#this could be about any band member idk

[edge-oftheworld]

starting to have a way of processing my reaction for when i see what i call 'shallow hearts for shallow minds' takes on here like. do you not know how when you don't feel something at the time it catches up with you later? do we not understand the cumulative nature of nervous system stress and how. sometimes it gets worse before it gets better. sometimes getting better isn't about being happy, it's about feeling things as they come rather than trying to force yourself to be happy. making choices that will lead to the most happiness, even if they're painful at the time. i won't know exactly where an artist is at, neither do you, but I can trust that they're making the kind of decisions that are a step forward in self care in times where I see something that looks familiar and i'm like. i think i've been there. i know it doesn't make so much sense to everyone, but, that's what the fandom's for right?

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

Big Country performing "Wonderland" live on The Tube in 1984 (x)

[sailoryooons]

Bust | KTH | (m)

☾ Pairing: Heistman!Taehyung x f. Reader

☾ Summary: Seeing a beautiful man in the middle of a bank robbery is unusual. Seeing him again afterward is even more unlikely… and yet not unlucky. 

☾ Word Count: 2,211

☾ Genre: Criminal, Smut, PWP

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Bank robbery, light depiction of fear/anxiety, mentions of poor financial situations and money-related stress, recreational drinking, ‘good girl’ petname, explicit language, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), biting, spanking, implied body worship kind of, a hint of overstim, bodily fluids and cum-eating. 

☾ Published: Monday, January 15, 2024

☾ A/N: This is an idea I randomly spoke about forever ago in a TikTok DM with @gimmethatagustd and this is strictly written to ruin their entire life tonight. I hope it works idk osifodigjoijg. 

☾ A/N 2: Tonight is number four for my 100 Drabble Challenge and I rolled number 24 for criminals! I hope you enjoy my depraved thoughts of Taehyung in that GOD DAMN SQUID GAME OUTFIT AT PTD. MY MASK KINK DOESN’T MAKE AN APPEARANCE BUT BE FUCKING SURE IT WILL ONE DAY. HE MADE ME INSANE. 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration ☾

Sweat beads down your back, the trickle of it slower than the clock ticking above your head. Time seems to slow as you sit on a carpet that hasn’t been steam cleaned since the 80s and push yourself against the wall, eyes glued to the open vault. 

It had happened so fast and yet now, it’s like it can’t be over fast enough. Each second that ticks by feels like it takes a year. You cannot hear the chatter of the men inside the vault, but their harsh whispers raise goosebumps on your skin.

At least they haven’t noticed you. Not that you would do much, anyway. You have no intention of going over to push the alarm by the door, too afraid to alert the armed man who stands just outside the vault room on the other side, and far too underpaid to risk your life for a financial institution. 

For a moment, you wish it were you robbing the damned bank. Maybe you could pay off the student loans on your degree you’re not using and run the heating in your apartment during the winter instead of bundling up in several layers. 

Your momentary lapse of delusion passes as the men rush out of the vault, duffles in hand. They’re all dressed in red, black masks covering their faces with shapes on them. You’re vaguely aware that the costume belongs to some sort of show you saw online, but you can’t place them.

Perhaps you’ll watch it now.

“Hurry up,” one of the men barks toward the vault. There had been three inside, but only two came out. “Grab the last and let’s go. Two minutes left.”

They’re gone in an instant. Your eyes dart back to the vault where you can hear the last person inside. Glancing at the clock, you watch the seconds tick by. 

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Thirty. A minute. 

A man dressed in a red suit, hood pulled over his head comes out of the vault. As he slugs it shut with one arm, the bag on his shoulder droops, spilling the contents inside out onto the floor. Bands of cash fall out, thudding around his feet. He swears loudly and bends over, back slipping more to drop cash on the ground.

In his frustration, he crouches and tips the mask up a fraction, shielding his face from the camera above but not from you, huddled on the floor a few feet away.

Your heart skips. The thief is beautiful. Dark eyes focused on his task, a wide nose that fits perfectly on a symmetrical face with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a pursed mouth. There’s a flush in his face from the heat, the tip of his nose an endearing shade of rose.

As if sensing your gaze, his head snaps up. You cower against the wall, realizing now that you’ve seen his face, you’ve doomed yourself. He stalls completely, gloved hand hovering over the cash, eyes boring into you. He arches a brow as if to ask you a question and you respond by shaking your head. 

The thief gives you a cocky grin, nodding before he finishes picking up the money and tossing it into the bag. He looks at you again, a smirk on full display before he winks and pulls the mask back down. “Good girl,” he purrs. “I like that.” 

Despite the situation, your stomach flips. He stands and rushes out, lingering by the door for a second longer to stare at you through the black mask. You can’t see his face, but you know you’ll never forget it, pretty as an angel, dangerous as a devil. 

