in the process. Look at us now.”

He felt his heart pick up speed, but he was still hesitant to agree. He didn’t think he’d ever have the right to make the first joke about the bet, however harmless it could seem years from now.

He nodded slowly. “Hmm.”

“Next step is learning how to shut up,” you added.

Looking up from the tiles of the shower floor, he took a moment to register the playful glint in your eyes.

“Is—is that supposed to be directed at me?” he asked, squinting.

“No, I meant that in general,” you replied. “But if the shoe fits…”

He scoffed, sliding one of his hands down your arm to intertwine your fingers.

“Oh, if the shoe fits,” he repeated. “Alright. Did you go to Jin’s school of comebacks?”

“I did,” you played along. “And graduated with honours.”

He nodded. “I can see that. Teacher’s pet much?”

“Very much.”

His grin was criminal, and you wanted nothing more than to feel it pressed against your lips.

“Well,” he said, bringing your hands to his shoulders and pulling you closer, “I do enjoy it when you listen to me. And when you do what I tell you.”

“Hmm.” You ran your tongue over your lips, and he was thoroughly infatuated with the look in your eyes at the moment. “That implies you’re the teacher in our relationship.”

“Am I not?”

“You haven’t taught me anything.”

He snorted, dignified. “I’ve taught you plenty.”

“Name one thing you taught me,” you challenged, but you were smiling at him, and he struggled to keep his train of thought when he looked at you.

“I—well, I taught you to play guitar, didn’t I?” he said.

You frowned, baffled by his interpretation of the word “teach.” You remembered the nights when Jungkook tried to learn guitar, and you were forced to listen to him whine about how there had to be something wrong with him—because, of course, if he couldn’t immediately excel at something, that had to mean that he was the problem.

“Is that what you think you were doing when you were learning it yourself?” you asked. “Because not only did you break all six strings, but the neighbours started banging on the radiators, and we—”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted. The night you were talking about wasn’t his best, but he’d improved considerably since then. “I also taught you how to fight.”

“And then forbade me from punching Sid,” you countered. “Doesn’t count if I can’t use it.”

He rolled his eyes. You waited for another example, even though he was notoriously terrible at teaching others—to be fair, he rarely ever had to learn things himself; usually, they really did come naturally to him—but Jungkook stayed quiet for a few minutes.

“Well,” he finally said, “I taught you how to stop running from your feelings.”

“You—” you stopped your instinctive rebuttal and took a moment to look down and calm your heart instead. “Okay. Yeah. I suppose you did teach me that.”

“That’s right,” he said, happy to finally gloat. “Be a good student for me, and kiss me now.”

You looked up, distracted but amused. “Oh. Is this assignment going to affect my final grade?”

“Mhmm. It’s worth 75%.”

“Hmm. So, I have to put in some effort, I guess.”

He nodded while his hands roamed on your skin absentmindedly. “Might take you all night to finish it.”

“I don’t know...” you said. “I was never very good at pulling all-nighters.”

“Maybe that can be something else I teach you,” he murmured, close enough to touch your lips with his own as he spoke.

You whispered back, “maybe,” and he chose to reply by finally pressing his lips to yours.

He kissed you like he would countless times in the future, and the teasing promises of forever seemed to solidify inside you, like invisible tattoos that ran across your souls. And you remembered, because how could you not, about the first kiss that led you to this moment.

It was seven years ago, at the end of your second date, after you got back from the carnival where he claimed to have asked you to be his girlfriend. He had whined about not being able to walk you to your door after your first date—you were both wet from the rain, and he wasn’t allowed into your dormitory—so you snuck him in this time.

But he got too nervous in the end – he walked you to your door, hiding his trembling hands in his front pockets, and said goodbye to you, all while nearly suffocating from his anxiety. He’d already started to walk away, but then stopped abruptly and turned back. You were still standing there, watching him, your hands not reaching for the door handle. You looked like you knew he was going to turn around.

He reached you in two quick strides and connected your lips with so much force that your back hit the wall. He cupped your cheek with one hand and placed the other one on the wall behind you—and your breath never made it out, losing its way somewhere in his mouth. You’d kissed him back, your body trapped between the wall and his chest, and you thought you’d never feel quite as dizzy as this again.

Years later, in the shower of his hotel room in London, Jungkook kissed you again and again and again, and his lips still made your breath hitch, still made the room spin out of control.

He kissed you and every single time, the feeling of his lips on yours made your head feel light. He kept one of his hands on your cheek, the other one on the wall behind you—like that very first time—and you remembered wishing, seven years ago, that the night wouldn’t end. That he would stay, with his lips locked on yours, his touch warm and silky.

You remembered counting, too, how much time was left until you inevitably had to say goodbye. It had all felt so dramatic back then, so temporary. There was so little time, and so much you still had to do, so much you still wanted.

Tonight, the edges of the sky outside the small, shaded bathroom window were turning red; the sun was rising.

You counted again – there were five minutes left in this night, and you already had everything you wanted.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “feral”

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[emmaiooo]

you're weak.

958 words

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ

6:43 PM.

“we’re still on tonight right?”

      “sorry. can’t.”

“why???”

“hello…?”

you huffed at the message, why is he not responding? it's not like he has some teen boy shit to do. opening your phone once again, you dialed geto. “yo it’s geto, leave a message after the beep.” you sighed, “you guys didn’t abandon me right..?” you whispered after the beep, then hung up and laid on your bed. 

NEXT DAY - 7:56 AM.

“morning guys!” you smiled happily at the duo, bringing your hand up to give gojo a high-five, like you always do. “oh uh, not right now y/n, we have class.” gojo shuffled away from your presence. you froze. “o-okay.” you gave him a weak smile, and turned around to walk to your class. as you walked away, you saw from the corner of your eye that geto was whispering something to gojo. damn, where is shoko?

