#i was breathing so heavy as well like. was i okay

[standfucker]

Post-Injury Hurt/Comfort Series - Monster Trio

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji

Reader: GN

Word Count: 3.3k

CW: blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, stitches

Ao3 Link

After writing The Break, I've always wanted to do drabbles of the same scenario for other characters, so here we are. ( 0v0)/

Luffy

It happens in an instant. One moment, you’ve brought your mace down on the head of the lion Zoan, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. You collapse next to his body, exhausted from the fight.

The next moment, the lion Zoan lunges at you from the floor, one massive paw smashing into your face with all the strength of their devil fruit, sickle claws tearing your flesh open.

You go flying. You hit the ground hard, leaving a smear of blood from your body skidding. Dazed, you try and get your bearings, berating yourself for letting your guard down early, praying it didn’t cost you the fight. The lion Zoan snarls and charges you.

“Gum-Gum Whip!”

The sight of your captain intercepting your opponent brings a heavy relief–if Luffy’s finished with his own opponent, that means your part is done, too. You can finally catch your breath.

With the rest comes the dull, burning pain across your face. The enemy mostly got you in the nose and mouth, miraculously missing your eyes. Blood runs from your nose and mouth and drips from your chin, bleeding as heavily as a head wound. Still, you’re not too concerned. It’s only when the rest of the crew catches up to you and you try to talk that you realize how much damage the lion did, because not only does speaking hurt, but Nami makes a face at the sight of you.

The local anesthetic that Chopper gives you helps a little bit, but it still hurts when he realigns your nose and stitches up the gashes. Luffy holds your hand the entire time, knowing you hate needles.

“Good job, Y/n!” Luffy says after Chopper’s done. “You’re real tough!”

“Thanks, Captain.” You sigh. “I would have been fine if I hit him again, but I thought he was down. I forgot how resilient Zoans can be.”

“You didn’t want to kill him.”

“I know, I shouldn’t take these fights so lightly–”

“Y/n, that’s a good thing.” Luffy stretches an arm around your shoulder. “You’re a good person. Besides, I was able to take him out easily because of the damage you did.”

“Nami looked horrified when she saw my face,” you say. “I must look like a mess.”

“You do,” Luffy says honestly, making you smile–which pulls on your stitches.

“Owww, oh…smiling hurts.”

“Then don’t smile!”

“I can’t help it. You make me smile. You know this.”

Luffy rubs his chin, eyes rolling up as he thinks. “Then I should stay away from you.”

“Nooo, don’t do that! I need you around to cheer me up! Especially now.” You take his hand that’s hanging around your shoulder, feeling your chest lighten when he squeezes back.

“Well, in that case, I’ll just not make you smile!” he says.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” You chuckle, then look at the mirror hanging on the wall. If you need to lower your mood, there’s an easy shortcut–the combination of your inflamed, swollen skin, plus the stitches make you look nothing short of monstrous.

Luffy notices your face falling. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s going to scar. And not even in a cool way.” Living with severe facial scarring probably won’t be that bad–you are a pirate, after all–but it’ll still be new. And, to be honest, you’re not ready for your appearance to change so dramatically.

“What are you talking about? It’ll be super cool!” Luffy says earnestly. “Everyone will know what a strong pirate you are!”

He’s trying to cheer you up. You don’t want to bring him down in the dumps with you, but you can’t help but be bummed out.

“But what if I don’t want to look cool?” you say. “What if I just want to look like me? I mean, who could possibly find a face like this appealing?” You ghost your fingers over the stitches on your lips. “Who would kiss lips like mine?”

You think you’re holding it in okay, but the admission has you tearing up. You’re being ridiculous–you should be happy to be alive. But why did it have to be your face? Why…

Luffy stares at you in that way he does when he’s thinking. You can’t tell what’s going through his mind.

It happens in an instant.

One moment you’re sitting next to each other in silence. The next moment, he wraps his other arm around you, pulls you in close, and lightly presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

It hurts a little, but it also feels so good that your tears break free and sting where they roll over your cuts.

“Did that hurt? I’m sorry, Y/n,” Luffy says when he pulls away.

“No, no! It was nice! It was really nice.” You have to fight not to smile.

“Oh, good! I liked it too!” he giggles, looking overjoyed.

“When I heal up, will you do that again?”

“I can do it right now!” Luffy says eagerly, but you clear your throat and tilt your head toward the doorway.

Chopper is standing there, little hooves on his hips, thoroughly unimpressed with the both of you and your method of boosting morale.

Zoro

Zoro was always one to downplay his injuries. Next to Chopper, you gave him the most trouble for it out of anyone in the crew. He figured that so long as he got medical attention, the extent of the injuries was no big deal.

He never expected to be on the receiving end.

In the heat of battle, he’s entirely focused on his opponent. This enemy crew is tough, but not the strongest they’ve faced. Strong enough to demand his full concentration.

However, Zoro knows the unique sound of a sword cutting through flesh. When he hears the shhk! noise behind him and remembers you’re also fighting a sword user, he’s so badly distracted he almost gets hit. He has just enough presence of mind to finish off his enemy before turning around.

That’s when he sees you fire a bullet into your opponent’s leg, your free arm wrapped around your stomach. There’s blood seeping between your fingers. In the time it takes him to rush to your side, you shoot your opponent again in the other leg, making him crumple, then once in each arm, rendering him completely unable to fight back from where he lays.

“Yo,” you say casually, but you’re trembling all over. Your torn shirt is staining quickly.

“You got cut,” Zoro states. He tries to pull your arm away so he can see your wound better, but you step back.

“I’m okay,” you say. You and Zoro both look down at your abdomen as you pull your arm away just slightly, and Zoro sees the unmistakable grayish-pink of your large intestine before you quickly plug up the gash with your arm again. You look back up at him. “It’s just a scratch.”

Zoro’s about ready to stab you himself, his eyes going wide with horror and rage. 

“Are you insane?!” he shouts. “A scratch?! Shit, where’s Chopper–?!”

“Ha ha–ow ow ow, hurts to laugh.” You grin, but Zoro notices you tearing up from the pain.

“Okay, just, stay still,” his hands are held up hesitantly, unsure of what to do, and he calls over his shoulder. “CHOPPER! Get over here right now!”

Once Chopper arrives, he applies an emergency field dressing and instructs Zoro on how to safely carry you back to the ship’s infirmary. You act like you’re in high spirits the entire way there, smiling up at Zoro like everything’s fucking dandy.

“This is kinda nice,” you say. “I haven’t been carried since I was little.”

“After you heal,” Zoro says, “I’ll carry you around as much as you want, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he says gently. “Does it hurt?”

“Of course not,” you say, and Zoro curses himself for having asked–he can see you wince with every harsh step he tries to avoid.

“We’re almost there. Almost there.”

“Relax, big guy. I’ve been through worse.”

You haven’t. He’s been in every major fight you’ve been through, and it’s never been this bad. Your blood is still warm on his skin, and your color’s getting paler, and it’s all because he couldn’t protect you.

The surgery takes longer than he thought. He’s pacing the hallway outside the infirmary so much that even Sanji starts to make a comment, which would have started a fight had Robin not intervened and sternly told them both that everyone was worried.

When you come to, it’s to the sight of Zoro standing over your bed. You don’t manage so much as a ‘yo’ before Zoro gets onto his hands and knees, bowing so low his head touches the floor.

“I’ll never let it happen again!” he says, minding his volume–Chopper is only allowing him to visit because Zoro promised he wouldn’t stress you out. “It’s my fault! I’m sorry–”

“Get up.” 

He peers up at you. Your face is twisted up like you’re holding something back, but you force it into a sneer.

“Get up right now, or I’m going to make fun of you,” you say. He hesitates long enough for you to roll your eyes. “Don’t be a pussy.”

That brings him right back to his feet. “What’d you call me?!”

“You heard me,” you say. “I’m alive, aren’t I? So relax.”

“I can’t relax!” Zoro snaps. “You got hurt because of me! I was too weak! I couldn’t–couldn’t stop this from happening!”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever?!” He no longer minds his volume. “How can you be so–so calm about this?!”

“How can you be making this about yourself?”

That shuts him up real quick. Realizing his mistake, Zoro starts to get a sour feeling in his stomach, but you only smile.

“Now you know what it feels like,” you chuckle and wince, “ow–what it feels like to have someone be dismissive of your injuries. So the next time you get hurt, you big dumb idiot, how about you have some self awareness and let me worry?”

Zoro deflates a little. “I still can’t just forgive myself like that.”

“I’ll do it for you.” You hold out your hand until he takes it. “Roronoa Zoro, I forgive you–so long as you do one thing for me.”

He leans in. “Anything. What is it?”

“Even with the pain meds, I’m still sore. Kiss it better?” You smile the way you do when you’re joking, but it soon turns to a look of surprise when Zoro leans in even closer. He hesitates for a moment, face hovering above yours, before his free hand comes to cradle the back of your head and he presses a firm, intent kiss to your lips.

You stare at him when he pulls away, your expression slowly morphing into a smile–not a playful one, not a masking one, but a real smile.

“W-What’s with that look?” Zoro says, flustered now. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“I meant kiss my stomach, dummy.”

Zoro’s eyes widen, but before he can remedy his mistake, you weakly pull him back in for another kiss. This time, he obliges without question.

Sanji

Sanji barely dodges a brutal strike from his opponent, then finishes them off with a flaming kick to the skull. You grin at him as you down your own opponent with a heavy strike from one of your tonfa.

“Careful there, Hotfoot! He almost got you!” you yell gleefully, only to narrowly avoid getting hit yourself.

“Worry about yourself, Sticks!” Sanji calls back, mirroring your grin.

“They’re not sticks!” you say yet again, smashing one of the tonfa into a pirate’s head and knocking them out cold. “You’re just jealous I can fight with my hands!”

“I choose not to fight with my hands!”

“Sure you do!”

You were well aware of Sanji’s commitment to only use his hands to cook, but it was still fun to pretend it was a skill issue. Sanji knew it was all teasing anyway. The two of you greatly enjoyed your banter, whether in or outside of battle. As physical fighters, your rivalry was a friendly one. After all, out of everyone in the crew, you spent the most time talking to each other.

The next wave of pirates comes, this time stronger than before–the enemy’s commanding officers. The battle becomes too serious for you to go on making comments, and your focus gets pulled toward your opponents.

It’s a hard, bloody fight. As soon as he defeats his opponent, he worries about how the others are faring. The rest of the crew is almost done with their own one-on-ones, and he finds himself rushing to find you first, his pace hurrying when he finds one of your tonfa lying off to the side.

You’re straddling your opponent on the ground. Your non-dominant hand is broken, held crookedly against your chest, and you’re bleeding from your hairline and mouth. With your good hand, you beat your tonfa into your opponent’s skull, over and over, a broken cry tumbling from your bloody lips with every strike. Your opponent is no longer moving, but you don’t stop, tears streaming from your eyes as you mash his face to a visceral pulp.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Sanji skids to a stop next to you, grabbing your wrist before you can strike again. “He’s dead! It’s over. It’s over. You won.”

You look at him with wide eyes. Your mouth is held open, and at first, Sanji doesn’t realize what’s wrong, but he can tell you only won by a hair from the way you’re trembling. He gets down and pulls you into a gentle hug. “I got you,” he says. “I got you. You’re okay now.”

He holds you at arm’s length and checks over your body for any injuries, finding none. Mouth still open, you pull away from him and start patting the grass with your good hand, searching for something. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” he says. “Please, say something.”

Sanji expects something tired and sarcastic, like ‘you don’t look much better.’ Instead, you make a strange, groaning noise as your response, and he feels a chill run through his body. You always had a quick retort for him, even when things were dire.

You seem to find what you were looking for, your hand closing around something. Sanji helps you stand up, and when you open your hand, he sees a few teeth in your palm that must have gotten knocked out.

“Your jaw’s broken,” Sanji realizes aloud, and you nod, and suddenly the way you hold your mouth open is deeply unsettling.

The silence that follows your surgery, however, puts Sanji at an even greater unease. Your jaw is wired shut to let the bone heal, and Chopper says that for the next six weeks, you won’t be able to speak at all.

You carry around a notepad with you, but for a while after you wake from the anesthesia, you don’t write anything down except to answer Chopper’s questions, opting instead to sulk.

“Come on, Sticks,” Sanji says lightly as he signs the cast on your hand. “I know you have something to say.”

You flick him off with your good hand, then seem to regret it, your face fallin along with your hand. Sighing through your nose, you grab your notepad and scribble something down, then hold it up for him to see.

‘I look like a chipmunk.’

The lower half of your face has, naturally, swollen up. Sanji shakes his head. “No, no, you look fine! You…” A pointed look from you makes him concede. “Okay, yeah. It’s swollen. What did you expect?” You look away, and he pats your shoulder. “Ah, come on, it’s not so bad. Most people find chipmunks cute, you know.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you give him a look of surprise. Sanji stiffens.

“Um, well, I mean…” he stammers. Though he doesn’t leave, for the rest of that day, you both avoid looking at each other.

From the beginning to the end of your healing process, Sanji stays by your side, always finding a way to make you feel better. He’ll hype you up by doing a drumroll while he’s waiting for you to finish writing out a thought, something which the rest of the crew picks up as well. When you’re hanging out with him in the galley, he’ll do hibachi tricks with the food he prepares to cheer you up.

The food he makes for you especially helps you get through the long weeks. You were severely bummed out at having to miss his cooking for weeks–until the first sip of the soup he cooked. You never knew a liquid diet could be so delicious. Sanji takes the time to roast and blend anything you’d wanted. Thanks to him, being unable to chew food doesn’t affect your nutrient intake at all.

He also indulges you in your favorite drink without you having asked, which is surprising. It’s not the first time he’s gone out of his way like this, but it does feel more special when you’ve been in such a vulnerable state.

‘Maybe there’s an upside to this after all.’

Sitting in the galley while Sanji cooks, you hold up your notepad for him to read.

“And what is that?” he says, walking around the prep table with a mixing bowl in his arms, looking down at what you’re writing.

‘I love y’

You pause, staring at your notepad with a weird, dumbstruck look. Sanji’s eyes widen, slowing down his mixing for a second, but you quickly recover and finish scribbling.

‘I love you treating me extra special.’ You hold up the notepad hesitantly, avoiding his eye. 

Though feeling warmth rise in his chest, Sanji plays it cool. “Well, I’m glad you’re finding the positive in this,” he says. “I personally miss the sound of your voice.”

You drop your notepad and fumble to catch it with only one good hand, accidentally smacking it to the floor. Both you and Sanji crouch down to pick it up, and freeze when your hands touch.

The urge to say ‘sorry’ is strong, though you can’t speak. Face burning, all you can do is look at him apologetically and hope he understands. But when you do, he’s looking back at you with the same expression he has when he reads a brand new recipe. Like he’s figuring something out.

You go to pull your hand away, but his fingers close around yours. “I, uh… I really mean that, you know.”

Swallowing, you glance down at his hand holding yours, then back up at him, and nod.

“Y/n,” he says, letting go of your hand to instead cup your cheek tenderly. “Would you… I mean. Can I…?”

With your heart pounding, you nod again, and Sanji leans in. You close your eyes, and a moment later, his lips brush yours, feather-light. Just that barest contact makes your head spin almost as bad as it did when you got your injury in the first place.

Sanji breaks free, and you stare at each other. A slow smile spreads across your lips at the sight of his nose starting to bleed. You both stand up, and you write something down quickly.

‘I’m sorry I can’t kiss you back.’

“That’s okay,” he says, reading the note over your shoulder. He rubs the back of his neck, grinning. “I’ll gladly do all the work.”

And Sanji does, in the quiet, private moments where it’s just the two of you. And yet, when the day finally comes for Chopper to remove the wires, and the first thing you do upon leaving the exam room is call out Sanji’s name, he’s so elated that he picks you up with a spin, kissing you in front of everyone before he can help himself.