When the group is gone, you wait in silence, only the pumping of your heart to keep you company. When the cops come and ply you with questions all you can do is shake your head repeatedly. 

I was too scared. I can’t remember. 

-

I was too scared. I can’t remember. 

It is the same thing you tell investigators for nearly two months. Just when you think they won’t keep asking what the man looked like, they finally drop it, handing over the robbery details to the FBI. They were at least a little less callous, caring a little less about how many questions you answered. 

If you had to guess, your unimpressive financial situation even after the robbery was significant enough that you weren’t involved with the robbery. 

It’s hard not to wish you had been. The straw in your mouth belongs to a drink that is far too expensive for you to not wince and it barely tastes like anything. At this rate, you know you won’t get a buzz. You’d love alcohol to take the edge off of the loud club music or loosen you up a bit, but you’re resigned to being sober for the rest of your friend's birthday. 

Around you is a gaggle of men and women, both people you know and new faces trying to pick up your friends. Anyone trying to hit on you has already decided you’re far too grumpy to waste time on, most of their backs facing you as people shout over the music about working in finance.

You wonder if they also rob banks in their spare time. It makes you grin, thinking fondly about the thief once again. You do that a lot.  

Sipping the drink, you glance at your phone. It’s been an hour since you arrived, but you’re wondering if enough time has reasonably passed to excuse yourself. Tomorrow is one of your few days off and you intend to spend it lounging on the couch watching TV instead of nursing a headache.

Someone slides into the space at the bar next to you. You don’t glance up at them, spinning your skinny cocktail straw absently as you stare at the melted ice of your Long Island iced tea. You hoped that once it melted it would turn into a second drink, but it hasn’t. Cold, bitter water it is, then. 

“Why the long face?” You frown at the vaguely familiar voice and glance up, freezing. 

Mr. Bank Robber looks down at you, cocking his head to the side with a wolfish grin. Your mouth pops open in surprise, leaning back a little as you drink him in. This close, he is far more beautiful than you remember, the edges and shadows of his face like a carefully painted fresco. Michelangelo could hardly be talented enough to capture this. 

“You,” you whisper, his grin spreading further. 

“Have we met?” he leans on the bar, dressed in all black. You eye the three-piece suit and the glinting diamonds in the cuff links. His clothes are far finer than anything anyone else is wearing and when you breathe in sharply, you smell a hint of woody cologne. His dark hair is slicked back and you catch the dainty hoop earrings in his lobes. You like the juxtaposition. 

“You know we have.” He tongues the inside of his cheek, turning his head to order with the bartender. His eyes stray to you, raising a brow. You supply him with your answer, “A long island.”

The bartender nods, momentarily stupefied by the heistman’s beauty before walking over to the POS, tapping the screen with the speed and aggression unique to bartenders. 

“Kind of a shitty club,” he mentions, looking around over the top of your head. Sweat clings to your lower back, your mouth growing dry as you watch colors splash on his face. “Your face is too pretty for a place like this.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mhmm.” The bartender puts the drinks on the counter and the man gives him cash, signaling to keep the change. The bartender raises a brow but says nothing, taking the money as he goes. “What’s your name?”

“You probably already know it.” He cocks his head to the side. “I’m sure you looked me up to see if I was a threat or watched me to see what I’d do.”

“You watch too many heist movies.”

“Maybe I watch just enough.”

He laughs at that and your lips twitch. It’s rich, making his face intimidating as he gives you a wide smile and shakes his head. “Alright, maybe you’re right.”

“Can I know your name?”

“For the right price.”

“My silence was a pretty petty, no?”

He bites his bottom lip, eyes dipping down and back up. You sip your drink, feeling a flush of warmth unfurl in your body, most notably between your legs. “I like you.”

“You have to like me. I know your secret.” 

Leaning forward, he ducks down so that he’s murmuring into your ear, hot breath ghosting your skin and making you tremble. “Want to hear more?” Your eyelids flutter as he waits, skin buzzing at his sudden proximity. You nod, feeling lightheaded. “My name is Taehyung. Want to get out of here?”

-

“Fuck,” Taehyung growls, hands skimming your bare sides. You can’t keep still under his gaze, hips squirming and fingers twisting in the sheets. His mouth is swollen and covered in your spit, his eyes blown as a large hand scrapes down to your thigh where he gives you a good slap. “I knew you were a good girl.”

A moan trips out of your mouth. Your thigh stings where he slapped you but he soothes it with the easy back-and-forth motion of his hand, his fingers digging into your flesh. Taehyung is a man starved, having littered your body with harsh kisses and bites, nearly breaking the skin.