4:12 PM

“here.” shoko handed you a drink as you were sitting on the stairs of jujutsu high. you looked up, shoko had a cig in her mouth as you grabbed the sparkling soda from her hand. “thanks.” you mumbled. you both sat there in silence, waiting for someone to say something. “seems like they’re ignoring you.” shoko said, finally breaking the silence. “where were you shoko?” you asked, opening the soda can. “had a bunch of tests for medical school, passed with flying marks.” shoko smiled as she made a peace sign next to her face. “hah, really? you definitely cheated.” you giggled, letting out a breathy laugh. “i’m…going to go to medical school now, so i’ll be absent more.” shoko said, taking a breath from her cig. “oh…okay.” you said quietly, looking down. shit. now what are you going to do? you wished you were in a normal highschool, with a normal amount of kids, so there's not only just four people in your grade. you don’t even have anyone to hang out with now, no one to talk to. even the first years shunned you. haibara said he had bad feelings from you, and nanami is just not talkative and listens to haibara. utahime didn’t like you either, and mei mei is only interested in getting money, which you had none of. stupid fucking curse. your cursed technique always scared people, you had sharp fangs and always had a pale look on you. you looked like you were cosplaying as a vampire to normal human beings. everyone hated you because you were scary to look at. 

FEW MONTHS LATER - 11:30 AM - THREE SECOND YEAR STUDENTS SENT TO TAKE CARE OF A SPECIAL GRADE CURSE; ONE SEVERELY INJURED.

“you’re so fucking stupid! can’t even do one thing right when we asked you to! this doesn’t make sense at all, you are a special grade sorcerer!” gojo yelled at you, you have never seen him this mad before. “sa-” you said, before getting cut off by gojo. “don’t call me satoru. it’s gojo to you.” he spat out, looking at you without his glasses, which had long been gone since the fight with the curse. “g-gojo, we still managed to kill the curse, and shoko can use rct on geto!” you tried reasoning with satoru. indeed, it was your fault that you made a small mistake on the mission, but gojo couldn’t be blaming the whole thing on you right? geto can survive this, the doctor’s said it too. you don’t get why gojo is so upset about this whole ordeal. gojo groaned loudly, “y/n this is why you can’t do shit. i’m going to talk to yaga about not having any missions with you anymore, you can go on missions by yourself. you’re a special grade anyway.” gojo rolled his eyes as he started to walk back into geto’s room. you sat there, letting all the words sink in. just one more year, one more year with them and you can finally leave. 

2 MONTHS LATER - 9:23 PM

“y/n! are you okay? where does it hurt?” shoko ran to you, “you’re so stupid, why did you go alone on this mission?” shoko was panicking, already trying to heal you after you called her when you were on the brink of death. “uhm…i…” your eyes were blurry, looking around and spotted two males. you could see the anger in gojo’s eyes and the horror in geto’s face. “did you exorcise the curse?” geto asked calmly. shit..you forgot geto needed the curse to eat. “no..” you looked away from him. “oh my god y/n!” gojo groaned and put his hand on his head. “the best thing you could’ve done for us was to trap the curse and wait for us to get here! but now we lost a special grade for geto to absorb.” gojo was clearly irritated. “b-but the curse could’ve killed me! how could you say that?” you cried, thinking about how unreasonable gojo could be. “you’re a special grade and still can’t seem to carry out a simple task, you’re weak.” gojo said with venom, making your heart hurt. “she did her best gojo.” shoko tried to reason with him, still healing your wounds, “and that was good enough.” 

the next day, your wounds were all healed, and your mind was clear. 

“y/n, you sure about moving to kyoto?” - geto

        “yea.”

“alright, we’ll miss you.” 

like hell they would, you thought to yourself. they wouldn’t understand no matter how much you explained to them your feelings. especially gojo, he was born as the strongest, the whole world power balanced after he was born. you could never compare to someone like him. 

get stronger.

the words rang through your head. 

get stronger. 

and you will. 

(honestly this did not turn out the way i wanted it, might get a rework.)

[kittykat-25]

Family - A Lee Know One Shot

Pairings: Lee Minho x reader

Genre: hurt/comfort- established relationship, just SKZ being the best boys and protective Lee Know.

Synopsis: While Lee Know is gone for the Gucci shoot, you help SKZ practice for the VMA’s. All fun and games until you get hurt.

A/N: I wrote this today at work and it’s barely proof read so apologies on that part my lovelies🥰

“Have fun my Gucci prince.” You sang into the phone, your boyfriend huffed, “please don’t start that. We get enough of it from Hyunjin and Yongbokkie.” Minho groaned. You laughed as you walked into the practice room, “have fun, I love you, and I’m so proud of you Min.” You said quietly before the rest of the kids could interrupt. “Bye kitten, have fun with the boys. I love you.” He replied. You quickly ended the call and walked further into the room setting your bag down. Being a professional dancer yourself, you often came to the studio to practice with the boys, after being with Minho for two years they were used to your presence. “Noona!” Jeongin called as you walked towards them to join the stretches. “Hi boys.” You replied, ruffling Seungmins hair as you walked by, he swatted your hand away making you laugh. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” You said sitting down beside Chan. “He was late too.” Chan whispered, glancing towards the moping puppy. “Ooooooh Seungminnie.” You exclaimed. Getting a glare from Seungmin, you started stretching and quietly talking to Chan about the performance they have at the VMAs.

The boys were diving into their S-Class dance break, you holding Minhos spot. “Innie, you got this.” Chan called as the youngest got used to the new lift that was added in. “I know it’s just high.” He said sheepishly. Seeing the younger boy look so concerned, you volunteered, “innie do you want me to do it first so you see how it looks?” He eyes turned towards you, “noona you don’t have too.” You shook your head, “I don’t mind if it’ll give you peace about it.” He smiled at you and moved so you were in his place with the dancers. You worked through the movements and when it was time for the lift you let the dancer pull you up. One second you are being lifted and the next you hear a huff and the floor starts getting closer. You panic and throw your arms down to catch yourself, landing painfully on your wrist, catching yourself but not before your head hits the ground as well.