[mina-saiyat]

Rumors Part 1 (Jihyo)

A/N: So the voted Rumors part 1 is out! Enjoy the gym sex with Jihyo! Honestly I love this pink tanktop so much, if the video is a bit longer, I am definitely going to fap to this outfit

On this day, Jihyo came to the gym wearing tight sportswear. Her breasts almost popped out of her bra, and her two slender legs were looming under her shorts. All eyes were on her as she walked into the dressing room.

In fact, the reason why Jihyo is keen on fitness is quite private - she has always been in love with strong and muscular men. Whenever she sees those macho men sweating profusely between the machines, her heart beats faster and her body becomes unbearably hot. She believes that with her plump and proud figure, she can easily seduce any man who is exercising and bring him into the locker room to enjoy some intense sex.

"Hello, everyone~ I'm Jihyo!" She smiled sweetly and greeted everyone. Several muscular men immediately gathered around to chat.

"Jihyo, are you here to work out? We happen to be doing bench presses. Do you want to give it a try?" a strong man invited.

Jihyo blinked her eyes, with a playful smile on her lips: "Okay, I haven't tried this equipment yet. But I need you to teach me, Oppa~"

The man readily agreed and couldn't wait to take her to the bench press. The two began to rub together ambiguously, and Jihyo deliberately released a seductive aura. Not long after, the man's breathing became heavier, and his lower body became obviously erect...

Jihyo looked at the almost naked strong man in front of him with satisfaction and licked his lips gently. She knew that her charm was unstoppable and that she could easily make any man fall for her with just a little hint.

"Oppa, am I doing right?" Jihyo lowered her body, deliberately exposing her deep cleavage. As she asked, she kneaded the hard member with her hands.

The man had already lost his mind and could only make an indistinct sound: "Well...it feels so comfortable...push harder..."

Jihyo smiled charmingly, then put his palm on the thick cock and stroked it up and down. She felt her lower body becoming wet and slippery, eager to be filled by this hot giant.

"Jihyo...I want...I want you now..." The man grabbed her wrist and wanted to kiss it, but she cleverly avoided it.

"Oppa, don't worry. Wouldn't it be better for us to go inside and enjoy it slowly?" Jihyo stood up and teased the man's lips ambiguously with his fingers.

"Of course..." The man nodded anxiously and followed Jihyo to a private room in the corner of the locker room. This place is usually used by members to change clothes temporarily, but now it has become a venue for them to party.

As soon as the door closed, the two of them kissed each other eagerly. Jihyo deftly unzipped the man's pants, took out the cock that was ready to go, stuffed it into her mouth and swallowed. The man let out a sigh of contentment and grasped her plump buttocks with both hands, as if he wanted to melt her into his body.

Jihyo knew that her proud breasts had already firmly grabbed the man's attention. She deliberately slowed down when taking off her clothes so that the man could fully appreciate her plump breasts. When she finally unhooked her bra and her two white breasts almost jumped out, the man's breathing became heavy and he stared straight at her.

"Brother, do you like it? Do you want to try my breasts?" Jihyo caressed her breasts, squeezed and kneaded them gently, and licked her red lips ambiguously with the tip of her tongue.

The man let out a beast-like growl and nodded eagerly in agreement. Jihyo supported his hard desire and sat on the ground, then sandwiched the hot head between her soft cleavage, and began to move her body up and down, so that her plump breasts tightly wrapped the thick and long cock.

"Ah...it feels so comfortable...Jihyo's breasts are so great..." The man closed his eyes and raised his head, as if he was about to reach climax. Jihyo felt a little bit of sweet sweat oozing out from her breasts, making the clouds and rain even more moist, hot and lustful.

"As long as you like it, oppa... I will make you feel comfortable..." Jihyo sped up her pace, letting her nipples constantly rub against the sensitive coronal sulcus. At the same time, she also felt a warm current flowing out from the depths of her womb, and her lower body became even wetter...

Just when the man was about to reach his peak, Jihyo suddenly stopped and let his ready-to-go cock slide out of her breasts. The man opened his confused eyes and looked at her in confusion.

"Is Oppa coming soon? That's not possible~ I want Oppa to enjoy it for a little longer." Jihyo's eyes were as charming as silk, and she gently stroked her red breasts, "We have to take our time, not so fast. Just end it?"

Seeing the man's dissatisfied expression, Jihyo smiled with satisfaction. She knew that her method worked. This man was fascinated by her, and all he could think about was her body. Just a little more teasing can make him crazy about her and at her mercy.

"How do you want me to serve you, oppa? Tell me your little thoughts, and I will satisfy you~" Jihyo lay on the man, deliberately letting her nipples rub back and forth against his strong chest muscles. The man reacted immediately, wrapping his hands around her slim waist and pressing her into his arms.

"Jihyo...stop torturing me...I want to enter you directly..." His voice was full of desire and anxiety.

Jihyo smiled and shook her head: "It's still early now. We have a whole afternoon. Oppa let's feel my breasts first~" After that, she sandwiched the hot head between the soft cleavage and started move her body up and down...

Jihyo watched with satisfaction as the man almost lost his mind in front of her. She knew that she had completely taken control of the situation, and no matter what she did next, he would not refuse her request. This pleasure of conquest made her extremely excited, and her lower body became more and more eager...

Jihyo's breasts were held in the man's hands and kneaded into various shapes. The white breast flesh spilled out from between his fingers, and the red nipples were engorged and swollen by his sucking. But even so, Jihyo still didn't let the man get what he wanted - she always stopped when he was about to reach the top, forcing him to endure it.

"Oppa, you are too impatient. We have a whole day to play slowly, don't we?" Jihyo smiled, deliberately twisting her body and rubbing her soaked clitoris against the man's inner thigh. "Besides, if you cum now, I'm going to be angry~"

Hearing this threat, the man immediately sobered up. He knew that he had been completely bewildered by the witch in front of him, and if he really let it out, she would definitely look down on him even more. He gritted his teeth and held back the climax that was about to explode, waiting for Jihyo to wrap his desire with her proud breasts again.

"Okay, then I'll just take my time." Jihyo patted the man's face frivolously, and then sandwiched the fiery head between the plump cleavage. This time, she deliberately accelerated her speed and rocked her body up and down, causing the two soft breasts to rub against the hard-as-iron cock.

"Ah... Jihyo... your breasts are so amazing... I feel like I'm going to cum..." The man hugged Jihyo's slim waist tightly and let out a low gasp. Jihyo once again stopped at a critical moment, forcing him to readjust his breathing rhythm.

"We have just started, oppa, don't worry." Jihyo licked her lips, with a teasing light in her eyes.

The man had already lost his mind under Jihyo's teasing, and only the most primitive desires dominated his actions. Jihyo deliberately stopped every time he was about to reach climax, forcing him to endure the huge impact. This ecstasy experience drove him crazy, and his sanity was losing bit by bit.

"Jihyo...please...I really can't bear it anymore..." The man hugged Jihyo's body tightly and almost begged. Jihyo just smiled and rubbed his soft breasts against the increasingly thick cock, as if he was deliberately teasing him.

"Oppa, I'm not happy when you're like this. You said you wanted me to serve you before?" Jihyo looked at the man pretending to be aggrieved, "If you don't cooperate obediently, I might be angry~"

Seeing Jihyo's coquettish look, the man couldn't resist. He knew he couldn't bear it anymore, so he had to summon up the last bit of willpower and said: "Okay... I will be obedient... You can do whatever you want... I just ask you to let me cum." ..."

Jihyo showed a victorious smile, touched the man's cheek and kissed him softly: "I knew that oppa is the best~ So, are you ready? I'm going to make you feel so happy!"

Jihyo swallowed the ready-to-go cock into her mouth until its head was pressed deep into her throat. The man's breathing became heavy and rough in an instant, and he couldn't help but insert his hands into her hair.

Jihyo used the tip of her tongue to roam around the man's cock. Whenever she licked the sensitive coronal sulcus, the man would involuntarily push forward. But she always avoided it cleverly, refusing to let that sensitive part go deep into her mouth. This kind of distant touch made the man fall into unprecedented madness.

"Jihyo...you monster...I'm going to be tortured to death by you..." The man held Jihyo's hair tightly, as if he wanted to stuff his whole cock into her mouth. Jihyo smiled even sweeter, deliberately slowing down and tracing the shape of his cock over and over with the tip of his tongue.

"Oppa is too impatient. I have to take my time to serve you~" Jihyo looked up at the man, the mischievous meaning in hereyes was self-evident.

The man knew he could no longer resist such temptation. He let go of Jihyo's hair and let her suck between his legs. She was like a skilled musician, mastering the rhythm perfectly, sometimes deep throating, sometimes shallow swallowing, and occasionally licking and teasing key parts, causing him to reach the peak and then be pulled back to where he was.

"Jihyo...I can't do it anymore...please...please let me cum in your mouth..." The man's tone was full of pleading. Jihyo, however, seemed not to hear, still focused on her "playing", as if determined to drive him crazy.

Just when the man was about to collapse, Jihyo finally increased her speed and let the hard object thrust violently into her mouth. She felt it swelling and beating in the deepest part of her mouth, so she sucked harder...

Jihyo sucked the man's cock hard until it became thicker and harder in her mouth. The man also quickly reached the critical point under her ventriloquism. He held Jihyo's hair tightly with both hands and gasped: "Jihyo...I'm cumming...let me cum quickly..."

Jihyo raised her big watery eyes to look at him, and then worked harder to swallow the huge thing with bulging veins. The man couldn't help but thrust forward and pushed his cock into the deepest part of her mouth. The next second, streams of thick white liquid spurted out and poured into Jihyo's throat.

Jihyo swallowed all the man's semen and spit it out after the cock was slightly weakened. She wiped the white liquid from the corner of her mouth and smiled sweetly at the man: "Oppa's taste is so good~ I ate it all!"

The man lay on the bed, panting exhausted. He knew that he was so fascinated by this witch that he would reach climax in the mouth of a strange woman. But he didn't regret it, because the bliss that Jihyo gave him was something he had never experienced before. He couldn't help but stretched out his hand, wanting to touch her body again...

Jihyo grabbed the man's hand, put it on her bare shoulder and stroked it gently: "Oppa, do you want me?" Her voice was like the sound of nature, with fatal attraction. The man nodded subconsciously, and she took the initiative to sit on his crotch, using her already muddy lower body to rub against his renewed desire.

"Then let's do something more interesting, shall we?" Jihyo leaned down and stuck out the tip of his tongue to swirl around the man's ear.

Jihyo's lips and tongue wandered around the man's neck like a snake, leaving erotic marks one after another. Her slippery lower body also began to rub between his legs, as if she wanted to swallow more. The man only felt that his reason was about to collapse under her offensive.

"Oppa, what do you want me to do?" Jihyo raised her misty eyes and looked at him, "Do you want me to hold you in my mouth like before? Or do you want me to sit on you and use my pussy to love you?"

Jihyo looked at him with charming eyes and smiled softly: "Then what does Oppa want me to do?"

The man knew that he could no longer resist such temptation. He arched up under Jihyo and held her butt cheeks with both hands: "I want you...I want you to sit on top...please me with your body..."

Jihyo nodded with satisfaction, grabbed his already high-spirited clone, and sat down slowly. The man's moans immediately resounded throughout the room - he finally got his wish to possess this charming woman. Jihyo began to move her body up and down, letting the hot thing move in and out of her body.

"Ah... Jihyo... you're so tight..." The man grasped Jihyo's slender waist and lifted her waist step by step in response to her movements. Jihyo gasped softly, enjoying the wonderful feeling of being one with the man. "Do you like it, oppa? Do you like it when I use this place to please you?"

"I...like it...it feels so comfortable..." The man closed his eyes and raised his head, letting out short moans.

Jihyo rides on the man wildly, and every rise and fall will cause a more intense collision sound. Her vagina has been honed by her long-term training to be extremely tight. Whenever the man's penis penetrates deep into it, it always brings an ecstasy of pleasure. Jihyo couldn't help but twist her slender waist to allow herself to accept this fiery desire more deeply.

"Ah... oppa... so big..." Jihyo pressed her hands on the man's chest and began to move her body up and down faster. She felt like her pussy was about to be stretched open, but this feeling of fullness made her want to stop. Every time it went deep, the man's penis would hit her cervix, causing a numb shudder.

"Jihyo...slow down...you will tire us both out..." The man hugged Jihyo tightly, feeling like his strength was being drained by her. But Jihyo didn't seem to hear it and instead rode harder. Her breasts swayed with the movement, and the man couldn't help but reach out and hold them, kneading the soft breasts.

"Oppa, do you like it? Do you like me doing this to you?" Jihyo asked breathlessly, feeling that her climax was about to come. The man closed his eyes and nodded, holding Jihyo's slim waist with one hand and squeezing the two red spots on her chest with his other hand.

"Hmm... great... Jihyo is cumming..." Jihyo let out a sweet cry and collapsed into the man's arms. The man felt that his penis was being squeezed by her vagina and it became sore, knowing that she had also reached a climax.

After a while, Jihyo slowly opened her eyes. She leaned close to the man's ear and whispered softly: "Oppa, you were very comfortable just now, right? I will make you more comfortable... We still have a lot of time..."

Although Jihyo's climax gave him a certain degree of satisfaction, seeing the still longing look in her eyes, the man knew that he was not completely released. He turned Jihyo over, assumed the missionary position, and entered her deeply once again.

"Ah...brother..." Jihyo exclaimed, and she felt another hot giant thing in her body pushing into the pussy. The man began to thrust wildly, hitting the deepest point every time. He grabbed Jihyo's proud breasts with both hands and kneaded them into various shapes.

"Jihyo...your breasts are so tempting..." The man gasped, feeling like he was about to lose control. Jihyo deliberately moved her hips to meet his thrusts, as if to seduce him to treat her more roughly. The man couldn't help but increase the strength in his hands, even leaving red marks.

"Oppa... be gentle... my breasts will be damaged..." Jihyo protested with a gasp, but her body betrayed her words and instead catered to the man's movements. This aroused the man's sadistic desire even more. He lowered his head, opened his mouth wide, took one of Jihyo's breasts into his mouth, and sucked hard.

"Hmm... don't... it hurts..." Jihyo felt like her nipples were almost bitten off by him, but this mixture of pain and pleasure made her body more sensitive. She felt the man's cock getting harder and hotter inside her, and knew he was about to reach his peak.

"Oppa... cum with me..." Jihyo hugged the man's neck tightly and wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him to penetrate deeper into her.

Jihyo clamped her legs tightly around the man's waist and pushed him deeper into her body again and again. She felt that his penis was getting harder and bigger, as if he was trying to fill her up. Under the leadership of Jihyo, the man continued to increase the speed and intensity. Every impact made her feel the pleasure of being hit.

"Oppa...faster...I want you..." Jihyo urged, feeling that she was on the verge of climax. The man seemed to have reached his limit. He grabbed Jihyo's buttocks with both hands and began to thrust hard like a beast.

"Jihyo...I'm cumming...You're pushing me too hard..." The man screamed, feeling that he was about to explode. Jihyo took the initiative to contract her vagina and bit his cock tightly.

"Oppar... cum inside me... I want to be with you..." Jihyo shook her butt, letting the entrance of her womb rub his manhood.

The man could no longer control himself. He grunted, his body beating violently inside Jihyo, and streams of thick white heat were continuously injected into her body. Jihyo also reached her climax. She arched her body, clutching the bed sheets with both hands, and her pussy was sucking the man's cock like spasms.

"Ah... Jihyo... you're so good at sucking..." the man growled, feeling that his semen was completely absorbed by her pussy. Jihyo lay on his chest and relaxed her legs, letting his clone stay inside her.”

It took some time for Jihyo to recover from the afterglow of orgasm. She felt that the man's clone was still buried in her body. Although it was no longer erect, it also proved how intense the stormy sex had been.

"Oppa...you are making me so tired..." Jihyo said coquettishly. She turned her head and kissed the man's cheek. The man smiled bitterly and kissed her back.

"It's because you are too tempting...I really can't resist..." the man said apologetically, and he pulled out his weak clone, which was stained with the body fluids of the two of them. Jihyo looked at the weapon that tortured her to death and couldn't help laughing.