You don’t care. You’re feverish for him, room spinning as you sprawl on his soft sheets in a hotel room that is far nicer than anything you’ve ever been in. You burn up like a star, core raging as Taehyung leans back down, pressing your naked thighs open for him as he sucks the skin of your chest between his teeth.

Everything aches. You want him so bad that you feel a cry come out of your mouth, lips wobbling as he laughs against your skin, sinking lower and lower, mouth loud as he sucks at your skin, tongue brushing over the sting of his teeth. 

“Does my good girl need her pussy eaten?” Taehyung rasps, looking up at you where he kneels between your legs. “Is that why you’re crying, hmm?”

Taehyung looks like something out of a thriller. His eyes are dark and hungry, his shadowed face becoming some sort of demon of lust. He’s what you would imagine a dark god. A bacchanal devil, a creature made for sin. 

All you can do is nod in response, feeling Taehyung’s vicious grip on your thighs as he presses you further, your muscles stretching. The strain feels good, as does the slow drip of your cunt down the curve of your ass mixed with his breath.

“So messy,” he murmurs, leaning forward and blowing cool air on your sticky folds. You squirm, the sensation sending you into overdrive as you twist your head to the side, eyes squeezed shut. He’s barely done a thing and you’re worked up more than you can ever recall. “Pretty.”

The slow, soft press of Taehyung’s tongue through your pussy makes you sag. It’s the relief that you so desperately needed, eyes rolling back as he circles your clit and drags his tongue back down. Taehyung is slow as he eats you out, tongue savoring every drop you can give him.

He taps your thigh, drawing your attention to him. He smirks as his tongue dips into your entrance, dragging back up to swirl around your throbbing bud a few times.

It’s impossible to tear your eyes away once you’re watching. Taehyung keeps his razor-sharp gaze on you, bringing his mouth fully to your cunt as he sucks eagerly. There is a rhythm to the curl of his tongue and the sharp suck of his lips, the wet smack of his ministrations driving you crazy.

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing his face in further. He’s messy with it, his jaw and nose covered in shiny slick. He laughs throatily when your back comes off the bed, thighs shaking. “Such a good pussy, just like I knew it would be.”

It feels too hot in the room. Your breaths are coming in too fast and there’s nothing you can do to catch it, Taehyung working you up to a frenzied, frenetic orgasm. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, pumping so hard that you think you might need to stop.

And then you break.

Your body seizes as you come, a scream ripping through your mouth as Taehyung slurps hungrily at your mess, spurred by your release. You can’t stop shaking as he dives in, unwilling to stop until you’re babbling, nearly lifeless as the orgasm teeters into overstimulation. 

Only then does Taehyung pull his mouth away, trailing wet, cum-spit kisses on your inner thigh, nipping your thigh here and there. 

“Think you can take more?” he asks, slurring his words against your thigh. “Think you can take my cock.” 

You nod eagerly, hand letting go of the sheets and reaching toward him. “Yes.”

“Mmm good. I’m about to bust.” He bites your knee. “And I don’t mean a bank, this time.” 

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 14 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

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

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, risky motorcycle ride? (idk nothing bad happens but always wear helmets, friends), some fun flirting & jokes, but mostly ANGST AND PAIN (including explicit descriptions of very intense anxiety at the very end)

words: 12.3k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 14 ► this isn't over 'til we talk in the light, said i was sober, but you knew that i lied

In the lounge area outside the changing rooms of “013” in Tilburg, Jungkook was engaged in a very intense game of table tennis against Seokjin—and winning, even though Seokjin would have disagreed—when you entered to inform the band that they were going on stage in twenty minutes.

The game wrapped up as the members began to stretch while simultaneously accosting Jimin about their in-ears. There were never any serious issues – Jimin made sure he was the Sound Technician of the Year –  but they enjoyed seeing him panic when everyone started moaning, “could you turn the backtrack up a bit?” or “I literally can’t hear myself.” This last one was Taehyung’s favourite, until Jimin started retorting with, “well, maybe you’re deaf,” and then continuing with his day.

The pre-show ritual was always chaotic, but it was endearing chaos, full of nervous laughter and sparkling eyes as the members of Rated Riot prepared for their performance.

Then, just as Jungkook left the dressing room, putting his own in-ears back in, he turned the corner and almost collided with Sid, who looked more than pleased when Jungkook took a surprised step back.

What an absolute eye-sore, Jungkook thought. As the tour went on, he began to understand your aversion to his friends better.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, and it sounded like he wasn’t just asking about Sid being in this room. He was questioning Sid’s constant presence on this tour. Surely, with Jungkook no longer participating in his little games, he had to get bored and go back home.

The past few weeks have taught Jungkook that some friendships had an expiration date, and sometimes stupid bets accelerated that process. He was okay with that now—he realised that holding onto Sid would be much worse than being left alone.