The rest of the members couldn’t move fast enough to catch you, all scrambling towards you as you cry out on impact. “Shit y/n. Are you alright?” Chan says and he kneels down beside you, you’re holding your arm against yourself and can feel something sticky running down your head. You slowly roll over onto your back, the air knocked out of you from the fall, “fuck” Chan curses under his breath, seeing your head split from the fall. “Noona I’m so sorry.” Jeongin cries from your other side. “Chan she needs to go to the medic.” Felix calls from somewhere behind you. Everything is swirling together, all the voices blending as your vision starts to go black. “No no y/n keep your eyes open.” Chan says gently. Pushing your hairs back from the cut. “Hyun, go get the medic.” Hyunjin sprints out of the room, “her wrist.” Han croaks from one side of you, you can feel his hand shaking on your leg. You were still clutching your wrist to your body, just then hyunjin and the medic come barreling back into the room. He kneels down beside you, IN and Han moving out of the way. Changbin grabbing Han’s sleeve as he started marching over to the back up dancers. “It’s their fault.” He said harshly, Changbin shook his head, “it was an accident. Leave them alone.” He whispered. Han threw a glare at the dancers then turned his eyes back towards you. Out of all of them you and Han were the closest, you treated him like a younger brother, loved him as much. “She’s gonna need stitches.” The medic quietly told Chan, who nodded. Han gripped your hand as Chan picked you up and followed the medic out of the room. The rest of the guys gathered their things, grabbing yours and trailing behind.

Sitting in the ER, Han holding your hand as they stitched up your head, “the wrist isn’t broken, just a bad sprain. You’ll have to wear the brace for now. We’ll reexamine it in a few weeks.” The doctor told you before walking out of the room. “Ji, has anyone call Min?” Hans face paled, the thought of calling his Hyung and telling him you were hurt- that was not a job he wanted. “I’ll ask Channie Hyung.” He said as he pushed past the curtain to the other boys. “How is she?” Changbin asked, “sprained wrist, they are stitching up her head now, slight concussion. She seems okay.” Han answered before turning towards their leader, “Someone, not me but someone needs to call Minho and let him know.” He added quickly before darting back into the closed area with you.

Chan blew out a breath before grabbing his phone and walking outside. “Hyung how’s practice going? Did Innie get the lift, I know he was stressed about it-“ Minho said as soon as the call connected. “Minho.” Chan said, cutting the younger boy off. Minho got quiet, “there was an accident at practice.” He started, “oh god did they flood something again?” Minho said chuckling, “it’s y/n.” Chan said, the other line went silent. “Min-“ Chan started, “what happened?” Minho ground out. “She was helping Innie with the lift and she…uh…fell, she’s alright-“ “did she fall or was she dropped? Because you saying fall doesn’t seem accurate for y/n.” Minho snapped back. Chan could tell he was more worried than angry. But taking it out on Chan all the same. “She’s alright, just calm down.” “don’t tell me to calm down when my girlfriend is hurt Chan.” Minho roared back at him. “We’re taking her back to the dorm, just let us know when you get home. And calm down before you do. She doesn’t need your attitude as well.” Chan stated before hanging up the phone.

The boys had gotten you back to the dorms, and you were currently snuggled into Minhos bed, savoring the smell of him; wishing he was there to hold you. Han sat down beside you on the bed, reaching for your hand not in the brace. “Are you sure it’s safe for you to sleep? You have a concussion.” He asked quietly. You chuckled, “I’m alright Ji.” You looked towards the door where the rest of the boys were standing. “How about a movie?” You suggested, and smiled when they all moved into the room. Getting comfy on the ground around the bed. “Do you need anything noona?” Felix asked from in front of the bed, “I’m alright Yongbokkie.” He gave you a smile and turned back around. Han turned on Howls Moving Castle and propped up a pillow for you to get comfortable on. Chan turned off the lights and you let the movie take over your mind.

Minho opened the door to the dorm and was greeted with darkness. Some light came from under his door, and the soft music of a movie flowed out. Chan stepped out of the kitchen and made eye contact. “Hyung, I’m so sorry.” Minho said feeling awful about snapping at his leader. “It’s alright, she’s in here. I was just grabbing her some water.” He responded walking towards minhos bedroom, “where is everyone?” He asked Chan, who chuckled, “where do you think?” With that he opened the door and Minhos heart swelled, you were curled up asleep, hidden under the covers with Han beside you, and the rest of the boys scattered around the floor, surrounding you, guarding you even in their sleep. Chan nudged Changbin waking him up, they quietly started moving all the boys out of the room as Minho made his way over to you. IN stopped and turned towards his hyung, “I didn’t mean for her to get hurt. I’m sorry hyung.” He said softly. “I know innie-ah it’s not your fault. It was an accident.” He said back to the younger boy patting him on the back. And he got closer to the bed he noticed Han was awake and just staring at you/n sleep. “Bit creepy don’t you think?” He said startling the boy. “The doctors said she could sleep with a concussion but the internet said it was dangerous. I was making sure she didn’t stop breathing.” And just when Minho thought he couldn’t love his brothers more. He looked down where Han was holding her hand, his fingers resting over her pulse point. “I’ve got her Ji, don’t worry.” Han nodded, getting up and following Chan out of the room.

Minho gently laid down beside you, trying not to rustle or wake you up. As he laid down, your eyes turned towards him, “min?” Your voice full of sleep, he smiled at you, “hi kitten.” You rolled over, your wrist in the brace coming between your bodies. He looked down at it then up to your bandaged head, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here kitten.” He said cupping your cheek, leaving tender kisses on your hairline. “How did the shoot go?” You mumbled, already falling back asleep. “I don’t remember any of it after Chan called me.” He grumbled, tucking you closer to his body. “Mhm my Gucci prince.” You sighed as you pressed a kiss to his jaw, before nestling back into his arms. Minho looked down at you, a smile on his face. Happy to have you safely back in his arms. He fell asleep peacefully knowing as long as him and the boys were around you’d be fine.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Can i request a super fluffy and sweet hotch fic where reader is baking and hotch is sittinh there on the counter admiring his wife, like theres music and r is just glowing and aaron is thinking ‘oh im so lucky to have her’ and ughhh im craving sweetness pls give me fluff thank you

fem wife!plus size reader, wc: 515.

a/n: i've been craving some sweetness too, so this fluff was for me and you 😭 thank you for your request!