"Oppa is so childish..." Jihyo stretched out her hand and held the man's clone. Even though it had softened, she could still feel the warmth in her palm. She worked it up and down slowly, and couldn't help but feel a little proud when she saw the penis gradually getting hard in her hands.

"Jihyo...what are you doing..." the man exclaimed, but was soon overwhelmed by the pleasure. Jihyo smiled but did not answer. She climbed on top of the man, straddled between his legs, then leaned down and swallowed the man's cock in one gulp.

"Hmm..." The man couldn't help but raised his head. He felt the pleasure of his body being wrapped in a warm mouth. Jihyo sucked for a while, then raised her head and looked at the man with a smile.

"Oppa, don't you want it...I will help you with my mouth..." Jihyo lowered her head again and concentrated on serving the man's clone. The man grabbed her hair, feeling his desire being aroused by her again.

Jihyo knelt between the man's legs, holding his waist with both hands, swallowing his cock. The tip of her tongue licked along every inch of the shaft, occasionally taking care of the sac underneath. The man felt so comfortable that he closed his eyes and allowed Jihyo to do whatever he wanted.

"Jihyo...slow down...I can't take it anymore..." the man gasped. He felt that his cock was so hard that it hurt and he might ejaculate again at any time. Jihyo sped up, her lips tightly wrapped around the clone, and every suck made the man gasp.

"Oppa... do you like this...?" Jihyo raised her head and asked with misty eyes. The man nodded and reached out to hold her head. Jihyo lowered her head again and swallowed the clone into his throat. Her skills were proficient and sophisticated, and she quickly pushed the man to the edge of climax.

"No way...I'm cumming..." The man covered Jihyo's head, involuntarily raised his waist, and inserted his penis deeply into her mouth. Jihyo sucked in cooperation until the man roared and ejaculated waves of thick semen into her mouth.

Jihyo swallowed most of the semen, but some spilled out of the corners of her lips. She looked up at the man and smiled with satisfaction. "Oppa tastes so good..." She licked the corners of her mouth, crawled to lie down next to the man, and put her arms around his waist.

"Jihyo...you are such a monster..." the man sighed, his body still sensitive to the attack of Jihyo's lips and tongue. Jihyo just smiled, knowing that she had complete control over this man, and that was exactly what she wanted.

Jihyo lay in the man's arms, feeling that her pussy was still empty. Although the sexual intercourse just now made her climax several times, her body still longed for more pleasure. Especially when she saw the man's weak clone, she was even more unable to extricate herself.

"Oppa..." Jihyo called out coquettishly, then stretched out her little hand and held the man's clone. Although he had softened, he still slowly responded to her caress.

"You little evil..." the man said helplessly, but he had no intention of refusing. On the contrary, he took the initiative to put the clone into Jihyo's hand. Jihyo smiled happily. She gently kneaded the man's balls, feeling them gradually enlarge and harden.

"Oppa, do you like me doing this?" Jihyo asked while playing with the man's clone. The man's breathing became heavier, and he closed his eyes to enjoy Jihyo's service. "Of course, I like it...your little mouth is so good at sucking..." the man gasped. He felt that his desire was ignited again, and the cock became energetic.

Jihyo saw the man's reaction and smiled with satisfaction. She let go, then turned around and knelt down facing the man's direction. She held the man's thigh with one hand, held the clone with the other, opened her red lips, and took the man's little brother into her mouth.

"Hmm..." The man moaned comfortably. He felt his body enter a hot, moist and tight place, where the soft flesh was constantly rubbing and squeezing the source of his desire. Jihyo swallowed, his tongue flexibly swirled around the tip, and he made "gurgling" sounds from time to time.

Jihyo knelt on the bed, with her back to the man, her hips raised high, forming a beautiful arc. The man's mouth went dry and his body became as hard as a rock. He stretched out his hand and patted Jihyo's snow-white buttocks, causing a tremor.

"Brother...what do you want to do..." Jihyo screamed in pain. She turned her head and looked at the man with a bright eyebrow. That endearing look made the man unable to hold back any longer. He rushed forward and eagerly spread her legs and aimed his penis at the already muddy little hole, insert it to the end with all his strength!

"Ah——!" Jihyo screamed. She felt that her vagina was filled to the brim with a thick and hot object. The feeling of filling made her feel so comfortable that she almost flew up. The man grabbed Jihyo's slim waist and began to thrust rapidly. Each stroke hit the deepest part of her body, bringing waves of ecstasy-inducing pleasure.

"Oppa...it's so deep...slow down..." Jihyo begged, but the man didn't slow down, and instead thrust harder and harder. Jihyo soon couldn't resist anymore. She screamed repeatedly and her whole body was trembling slightly. The man seemed to be stimulated by her reaction. He grabbed Jihyo's breasts with one hand, kneaded the sensitive nipples, and reached down with the other hand to find her engorged clitoris, rubbing it lightly and hard at times.

The triple stimulation brought Jihyo to climax quickly. She screamed and orgasmed, and her pussy was spasming and contracting continuously.

Jihyo was so fucked by the man that her reason had already left her, replaced by the most primitive instinctive desire. She just wanted more, faster, deeper thrusts. The man noticed her need. He increased his speed and fucked Jihyo's pussy with almost brutal force.

"Ah...ah...harder...deeper..." Jihyo yelled randomly, her fingers clasping the sheets tightly, and her lower abdomen involuntarily pushed up to meet the man's impact. The man grabbed her waist and pulled her back, raising her hips higher to facilitate his thrust.

"Jihyo...you are really my little whore..." the man gasped. He looked at the expression of the woman under him losing control due to his own impact, and felt a sense of accomplishment as a conqueror in his heart. But soon he discovered that his strength seemed to be gradually unable to keep up with Jihyo's needs.

"Oppa... don't stop... harder..." Jihyo urged, her waist kept twisting, hoping to get deeper and stronger stimulation. The man gritted his teeth and turned Jihyo over so that she lay flat on the bed. Then he pressed up with his whole body and buried his body deeply into her body. He thrust like crazy, hitting her sensitive spots every time.

"Ah...ah...Oppa...I'm going to die..." Jihyo screamed again and again. She felt that the pleasure in her body had reached its peak and was about to explode at any time. But the man had no intention of stopping. He fucked her harder, as if he wanted to penetrate her completely.

Jihyo was fucked so hard by the man that she lost consciousness. Her limbs were tightly wrapped around the man's body like an octopus, and her nails sank into his flesh unknowingly. The man felt that he was about to ejaculate, but he still pumped Jihyo's pussy relentlessly. He wanted her to reach the climax with him.

"Oppa... I can't do it anymore... Slow down..." Jihyo begged in tears, but the man turned a deaf ear. He just wanted to let Jihyo get the maximum pleasure. Finally, after a deep thrust, the man finally roared and released all his desires into Jihyo's body. At the same time, Jihyo also reached her climax. She screamed, her pussy convulsed, and a large amount of warm love juice moistened their joint.

After a long time, the man got up from Jihyo''s body. He saw Jihyo''s little face flushed, her eyes filled with water. The ravaged look made him feel unusually satisfied. However, at this moment, Jihyo suddenly sat up and grabbed the man's wrist.

"Brother...I still want..." Jihyo's tone was a little hoarse, but the desire in her eyes was clear. The man was stunned. He originally thought that Zhi Huo should be fucked to death by him, but he didn't expect that she still wanted it? !

"But Oppa... I still want your cock in my pussy..." Jihyo hugged the man's neck and licked his ear with the tip of her tongue. The provocative action made the man react immediately.

"You little devil..." the man said through gritted teeth. His lower body became hard again and pressed against Jihyo's soft body. "Since you want it so much, then let’s do it. But this time, I can't let you off easily."

The man pushed Jihyo down on the bed, raised her legs and opened them to the maximum angle, and then inserted his cock deeply into her in one breath. "Ah~" Jihyo couldn't help but exclaimed. She had just experienced a fierce orgasm, and now she was experiencing a new round of impact. She felt like a small boat, rising and falling on the sea with the wind and waves, which may capsize at any time.

The man didn't care about Jihyo's feelings at all, he just thrust fiercely, as if he wanted to penetrate her completely. Jihyo could only hold on to the sheets tightly and endure the violent impact. "Oppa... be gentle... I won't be able to bear it..." She begged with a tearful voice, but the man couldn't listen at all. He even started to get harder, pinching her nipples and pulling and rotating them hard.

"Ugh...no...it's very sensitive there..." Jihyo felt a burst of electricity from her chest spread throughout her body, and her pussy became tighter and moister. She knew that she could no longer control her body's reaction and could only let the man do whatever he wanted.

The man felt the change in Jihyo, and he knew that she had once again indulged in the sea of ​​sensuality. He took advantage of the situation and lowered his head to kiss her lips. His tongue penetrated her mouth and played with it wantonly. Jihyo was so ecstatic by his kiss that she kissed the man back obliviously, swallowing every inch of the sweet fluid he sent her.

Just when the two of them were immersed in the passionate kiss, the man suddenly let go of Jihyo's lips and kissed her ears, neck and shoulders. He placed frivolous kiss marks on her sensitive skin, each time eliciting unbearable moans from Jihyo.

" Jihyo..." The man whispered her name, his breathing already somewhat disordered. "You know, I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. I have always wanted to have you, and today I finally got my wish. I will always love you and never leave you."

Jihyo didn't react at all to the man's confession. All she could think about at the moment was how to get the man to enter her body again and bring her more pleasure. But she didn't want to ask directly, so she had to pretend to be touched, hugged the man's neck, and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Oppa... I like you too... I will always be by your side..." Jihyo said coquettishly, her hand sliding to the man's crotch and stroking his erect penis again.

The man was indeed pleased by her words. He happily picked up Jihyo, pressed her on the bed, and took possession of her again.

Jihyo soon became addicted to having sex with the man. She actively catered to his impact and moaned wildly. But she knew in her heart that she had no real feelings for the man in front of her. She only said those words deliberately to please him in order to satisfy her own desires.

But at this moment, Jihyo couldn't care less. She just wanted to enjoy this ridiculous sex feast. The man's power seemed to have no end. He thrust in and out of her like a never-ending machine, reaching the deepest point with every thrust. Jihyo's pussy was sore and numb from his rubbing, but it was more of a pleasant pleasure.

"Oppa...you are so awesome...I love you so much..." Jihyo murmured nonsense, her hands caressing the man's back and arms. The man looked at her intoxicated expression, and his desire to conquer was greatly satisfied.

"Jihyo... Me too... I will always treat you like this..." The man increased his speed and hit Jihyo's sensitive spots hard. Jihyo couldn't hold it back any longer, she screamed loudly and reached her climax, her core tightening around the man's cock.

After a long time, the two finally ended the intense sexual intercourse. Jihyo was lying on the bed, dripping with sweat all over her body, looking at the ceiling absentmindedly. She knew that such a relationship was destined to not last long, but she didn't care at the moment, she just wanted to chase a moment of happiness.

[obsidianbaby]

But that's what I love about you

synopsis - you always get told you're too loud and that your laugh is incredibly annoying but that's what your boyfriend chris loves about you the most

warnings/notes - NONE!! pure fluff, established relationship with chris, some pets names but like get over it ?

a/n - i loveddddd writing this request i had so much funnnn thank you sm @presleyanswrites

___________________________________

The boys are pacing around the living room getting ready to go out to film a car video and chris notices you sulking on the couch.

"hey babe are you coming with us?" Chris asks from the kitchen looking over at you. Your face buried in your phone reading through comments on the last youtube video you featured in with the triplets.

"omg she's so fucking annoying"

"dont know how chris can put up with her"

"if i had her as a gf i would want to kms"

"her laugh tho? yikes"

"they must be so sick of her fr"

"how to fix my eardrums after hearing her yap the whole video no borax no glue"

chris noticing the sad look on your face, he wonders over to the couch and takes a seat beside you, resting his head in the crook of your neck. You continue to doom scroll through the comments, not being able to take your eyes off of the public hate flooding the internet.

"babyyyyyy" chris says softly against your neck.

"hmm?" you say not taking your eyes off of the screen.

"did ya hear me?" he asks, softly brushing the hair out of your face.

"no sorry, what did you say?"

"are you gonna come film with us? want you there with us tonight." he says sweetly, wrapping his arms around you pulling you against him.

"um... no i think i'll skip this one" you say quietly.

"what? you cant!!" Nick shouts from the kitchen.

you immediatley look up at nick and matt standing in the kitchen looking over at you and chris sitting on the couch.

"no it's okay guys i think i'll just go to bed or something" putting your phone down on your lap, the screen still open.

Matt and nick nod at you and start walking towards the stairs to the garage door.

"meet ya down there chris" Matt shouts as they disappear down the stairs.

"yeah guys i'll be there in a minute" chris says back. He sits up and turns his body towards you on the couch, "what's wrong baby?" chris asks searching your face.

"nothing chris im okay, just tired." you lie, looking down at your lap where your phone sits. Chris follows your gaze and sees your phone open on your lap and he looks back at you.

"whats going on hmm?" chris asks softly, reaching his hand to lift your chin to face him and he sees the emptiness in your puffy eyes. "have you been crying baby what's wrong?" he asks rubbing his hand against your cheek.

"it's nothing dont worry about it, go and film your video chris i'll probably be in bed when you get home" you say looking into his eyes, you can see the concerned look painted across his face and it melts your heart, you feel guilty about him wasting his time here with you instead of having fun with his brothers.

"listen, you can't lie to me like that you know how well i can read you," he starts, cupping your face in his hands bringing your face closely to his and he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, "now tell me what's going on i wanna help"

you close your eyes enjoying the soft embrace of his warm hands holding your heavy head and you let out a heavy sigh trying to collect your words without breaking out in a sob.

But chris is right in the way he can read you and he instantly pulls you into him and you bury your face against his chest, your tears starting to fall.

"its okay baby im here i've got you" he says rubbing your back in soft circles, "tell me when you're ready okay? i wont force you to talk about it if you dont want to okay?"

you nod into his chest and take a few deep breaths collecting yourself before you back up to look into his eyes, "i just feel like people don't want to see me with you guys. like in your videos... I don't think they like me that much..."

Chris nods and looks towards your phone sitting in your lap, "whats going on hm? you wanna show me?"

you hesitate fumbling your phone in your hands before you sigh and hand it over to him. He takes the time to read the disgusting comments glaring from your phone screen, the same that are still swimming in your mind.

he shakes his head and closes the app, putting your phone down behind him.

"you know none of that is true, right?" he says, reaching out to wipe the silent tears now strolling down your cheeks.

"but its not just a couple comments here and there, so many people are saying the same shit. That I'm too loud, that my laugh is annoying, that i talk too much, that you guys must be fed up with me i just feel so disgusting and embarrassed."

chris's eyes sadden at your words and he sighs looking down shaking his head, "i know dating a content creator must be difficult for you baby, there's always going to be people who have nothing but negative and hurtful shit to say but they don't matter."

"but they're right chris, your fans aren't the only people who've said im too much for them, i've been told that im too much my whole life.." you say hiding your face in your hands.

Chris gently holds your hands and pulls them away from your face holding them in his as he looks into your eyes.

"yet you're here with me right now. and you know what? you're not too much, not for nick, not for matt, and especially not for me. I love you and i love how outgoing and loud you are." he says smiling sweetly at you.

"but-" you start but chris interrupts you.

"but that's what i love the most about you. I love your contagious laugh, i love the way you can freely share your thoughts and opinions without hesitation. You're perfect for me and my heart would break if you ever tried to dim your light because of jealous assholes hiding behind their screens on the internet." he says smiling at you.

you sigh, knowing your boyfriend is right. he chose you. and he's choosing to give his undivided attention to you right now to make sure you feel better and to show you how much you mean to him.

"i love you...." he says looking at you waiting for a response.

"i love you too chris. i appreciate you so much you know that." you say meeting his eyes. he presses his forehead against yours and the two of you stay like that for a moment.

he pulls away and looks at you a stupid grin on his face, "of course you love me i'm the best" and you giggle at him shaking your head.