“Just came to wish you luck before the show,” said Sid, who had never genuinely wished anyone luck before. “We’re here if you want to talk.”

Jungkook frowned and glanced at Minjun—who stood further away from the rest of their friends, and rolled his eyes—then he looked back at Sid.

“I’m good,” he said slowly and cautiously as if Sid was a snake that attacked when it sensed defiance.

Just when Jungkook thought he was safe and tried to walk away, Sid’s saccharine voice—the venomous kind—called out, “don’t forget we’re going out racing tonight!”

Jungkook stopped and turned to him again. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Sid taunted. “This could be your chance to practise riding a rental since it seems like you’re going to lose your bike in five—”

“You really don’t have anything better to do, do you?” Jungkook interrupted. Maybe it was the pre-show adrenaline or maybe he had finally grown tired of Sid’s bullshit, but he added, “I feel sorry for you.”

Sneering because people felt many things for him – mostly contempt – but pity wasn’t one of them, Sid leaned in closer. It was a tactic that Jungkook had already grown immune to, but Sid was a creature of habit.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he hissed, not bothered by the emptiness in Jungkook’s stare. “See you later.”

“You won’t,” Jungkook asserted. “I’m not going out with you. This is all over, including the bet.”

Sid raised his eyebrows. With a very specific sense of justice that no one else in this hallway—or in this world—possessed, he declared, “I get the Katana, then.”

There was something questioning about his tone, however. As if he needed Jungkook’s confirmation that he did indeed lose this bet to Sid.

But Jungkook was firm: “You don’t.”

Sid threw his head back and scoffed with an exasperation that could have put a two-year-old to shame. “Well, then neither do you!”

“That’s fine,” Jungkook said. “Minjun can keep it.”

As Sid huffed and growled in frustration, Jungkook looked at his friend again. Minjun seemed about ready to interject—he was the one person here who did not want the bike and, in fact, wished it did not exist at all—but Sid finally found his words.

“You think Minjun can—the bike is mine,” he insisted. “I won—”

“Sid, you don’t give two shits about the fucking bike,” Jungkook cut him off, very tired of the repetitive argument. “Get over it.”

The conversation with Taehyung at Hoseok’s party weighed heavily on Jungkook’s mind. He knew he had bigger things to worry about right now—forget losing the bike. He might lose you.

In his usual dignified manner—so, not dignified at all—Sid rolled his eyes and snarled, “I agreed to bet on it, didn’t I? Obviously, I do give a shit.”

“No,” Jungkook said. “You give a shit about winning. But it’s over. We’re not doing this anymore. Deal with it.”

There was a redness on Sid’s face that hadn’t been there before. A week ago, Jungkook would have been excited to see it—it would have certainly meant a point in his favour. Now, he didn’t want to see Sid’s face at all.

“It’s not over,” Sid argued, persistent like a fly that keeps hitting the glass of a window. “There’s still five days left.”

“Five days until what?”

Four heads whipped around to see you standing at the end of the hallway, confused by the snippet of conversation that you’d overheard. You had returned to find Jungkook because the rest of the band was already pacing – or, in Hoseok’s case, doing restless sit-ups – by the side of the stage.

Jungkook, Sid, Jude, and Minjun stared at you with eyes so bright and wide that they could have guided ships off the coast.

You’ve never met four boys who looked more stunned to see you. It was as if you had accidentally stumbled into the latest concert of the Masculine Ritual, Absolutely No Femininity Allowed, God Forbid Someone Who Identifies as Female Enters The Room tour, and they could not believe this was happening.

“Uh,” Jungkook was the first to react as he immediately approached you. “I’ll tell you later. They’re just excited about, uh, London.”

You did the mental calculations while Jungkook gently squeezed your shoulder to turn you around and steer you away from his friends and towards the stage.

The London show really was more or less in five days, so you decided not to question that part. But the quick pace at which Jungkook was pulling you away from the others still unsettled you.

As you turned a corner, you looked back and saw Sid frowning at you, while Minjun—as usual lately—looked like he regretted being born, and Jude—as usual always—was picking his fingernails.

“Is Sid in one of his chaotic moods again?” you asked as you walked—nearly ran, actually, with the way Jungkook was pulling you. “Should I be concerned?”

“No, no. Everything’s fine,” he assured with a dismissive wave of his hand. “He’s just… doing Sid things. You know. Nothing to worry about as long as—well, as long as you don’t get in his way. I have everything under control.”

Your primary goal on this tour was to stay out of Sid’s way as long as he stayed out of yours. But now was not the time to discuss it, because Rated Riot had three minutes until their performance.

“Alright, then,” you said. “Leave me out of it and we’re good.”

Jungkook coughed in response and stopped once you reached the other members of the band. You thought you saw Taehyung raise his eyebrows when Jungkook took his hand off your shoulders, but maybe you were just imagining it.