It's so incredibly late that when Aaron enters your shared apartment with the expectation of you sleeping, all he sees is the way you jump and almost knock over your mixing bowl when he calls out your name from the dark.

“Holy shit!” You swear, your hand — which was covered in flour — slapped itself over your racing heart. “Jesus, Aaron, you scared me.” You sighed in relief.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” You watched as he set his briefcase and go-bag down on the couch. Aaron looked exhausted; his hair was air whipped and disheveled, there were slight darkening bags under his eyes, and those frown lines from all that scowling and frowning he does. Your boyfriend was here, and he was home, safe and sound.

You looked at him with a sweet smile as he rounded the counter sluggishly. “Hey, handsome.” You greet him quietly, almost as if it was a secret between the two of you. You throw your arms around his neck loosely while his hands fall lazily on your hips.

“Hi.” His body relaxes under your silk touch, your fingers threading themselves through his cropped hair. “Do you want to talk about it, or do you wanna be home now?” Aaron squeezed your body closer to his at the question. “I wanna be home.”

An intimate silence fell over the both of you before he pulled away slightly, looking at the messy island that was covered in baking ingredients.

“What are you doing?” He inquires in a soft tone. “Oh! Jack has a bake sale tomorrow and I kind of… procrastinated making them. So now, here we are.” You confess with a sheepish smile.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I’m okay - wait! There’s actually one thing you can help me with.”

“And what’s that?”

“By sitting your cute ass down and telling me about your week.”

He smiles at your wording but relents and allows you to shuffle him out of the kitchen and into one of the bar stools.

He rambles on about his week while you listen and occasionally add your commentary when something peaks your interest. He stares in awe at your multitasking, but also at the fact that you look so serene.

You have a severe case of bed head, and your pajamas are wrinkled, followed by your messy hands and the blotches of flour littered on your clothes. You put Jack above your sleep and felt butterflies flutter in his stomach.

How was he able to find someone like you?

After Haley died, Aaron was convinced that maybe he was just meant to wander the world alone, and watch his son grow up. But then… there was you. Sweet, beautiful, outgoing you.

When he had said something funny in the monotone voice of his you laughed, and the sound rang like twinkling bells were in his ears. It completely overlapped with the soft tunes that were playing from your phone.

It took him a while, but Aaron was glad that he learned how to love again, because you had been waiting for him for a long, long, time.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[skzhua]

Episode ten. (finale)

MASTERLIST

pairing: XO, Kitty's Min Ho x Female Reader

genre: Fluff, angst, enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, coming-of-age.

word count: 3k

warnings: Swearing, suggestive (like, a lot...), reader and Min Ho are clingy as hell.

summary: Transferring to KISS was the last thing you had asked for and, yet, a certain tall boy made it seem both worse and better than you expected.

note: Bold - Korean, Italic - Over the phone

a/n: A short cute ending... I miss writing this series already. Thank you for the love for this one <3

You smiled at him and let him hold you. "I am okay, just a bit shaken up from it all."

He sighed in relief. "You do know I went to her first because I was scared she'd worsen the situation, right?"

You were about to respond but seeing Dae coming at light's speed right at Min Ho, you backed away in fear. Kitty was running after him, just as overwhelmed as you were. Your breathing quickened once Dae grabbed him by the collar before slamming him against the wall. He was smaller, but definitely strong enough to be able to hurt Min Ho.

"You call yourself my friend?" Dae said, anger taking over him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't pretend you don't know!" he yelled, shaking Min Ho's body.

"What are you doing?" Min Ho said, acting unfazed by what was happening. "Let go."

His grip finally loosened as Kitty arrived. Min Ho quickly joined your side again, putting his frame in front of you in a protective way.

"Dae, stop it, it's not Min Ho." she begged him. "This has nothing to do with him."

He observed you and your boyfriend, his eyes blinking a few times as he tried to process his own actions. "I'm sorry. I thought you and Kitty-"

"And I think," Min Ho shouted, cutting his sentence off. "you two should have remained pen pals. I think we all think so, too. Including her."

He took your hand and rushed you out of the room. You sent a sad look to your two other friends before you walked out the door. Min Ho didn't say a word until you got to the dorm. You both changed clothes and sat in the kitchen in silence. As he prepared a night tea for you as he'd usually do, you couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. This was definitely not how you thought the end of the semester would look like.

"Min, can we-"

"Talk?" he said in a hard voice. "Haven't we done enough talking today?"

You huffed. "I was about to ask if we could just relax. You're tense."

He put the mugs down in front of you as a sarcastic chuckle left his mouth. "My apologies after feeling like shit when my best friend just told me he thought I had a thing for his girlfriend when I am obviously smitten with my own. And that my girlfriend might have thought for a second I cared more about the only person I've been hating for months than about her."

You said nothing in response. The shake in your grip as you brought the drink to your lips said everything to him. You were frightened, and not by anything. By him. He raised his voice at you for the first time, and you weren't even the problem.

"Hey." he said in a much gentler tone. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day."

"I know."

You continued to drink quietly but he didn't take your answer as a good sign. He heard the slight worry in it and he hated the fact he caused it.

"I'm serious. I shouldn't have put all of my frustration on you, it's not fair."

You shook your head. "But you are right. I did worry for a second you cared more about her than me. It's stupid, I know. It's just..."

"Tell me, I won't judge."

You hesitated but eventually gained the courage to say it. "You're hot as hell when you act all heroic."

He spit his drink out before exploding in laughter. Meanwhile you started to whine and pout, shushing him from laughing at you.

"You promised you wouldn't judge." you cried out playfully.