"i wouldn't go that far..." you say teasingly and he gasps pretending to act offended making you laugh. man he always knows how to make you feel better.

Chris's phone suddenly vibrates, an incoming call from nick coming up on his screen and he looks at it and answers it quickly, "yeah nick im coming okay be down in a minute" and he hangs up pocketing his phone.

"its okay if you still want to stay home baby it's up to you but just so you know, the three of us want you there yeah?"

"i know... I think i'm still going to stay home, probably watch a movie."

"sounds good baby, i'll text you okay?" chris says pulling you into a big hug and he sprinkles a bunch of kisses all over your face.

"see you soon" you say as you watch your boyfriend get up and walk towards the stairs to the garage.

____________________________________

a/n - first fluffffffff let me know what y'all think!! sorry if you hate the pet names "baby" and "babe" i literally cannot stand y/n so i try really hard not to use it okok thank you for reading mwah!! xx

dts - @jnkvivi @bigbeefybitch @loud-sturniolos @d44rla @stuniolvs @stasiesturn @moeberry @sturniolocamper @thatssocancelled @bitchydragonparadise @crazy-people-are-here

[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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[hwanchaesong]

☞🍹First Drink: He has lost himself in the sea of vodka and rum, so, why don't you do him the honor of bringing him back down here on earth. 🍸

🎧: The Weeknd - Alone Again

wc: 738

genre & warnings: angst (heavy lmao), fluff, comfort, mentions of being high and drunk, cursing, pet name, Mark is a celebrity but not an idol & reader is a normal college student etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The After Hours Bar series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

The loud bang of the door being harshly opened and shut jolted you awake, panicking for a second before you recognized the slurring voice of your fiancé.

You hurriedly went downstairs, worried for his well-being. It's unusual for him to come home drunk or high and cause a ruckus, and if it does happen, that means that something is bothering him.

"Mark?" you called, then you followed his humming, leading you to the kitchen, and there you saw his collapsed body on the floor.

Cautiously walking up to him, your hands went to his shoulders, and that seemed to wake him up from his misplaced slumber.

"Baby!" he mused, pulling you out of the blue, and that left you no choice but to stumble with him onto the tiled floors of your kitchen, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Mark." you plopped yourself up using your elbows, landing a palm over his chest that was heaving up and down steadily, "Is everything okay?"

His eyes shot wide open, gaze focused on you and it made you squirm, uneasy at his piercing glassy orbs.

"I'm tired of this bullshit." he mutters, devoid of emotion and you know that this is one of the nights where he's losing himself.

"Hm? Tell me more." you mumble, sitting up and gently cradling his head, putting it on your lap so he could be more comfortable.

He sighs in content, his mouth opening to speak whilst you tread your fingers in his inky hair soothingly.

"I am tired of people telling me what to do, how to act. It's like I'm only breathing for their satisfaction. I can't live with this fake life anymore."

He rambles and you listen, your heart aching at his hardships.

You will never fully understand the difficulties of being in the spotlight, as your life is as mundane as it could be.

You are a simple university student, studying hard to get your dream job that will pay for your expenses, born in an ordinary family and living in a medium-sized apartment.

He on the other hand is a famous guitarist and singer in a world-class boy band. He stands on top of luxury and stardom, and the pressure and expectations bring nothing but insanity.

That is where you come in, the normalcy in his hectic celebrity life, the main reason why Mark loves you so much.

You complete him in ways that no one else can. With you, he can say his inner, darkest thoughts and emotions without any doubts because he is secure in your presence.

Your hands went to his cheeks, massaging it tenderly before pinching it, making him whine in slight pain.

"Then rest here, breathe here, and live an honest life here with me." you say, and that's the only thing you can offer because there is no way you'd tell him to stop what he's doing.

Mark loves his job, you are well aware of that, so to give him advice about it is a big no no. That would be disrespectful for him and his ambitions.

This is the best option, to give him solace and joy when he needs it the most.

"I told you before, right?" you continue your mini speech of motivation for your beloved, "I am always here to support you. To make you feel safe. I am here to charge your battery when it's empty. After that, I'll let you go and have the time of your life performing."

"And if I get tired again?" he asks, his hands flying to wrap around your own.

"Then the cycle restarts. Come back home to me and I'll give you energy." you answered confidently, intertwining your fingers with his and resting it on his separate shoulders.

Appreciation fills Mark's heart, he would be lost if it's not for you.

"How will you do that?" he mused, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles.

You smile lovingly, leaning down and pressing a passionate yet soft kiss on his lips.

Beyond perfect, love personified is in the shape of you, and Mark wouldn't have it any other way.

You remind him of who he truly is, ground him back on earth when his mind flies a little bit too high, you heal his wounded heart and soul.

In this journey that he took, there would be times where he'll be left alone, but with you by his side, he's never lonely.

taglist:

@sunghoonsgfreal @yeosayang @shakalakaboomboo @mystverse

[heartshapedmisery]

thinking about art x fem reader whose also a tennis player, she gets hurt playing practice against art and he feels so bad.. leading to other things to help her feel better

like best friends to lovers type thing IDK JUST A THOUGHT for a blurb

IM LOVING THIS IDEA THANK U ANON! <3 (this was meant to be shorter but i got so carried away with it lmao)

tags: heavy makeout, slight dry-humping, fingering...

No because Art truly is the competitive type, so if you were to suggest a friendly game after practice he would definitely take it way too seriously...

"What, you're giving up on me now?" he'd taunt when you were getting worn out, bent over with your hands on your knees to catch your breath. You looked up at him to see his knowing smirk, twirling the racket in his hand impatiently.

You didn't expect him to play so hard, since you thought it would just be light-hearted like you had suggested. Though that was the thing about Art; he never went easy on anybody, especially not you—his best friend.

"Nope," you said simply, brushing your fly-away hairs out of your face. "Just wondering why the hell I suggested this."

Art laughed, but didn't give you any sympathies. He waited for you to get back into position before serving to you, and you got back into the game.

It seemed to go well for a while, the bright yellow ball going back and forth between the two of you with a mix of grunts. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, which is why you didn't feel your ankle twist from underneath of you until your body fell onto the court harshly.

A confused whimper sounded from your throat as you rolled over, grasping at your ankle that was now searing with pain. A few tears welled in your eyes as your face contorted with discomfort, the sound of Art's racket smacking down against the court as he quickly jumped over the net and crouched down next to you.

"Oh my god," his eyes scanned your face, his heart sinking at the way you silently sobbed with your head lulled back on the court. He quickly examined your ankle, realizing that it was already swelling and needed to be iced.

"It's okay, it's okay," he assured you sweetly, helping you sit up before wrapping his arm around your waist. "Put your arm around my neck and we're gonna stand up, alright?"

You did as he told you, slinking it around his neck and fisting his shirt as you fought back a cry when he pulled you up, the pressure and bloodflow to your foot making the pain worse.

He tried to help you walk as best as you could, holding you upright while you put all of your weight on your left foot and hobbled with him back to his dorm since it was only a block away from the tennis courts.

When you did finally make it, he helped you over to his bed and helped you sit down gently, before going to his mini fridge and tying up an ice pack for you to put on your ankle.

"I'm so sorry, this is all my fault," he shook his head defeatedly, crouching down in front of you and carefully wrapping the bag around your ankle. The new sensation made your breath hitch, before the pain slowly started to subside.

"No its okay, it was an accident. It's no one's fault," you told him honestly, your mind slightly fogged at the feeling of his hand cupping the back of your calf as he held your foot up. He mindlessly rubbed your soft skin, unaware of the affect it had on you as his mind spiraled.

"No, but I pushed you too hard," he explained, his voice low. "It's my fault."

You shook your head, before taking his face in your hands. You cupped his jaw softly, your forgiving eyes holding his gaze.

"No it's not, stopping beating yourself up about it."

"I know, I just-"

You abruptly cut him off by bringing your lips to his, the apology falling dead in his mouth. You caught him completely off guard, but he still melted into the kiss, allowing his hands to run up the sides of your thighs.

"Now will you stop?" you whispered once you finally pulled away, running your fingers subconsciously through his blonde locks of hair.

He nodded, before pulling you back in for another kiss. He took it upon himself to lay you down against his bed, slotting himself in between your slightly spread legs.

You didn't know why, but this felt so easy. It didn't feel weird or awkward, given that he had been your best friend since high school. If anything, it made perfect sense.

"Is this okay?" he whispered, cradling your head with his free hand while the other ran up your side. You nodded eagerly, giving him the green light to bring his lips back to yours.

Your heartbeat picked up as you felt him harden beneath his shorts against your thigh the more intense the kiss became, his hips slowly beginning to move in seek of friction.

You slipped you tongue into his mouth, earning a moan from him as his hand wandered down your body before grasping your waist and thumbing your hip. Your non-injured leg wrapped around his waist in attempt to bring him closer with a moan, completely enthralled with the feeling of him.

Suddenly, your breath hitched at the feeling of his fingers slipping underneath the waistband of your skirt, dipping into your panties. You let out a shaky moan as Art sunk his middle and ring finger into your soaked cunt, curling them upwards gently as he continued kissing down your jaw and the soft skin of your neck.

It drove him wild how wet you already were for him, the muffled squelching sound of his fingers moving in and out of you making his dick harder.

It didn't take long for him to have your thighs shaking around his hips and your toes curling in your tennis shoes, disgruntled moans mixing with his soft grunts.

You would've never guessed you'd be sprawled out on your best friend's bed coming down from the orgasm he had just given you, but you definitely weren't complaining.

[leonsdolly]

Canto V

Plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon's back from Spain, but there's something off about him.

CW: nsfw 18+, p in v, dubcon, implied somnophilia, breeding kink, bruising, titplay, cunnilingus, forced orgasms, overstimulation, lots of spit, choking, reader passes out during sex

WC: 2.4k

It may as well be a universally known concept that when you’re in a relationship with a government agent, you’d better get used to being strangers with the finer details. Who, what, when, where, and why made themselves at home in your vocabulary while you were dating Leon. It was all futile; he couldn't ever tell you where he was going for his next mission or when he was coming back to your grabby hands. Swearing confidentiality with your left hand on the Bible trumps a loving, concerned girlfriend apparently.

Leon had been gone for a few days this time around, and you weren’t sure when exactly he’d be back. You prayed to every divinity who cared to listen that he would come back home safe and sound to you. You did so every time he left. The government calls, he runs, you make your deals with Jesus.

The clock strikes midnight as you flit around your apartment, closing the kitchen and ensuring everything is locked up for the night. You got home from work rather late, and you’re looking forward to falling into a deep slumber, especially since you’ve taken your everything shower, completed your skincare routine, and changed into a cute teddy bear print cami with matching boy shorts. While your heart aches for your absent boyfriend, you throw your shoulders back and keep your chin high, braving another night of sleeping alone in your queen-sized bed. You slide under the covers and turn off your bedside lamp before closing your eyes and ultimately slipping into a welcomed state of unconsciousness.

Scratching, more scratching… Huh? You blearily open your eyes before squinting at the time displayed on your alarm clock - 1:48 am. Did something wake you? You don’t hear anything, yet you have the sinking feeling that something did lull you out of your sleep. You fumble to turn the lamp on - thankfully, there’s nothing standing in the corner of your room or anything else that would have you screaming bloody murder until your lungs collapsed. The covers are pulled aside as you sit up in bed, planting your feet on the hardwood floor. 

Once your feet lightly hit the floor, a terrible shuffling resounds from the living room which makes your blood freeze over. Your limbs are immobilized, but your eyes move towards the door, like you’re in a state of sleep paralysis and your demon’s lurking around the corner. Heavy footsteps grow closer and closer to your door, and you watch the doorknob turn in slow motion. 

The door swings open, and your body dissolves. 

“Leon?” Your eyes blink at him, unsure for a second if he’s the product of a sleep paralysis induced hallucination.

Your lover stands before you with a somewhat dazed expression himself - dark circles engraved below his exhausted eyes, faded bruises on his face, dark veins trailing across his pale skin. He stands transfixed for what feels like forever before he blinks. “Baby.”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your own stupor, and you launch off the bed and straight into his arms. You bury your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around him tightly. “You’re home.”

He shudders violently before his arms encircle you as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling the smell of your shampoo - ah, figs and camellia, a breath of fresh air from guts and mold. “I missed you… I almost didn't…” His voice is unsteady, wavering in a way that makes you want to never let go of him.

“It's okay, my love. You're home now, you’re safe.”

“I almost didn't make it… You don’t know what happened…” His hands shake slightly as he grips onto you a little harder.

A lump forms in your throat at the realization that he could have very well perished during this mission. It’s not often that he lets you see him in such a vulnerable state, so hearing the fear decorate his tone causes your heart to squeeze painfully. 

“What happened?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Fine, at least tell me where you were. S’not like I can head there and foil the government’s plans after it’s already over. ”

“...Spain.”

You wonder what kind of horrors had transpired in Spain, but you know better than to inquire further. You hold him close and rub his back soothingly, trying to make him feel as loved as possible. “It's over now, right?”

“Right…” A hint of worry colors his tone as he presses a kiss to your head. “Can we just go to sleep?”

“Of course,” you reach up to gently rub the shadowy veins visible underneath his eyes and creeping up his neck. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Guess my body just went through a lot back there.”

You take his arms, turning them over and over and examining them closely for any serious wounds. Thankfully, you don’t see anything except for the occasional minuscule scrape, though the unnaturally dark veins worry you. You’re afraid they may be the result of some sort of vascular impairment, so you make a promise to yourself that you’ll drag him to the doctor’s office soon for a proper assessment. You help him wash up, letting him use your products so he’s soft and smelling like you. You hold each other close in bed, relishing the feeling of finally being able to sleep in each other’s arms after time apart.

Ouch. You wince slightly as you wake up to the sun streaming in through your lace curtains. You drowsily fumble for Leon’s hand to hold first thing in the morning like you usually do, but the space next to you is empty. You certainly hope you hadn’t just dreamed of his homecoming.

“Baby?” You croak as you wince again. Are you naked? And why are you so sore? Your eyes trail down to your arms which are littered with bruises. Eyes wide like cherry pies, you tug the comforter off to discover that the rest of your bare body is marked in a similar fashion - bruises bloomed across your neck, teeth marks engraved in your breasts, handprints stamped onto your hips like someone had been gripping onto them for dear life. Trembling, you slowly raise yourself up to a sitting position. You squirm as you feel slick in between your thighs, how fresh it is, you can't say for sure.

“Leon?” Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears as you call out for your lover.

You’re dazed as you take a step forward, feeling your body spinning like a ballerina, a delicate little thing that’s been used and abused and stuffed in a box marked FRAGILE. A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, anchoring you to his bare chest- they’re so much warmer than your Leon’s. Your eyes flutter as they gaze straight up into a pair that look like your Leon's except they’re murkier, hungrier. 

Inky blood vessels coagulate underneath his skin, giving him a mottled appearance. They interweave throughout his body like morbid ribbons decorating his limbs for a funeral. He breathes heavily as he squeezes at your already tender body, causing you to whimper.

“Leon, ‘m sore… What did you do?” A low growl reverberates within him as he pulls you back onto the bed, shoving you onto your back. Before you can interrogate him further, his lips smash against yours. His kisses are all teeth and slobber, filled with nothing but the desire to ravage everything you hold near and dear.

“Mine, all mine,” he groans as he latches his lips onto your neck, decorating it with his very own artistic flair. “Mine to keep forever.” You whimper at the way his lips assault your most sensitive point like a wolf ready to tear out the wide eyed fawn’s throat. 

“Fuck, feels so good,” you moan which further ignites that primal instinct in him that wants to give you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known, all for the sake of claiming you as his very own mate. He squeezes your tits together and spits on them before rubbing it into your nipples with the rough pads of his thumbs. You squeal at the stimulation as he takes a nipple in his mouth, suckling at it as hard as he can before letting go with a pop.

“God, Leon,” you cry out as he continues to suck on your tits. He pushes them together as hard as he can and forces both nipples into his mouth so he can lap at them like a creature who stumbled across an eternal spring in the vast desert.