You turned to the rest of the band, all of whom looked pale and fidgety and unsure.

The speakers had malfunctioned during the soundcheck earlier, so Jimin and Seokjin had to cut it short to fix the problem. Naturally, the disruption of their usual routine made the band anxious. The table tennis match between Seokjin and Jungkook—arguably the most unhinged members of the team when it came to games—had distracted everyone, but now they returned to the unpleasant arms of anxiety.

“Come on,” you said, trying to sound more energetic than you were feeling. “Stop looking like you’re going to get hanged. You’ll do fantastic out there. Go and have fun. And don’t bother coming backstage until you’re drenched and the crowd won’t stop changing your names. I mean it.”

Finally, a small smile appeared on Yoongi’s face as he rolled up one of his pant legs—for no reason other than he thought it looked cool. Honestly, it worked for him.

“Why did that last part sound like a threat?” he quipped, standing up straight.

“Because it is,” you replied. When you turned to Jungkook, he had his eyebrows furrowed as if he was still worried about something, but he started to smile as soon as he felt your gaze. You added, “I’ll be out there watching you. Kick some ass.”

You high-fived all four of them and pulled back as the boys erupted battle cries and huddled together before taking the stage.

They were still nervous, but they had you and each other, and there was a room full of people excited to see them perform. This was supposed to be just another day at the office.

Smiling, you headed back to your usual spot by the stage where Luna was chatting with a few girls at the barricade, and Maggie was snapping pictures of the audience nearby.

It occurred to you while standing there, that you were thousands of kilometres away from your house, away from everything familiar. But with Rated Riot on stage, and Luna and Maggie by your side, you felt right at home.

There was nothing you wished more than to stay like this forever.

It was an unwritten law that touring with a rock band was fun, but quickly turned very hectic. Insomnia often became an unwelcome friend—especially for the members of the band who had fashionable bags under their eyes almost every day. But when they were on stage or meeting their fans after the show, they looked alive. They looked happy.

And the more drinks they had after the concert, the more that happiness seemed to grow.

“You know what I think?” Yoongi said on the couch in the dressing room where everyone had gathered after the show. He was tipsy as he swung the green Heineken bottle around, nearly splashing you and Namjoon as you sat on either side of him. “I think next time we’re in Europe, we’ll be performing at Wembley. Stade de France. The fucking Coliseum.”

“And Camp Nou?” you teased.

Yoongi and Namjoon—both avid Barcelona fans—nodded in eager agreement.

“And not as guests at festivals, either,” Yoongi continued. “Headliners.”

You smiled. “I can see that.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi’s own smile widened. “When we announced our tour, Kerrang! called us ‘The Next Reconnaissance’ on their Instagram.”

You felt an uncomfortable twinge in your stomach at the mention of the other band and turned away from the two boys. You remembered the alternative culture magazine running rampant with the moniker—always “The Next Reconnaissance,” never just Rated Riot.

“I… don’t think you’re the next anything,” you said. “I think you’re you. And being Rated Riot is already amazing.”

Yoongi needed a moment to process your words. For some reason, he had expected you to agree with the nickname. Part of him wanted to be “the next Reconnaissance,” considering how much they had achieved. But you were right.

“I like that,” he said. “That’s good. Yes. We’re Rated Riot. We’ll get Wembley. And Camp Nou.”

“I second that,” Namjoon said, pointing his beer bottle at the other boy. “But, oh, we saw Reconnaissance at Rose Bowl last year, remember? Might be the best concert I’ve ever been to. I know they were in town again before we left for Europe, but I didn’t get to go. It was at a smaller venue anyway, I think. Rose Bowl, though... Stadium shows are something else.”

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at Namjoon over Yoongi’s head. The producer didn’t normally say this much in one breath. He was clearly getting drunk.

Yoongi, on the other hand, didn’t notice anything wrong. He was likely equally as buzzed. He hummed as he threw his head back and took a large swig of his beer. Then he turned to face you.

“We’ve never opened for a band their size before,” he said. “Do you think we even could? I mean, they’re not The Rolling Stones, but they’re… well…”

He let the sentence falter because he couldn’t find a fitting word, but both you and Namjoon understood.

“Uh, well, who says you can never work with them in the future? I know their manager,” you said, trying to sound uplifting, but quickly catching yourself. You could have made your point without mentioning this. But because the two boys suddenly looked at you as if you’d just said you were Kurt Cobain in your past life, you had to explain, “he’s, uh—he’s Nick Zhou. I worked under him after university.”

“No shit?” Yoongi raised his eyebrows even higher. “Are you still in touch?”