"You're just too cute." he sneered at you. Walking around the counter, he stopped in front of you and brushed the hair off your face. "You wanted to be the one I saved and not Kitty?"

"No, I get why you did that because she was the one on fire and all. It's just you look handsome when playing the saviour."

He grinned and wrapped your legs around himself, helping you get a grip on him. "You want to be the damsel in distress that bad?"

"Yes." you admitted with a pout.

"Gosh, you look good when you're acting all innocent."

Getting a firmer grip on your thighs, he lifted you up which allowed you to be at his height. Licking his lips hungrily, he looked at you in a seductive way. You were glad he was holding you as it made your knees so weak just from the sight of him. Brushing your fingers through his dark locks, you attacked his lips. The tea long forgotten, he went immediately to his room and dropped you on the bed. Crawling on top of you, you took in his features with the little light you had. Even in the dark, he was breathtaking.

"Are you okay with this?"

You snorted. "As if this is the first time we've done something like this."

He shook his head. "I know but we might go further from here."

The tug you did on his shirt told him plenty. If you were that eager to take the clothes off him, you were eager for something else as well. He removed his upper clothing and leaned down to place soft kisses all over your face.

"I might go rough."

"I'm that hot?" you teased.

"Bloody fucking hot."

The front door opening only resulted to the both of you groaning in frustration.

"We really can't have a fucking break from them."

You laughed and gave him a kiss. "You're just sexually frustrated from being interrupted."

"And you're not?"

You giggled. "Cuddle up, I'm tired."

Though he would have liked to do something other than that, he complied and engulfed you in his warm body. You breathed in his smell and smiled to yourself. In all of what happened that day, you were just grateful to still have him by your side.

The morning was eventful. Kitty and Q were apparently mad at one another, Florian surpassed Dae in getting the best grades and you and Min Ho were nothing but depressed. He had told you he was going to Los Angeles to spend the holidays with his mother. You just didn't expect it to hurt as much. Still in bed, you played with his hair as he laid on your stomach.

"Baby, I can hear your heart and it's so fast." he mumbled.

"It's because I'm mad at you."

He sat up and moved to face you. "I'm leaving for a month at most, I'll be back before you know it." he reassured you as he stroke the skin of your sides softly.

"You're, like, the only good thing I have gotten out of this school. What am I going to do without you?"

"You're so dramatic, it's almost cute."

"Almost?"

He huffed. "Don't make me say it."

You laughed and brought his face to yours to kiss him. Your moment was cut short when you heard a groan from the other side of the room. Dae lazily got up and glanced at the two of you, both in shame and in embarrassment. While Min Ho brought the covers back on his upper body and turned his face away, you got out of his grasp and walked to Dae.

"Good morning."

"Hey." he said in a small voice.

"I know it's not really my place to tell, but you two care for each other a lot. I think it's the least of things to fix your problems before he leaves."

He let out an exhale and nodded. You gave him an encouraging smile before announcing to Min Ho that you were going to the other two flatmates.

You were sure to have heard Kitty's voice earlier so you didn't know why you only found Q in the living room.

"Hey, where is Kitty?"

He put his phone away and smiled sadly. "She got caught... for living with us."

You brought your hand to your mouth. "She's getting expelled, isn't she?"

"We don't know yet."

You sat with him and patted his back in comfort. As the door to the boys' room opened, you were at least glad to see them calm and amicable. Min Ho wasn't one to show his feelings much, so you knew they apologized and cleared things up.

"I'll need help packing." he said to you.

"Ask someone else, it'll just remind me you are leaving." you fake-cried.

"Stop being like this, come on." he nodded his head back to his room.

You shook your head. "Can we do something first?"

"What?"

Packing could wait. Instead, you offered him to go take some fresh air. You didn't care if you had no plan prepared whatsoever, you just wanted one last sweet moment with him before he left. You led him to a spot where a blooming tree stood with a bench next to it. Laying your head on his shoulder, you sighed as you reminisced the past months in this school.

"You're sad."

You let out a chuckle. "Thank you, Mr. Obvious."

"Don't be."

"Easier said than done."

He lifted you chin up and kissed your forehead gently. "We're not breaking up. I'm only going to see my mom... I miss her a lot."

You sniffed. "I know, and I'm glad you're going to spend time with her. I... I wish I didn't hate you so much before. So we could have had more time together, you know?"

He patted your head slightly before putting his hand on your cheek. "I think we hated each other for a reason. I know for a fact I hated how you presented yourself as that perfect girl who is too attractive for her own good."

You frowned. "Is it really how people see me?"

He laughed. "I can't say for others, but for me yes. And you just had to be that mesmerizing, it scared me."

You nodded your head slowly. "I see. And how was it a good thing for us?"

"It only drew me to you more. And before I knew it, I couldn't get you off my mind."

You melted at his words. "Me too."

"And, so," he continued. "that means you won't be out of my head when I'm away."

"Got it." you chuckled. "It still sucks."

"I know. We'll call, don't worry. You're not getting rid of me so easily."

"Can I do something real cheesy? You have no right to laugh at me, though."

As much as you hated it, he was right. You had nothing to worry about.

He grinned, expectedly. "What is it?"

You took the ring on your thumb off and asked for his pinky. You carefully placed it on it as it fitted perfectly. He let out an exhale at the gesture. With no hesitation, he took one of his own rings off and put it on your thumb as it was too big for your other fingers. He placed a soft kiss on it, earning a giggled from you.

"I love you."

Your eyes automatically got filled with tears. "Not more than I do."

So, with a heavy heart, you helped him pack his things. You made sure he brought with him a few of the polaroid pictures you took together and made him promise he'd show you off to anyone he met there.

"I'll go get my skincare products." he said after he pecked your lips.

You finished off by zipping up his luggage and it felt odd to see his side of the room almost empty. You had packed your own things as well since you'd be moving back with your uncle and aunt for the winter break. You brought everything by the front door and he was in awe at the sight.

"You're too sweet. I could have done that myself."