“Love these tits,” he groans. “Sweet fucking nipples, made to suck on all day and night. To think they’re gonna get even bigger when they're full of milk.” He pushes his face in between them before finally pulling away with a slap to each one, watching them jiggle with a carnal gaze.

“M-milk?” You whimper as he kisses across your abdomen and lowers down to your leaking pussy.

“Yeah,” he pants as he spreads your dripping folds open with his thumbs, inspecting the remnants of the now stale cum he had dumped inside while you slept like an unsuspecting angel. “Your body has accepted my gift.” A tinge of fear courses through your veins at this last line; you can’t put your finger on why it makes your skin crawl, but they don’t sound like your Leon’s words.

“Gift?” You involuntarily moan as he lets himself drool on your pussy before pressing sloppy kisses straight onto your clit. 

“You’ll take my seed.” He starts lapping at your pussy ruthlessly, but not before grabbing your thighs and forcing them to clamp around his head, keeping him fused to your most intimate parts. Your sweet noises overflow the room as your back arches like he’s possessing you, dragging you down to flail around for eternity among the powerful black winds. Your voice turns shrill as you cum on his salacious tongue. Canto V.

When he finally emerges for air, his eyes are now murkier than before - the once serene blue that inspired such tranquility is now charred, tenebrous. “Leon,” your eyes tear up as you gaze down at him with your elbows propping you up.

“Shh,” he smirks as he raises himself up to pump his hard cock a few times before aligning himself with your pretty hole. “My baby, my lamb. Gonna get your beautiful belly all swollen for me. Gonna creampie you as many times as it takes.” He pushes himself inside your sopping cunt as you wail for the heavens. Your pussy allows him to enter with ease, clenching around him like it needed him to breathe - which it did. He begins to thrust into you with all the vigor of a madman.

“So good for me, my fucking girl,” he pants as he continues to pound into you. He leers at the way your tits bounce at each thrust before leaning over to spit on them. Your chest gleams with his saliva as you moan louder than you ever have before, like your throat really is being ripped out by the big bad wolf. His cock reaches deep, hitting all the spots you know nothing else can, and before you know it, you’re cumming all over him as he continues to pummel into you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to claw onto anything that can keep you physically grounded through your orgasm.

He laughs a little to himself as he continues to fuck you despite the fact you just came. “L-leon,” you cry out. “S’too much, too sensitive.”

“You can take it, been taking it all night.” His balls slap against your ass as he leans down to jam his lips against yours, licking into your mouth until your head’s all dizzy again. He rears back to push your legs up against your chest as his cock pounds into you; the new angle’s making your eyes roll all the way back into your head. “Oh, fuck,” he murmurs to himself as his breath hitches and he stares down at you losing yourself in the mating press. “That’s a good breeding bitch.” His words are hushed, but they bounce around in your head and yank another orgasm out of you, leaving you sobbing from the overstimulation.

“S’okay baby,” he coos as he kisses your salty tears away and wraps a hand around your smooth throat. “You’re doing so well, accepting my gift.” His eyes unsettle you, damn near pitch black as they peer right into yours. Your battered pussy tightens in tandem with the hand gripping your throat. Your tongue lolls out as you start seeing stars, and he sucks on it. “Give me another one, little lamb.”

“C-can’t,” you slur as your limbs dissolve. You want to give him another one. Want it, want to bear his child, want to exist for him. Want to breathe him, let him pump through your circulatory system. His breathing becomes erratic, damn near hysterical, as he nears his own high. He rubs your swollen clit to bring you closer to yet another orgasm, though you wonder if you’ll live to tell the tale once you reach it. He pounds into you as hard as he can, unrestrained growls falling from his lips as he dumps his load into you. You manage to cum yet again, release so intense on your already wasted form, that it shatters your senses. You’re vaguely aware of someone shrieking, and it takes a while to realize that it’s coming from your own mouth. You did it. Your vision goes black, and you slump into unconsciousness. 

The first thing you perceive when you regain consciousness is the calloused hand gently caressing your face as if you’re a china doll. “Leon?” Your mumble brings him to slowly gaze at you with concern and shame.

“Baby.” He raises his other hand to hold yours with all the love and tenderness he could muster. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore… tired…” You frown slightly as you try to sit up, but he stops you from straining yourself. “What happened, Leon?”

“I’m so sorry.” His eyes are cast downwards as if the floor will be more forgiving than his own lover. “I’m not okay.”

“It’s okay,” you frown as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I could’ve. I thought this thing had resolved itself in Spain.”

“We’ll figure this out together.” You gently tug his arm, signaling to him that for now, you just want him laying with you. He slides into the bed and cautiously rolls you over on your side so that he’s spooning you from behind. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and gives your belly a pat.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

5 minutes (Art Donaldson)

Description: Y/N tells art she’ll be back in 5 minutes but he gets concerned when she’s gone longer

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,542k

Author’s note: Send in Challengers request please!

When Art divorced Tashi he didn’t have a place to stay so his best friend Y/N offered to split a house payment with him. Art and Y/N have been friends since college. She was there when Tashi and him began dating, when they got married and when he divorced her. Y/N had her thoughts about the relationship but never said anything to him until after the divorce. “She was like using you because she couldn’t play.” “She never loved you, she loved Tennis. You deserve better.” “She was always so bitchy all of the time.” It made Art laugh.

He agreed with her and was upset that he couldn’t see it before. Another thing he couldn’t see before was how in love he was with his best friend. She never showed interest in him like that so he thought it was off the table and even now living together she still didn’t show interest. He wondered if she thought of him as just a bestie and nothing more. He also wondered if she was hiding her feelings because she always had to because of Tashi. Tashi was never jealous of their friendship. She thought it was sweet that Art had someone to talk to that wasn’t her.

A part of Art thinks that this is what Tashi wanted. He watched as Y/N ran around the kitchen trying to cook dinner. “Are you sure you don’t want help?” He asked, she nodded and took off her apron. “Positive. Now let me go change.” She said and ran out of the kitchen. He laughed as she did so. It would be 5 minutes until he started to worry why she wasn’t back yet. He got up and walked to her bedroom door. He knocked on the door before he decided to enter it. She didn’t answer so he decided to open the door. “Y/N?” He called out but still nothing. As he entered her room he noticed that she was in the shower.

He took a minute to look around her room. It was filled with nerdy stuff that she liked and was painted purple. It was so pretty. He sat on her bed and admired how comfortable the mattress was compared to his. He didn’t hear the shower stop and when she opened the door they both gasped. She drops her towel to reveal herself to him. It was the perfect cliche moment between them. He just stared at her, he didn’t even look away or apologize. “Art?” He snapped out of it. “Yeah?” She gave him a look. “Is there a reason you’re in my room?” “I was worried you only said you were changing.” He said. She nodded and cleared her throat picking up the towel. His eyes still weren’t looking away from her.

She walked up to him, noticing that his eyes were glued to her boobs. “Art are you okay?” She asked. He looked up at her and it made her melt. The look he gave was one of lust and need. His breathing was a little heavy. She cupped his chin with her hand. He didn’t stop her nor flinch. “Do you want me Art?” She asked in a soft voice. He nodded against her hand unable to speak without whining. She pushed him back on the bed so he was laying down. She crawled on him and straddled him. Her body was still wet from the shower making him wet as well.

But he didn’t care not when he had her on top of him. She leaned down and kissed him. His hands went to her back as he kissed her back. Her wet hair covered their faces. Her hands were cupping his face as they made out. Once she needed to breathe she pulled away but he followed her lips wanting more. “I’ve always wanted you Art.” She whispered against his lips. “Really?” He asked. She nodded and her hand traveled to his PJ bottoms. He felt himself shake as she reached into his pants and touched his hard dick. Her hand felt amazing.

His hips bucked up into her touch as he let out a loud moan. It was pathetic. He was already falling apart and she was barely touching him. She kissed her way down to his dick. “These are in the way.” She said talking about his PJ pants. He nodded in agreement and she pulled them down. She looked up at him with a smirk as she grabbed his dick again. He hissed out and bucked his hips. He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes were closed. She licked the base of him, making him take a sharp breath. Her hand was still on him making him beg. “Please.” He whined softly. His whines were so pretty she wanted to hear more.

“Please what?” She asked, well knowing what he wanted. “Your mouth.” He begged. “You want my mouth here?” She said and took him in her mouth. “Oh yes fuck!” He moaned. She hummed against him and took him deeper until he hit the back of her throat. His hands went to her still wet hair. His hips bucked up, almost making her gag around him. She pushed his hips down so he couldn’t do that and she proceeded to give him the best blowjob he’s ever gotten. He wasn’t quiet about anything. Not that he had to be but he was very loud. The poor man probably never had anyone focus on his pleasure. It only took him 2 minutes before he was begging her to let him cum. She pulled her mouth off him and replaced it with her hand. “You wanna cum?” She asked, he nodded.

He couldn’t form words. “I wanna hear you say it.” She tells him. “Please baby let me cum.” He babbles. “Cum for me Art.” She said and replaced her hand with her mouth again. His hips bucked again and all his cum went down her throat. He whined her name as she let him ride out his high. She swallowed and pulled off him looking up at him. His eyes were closed and his breathing was hard. “Holy fuck. That was amazing.” He breathed out. She chuckled and straddled him again. “You’re so pretty when you moan.” She whispered in his ear and bit it playfully. He looked at her with all the love and adoration in his eyes. “I wanna taste you.” He says. She puts her finger against his lips, “another time. I need you inside of me.” She says. He got excited at her saying another time. She positioned herself right above his already hardened cock again.

He placed his hands on her hips to steady her. She slowly slid down on him causing them both to gasp. For both of them it’s been a while since they’ve had sex. Her pussy was tight, squeezing him in. He loved every second of it. “Fuck Art. You’re so big.” She whispered as she sat on him, fully taking him in. He looked at her as she adjusted for a second. “You’re so beautiful.” He tells her, she felt her cheeks heat up. She started slowly moving her hips taking her time. He threw his head back and little pleasurable sounds filled the room. She started moaning too and looked down at where they connected. “Art baby, look at how perfect you fill me.” She moaned.

He managed to open his eyes and look at where they connected. It made him whimper. She was taking him so well and looked so hot while doing so. “It’s so hot.” She moaned. His hands gripped her hips, definitely leaving bruises as she sped up. She let her eyes close and her head fall back. The bed started rocking with them making noise. It turned them on even more. “Art, do you think you can take over?” She asked as she felt herself get weak. Without answering she flipped her over and started pounding into her.

Her moans got so much louder as he started hitting her g spot. His name fell from her lips like a prayer. His mouth was right by her ear whining. Her legs wrapped around his hips pushing him in deeper. She felt herself getting closer and closer to her release as he pounded into her. “Art, I’m so close, baby.” She moaned out. He hummed, acknowledging her but not being able to respond. He’s been on the edge this entire time but he wanted her to cum first. Her pussy clenching around him didn’t make it easier.

Her hands gripped his shoulders for dear life as she let herself go all over him. He sighed in pleasure and relief as he let himself cum as well. Her moans were extremely louder as she rode out her high. Art pulled back from her neck to watch her. Her eyes were rolled back and soft moans fell from her lips. He stared down at her as she came down from her high. She gave him a soft tired smile as her high subsided. “Wow.” She said. He cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her. “Oh my gosh Art.” She pulled away. He looked at her confused. “What?” “Dinner!”

[ladykailitha]

Well Met By Moonlight Part 14

Hey all! Because I'm working strictly on Paper Hearts and Sweet Home Indiana exclusively until they're done, I thought I would put out chapters of this, Icarus (metal band), and Never Hold Back Your Step...(boy with a bat book 2) this week to tie you over until I can get back to them.

The poll wanted me to continue this one and Never Hold Back Your Step, so show me how much you love this story. Because people it is going to get juicy good and hella twisty and you really don't want to miss out on that. ;)

This is a very Nancy heavy chapter and as always she comes off very nuanced.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

****

Steve had two thorns in his side. Tommy Hagan and Murray Bauman. Jonathan had gotten his mom and Hopper to back down by citing actual pack law.

He suspected that Nancy had given him that little tidbit to throw in their faces.

It was nice to have the younger generation on his side. Well, most of it. There was still the matter of Tommy.

But now it was time to let Nancy in on what had been going on in the pack.

“I wish you had come to me sooner,” she huffed after he had explained everything and shown her his proof.

“Would you have come to me if the shoe was on the other foot?” Steve asked sharply.

She folded her arms and looked down at the ground. Steve raised an eyebrow at her and she threw her arms in the air.

“Fine!” Nancy cried, throwing her arms in the air. “I wouldn’t have gone to you, I would have gone to Jonathan first. But at least I would have gone to another pack member instead of a keeper, Steve.”

Steve curled his lip and she took a step backward. “Keepers are bound to a scared trust and while Tommy has broken his, Robin would never.”

“Platonic soulmates, I know, I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So you keep saying. But she isn’t your female alpha, she isn’t even a werewolf Steve.”

Steve drew himself up to full height and glared at her. “At what has this pack done to show me any loyalty? It goes both ways, Nance and frankly all I’ve gotten since I came back to the pack is suspicion and distrust. Where’s my loyalty, huh? Where is it?”

She looked down at her feet again and sighed. “You weren’t a pack member for ten years, Steve and then you come back, in just a year you’re alpha. Like the rest of us have grown up together. Played together as children and then as puppies when we changed. We know everything about each other, but nothing about you. Then you start to change things and we’re just supposed to take it?”

“Yeah?” he said. “Okay, I’ll walk away. Hopper can take over or hell, give it straight to Murray. He’s the one that wanted it so bad after Hop was taken. See how you fare under his alphaship. If you guys have no loyalty to me, I’ve got none to you.”

He shook his head and walked away.

“Steve!” she cried. “Wait!”

Steve whirled back to face her. “What? You wanted me gone, so I’m leaving.”

“Of course I don’t want you to leave!” she huffed. “God, that wasn’t what I meant at all.”

“No?” he growled. “Because that’s what it fucking sounded like Nancy. What? You think Jonathan would be a better fit?” Nancy didn’t answer but her look said it all. “Because let me tell you, the Byers boys are the best of us, but both are straight up pacifists. They would make for terrible alphas.”

Nancy refused to look at him.

“And besides,” Steve finished with a smug grin, “Jonathan would back me in a fight for alpha, not challenge me and you fucking know it.”

She let out a long sigh. “God, how did you get so smart?”

“I’ve always been, thanks,” he huffed. “School stuff? I’m absolute shit at, but leadership and knowing the right play for the whole team? That comes as naturally to me as breathing. I don’t know it’s all the sports or if I was good at sports because of the natural ability to lead. Either way, there is no adult male in this pack better suited for alphaship and you can’t argue that.”

She looked up and stomped her foot. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“You better get used to it,” Steve said with a wink. “It’s going to happen a lot.”

Nancy clenched her fists and set her jaw. “You are the best leader for the pack as much as it literally pains me to say it, but you have to understand that all we saw was how rich and popular you were in high school. Captain of several teams, friends with Tommy and Carol even though you weren’t pack. King Steve. And then you come back to the pack after high school and the first chance you get you challenge for alpha and fucking win. That fight with Murray was the most brutal fight I’ve ever seen.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “In what way?”

“You don’t fight like a wolf, even in wolf form,” she muttered. “You don’t even fight like an animal most of the time. It’s like... the wolf is only a vessel for you. Instead of being ingrained into your psyche like it is for the rest of us, you are still aware. You fight the way a human would if suddenly given four legs and a tail. It’s frightening to watch.”

He blinked as he thought about the implications of that. “I don’t have the socialization of a wolf pack, so I fight and think differently. That’s why everyone is worried about where I’ll take the pack. Because you think I’ll try to separate you from your wolf.”

Nancy bit her lower lip. “Exactly that.”

Steve nodded and then transformed. “So teach me how to be a wolf.”

She smiled and transformed, too. Maybe they weren’t friends, but they could be allies and Steve was okay with that.