“Not really,” you mumbled, finding yourself in a tough spot. Avoiding the subject now, when you were the one who mentioned Nick, would essentially mean lying to them. You didn’t want to do that. Awkwardly, you admitted, “although, he did, um—he called me a few days ago. Back in Oslo.”

“What?” Namjoon leaned forward to look at you over Yoongi, who stopped drinking his beer, distracted by the conversation. “Why didn’t you say anything? What did he want?”

Suddenly, you regretted finishing your beer before you joined them on the couch.

“Well, see, that’s the thing. He, uh—he wasn’t calling about the band. Or, well, he was, but it wasn’t—okay.” You closed your eyes and took a breath. This was a very long detour to get to the most important sentence. “He said he’s looking for an assistant manager.”

The two boys next to you exchanged a look.

“And… he wants you?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “But only because he needs someone quickly and he’s already worked with me before, so—”

“Well, fuck,” Yoongi concluded, cutting off your humble explanation, while Namjoon offered an equally insightful, “wow, shit.”

You nodded – both observations accurate – and quickly added, “I didn’t—I’m not going to do it, though.”

“No?” Yoongi asked. “Why not?”

The hint of surprise in his voice made you uncomfortable. It sounded like the reasonable decision would have been to accept Nick’s offer and leave Rated Riot to work with this much bigger, much more intimidating band.

“I-I guess I don’t want to be anyone’s assistant anymore,” you stammered. “I like running the ship myself.”

The guitarist’s expression softened. But before he could speak, Namjoon slapped his palm on his thigh and cheered so uncharacteristically loudly that you and Yoongi both pulled back from him in surprise.

“I know that’s fucking right!” Namjoon cried out. “Steer us all right and Rated Riot will surpass them. You’ll be calling that guy to get him to be your assistant.”

You laughed at the unexpected proposition, and Yoongi gave your knee a friendly pat.

“We won’t let you down,” he said, much more collected than the boy next to him. “You know?”

“I know.” You were smiling with all the warmth in your chest. “I believe you, that’s why I don’t want to leave. But, uh—would you mind not telling anyone else about this? I don’t want it to, you know, blow out of proportion. It wasn’t even an official offer, really, he just mentioned that there was an opening. But I just… I thought it would be unfair if I didn’t eventually tell any of you.”

Yoongi nodded knowingly. Rated Riot didn’t have a designated leader, since Namjoon—as their main producer—and Seokjin—as their stage manager—called most of the shots, but as the oldest member of the band, Yoongi was typically the one to talk to you about the heavier topics.

“It’s cool,” he said. “As long as you’re staying with us, no one else really needs to know about this, right?”

What he’d just said—paired with the way he looked at you for a few seconds longer than necessary—seemed to imply something else. Your eyes automatically drifted to Jungkook, who was talking to Seokjin and Jimin on the other side of the room.

You lowered your eyes. “Yeah.”

Yoongi finished his beer in one swift gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then, he looked at you again.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” he said.

You met his gaze. “For what?”

“For believing in us enough to stay.”

Namjoon felt himself smile as he quietly finished his beer. He knew he was tipsy, but he wasn’t drunk enough to interrupt the moment between you two.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you said. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Here, you turned to Namjoon. “Right?”

Looking at you in surprise after you addressed him, the producer scrambled to nod.

“Oh, hell yeah!” he said, leaning forward to reach Yoongi’s completely empty bottle with his own. “Here’s to Wembley next year.”

You smiled as the older boy clinked his empty bottle against Namjoon’s, then tipped his head back to get the last stubborn drops.

“Oh, by the way,” Yoongi spoke as he swallowed and immediately coughed. “D-did you find out what was going on with Jungkook and his lyrics?”

It took you a minute to recall your last conversation with Yoongi—the one that had led you to Jungkook, where he had dodged your questions and later snuck into your bunk on the tour bus and kissed you.

“Uh, well.” You tugged at the sleeve of your leather jacket. “He said that the song he played you was just a demo. He’s still working on the melody. And he said that he just has someone who reviews his lyrics for him, nothing more.”

Yoongi nodded to the rhythm of an unusually slow Asking Alexandria song that played from the speakers of the dressing room.

“So, we shouldn’t worry?” he asked, clearly hopeful.

“Apparently, no,” you said with an uneasy smile.

“Alright,” he decided. “Then let’s not worry.”

He looked at Namjoon who nodded in support of this decision.

And so, not worrying was exactly what they did. Instead, Namjoon brought three more bottles of Heineken and you all decided to just feel happy tonight.

As you scanned the room with a new bottle in your hand—while the boys finished their beer in under a minute and Namjoon got up again to bring more—it seemed to you that everyone had made the exact same decision.

Except Taehyung for some reason.

For a good minute, you watched him walk in circles in the very centre of the room. Then, just when you thought he’d stopped, he started another lap around the carpet.