You took his hand. "It's helping me cope."

"Sure." he laughed. "I have to say bye to the others."

You knocked at their door and opened it to see them have a moment of their own, Q almost crying. You immediately went to hug Kitty yourself.

"You're really not coming back?"

"I'm afraid I'm not."

You could only tighten your hug from her words. "I'm really going to miss you."

Min Ho hand shook with Q. "Cheers, dude. I'll see you after the break."

You broke away from Kitty and hugged Q in his turn. "I better see you next semester."

"You will, for sure."

Min Ho pulled you back into his arm and rubbed your shoulder lovingly. "She's a bit emotional today."

You slapped him on his chest and he answered with a kiss on your head.

"We had a good run, Covey. Be good." he waved at her.

"Thanks, Min Ho."

With that, you both took your things and went outside to wait for your own car to come. This was it, a last moment before you could see him again in a month. You could keep away from each other, only able to say sweet words and goodbyes with a few kisses here and there. Your car was the first to arrive.

"Hop on, little pup."

You rolled your eyes. "Says the one who wanted us to stop with this."

"No, you were right. It's cute."

You smiled and kissed him one last time while your driver put everything in the trunk. "Text me when you get there? Just to let me know you, unfortunately, didn't crash."

He let out a scoff. "Alright, Park. Be petty."

He hugged you tightly before helping you get in the car. You waved him off as the chauffeur drove away from him.

You watched the trees pass by a few minutes later, finally getting used to the idea of him being away. The sudden pings from your phone were ignored at first, until they became too persistent. With annoyed groan, you opened your message app.

Dami: Hi, Y/N. I hope I have the right contact.

Dami: I am Min Ho's mother, Dami.

Dami: I'm sure he mentioned me, he sure mentioned you a lot to me.

Dami: I'd love to surprise my son when he gets here, if you are interested to participate.

Dami: Can I give you a call?

Although he was in first class, Min Ho hated travelling for hours. Getting close to no sleep, having to go through security at the airport, all of it were nothing but stressful. As he finally got his baggage back, he cheered himself up mentally with the thought of seeing his mother again. He kind of wished you were with him, to meet his mom properly.

To no surprise, the only recognizable person he saw was his mother's assistant. She bowed at him as a greeting before indicating for men, who he assumed were bodyguards, to get his things for him. He was disappointed she didn't come to get him herself, but he understood she was a public personality.

He was glad that the ride to where his mother lived was quick and efficient with close to little, even none, traffic. The gates of the mansion opened and he immediately spotted her standing at her porch, a smile spread on her face.

"Mom." he said as soon as he got out of the car.

"My boy! I'm so happy you got here safely." she exclaimed before hugging him tight. "Are you feeling tired?"

"A little bit, but I'm just happy to see you."

"Me too."

She led him inside and showed him the main rooms of the house before they sat in the living room. She offered him a refreshing drink before she installed herself comfortably.

"How was school? Did you do well?"

He nodded proudly. "Yes. I had excellent grades and I'd say I did better than last year."

"I'm glad." she said cheerfully. "You got along well with your friends? Made some more?" He nodded again happily. "And what about Y/N?"

He froze. "What about her?"

He hadn't gone in details about his relationship with her. Sure, he told her they were seeing each other but things got in the way and they were too busy for him to explain how things evolved.

"Are you in love?"

His face flushed as he got embarrassed. "Ah... I think I am."

She clapped her hands in excitement. "You could have invited her here, I would have love to meet her."

"I couldn't do that. She has her family back there. Plus, I could've scared her off by inviting her so far away after such a short amount of time being together."

She smiled sadly. "What a shame."

"Yeah..." he trailed off. He couldn't quite believe he already missed you. "It really is."

"So how come was I able to fly her here before you arrived?"

His head shot up from his mother's words. Looking around, and then looking back at her, he scoffed.

"Don't pull a joke like that!" he complained.

"She's not kidding."

He almost jumped from the sound of your voice coming from behind him. His brain malfunctioned as he looked back and forth from his mom to you.

"You little-" he cursed before chasing you.

You ran away as you exploded in laughter. Being smaller and weaker than him, he caught you in no time before spinning you around.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Surprise?"

He huffed and put you down. "You're crazy. You've got your family to spend the holidays with."

You shrugged. "A free trip to LA on a private jet to see my boyfriend sounded like a better deal. And don't worry, my aunt and uncle know I'm here."

He grinned like a child before pulling you into a long-lasting kiss, not even caring that his mom was in the same room. After you broke away, he led you to sit down with him.

"You were right, Min Ho. I love her." Dami squealed.

He smiled and then moved his eyes to stare back at yours. They glowed like never before and he couldn't believe how you were so mesmerizing to him.

"I love her, too."

Copyright © 2023 skzhua. All rights reserved.

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Birthday Wish | Jung Wooyoung

-> Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader

-> Request: No. This is a repost from my old account.

-> Synopsis: Wooyoung surprises reader on her birthday.

-> Warnings: Pure self-indulgent fluff I wrote for my birthday last year.

-> Word Count: 944

-> Requests: Open.

ATEEZ Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 woojoongstreasure - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you. 

“Happy Birthday, Jagiya!” Wooyoung screamed at the top of his lungs as he enters Y/N’s bedroom, interrupting the video call she is on with her friend who is currently overseas, working abroad for a year.   

Having not heard him come into her room until he screamed, she jumped and spun around quickly to face him and scold him. “What the fuck, Woo?”  

Instead of apologizing, he smiles wide, seeming proud of himself as he holds up the cake decorated with her favorite animal, which just so happens to be foxes, towards her and repeats what he had screamed a moment ago but this time more quietly. “Happy birthday!”   

“Thank you,” She sighs knowing she can’t be mad at the man who had stolen her heart the moment they met during their trainee days.   

He places the cake on her top of her dresser, before wrapping his arms around her and placing a sloppy kiss to her cheek. She scrunches up her face feeling the wetness against her cheek. Even though she should be used to his affection, after all the years of knowing him, her cheeks still burn red, heart racing.  