****

Nancy had learned a lot that day. About Steve and why he didn’t know how to be a wolf and it was a secret she would take to her grave. She learned that she was only the fourth person ever to know about what really went on at the Franklins. Behind Wayne; who was there; Robin, his best friend; and Eddie, his boyfriend.

And if Steve was to be believed, and she had no reason not to, Wayne had told Eddie, not him.

So she was the second person Steve had personally told and that was a lot of trust he had placed in her.

But it also stirred memories in her mind of the day the pack had been informed that the Harrington’s were dead and that Steve was going to be living with another couple until he came of age.

She had been pretty young herself, but she remembered how Wayne and Hopper had almost come to blows about it.

Hopper had yelled that the pack was as safe as houses and Wayne said the house was a condemned building.

She remembered it because she thought the phrase was hilarious. But regardless there was someone else who was there. Someone who was fighting to keep Steve in the pack, but she couldn’t remember.

Nancy rubbed her forehead between her eyebrows as she thought.

She shook her head.

She had bigger fish to fry. Steve’s threat about banishing those that had threatened his alphaship had stirred up a lot of feelings in the pack that she as female alpha had to try and smooth out.

The pack had only banished two people ever since Hopper had taken over the remains of the shattered Harrington pack after Wayne had torn them to literal pieces.

Just then she heard an argument break out. Josh had been swapped out for Chase and she could hear his raised voice.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Pat?!” Chase hissed. “Joining these flea-bitten mongrels?”

Nancy frowned. Maybe Chase should have come to the compound first, rather than Josh, because it sounded like Chase had been overly influenced by Billy’s style.

“How about not dying?” Patrick snapped back. “Billy wasn’t going to change me and Steve was willing to try. Vampire’s don’t need consent to change you, but werewolves do. And so yeah. I fucking consented. I didn’t want to die.”

“Better dead than a werewolf,” Chase said. “Hanging out with the vamps was fun. But all this is hard work and the stench of rotting meat.”

Nancy reached a point in the woods where she could see them, but they couldn’t see her.

Patrick shook his head. “He saved me twice, Chase. Even Jason is impressed by how respectful Steve had been about the whole thing, especially since we nearly killed him.”

Chase blanched. After those six weeks at the coven, he had forgotten the reason for the whole exchange program in the first place. That they could have been thrown in jail for attempted murder.

He looked down at the ground. “Shit, man. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course you’re grateful to Harrington for saving your ass. It’s just so much has changed in so little time that I loss track of all that...other bullshit.”

Patrick sighed. “I know, it all seems like it’s from another life. But Wayne has said that he’s going to recommend to the DA that we get a year of community service under his eye and it won’t go on our permanent record so we can still go to college.”

“That’s decent of him,” Chase said. “He could have made things really bad for you.”

Patrick shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think Jason is being genuine. He’s still angry about getting caught by Eddie Munson of all people.”

Chase frowned. The rivalry between Jason and Eddie Munson was the stuff of legends. Jason would bully the Hellfire Club kids, and Eddie would stand on table tops in the cafeteria ranting about basketball players were only good at putting big orange balls in laundry baskets.

It was actually Eddie and not Billy who had stepped in between Chrissy Cunningham and Jason when he found out she was a vampire and not some pure Christian girl who would stay at home once they were married and pump out his babies.

Chrissy could have defended herself considering how strong she was as a vampire, but Eddie had still stepped between them. Chase was sure that if the principal hadn’t walked by just then, that Jason would have decked Eddie.

“Especially now that Eddie is the same supe Chrissy is,” he said slowly.

Patrick nodded. “I worry he’s going to get caught up in something that might get himself killed.”

“Jason is such a bone head,” Chase said shaking his head. “Why did we follow this guy again?”

Patrick threw back his head and laughed. “Because he was captain of the basketball team, dating the head cheerleader, and hot as fuck.”

Chase let out a startled snorted. “Yeah, okay. You’ve got me there.”

They moved away from the clearing and there was a tap on Nancy’s shoulder.

She yelped and whirled around, coming face to face with Murray.

“Jesus!” she hissed, putting her hand on her chest as she fought to catch her breath.

“You shouldn’t be eavesdropping on people,” he said with a smarmy smile.

She returned his smile with a tight lipped version of her own. “Well, you would only know I was eavesdropping, if you were doing the same thing. A bit pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”

He tilted his head and regarded her with interest. “I can see why Steve would chose you as his alpha female. So smart. Just don’t go digging holes you can’t jump out of.”

He slipped into the shadows of the woods and she felt a shiver down her spine.

She had been so wrapped up in the drama with Steve that she had neglected her duties as alpha female.

Well that changed today. She would get to the bottom of this and give Steve her full support. Like a proper female alpha.

****

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7- @she-collects-smut @irregular-child @y4r3luv @fairytalesreality @anaibis

[clangenrising]

Month 15 - Newleaf

Scorchplume padded into camp in the early hours of dawn to find it entirely empty. She frowned, looking around at the swaying grass, and wondered where everyone had gone. Her stomach twisted nervously. Had they decided to move on without her? 

She poked her head into Goldenstar’s den and found it empty. She tried the healers’ den and found Sagetooth organizing herbs in the back of the den, humming to herself. Scorchplume stepped up beside her and watched the herbs as they sorted themselves into the various storage nooks, mesmerized by their fluid movements. 

“Where is everyone?” she asked. 

Sagetooth twitched her ear and said, “In the nursery. Didn’t you hear?” 

“No, I hadn’t,” said Scorch. 

“Well, they’ve been waiting for a while, you should hurry up.” 

“Oh,” Scorch frowned. How could she have forgotten? “Alright.” She stepped out of the healers’ den and directly into the nursery where Mystique sat curled around five squirming kittens. Beside her, sat Razor, who looked up as Scorchplume entered and smiled in an unnervingly kind manner. 

“There you are,” he purred. “Come on, we’ve been waiting for you.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said instinctively. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.” She stepped up close and settled beside him, tail curled tightly around her paws. 

“Oh, not at all,” he said, leaning against her shoulder and wrapping his tail around her back. “Aren’t they beautiful?” Scorch lifted a brow and looked down at the kittens, each one a ghostly white tabby. She had never cared much for kits and these ones weren’t exceptional in any way. 

She shrugged. “I guess? All kits just look weird to me.” 

“Don’t say that,” Razor smiled and, despite his completely innocent tone, something unpleasant spiked inside her. “You know, I was thinking, since Mystique doesn’t want to keep them, maybe you and I could raise them.” They were sitting in the corner of his garden and the wind rustled the leaves of the bushes like the sound of birds chattering an alarm. 

“Don’t you want them?” asked Razor. 

“Don’t you want them?” asked Mystique.

“Don’t you want them?” asked Goldenstar, sitting in Razor’s place.

Scorchplume snapped awake, paw pads clammy with sweat. Her fur clung suffocatingly to her sides, trapping the heat of her own fear against her body. Beside her, Goldenstar stirred, disturbed by her sudden movement and heavy breathing. 

“Hey,” she said, voice bleary with sleep, “what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Scorchplume lied, “Go back to sleep, you moron.” Goldenstar squinted in concern and shifted to lay on her side so she could face Scorchplume more fully. 

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me but you can if you want.” Scorch felt some emotion squirming within her throat. 

“I’m fine, really,” she laughed convincingly. “I just need to make waste. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Goldenstar said, sounding unsure but incredibly sleepy, and settled back into the nest with a yawn. Scorch didn’t know what to do with the fondness that image invoked in her so she left it behind like a lump on the ground as she slipped out of the den and into the night. 

Yarrowshade sat outside the elders’ den on guard duty. Fogpaw and Slatepaw were starting to fall asleep over their meal. Barleybee and Aldertail were just returning to camp with new fresh-kill. 

Scorch watched how the two hunters laughed easily, whispering a shared joke. Aldertail smiled and glanced away and her eyes fell on Scorch and the smile faded into a look of mild surprise. Scorch swallowed. Aldertail smiled again, this time with her brows pushing together into an uncertain furrow, and raised one paw in greeting. 

The gesture was not lost on Scorch. This must have been the first time Aldertail had held her gaze. She swallowed again, tightly, and turned away, skulking off into the grass to do her business. When she came back to camp, the only cat left outside was Yarrowshade. He looked up at her as she passed and offered her a casual smile. 

“Hey,” he asked, “how’s it going?” 

“Alright,” she shrugged, padding closer. “I’m guessing you’re bored out of your mind?” 

“So bored,” he groaned. “Guard duty is the worst. Mind sitting with me for a while?” 

Scorch hesitated. She could easily say no. It wasn’t like sitting on guard duty was any more appealing to her than it was to him. But she could still taste that strange emotion and as long as the taste was in her mouth, she wasn’t eager to go back to the den. 

“I suppose so,” she shrugged again and sat down next to him. She glanced over his shoulder into the darkness where Mystique lay, and said, “How has she been lately?”

“Sulky,” Yarrowshade whispered. “She doesn’t do much but eat and sleep these days.”

“I guess that’s pregnancy for you,” said Scorhcplume. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Or she’s still hung up on Raz- uh.” He stopped himself halfway through the name. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” Scorch lashed her tail a bit. “I’m so sick of people walking on eggshells around me.” 

“I get that,” Yarrowshade sighed. “It was the same kind of thing when, uh,” he looked like he was about to censor himself again but her expression seemed to make him think twice, “when Nightfrost died.” Despite continuing, his voice was softer than it had been. Scorch pushed down the wave of jealousy that reverent tone resurfaced within her. She hated how clearly upset he still was and she hated herself for hating him for his grief. 

Yarrowshade, unaware of the conflict inside her, continued. “It’s like, I get that they’re trying to be nice but being handled with kitten paws is so annoying. Like, I’m a grown cat, not a little baby.” 

“Exactly,” Scorchplume found herself agreeing with him. “I hate how any sign of discomfort brings out a series of guilty looks and ‘are you okay’s. It’s demeaning!” 

“Yeah,” nodded Yarrowshade, smiling a little. “Why can’t they just let us bury our emotions deep, deep down where no one will ever find them?” They both laughed and then fell into a somber quiet, looking at their paws. Scorchplume took a slow breath and let it out with a huff as she glanced sideways at him. There was a longing between them, a desire for connection she was too broken to indulge. 

“I had a dream that Razor wanted to keep Mystique’s kittens,” she confessed in a half-hearted attempt to indulge it anyway. “Like, we would raise them together.” 

“Oh, gross,” Yarrowshade frowned. “That sucks, man, I’m sorry.” 

“It was pretty sucky,” she nodded. “I barely remember it now but he was just so… sweet. It was, like, really unsettling, you know? Like, I thought for a second, did I imagine everything?” She shuddered. As impossible as that was, the thought still terrified her. 

“You super didn’t,” Yarrowshade said. “I only met the guy once but he was the worst. The way he spoke to Nightfrost made me want to cut my own ears off.” 

Scorch let out a breath with the tone of a laugh. “Yeah. Good riddance.” She ruffled her fur, trying to shake off the feeling of his nose on the back of her neck. She wondered if she would ever be able to escape the lingering ghost of his touch and realized a second too late that tears were starting to fall down her cheeks. She glanced sharply at Yarrowshade, tensing for the unbearable sympathy she knew was coming. 

Yarrowshade’s mouth was drawn into a thin line as he watched her but he didn’t say anything. He just sighed and leaned over to rest his head on top of hers, looking out over the camp as if they were just enjoying the night air. Scorchplume sobbed and leaned into him, overwhelmed with gratitude and misery at the same time. Yarrowshade laid his tail over hers. 

The evening was cold against her cheeks, quiet, and still. Distantly, an owl called in the night. Scorchplume thanked whatever higher power there was, StarClan maybe, for the fact that she hadn’t managed to drive Yarrowshade away. What would she have done if they still weren’t speaking to each other? She closed her eyes and sniffled and focused on the sensation of her tears evaporating, contrasted by the warmth of his fur against her side. 

“Do…” she started, unsure where she was going. “Do you ever wonder what Goldie sees in you?” Yarrowshade shifted and swallowed. 

He was quiet for a long beat before he whispered back, “All the time.” 

“Me too,” she breathed. “I don’t deserve her.” 

“I know how you feel,” he said and she heard the truth of it in his voice. 

“I don’t deserve you,” she said, chest shaking with an almost sob. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, looking down at her. Under his gaze, she suddenly felt small and exposed and ugly to her core. 

“I was so cruel to you -” she said, unable to look at him, “I’m so cruel to everyone - but you don’t seem to mind! Why do you still care about me?” 

“I don’t know,” Yarrowshade swallowed, his voice sounding thick with something. “I just do. I don’t think we get to choose that kind of thing.” 

“Well you shouldn’t,” she huffed. “I’m just a leech. Sooner or later I’ll suck you dry and you’ll hate me.” 

“Yeah, right,” he rolled his eyes and she looked up to scowl at him. “Look, we’re all just trying to do what we think is right or best or whatever. I’ve made a lot of mistakes too. People still care about me even if I don’t know why. That’s just… what it’s like to be feline I guess.” 

Scorch sniffed pathetically and said, “Well, being feline sucks.” 

“That’s for sure,” he nodded. “But we are what we are. Might as well keep doing what makes us happy even if it doesn’t make any sense.” Scorch hummed reluctantly. She could see the logic in his point but it didn’t make it easier. 

“I guess,” she shrugged. Inside the elders’ den, Mystique shifted, bell jingling gently, and Scorch’s entire body tensed. She looked over her shoulder, worried she had been overheard, but Mystique’s eyes were closed and her swollen sides heaved evenly with her breath. Scorchplume sighed. 

“Why don’t you go back to bed,” said Yarrowshade. 

“Yeah…” Scorch groaned reluctantly. “I should.” 

“Maybe we can go hunting when I’m off duty,” he suggested with a casual shrug. 

“Yeah, maybe,” she stood and settled her fur. “We’ll see.” 

“Goodnight, Scorch,” he said with a little smile.

“Goodnight, dummy,” smiled Scorchplume. He grinned wider and she chuckled a little as she turned and headed back to Goldenstar’s den. As she settled back into the nest, Goldenstar stirred again and, upon finding Scorch beside her, hummed blissfully and wrapped her arms around Scorchplume’s neck. Scorch rolled her eyes and let herself be pulled into a cozy embrace. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on sleep, and with Goldenstar wrapped around her, she quickly dozed off again, this time into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

[featherandferns]

🌺 anon ! :)

prompt 21 w/ smut plz ?? love ur writing so so so much !! 😚🫶

21. You're my best friend.

Girllll you're a genius hehe. Hope this does justice!

Content warning: sexual themes (fem receiving) - MDNI!

the twinkie - prompt 21

The red leather of the bench seat in the back of the Twinkie sticks to your clammy skin. The few layers you were wearing were becoming fewer and fewer minute by minute.

You’re not entirely sure how you wound up here. One minute you and JJ are sniggering over a stupid meme you found on your phone, pleasantly buzzed by a couple of seltzers and a shared joint, and the next he’s hovering over you, kissing you senseless, hands shameless in their exploration. 

His hot breath fans against your throat as he assaults it with hickeys. The dull scratch of his teeth on the suckled skin sets your body on fire. Your fingers are tethered in his knotty blonde-hair. It’s tacky with dried sea water from the surfing you’d both been doing earlier that day. As his lips creep down your stomach, following from the line of your sternum, your blindingly aware of that only a pair of denim shorts, and an unmatching panty-bralet set is keeping you from completely destroying the line of friendship. 

“JJ,” you say, voice breathless. 

He hums against your skin. 

“JJ, wait.”

You tug gently at his hair, guiding him away from your skin. He holds himself above you, an arm either side of your head, and looks down to meet your gaze. His lips are swollen and eyes hooded. Chest bare and uneven in breath, toned arms leading to a toned body…God, is this how all his other girls feel? Powerless and paralysed under his bedroom-eyed stare. 

“What is this?”

JJ licks his lips. He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You’re my best friend.”

It’s a rather comical thing to say to someone who was only inches away from ripping your shorts off. JJ must pick up on this as a small smirk shines through. 