“Excuse me for a minute,” you said to the two boys on the couch—they both nodded—and stood up.

A brief, unexpected fight broke out over the bottle of beer that you’d handed them—Namjoon won—and you hesitated for a moment as you realised you had a new problem and weighed it against the previous one.

The new problem was that Yoongi and Namjoon were getting very drunk. It was almost ridiculous, but probably harmless. Taehyung, on the other hand, seemed to be waiting to perform at four more gigs as soon as he left this room. You had to go to him first.

He had noticed the commotion by the couch, but he did not acknowledge your approach.

“Is everything okay?” You had to stop right in front of him to ask as he continued his frenzied pacing. “You’re kind of walking in circles here.”

Taehyung stopped as if in a daze and looked at you. “Hm? Ah. Lots on my mind, I guess.”

You nodded slowly. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Uh…” He looked around. The movement seemed thoughtful, but without a clear purpose—it seemed like he was just avoiding your eyes. Then you saw his gaze land on Jungkook. Taehyung looked at him for a moment, then turned back to you and scratched the back of his neck in a telltale sign of universal discomfort. He said, “honestly, maybe it’s not me that you should be talking to.”

You glanced at Jungkook, too—he was explaining something to Jimin with very wild hand gestures. He still appeared to be on a high from the concert.

“You mean Jungkook?” you asked, shifting your attention back to Taehyung. ��Is he the reason why you’re pacing?”

“Sort of,” the bassist replied, blinking at the carpet.

You didn’t like the trepidation in your stomach. And you definitely didn’t like the unexpected memory of the alarm that you had seen on Jungkook’s face in your hotel room in Amsterdam.

“Why?” you asked because, despite the ominous dread that you were feeling, it was still your responsibility to know what was going on with the band.

“Just talk to him,” Taehyung advised. “But don’t tell him I said so.”

You hesitated, wanting a bit more information before you dived off this cliff headfirst. You asked, “at least tell me if something happened, so I can be prepared.”

He glanced at Jungkook again. This time, the younger member seemed to sense his gaze as he turned around. Taehyung looked away immediately.

He muttered quickly, “ask about his friends,” and then retreated to the very back of the room until he was fully concealed by Hoseok and Maggie.

A reluctant “oh,” passed your lips, but knowing that Jungkook’s friends were involved meant that there was nothing else that Taehyung could have said to you anyway.

You had to go straight to the source.

You couldn’t say this surprised you. You already got an odd feeling when you walked in on Sid and his Asshole Alliance before the concert tonight, but Jungkook had assured you that everything was fine.

However, if this was something that made Taehyung stomp around the room—which never happened unless the situation was extremely stressful, like the time Luna was getting surgery and he almost rubbed off the soles of his shoes, walking back and forth in the waiting room of the clinic—then it most certainly wasn’t fine.

Your original plan was to wait until everyone was back on the tour bus, since you’d be spending the night in Tilburg anyway. But then you remembered all the times you’d asked Jungkook if everything was okay—and all the times he said it was—and you decided that waiting would not cut it this time.

“Hey,” you said right in the middle of his conversation with Jimin. You added an apologetic, “could you excuse us, please?” but Jimin could tell as soon as he looked at you that he’d better leave.

As quickly as it was humanly possible, he nodded and jogged to join Yoongi and Namjoon by the door of the room. The two of them were loudly discussing their plan to go out and find a bar, but they paused after noticing Jimin.

You watched them for a moment, wondering if you should have stopped them from leaving when they were already so drunk, but they noticed you, waved, and left before you could open your mouth.

Sighing, you turned to Jungkook just as he asked, “what’s up?”

He didn’t appear unusual when you looked at him. But he rarely ever did.

“Are you okay?” you asked in return.

You were both tired of the question, but Jungkook disliked the sound of it particularly much this time. He’d seen you—out of the corner of his eye—take six steps in his direction right after you finished talking to Taehyung.

What if he’d told you?

“Uh, of course,” Jungkook said, looking at you with just as much confusion—and a sprinkle of suspicion—as you were looking at him with. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” you said. Your heart rate increased as if you’d already heard the bad news you were expecting to hear. “How are, um—how’s Sid and everyone else?”

Jungkook disliked this question even more.

“Oh,” he said in a relaxed tone that sounded forced even to him. He cleared his throat and scanned the room for the older member, but didn’t find him. Even more nervous now, he turned to you and tried again. “You mean Sid and the others? They—they’re okay. Sid’s just being annoying, but what else is new? But I’m—we’re all okay. Thanks for, uh, for checking in.”

“Of course,” you said. You waited for him to elaborate so you could discover the reason for Taehyung’s anxiety which resulted in two more members of the band that you needed to worry about.