“Who is that?” they hear, reminding Y/N she’s still on a video call with her friend.  

“Shit,” she mumbles under her breath before picking up her phone, still wrapped in Wooyoung’s arms. “Sorry, it was just Wooyoung, coming to surprise me.”  

“That’s Wooyoung?” she questions, causing Y/N’s cheeks to grow hotter as her blush deepens. Her friend on the phone is the one she always goes to when she wants to talk about him and her massive crush on him. She’s one of the two people who know about it. While Yeosang didn’t tease her about it, her only female best friend sure did.  

“Hello,” Wooyoung leans on her shoulder, greeting her friend before she could properly introduce them.   

“Hi,” her friend greets back. “It’s nice to finally meet you but I must go. Just remembered I have a few things to do. Make sure our Y/Nnie has a lot of fun today!”  

“I definitely will!” he assures her.   

“Good,” she smiles. “I’ll talk to you later, Y/Nnie,” she adds before ending the call.  

Once the call is over, Wooyoung snatches her phone out of her hand and slides it into his pocket before picking up the cake and walking out of her bedroom without saying anything.  

“What are you doing?” she asks, following him and sounding a little annoyed. “Give me my phone back.”  

“Ya!” He growls and slaps her hand away when she tries to take it from his pocket. “You can have it back later.”  

“But what if eomma calls me,” she pouts, glaring at him.   

“I’ll talk to her,” he replies as they reach the kitchen. He puts the cake on the kitchen counter and turns to face her. “We both know that she loves me more.”  

“Only because she doesn’t have an actual son,” she scoffs. She’s the eldest of three daughters. It’s her mother who always goes on about having no sons, unlike her sister who has four sons and no daughters. “And I’m pretty sure she loves Yeosang and Yunho more than you.”  

He looks at her like she just offended him by suggesting he isn’t her mother’s favorite. He’d been the second to meet her mother, after Yeosang who’s known Y/N since they were babies, their families being neighbors since before they were born.  

“If she wants an actual son, I’ll just marry you and make it official,” he says as he rummages through one of her kitchen drawers to find the matches she keeps for her candles.  

Y/N freezes, her cheeks burning red even more than before, her heart thumping against her chest and her mind racing with thoughts that she’s unable to speak aloud due to not being able to speak at all in this moment.  

When she doesn’t say anything, he looks at her, his face the most serious she’s ever seen it. “What do you say? Should we get married?”  

“I uh... I,” her brain was malfunctioning as she tried to pull together a sentence that would make sense.  

“I should probably take you on a date first,” he says more to himself as he lights the candle on the cake. He picks it back up and brings it over to her. She’s still standing there looking at him, stunned. “Make a wish,” he adds holding the cake up higher.  

“Are you being serious?” she asks, finally able to speak even though her heart and mind are still racing. “You can’t say stuff like that if you-”  

She’s cut off by Wooyoung crashing his lips to hers, stunning her even more. “I’m being serious. I’ve been in love with you since we met too,” he tells her, his beautiful deep brown eyes boring into hers, letting her know just how serious he’s being. “We won’t get married right away but I want you to know that if we start a relationship, I’m in it for life. That includes marriage, kids, and everything else that comes with it. Now make a wish.”  

“I don’t need to anymore,” she tells him tell him before blowing out the candle. She takes the cake from him, putting it back on the kitchen counter, before pulling him in for another kiss. “I now have everything I could wish for.”  

Before Wooyoung could respond, her phone lets her know she’s got a notification. He takes it out of his pocket and hands it to her. She unlocks her phone and finds a text from Yeosang.  

‘Happy Birthday, Y/Nnie! Enjoy your day with Woo. Thank me later tonight.’ 

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[keigologies]

for what it's worth, tobio finally figured it out, even if it took him a few years to do so. you're a childhood friend since elementary school, a lifelong companion, and everyone had always been able to tell that you looked at him far differently than you looked at anyone else; the karasuno boys' volleyball team had always pointed it out, but he'd been too stuck in his ways to argue against it.

but he did realize eventually, just a few years after you parted ways. you were university bound and he had a rookie spot on a national team, something he'd always dreamed of. and while you were always going to be in his life, you started slipping away from one another, too busy with school and work.

it was the absence of your phone calls, daily texts that made him notice. you'd started to take longer replying, you never called on friday nights like you'd used to, and he hated it, swore he'd never let it happen again. so now, you share his bed, your university diploma displayed in the living room, two drawers in his dresser dedicated to your clothes.

it's late and he's slipping off into sleep, your body warm behind him. he likes these nights the most, finds it easier to fall asleep when you're with him. you don't live here full time, not yet, but you will eventually; the two of you have talked about it.

"do you think there's a universe where we got together sooner?" you ask quietly, voice breaking the silence of the bedroom.

he wants to stay silent because as much as he adores you, he wants his sleep. if he just doesn't acknowledge it, he'll continue to fall asleep and then you will too. but there's another part of him that wants to not answer just to hear what you say; he's not good with the lovey dovey shit the way you are.

eventually, his lack of response does prompt you to keep talking. "because i like to think there is. i hope there's at least one version of us out there that never waited so long."

and he does too. he tells you that when he turns over and wraps an arm tight around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and telling you that i hope there is too because there has to be a version of him out there that got to know the taste of your love sooner; he deserves it more than anything.

© keigologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[breeloveschris]

If Only You Knew Pt 7

Pt 6 Pt 8

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Summery: Y/n has the biggest crush on Matthew Sturniolo but Matt doesn’t know she exists until Y/n’s video goes viral and everyone tags him in it

Warnings: cussing

Y/n’s pov:

I haven’t talked to Nia since yesterday. She really made me mad. And to top it off she kept saying shit about my outfit in front of the triplets at top golf. Luckily Matt stood up for me, Nick just got super quiet and Chris laughed. But today’s a new day and hopefully she isn’t being the same way. Currently I was laying in bed looking at pictures from last night already missing the triplets. I don’t know how I got so close to them so fast but I’m so glad it happened.

My thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at my door. “Come in” I yelled as Nia immediately walked in. “Hey.. can we talk?” Nia asked quietly. I nodded my head and scooted over so she could sit beside me. “What’s up?” I asked locking my phone and laying it down. “I’m sorry about yesterday.. I don’t really know what came over me..” Nia said avoiding eye contact. “You said I looked like a homeless person asking for money Nia” I said sitting up.

“I know, I know, and I’m so sorry” she said finally looking at me. “You also told Matt that he needs “to find someone else” because I under dress. Me and Matt are not dating, not talking, not fucking. We’re just friends.” I said getting out of bed. I don’t understand why she thinks a sorry will automatically fix this. I know I’m being dramatic but I just need time. “I get that! But he’s never gonna like you if you’re constantly looking … like that” she said pointing at my outfit. I looked down at my outfit and huffed.

“We’ve know them for 2 fucking days bro, give it time. And plus I highly doubt that he would care about how my outfit looks.” I said picking up my phone and walking out the room. “Where are you going?!?” Nia asked walking out after me. “Away from you, please leave me alone dude” I said turning around to face her. “I’m sorry Y/n/n” she said looking down. “Alright, I heard you. Now please leave me alone I need time.” I said sighing, she just nodded and went to her room. I went back to my room to change out of my pajamas.

I opened my closet pulling out a hoodie. I looked at it for a minute before shaking my head and putting it back. Maybe she’s right. But I don’t want to change myself for a man. That’s just not me. I’m looking for another shirt when my phone starts ringing. I looked over my shoulder and looked at my phone, seeing Matt was face timing me. I walk over and accept the call and set the phone up on my bed side table so I can still look for a shirt.

“Hey, whatcha doing today?” Matt asked, I let out a soft laugh shaking my head. “What? You wanna hang out? Can’t get enough of me??” I asked smirking at the camera. Matt looks so handsome. He’s wearing that pink shirt with the teddy bear on it and his tattoos are on full display. “Y/n? Did you hear me?” He said with a small laugh. “What? Yea! No, totally.. uhm what did you say?” I said as my face turned rosy. Matt smirked. “Were you not listening?” He said with a raised eyebrow. “I was.. until I wasn’t. Anyways, what were you saying?” I said looking back in the closet.

“I said, I just like hanging out with you, your fun to be around” he said smiling, “awww Matt, be careful, your brothers might hear and think you have a little crush on me” I said smirking, he laughed and mumbled something that I couldn’t hear. “What was that?” I asked looking at my phone. “Nothing, let me help you pick out your outfit!” He said smirking, “hmm should I?” I asked smiling. “You most definitely should” he said with a wide smile. “Okay..”

It’s been about 20 minutes of us just laughing and barely getting anything done. But eventually we ended up picking out a black shirt with a little cover up that Matt said would look “sexy” on me. He said cargos and white air forces would look good with it so that’s what I went with. I got off the phone with him so I could change and do my hair, I did a natural look for my makeup not wanting to do much. And with my hair I just straightened it. Matt just texted me letting me know that he was on his way.

We’re gonna hangout, just the two of us and if I’m being honest I’m kinda nervous. I walk out of my room and into the kitchen to get me a water before leaving. But as soon as I get in there I regret it. “Damnit, get a room would you.” I said rolling my eyes and walking over to the fridge. “I’m sorry..” Nia said before pausing and looking me up and down. “Where are you going and why are you so dressed up” she said with a raised eyebrow. “First, I’m not “dressed up” this is casual and second, don’t talk to me until this random man is out of my kitchen.” I said through seething teeth.

I walked out of the house pissed, not even looking to see if Matt had texted me saying he was here or not. But thankfully he was already here. I opened the passenger door and got in while I kinda slammed the door. “Aye careful on the door princess, don’t need to break it” Matt said in a calm voice. “I’m sorry, me and Nia are fighting right now so my emotions are kinda all over the place” I said shaking my head while putting my seat belt on. Matt let out a small laugh making my heart flutter.

“Why are you laughing” I said looking at him as he was pulling out of the driveway. “Nothing, it’s just your acting a lot like Nick when we fight” he said laughing even more. “I mean, Nick is my favorite, I guess me and him are meant to be besties” I said shrugging, he just laughed and shook his head. I can’t stop looking at his hands, wishing one was laying on my thigh as he drove. “You gotta start paying attention when I’m talking” Matt said with a groan. “I’m sorry!! I was distracted!” I said sitting up in my seat.

“By what?? The trees??” Matt said looking out side. I just went quiet, “now you really gotta tell me, spit it out princess” he said taking small glances to me. “Your hands” I said so quickly and quietly. “My what?” Matt said with a small smirk and leaning closer to my side of the car. I threw my head back groaning, “your hands!” I said louder than needed. “Okay, okay, no need to yell baby I heard you the first time” Matt said laughing, “Matt! Then why’d you make me repeat myself” I said pushing his arms slightly. “Because it was cute” he said shrugging still looking at the road.

“Where are we going?” I said looking out the window. “No, don’t change the subject, what about my hands?” Matt said looking over at me for a second. I shake my head fasst. “Nope, not telling you.” I said crossing my arms. “Were you looking at the veins in my hand?” He said almost flexing his hands. “Were you thinking about what they could do?” He continued. I wasn’t.. but I definitely am now. “Or do you want me to put my hand on your thigh?” He said raising his eyebrow and slowly putting his hand on my thigh.

I let out a content sigh without even realizing. “Ah, so you did” he said smirking and started slowly rubbing circles on my thigh with his thumb. “I’m sorry” I said shyly. “For what?” Matt said while he squeezed my thigh, still looking forward onto the road. “I don’t know” I said quietly making Matt chuckle, “then don’t apologize princess” he said smiling adding an extra squeeze. Oh today’s gonna be really fun.

A/n: Sorry for not posting.. I don’t have any excuses but sorry!!

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