“Okay?”

“Well, shouldn’t we…not be doing this.”

JJ snorts. He leans down again and kisses the underside of your jaw. Your eyes roll back into your head. He’s a Goddamn professional with this stuff, you swear. His teeth nip at your earlobe before he’s speaking into your ear, voice husky and heavy in his Carolina accent. 

“We can always be best friends who fuck,” he offers. 

And whilst you know that that is a terrible idea in the long run, and something that everyone would warn against, right now it sounds like the best damn thing you’ve ever heard. Up there with a cure for cancer and the answers to the universe. So, you find yourself nodding. 

“Alright,” you say in a wobbly voice. Clearing your throat, ignoring his laugh, you say, “we could be that.”

With that mark of consenting approval, JJ’s fingers move to unfasten your shorts. You help him, your giggles harmonising with his chuckles as you struggle to wriggle them off. The humour vanishes the moment his lips meet yours. It’s a heavy kiss, a little sloppy and far from romantic, and yet it’s the most amorous thing you’ve ever experienced. JJ doesn’t bother teasing. He dips his fingers into your panties and works at your folds. Groans against your mouth when he feels how wet you are. You feel his lips upturn with a self-congratulatory as he toys with you. A shaking, pathetic whine slips free when he catches your clit. From there, he focuses his attention. 

It’s not long from there that he’s shoving your panties down your legs to gain better access. His fingers slide in and out far too easy; if you weren’t so blissed-out, maybe you’d be embarrassed. Then, JJ’s sinking to his knees on the grubby floor of the campervan. He knows what he wants: guides you to sit with your legs open for him. You gasp and moan and try not to writhe around too much as he eats you out. One of your hands explores down to play with his hair, guiding your fingers through the strands, the pad of your thumb rubbing at his forehead dotingly. As JJ pushes you over the edge, his tongue deep inside of you and finger on your clit, you come with a grin. One thought passes through your head the moment you come back to your senses. Why didn’t we do this sooner?

[whumpsoda]

We Search For Stolen Personhood - The Drive Home

Masterlist So here’s the first piece of my now other new bbu story :3 this takes place at the safehous August used to live at! I am very excited about this <3

cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, Institutionalized slavery, conditioned whumpees

——————

They were quiet. 

The car remained silent, save for the rumble of the engine and the grumble of asphalt running under the tires. Mouths were zipped to a tight close, excluding the ever so often bump in the road that called out the faintest of a whimper. But only from one of them, the one curled inside the other. 

So absolutely quiet. Weren’t they always? This was nothing new for Isaac. They were meticulously trained to be so, quiet unless needed, because what rich, scum of the Earth asshole wants an annoying pet?

Calvin furiously typed away to Edith and Oscar in the passenger's seat, fingers flying over letters too fast to read the messages back to her. He gnawed at his chapped, fraying lips with ever so slightly crooked teeth, and a gentle overbite. Every time he typed he unconsciously held his breath, each few seconds passing by and sucking in a light gasp like a ringing to her ears.

She studied his face with little glances, inspecting his soft features. He looked almost like he could have been about the same age as the two boxies behind them, and for all Isaac knew they could have been college friends in another life.

But Isaac did her best to keep her eyes locked on the road, still wet and drying from the constant thunderstorms that they were lucky to have avoided, even if the clouds were still lingering and threatening to spill. Thunder faintly crashed from miles away, and she knew it would eventually draw near.

Whenever she felt fit, she’d steal a glance to the two boxies through the rearview mirror. There wasn’t much to see beside a twist and turn of intertwined bodies, faces concealed by grease coated mops of overgrown hair and exposed, scarred limbs.

The GPS beeped directions to her in its robotic, mechanical voice, now, take a right turn, it would instruct, and dutifully she would follow.

She was nervous. 

Her heart raced on it’s own accord, pounding increasing to a persistent throb in her head. Fingers gripping solid to the wheel, creating their own divots and knuckles turning white, Isaac swallowed, her throat bobbing along with the motion of saliva. Her belly was tied in knots, clawing it’s way to grip at her tensing insides.

Everyone was nervous. They always were with new rescues. How could they not be?

Isaac sipped in a shaky breath, lips parting in anticipation. “You guys okay back there?” Her words were tinted with a smile, although fake and forced, but she knew well how to create the appearance of realness.

“Yes, sir.” The larger of the two replied on instant, the one holding the other between his hulking arms, and only him. He spoke firm and concise, quick to supply her with the same answer he was trained to give. 

Though, his speech was inflicted with the hint of an accent, and not a Boston one. Something European, she guessed, something from nowhere near close. Already she wished she could zip open and dip a hand into his past, free his mind to everything he’s ever known, but she was plenty aware even he couldn’t do that himself. Not yet.

Unusually wary to speak, she cleared her throat with a heavy cough. “Is your friend doing okay?” She proceeded, taking a glance to them once again through the mirror. 

“Yes, sir.” He repeated, the exact same as the first time he said it. Rolling off the tongue with ease, showing her just how often he was forced to say it, over and over again. She swallowed, hard, as his embrace around the other secured.

A guard dog and a romantic. A pair, obviously locked at the hip and mind. 

The information was easily taken from them at the previous safehouse they had picked them up from, much too full to take in two more rescues. 

They hadn’t had a guard dog in a good while, the last one probably being August, and he was well living on his own in a whole other state. Isaac could only hope they could do for the new rescue what they had done for him. She knew they could.

One last heave of a turn, and the neighborhood blossomed into view. 2 minutes until home at last.

“We’re almost home,” she started, spinning the wheel with gentle ease, “You two can just go straight to bed. I bet you’re plenty tired.”

Yet again was another of the same response as he digested her every word like an order. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good idea.” Calvin muttered, almost a whisper, sending her the ghost of a grin. Her face softened back, as a thank you without words.

They soon pulled up the driveway, minivan stumbling over uneven cracks of pavement. She sighed in relief as they finally parked inside the garage, as if she’d been holding in her breath the whole ride. Calvin did the same, following her lead like always.

“You can head on home, I’ve got them from here.” She told him, “And, thanks for coming along. You were a huge help.”

His expression brightened, that twinkle in his eye returning whenever he was to receive praise. Sort of like the rescues, she thought. “You’re welcome.” He slid right out from his seat, jumping and readying to sprint off to his own home, his apartment only a block away. Before he could, he shouted back and brought a smile to her face, this time genuine. “I wish you luck!”

After a moment of settling breathing, Isaac stepped out from the car herself, stepping around and opening her new guests’ door. “Alright, you two. Ready to come on out?” 

This time, the guard turned to the man in his lap, tenderly swiping a lock of slick hair back into place. The romantic atop of him trembled, face moist with what she could only guess were terrified tears. 

He ever so carefully wrapped his arms under the other man’s knees and back, stepping out of the car with the other in a bridal carry.

Now, she could see them, just a bit clearer. The one that held the other is tall, way tall, with a hefty build. He was pudgy, skin pooling out of and folding over his boxers, but underneath she knew existed tough muscle. His face held soft features, thin lips and a round nose, flushed red from the cold. He looked to her with glittering hazel eyes, awaiting his next order.

The other’s face was still concealed by shaggy, black waves, but she could see his angular, hooked nose as it peeked out, and the shine of dark, deep eyes peeking from his shield of hair.

“Good, good.” She mumbled as she studied, taking it all in, “That’s so good. Let’s move on inside, alright?”

Isaac locked the car as they trailed behind her through the door, she always did, even when it was safely tucked inside the garage. Better to be extra safe than sorry.

Something tapped at her wrist as she did so, bringing her attention to the decoration connected to the end of her keys that twirled around with the movement of her hand. A bracelet of sorts, made up of little crosses and twists of vibrantly colorful rubber bands. She remembered well when Agnes gifted it to her, the first bracelet she’d ever made with the set Edith had given her. 

Isaac hoped that one day, no matter how far in the distance of the future because she would stick with them no matter how long, the new rescues would find themselves like August did, like how Agnes was on her journey to, and all of the other rescues who still visit from time to time. That they wouldn’t run back to whatever sick place they came from, even if they’re tempted.

Isaac held a spark of hope for these two, a fiery burning in her gut like she had for all the others, and she was not going to let go of it.

——————

Masterlist

Taglist - @softvampirewhump

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[a-living-canvas]

Luna Moth

"Master, stop!...stop!"

Whumpee pleaded, fingers gripped tightly on the metal pole. Their eyes burning with tears, blood smearing their skin. Whumper kept hitting their back with the whip. The sound of his laughter filled the air, slightly drowning by Whumpee's screams and agony. They wished it could stop…it could—!

Whumpee jolted awake from their sleep. Sweat trickled down their forehead as it soaking their shirt and the bedsheet. They were panting, eyes looking at the ceiling. It's okay…it's okay, it's just a dream…a very bad dream…calm down, calm down…

"Whumpee…?" 

Whumper called out for them. He rubbed his eyes groggily as he propped his head up on his palm, looking down at them. "Having a nightmare?" 

Whumpee nodded weakly. They let Whumper's hand brushed the sweat off their hair. They could still remember the dream, Whumper's laugh...

"Master…." Whumpee muttered out. Their voices were loud and clear in the darkness. The silence was thick and heavy in the air, until Whumper finally opened his mouth.

"Yes, little one?"

"...Do you hate me?"

Whumper silent for a few seconds before he let out an amused chuckle. 

"What kind of question is that?"

Whumpee's fingers fiddling with the blanket, observing the floral pattern on it. "Well, I…I was just wondering."

"No, I don't hate you…" Whumper pulled Whumpee closer to him before laying on top of them. His face buried on the pillow beside Whumpee's head, chest pressed against each other as Whumper intertwined their fingers with Whumpee's.

It should have been comforting, but only for Whumper and not for Whumpee. Whumper was…so much bigger than Whumpee, in terms of size. Whumpee was petite, small and frail all over. 

The strong looming over the weak.

"M-master…I…I can't breathe…" Whumpee let out. They tried to squirm away but Whumper suddenly tangled his legs with them, leaving them more trapped and breathless.

It's suffocating.

"Master…please…" 

Their lungs were burning in sensation. They couldn't move anymore, almost like they were experiencing sleep paralysis. But even worse than that.

"Mmm…no." Whumper simply said before drifting back to sleep. He tightened his grip on Whumpee, chuckled lightly as the little one squealed under him.

It's going to be a long night for them.

[eustasskiddsprosthetic]

Hey, remember when I said I shipped Lawlulaw? Yeah, I finally have an idea for them!

As I was fleshing this out, I suddenly felt the need to shove in Acelaw and Sabolaw in there so uh that's fun. I wanted this to be Lulaw centered but the moments of Ace and Sabo can be very easily spun into a romantic direction if I wanted and I wanted to be open to having a Law harem!

Welp, anyways, onto the plot I cooked.

I'm thinking of Law as a scientist who studies marine life. He has a huge lab where he collects specimens and spends a lot of time sketching out the intricate details and labelling them. He loves drawing these because it helps him get a clear, objective view of the world. His ultimate goal is to know just what makes the world tick.

He wants to know the inner workings of everything, kind of to compensate for how he barely knows himself and the depths of his subconscious nature. He believes everything has a place. A creature's ever part, every organ, every component is like a gear that keeps the whole system running and Law loves analysing them.

It may or may not be surprising but he actually believes in things like monsters, aliens and cryptids. From his experience, there's so many interesting sea creatures within the realm of science. It seemed a bit rude to dismiss the possibility. You never fucking know.

So that means when he sees a merman washed up one day in front of the beach near his home. He shrugs and says, "Well, he looks better than a drunk Bepo."

From indifference turned curiosity, Law squats down and starts poking this merman with a bit too much force and said merman jolts awake. Law notices how sharp his teeth and claws were. Law knew he would die if he did not approach him correctly.

"H-hello. I'm Law. Are you okay?"

The merman was visibly confused. Law realised he seemed a bit dehydrated and realised his gills on his neck looked uncomfortable. Law understood. He pointed to the ocean behind the merman.

"I'll take you back," Law said. He did not know how to approach the situation beyond rolling up his sleeves just in case the merman had an allergic reaction to his shirt and very gently trying to carry the creature princess-style.

Law was horrified to feel that this creature was heavy and struggled with carrying him. So much for wanting to be brave. The merman did not do anything to make things difficult—Law just was not the strongest out there. He just stared at Law with literal stars in his eyes. He made a cheerful little sound that was admittedly quite cute.

Law let the merman go when he was just around waist-deep in the ocean. He gently poured some water over his gills, which elicited even more happy sounds. When Law let go, the merman suddenly looked sad and Law felt like a horrible human being.

"Good bye. Take care"

The merman was swimming rather freely in the ocean now and he circled around Law. Law felt anxious. Did he walk into a trap? Was the merman going to attack? The merman did not seem hostile but you never know what these creatures were thinking especially when they were alive.

When the merman stopped swimming, Law took a good look at his features. He was quite cute in the face with large round eyes and an equally large mouth that occasionally broke into a large smile. If he were human, Law would've fallen in love.

"Good bye, it was nice meeting you-"

The next thing Law knew, he was immediately submerged underwater. He could barely breathe and felt himself choke. Meanwhile the merman was giggling like this was all very amusing. Law was knew he would die, if not for something rapidly swimming up and forcibly dragging the merman away.

Of course it was another muscular merman. He looked older than Law's murderer and had dark red accents on his hands and neck. There were spots on his face that looked like freckles. Now this one looked predatory. In human terms, he looked like he was nagging the other merman. Irritated, Law stood up as best he could and punched them both on the head.

Law's murderer seemed annoyed and sad at the violence, while the other one looked mildly impressed. He whistled through his gills. At least Law knew what that meant—it was a fucking mating call.

"Shut the fuck up! You're both annoying me! Go away!"

The black-haired mermen tilted their head to the side at the same time. In the distance, a pale, almost albino merman swam closer. Unlike the other two, he seemed friendlier even with a heavily disfigured face. He laughed as he happily said, "I'm sorry for my brothers, bastard!"

Law was flabbergasted. This was not his day.

"You can talk?"

The blonde merman seemed more surprised than Law. Law would punch him too but he was much faster than the other two in grabbing them by the shoulders and swimming some distance away so they would have to shout at each other. Law's murderer seemed sad that they were separated.

"You can talk, human?" The merman replied. He laughed. "Bitch!" He seemed to say those vulgarities with great childlike amusement. Though, Law would not be surprised to hear that he knew what those words meant and meant them sincerely. He seemed cunning.

Law felt wet, disgusting and thoroughly upset that he did not die. "Why, yes I fucking can! Piss off!"

As Law made his way back to the base, he suddenly heard the blonde merman tell the pervert and his murderer something. They went silent when Law looked back. Three seconds later, they started making loud, hysterical noises.

For God's sake, Law walked away with a ruined morning, wet clothes and the horrible memory of nearly dying. That was annoying, as he walked up the ocean where he was comfortably knee-length. He felt something gently grab his foot.

"What do you want, murderer?"

The merman pouted slightly and fuck isn't that just the cutest thing? He tried to pull Law back but gently this time. Law realised this was kind of like a child trying to make friends. He sighed and squatted down again to meet this creature at eye-level.

"I won't go with you but I'll come back tomorrow morning. Don't pull that shit again, or I'll kill all three of you. Understood?"

That seemed to be what the merman wanted for he smiled brightly and made those happy clicking noises again. He hugged Law's shoulders, licked his cheek quickly, jumped off and swam off with his brothers who seemed more interested in this little guy more than anyone else.

The sight was sweet. Maybe tomorrow morning would be better...

(Also, Law read up on Merfolk. Apparently, they were acknowledged to be legitimate sea creatures only three years ago and there were proper laws to forbid the act of hunting and killing them. Law found it strange that policies viewed them more like an endangered species than human beings.)

(More importantly, Law found out that there were some highly intelligent merfolk could learn human languages. And even more importantly, merfolk use their saliva to mark their territory... Including their mates, whom they usually commit to for life... Huh.)

[raecaw]

hi okay i was meant to sleep like an hour ago this is going to be so fucking incoherent you have been warned

first off the timeline divide in the epilogues into meat and candy is so fucking interesting to me because its like. its so clearly a reference to the meat/candy binary of storycrafting that hussie talks about in the [s] descend author commentary iirc - meat as action heavy content that drives the plot forward, and candy as lighter less heavy content (usually focused on shipping which matches with the candy timeline being represented with the sucker juju or whatever the fuck its called). caliborn is meat calliope is candy this is simple this is basic.

*BUT* - if you look at calliope and caliborns roles in the narrative of homestuck itself theres some really interesting shit there right - caliborn is the meat. he drives the plot forward he wants nothing but action he literally tries to steal the narrative and recreate it in his own image. calliope is the candy the focus on shipping. in universe shes explicitly written to be a fandom stand in, especially obvious in how she draws fanart of the kids right. caliborn = meat = canon (also side note i cant fit anywhere else - the meat timeline is the one where john kills lord english, which has to happen to preserve the timeline, arguably making it the 'canon' timeline). calliope = candy = fandom. obviously the two timelines are representative of those two binaries, and alt calliope controls the candy timeline (which has a much heavier focus on shipping/fan kids/relationship drama/generally the type of shit you see in fanon content) but theres no caliborn right? hes dead.

enter dirk. unfortunately one of the most interesting fucking characters in this entire shit heap i hate it here. hes clearly the caliborn stand in for post canon - he controls the meat timeline, he and alt calliope keep trying to kill each other, he hijacks control of the narrative homosuck style and arguably pushes his friends and family to act out of character to 'fix' the narrative (second side tangent here but to me thats why everyones so. gestures vaguely at post canon. not themselves yk. theyre either in the fanon timeline or the 'canon' timeline thats being hijacked and controlled just like homosuck i swear theres a reason theyre like that guys- (<voice of a guy desperate for post canon to have anymeaning)). not to mention all the connections dirk already has to caliborn theyre basically splinters in law at this point

so everything lines up pretty well so far right. candy is the fanon timeline, the focus on shipping and interpersonal drama as established in the meat/candy storycraft binary, controlled by the character written as a stand in for fans. meat is the canon timeline, the focus on action and conflict, controlled by (a stand in for) caliborn. its all normal and great and fantastic if you just ignore the burning trash heap that is the actual content of post canon.

and then the dirkjohn propaganda kicks in /hj

but fr though this doesnt even have to be in a shipping way its just. jesus fucking christ these two have so many parallels its insane.

winding it back to og homestuck for a moment - john arguably *is* homestuck right. hes the audience surrogate, the first character we meet and the last we see, the guy that gets retcon powers and literally rewrites the entire narrative around him - literally leaving his mark permanently on the rest of the comic (the arms and oil retcons on the early pages). john as homestuck is i think a fairly common reading and also makes the rest of my argument work so lets just accept it and move on okay <3 okay. also, the way he becomes the narrative is incredibly heir of breath coded - he literally inherits/becomes the narrative, and the narrative changes around him to protect him (all ways heir interacts with aspect), and he does all of this almost without realising it. he never wants the narrative, and he barely uses it once he has it - honestly, hes pretty detatched from it, just kinda... breezing through yk. breath coded behaviour

so. johns homestuck - or homestuck proper at least. and what does john do in the epilogues?

...he either dies or becomes a depressed repressed mess going through a midlife crisis that basically just drifts through life doing fuck all. yyeah. homestuck aint doing too great in post canon (Which. checks out). him dying in meat specifically though is really fucking interesting to me, *because*-

i think. ult dirk is post canon. or at least, he is to post canon what john was to homestuck. he literally kills john (homestuck) and takes his place as the bearer of the narrative - and hes entirely fucking aware of what hes doing (yet another fun parallel between them - john never has to face himself (not even an alternate self - one of very few characters in the comic to not have one), and if you consider him the narrative then he never has to face the narrative. dirk *constantly* has to face himself, which means if he is post canon, hes constantly aware of it. theres also potentially smth here with heirs being a passive class while princes are active but i could be wrong ive never cared about +/- alignments LMAO). dirk's also the narrative in an incredibly prince coded way - he destroys the narrative, and he destroys *through* the narrative. he kills the very thing he wants to become more than anything because thats the only way he *can* become it.

so. dirks post canon. he and calliope had split control over the epilogues, but now hes almost completely taken over control of post canon (and im tempted to say thats commentary on how much influence the fans had on the epilogues, following the calliope = fandom reading, but im not gonna put much weight into that because i have no fucking clue how things went down behind the scenes). calliope can definitely still be read as the fandom in post canon though, which makes her hatred of ult dirk and everything hes doing even better because like. yeah! look at the fan reception to everything in post canon! we do want it dead the way she wants ult dirk dead! (also really fun in how it matches up with cherubs fighting for domination - dirk being the caliborn stand in and alt calliope being the calliope that *did* fight her brother and win). also ult dirk (canon) hating alt calliope (the fandom) lines up really fucking well with how bitter and cynical post canon was towards the homestuck fanbase but again thats probably not intentional

so. ult dirk is canon and fighting to 'fix' the narrative/continue its relevancy (could be seen as a metaphor for how capitalism insists creative properties continue on into infinity with pointless sequels < absolutely a fucking reach). alt calliope is the fandom and would Really like him to fucking stop please. john is homestuck and is just fucking dead

(side note pt 3 electric boogaloo but i dont think its a coincidence that the only surviving jegbert (the only one that can crack her egg barring any weird corpse revival bullshit) is in the candy/fanon timeline. it also might not be a coincidence that the only strider to not be ascended and/or turned into a robot is roxy (also transed gener in the meat timeline). ult dirk gets his ass kicked by the power of transsexuality real)

anyway tldr because its 2 am but post canon is just an extended metaphor for sequels killing their sources, mocking their corpses and then trying and failing to fill their roles while the fandom tries to murder them and everything after the paradox space comics was a mistake thank you and good night

ok firstly: who are you and what are you doing on my blog. secondly: thank you for this it's everything i was hoping for when i asked for you to hyperfixate on BC in my inbox.

i fully agree with this reading + appreciate the nuance that BC brings to the table. I think Hussie coined and embodied the term "suicide of the author" by explicitly turning canon over to the readers and allowing the concept of canon to become dubious. it was an extremely risky move that paid off in some ways and flopped in others. much like most other risks hussie took with hs. i find BC so compelling because it is simultaneously flogging a dead horse and creating interesting arcs and futures for beloved characters. Like thats the thing i cant say i love BC and I can't say i hate it, compelling has been the most descriptive word i can come up with for it lmao.

I want to extend and highlight the calliope/caliborn(dirk) metaphor in regards to the ultimate fate of canon. we know that cherubim have the double sided childhood where one is active while the other sleeps, and we've explicitly seen that calliope represents candy and caliborn represents meat. also i could be delusional but i feel as though there's been foreshadowing for a while that the timelines will at some point converge. there are many unanswered questions about the state of the new universe and the cracks in the sky, and i feel this is representative of the cherubim reaching maturity. at some point i think the meat universe and the candy universe may crash into each other so to speak, and perhaps one may destroy the other. again this parallels dirk and calliope's fight across both timelines.

i also heard a theory some time ago that in the meat timeline, dirk and rose on their quest to create a new session of SBURB to continue the reproductive process of the universe (lowkey a noble pursuit sans the evil controlling shit) , will create the 48 player squiddle session thus completing the giant time loop theyve been slaving under this whole time. and as we hear enough about from dave, serving time loops can be an exhausting feat of self fulfilling prophecies stacked on top of each other. It seems that the characters were under the impression that the great time loops were complete (or at least escaped from) when they created Earth C but I believe they were mistaken. What happens when the loop is truly complete? does True Free Will finally begin to take effect? Do our protagonists travel to the new universe too or are they destroyed with the old one? does the story end or does it loop back around forever and ever?

I think that the decision John made at the beginning of the epilogues had that ultimate outcome. Both decisions led to the characters escaping the time loop, but for the meat timeline it means they have to complete the time loop and for the candy timeline it means they have to escape the time loop. Is the candy timeline a doomed timeline? perhaps. but we know from Davesprite that it is possible to escape doomed timelines and enter the alpha timeline, you just have to change yourself somewhat so from a narrative perspective you're a different character from your alpha counterpart.

much to think about.

[vilevenom]

hurt comfort for fem branch please 😭

I hc her as autistic so maybe male poppy reassuring her

Ik u don't really care ABT the genders, but I'm heavy projecting on branch cause I kin him and I am DYING today

Thank you SO SO SO much for writing it if you decide to

HELLO ANON!

I am SO sorry that you sent this ask around a week ago and I'm only able to give you something now. I also hope I'm not posting this too late for you 😕 (This is the first night on my vacation I've managed to dig my laptop out) I wrote this pretty quick, and I didn't give it a good read over to properly edit it, but I hope you like it, and that you're doing okay ❤️❤️❤️ P.S-I'm not well verse in regards to austism, so I'm not super comfy writing it. I used my own experiences with overstimulation and sensory overload to write this

It had been…a day. An overwhelming, awful day. And it wasn't even close to being over yet.

Branch had woken up feeling like today wasn't necessarily going to be a bad day, but she knew it wasn't necessarily going to be a good day, either. Of course, that had been before she'd even gotten out of bed. Once she'd pushed herself up and threw her legs over the side, she'd near instantly knew the day was going to be a struggle. The floor was too cold under her feet, none of her clothes felt like they fit on her body quite right, every light was either too bright or too dark, and none of the food in her bunker was appetizing.

Things only got worse when Poppy showed up to drag her out for the morning music routine. She'd gone, of course. She couldn't let Poppy down. However, stepping outside had proven to be the worst decision she'd made yet. The sun was far too bright, and everyone in the village was so loud. And there were just so many trolls participating in the music number, it made her feel like she was in a teeny, tiny room, instead of out doors.

Thankfully, once the song was done and over with, she managed to sneak away quickly to catch her breath and recenter herself somewhat, before Poppy found her once again. She was invited to breakfast with the Snack Pack, which she felt obligated to accept, despite her negligible appetite. She thought, perhaps, she could get away with picking at a muffin while sitting next to Poppy so the King of Pop could direct and hold conversation without needing much, if any, input from her. Unfortunately, that was not to be the case, as Poppy kept prompting Branch to speak. It was exhausting.

Finally, once breakfast was over Branch thought she was at last free and clear. She bid farewell to the snack pack and tried to sneak away, but Poppy wasn't having any of it. He appeared in front of Branch just as she thought she had made it to safety.

"CUPCAKES! Poppy," Branch wheezed, patting at her chest as her heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest. To say that the surprise had also caused her irritation and irritability to spike was also an understatement. She scowled without thought at the pink troll, a low growl escaping her. "What is it?!"

Poppy looked distraught at Branch's anger, shrinking in on himself a little. "Sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted to know if you wanted to come with me while I go take care of some errands around the village before lunch with Nova Swift to talk about an upcoming fashion show."|

Branch immediately deflated at Poppy's apology, though she still felt like she might explode if prodded just the wrong way. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap," she sighed, rubbing at her forehead, "You know I would normally love to join you around town, but today I just-" She groaned and waved her hands through the air. "I don't know how to describe it. Today everything just feels like too much. I don't think I can handle any more…anyone."

Poppy blinked, obviously a bit surprised by Branch's response. Which was to be expected, really. What troll didn't like to socialize and make plans for big events? Branch knew, even after all the work she'd put in to being a better troll, she was still very much an odd one out.

"Oh," Poppy hummed, rubbing his hands together for a moment, before giving a little nod. "Okay."

It was Branch's turn to blink in surprise, not having expected Poppy to take her at face value so easily or quickly. "Wait…really? You're okay if I skip out on today?"

Poppy's face melted into a warm smile, offering a quick nod. "Of course, Branch. You've been doing so much around the village lately, you deserve a day to relax."

"Oh, thank you," Branch felt her shoulders slump as her chin fell to her chest. She heard Poppy chuckle and only jumped slightly when she felt his hand land on her shoulder.

"Of course! You know I just want you to be comfortable and happy."

"Thanks, Poppy," Branch hummed, offering Poppy a strained smile.

"Any time. Now, let's get you back to the bunker," Poppy said as he moved behind Branch to gently take her by the shoulders and direct her towards her bunker.

Everything seemed like it was going relatively well after that, and Branch shuffled towards her bunker with Poppy following shortly behind. That was, of course, until a random troll suddenly jumped from the bushes in front of them screaming about an impromptu dance party. Branch bristled as Poppy froze behind her and music erupted from every direction, while trolls hurried into the area to start dancing and singing along to the music.

Branch felt like her head was going to explode, quickly lifting her hands to her ears to try and block out some of the sound. She squeezed her eyes shut, a quiet whimper leaving her even as he breathing began to quicken, along with her heart beat. The world felt like it was closing in around her as she curled in on herself, crouching down and just barely resisting the urge to wrap herself protectively in her hair.

It took a solid minute for Branch to register hands on her shoulders again, let alone the fact that someone was even talking to her. She blinked a few times, feeling like she was clearing her vision of static until she could see Poppy crouched in front of her.

"Poppy?"

"There you are! C'mon, Branch. I'm going to get you out of here," Poppy said over the din of the other trolls in the area partying.

Branch simply nodded, watching in mild confusion as Poppy turned and gestured towards his back. "Up you get, come on," Poppy urged, finally making Branch realize that the King was offering her a piggy back ride. Sluggishly she moved, struggling to get her limbs to cooperate.

Once Branch was settled over Poppy's back with her face buried in bright pink hair, the King began to move quickly through the crowd, easily and effectively dodging around anyone that tried to get him to dance. Somehow, he managed to get away from the spontaneous party and got Branch back to the bunker. He didn't let her down, however, until the two were down the elevator and in Branch's living room. Carefully, he deposited her on her couch, quickly whisking away to fetch a glass of water, pressing it into her slightly shaky hands when he returned to her.

"You okay?"

Branch shook her head, feeling like her voice was stuck in her throat, unable to verbally respond.

"Okay. What would you like to help make you feel better?"

A quiet whine escaped Branch, her shoulders shifting up to her ears, eyes downcast, wishing she could force her voice to work, but nothing was forthcoming. She would love nothing more than to respond to Poppy, who was being so kind and caring, only to receive silence back.

After a beat Poppy snapped his fingers, causing Branch to jump and stare at him with wide eyes. "Oops," he laughed awkwardly, "Sorry. But, uh, how about we stick to yes or no questions? That way you can just nod or shake your head?"

Branch perked up and gave a little nod, a wobbly little smile making its way onto her face.

"Okay, perfect! Would you like a blanket?"

Branch thought for a moment, before giving a short nod. Poppy grinned and was off like a shot, returning not a minute later to carefully drape a thick, cozy blanket around Branch's shoulders. It took her a moment to recognize it was one of her favorites to snuggle up with. Poppy must have noticed one of the times he was over to hang out.

"All right! Now, you've got water already. And it's nice and quiet down here. Would you like company? And by company, I do just mean me," Poppy said with a little grin. Branch let out a near silent laugh, before nodding slightly, thought she frowned after a beat, opening her mouth, only to snap it shut again a moment later with a little look of concern on her face.

Poppy frowned, only to chuckled and move to sit next to Branch on the couch. "Oh, don't worry about the village. I'm sure they'll be fine without me."

Branch let out a breath, humming quietly with a nod, forever grateful that somehow Poppy could read her like an open book. She took a few tentative sips of her water before setting the glass aside, then turned a mild look of trepidation towards Poppy. It lasted for only a moment before she let out a huff of breath, a mild scowl of determination settling itself on her face. Poppy offered a lopsided, confused smile as Branch shifted around on the couch, tossing half of the blanket over Poppy's shoulders, before curling up next to his side.

"Oh," Poppy breathed, a slow grin working its way across his face, before he settled his arm around Branch's shoulders and tugged her more firmly into his side. "Yeah, you know I'm always good for cuddles," he sighed, resting his cheek against Branch's hair, more than pleased to feel her breathing even out where she was pressed against his side.