Honestly, Hoseok was the only one who wasn’t playing with your nerves tonight. You saw him peacefully tapping his foot to the music in the room as he chatted with Maggie and a few other staff members.

Jungkook did not pursue the topic further.

“What did you talk about with, uh—with Taehyung?” he asked instead with all the subtlety of a frightened elephant in a porcelain shop.

“Oh, this and that,” you lied. Then, feeling uncomfortable about lying, you scattered a bit of truth in there, “Luna’s face-timing her mum on the bus, so he was—he’s bored.”

“Ah.” Jungkook nodded. “Makes sense.”

He didn’t think—or didn’t want to think—that Taehyung would tell you about the bet after he asked him not to.

And, really, he tried to be reasonable. If Taehyung had told you, would you be here, peacefully asking him if he was okay?

No. You’d use fists, he presumed. Possibly knees.

“So, there’s nothing you want to tell me?” you asked suddenly, interrupting his masochistic fantasy.

Jungkook swallowed. Whatever it was that you talked about with Taehyung, it was clearly neither this, nor that.

“There is, uh, one thing,” he admitted slowly.

You inhaled. “What is it?”

“What are you plans for the rest of the night?”

This was not what you had braced yourself for. Annoyed by his stalling, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket.

“Well, depending on what you tell me, either I’m arguing with you or going to sleep,” you said. Glancing at the phone in your hand, you added, “it’s two in the morning.”

“We have tomorrow off,” he reminded you. “Well, today, I guess.”

“I know, but we’re going to Cologne—”

“That’s only in the evening.”

“Okay.” You looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear the two of you. Not that you were doing anything forbidden—just merely bordering on it. “What are you getting at?”

“You’ve finished all your work for the night, right?” he asked and you nodded apprehensively. He said, “come do something with me.”

Once again, the dilemma that plagued your mind whenever you were with him returned.

The responsible thing to do here would be to, of course, gently suggest going to sleep. There was a long day of travel ahead of you, after all.

However, this could be your chance to determine if there was truly something alarming happening between him and his friends. Not to mention, he clearly still had something to tell you, despite appearing to have lost courage after the strange moment in your hotel room.

And, alright – the truth was, you wanted to do something with him.

“That’s very vague,” you finally said. “What do you have in mind?”

“Come with me,” Jungkook said, gesturing towards the door of the dressing room.

You agreed to follow him to the door but paused before leaving the room.

“I’d like more information,” you said, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest.

You tried to convince yourself that there was no logical reason for the entire room to be watching you and Jungkook right now, but you still felt phantom eyes all over yourself.

This wasn’t Hoseok’s party. You were still at the concert venue where Jungkook was the performer, and you were the manager.

He noticed your unease. First, he sighed. Then, as if he was compromising, he extended his hand.

“Take my hand,” he said. “And come with me.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant—”

“Come on,” he cut in, waving his hand in front of you. “Less talking, more holding my hand.”

Because your back obstructed the view of his outstretched hand for everyone else in the room, you knew you didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing this. Still, you let out a slow, anxious breath.

“Fine,” you said with exaggerated irritation to emphasise your displeasure about being kept in the dark. Then you took his hand.

As the two of you exited the room, there were ulterior motives firmly set in both of your minds.

You had to find out what was going on.

He had to tell you what was going on.

And Jungkook had a plan here somewhere. He knew he needed to tell you about the bet tonight, especially since you almost found out about it accidentally right before the show. And also because Taehyung looked about ready to start climbing walls.

He had a rough idea of how he’d like to tell you: it had to happen in a beautiful spot that would make up for the awful revelation he was about to make. If not make up for it, then at least make it worth your while.

And he’d done his research—as always. This was the one lesson from your relationship that he hadn’t learned as he continued to strenuously plan everything in the hopes of making it memorable and unique.

“There’s this spot. The Wandelbos,” he said as the two of you walked hand-in-hand down the corridor of the venue.

He pronounced the word with relative ease, making you wonder how many times he’d heard it. Then he showed pictures on his phone.

“This looks like a forest,” you commented, stopping to scroll through several photographs of squirrels and autumn trees—which wasn’t easy because he refused to let go of your hand as you held his phone.

“It’s a baroque park,” he clarified. “It’s beautiful, supposedly.”

You handed his phone back to him. “I’m sure it is. But not at two in the morning.”

“The path is star-shaped,” he continued, ignoring your interjection as the two of you kept walking. “And there’s a clearing in the middle with a pond and a bridge and—oh, and it’s only about six kilometres away.”

He held the exit door open, allowing you to walk out into the brisk night air.

Crossing the threshold, you looked at him with your eyebrows raised. “You want to walk over there?”

Actually, he did. But your question made him pause. “Uh... no?”

You stopped and waited until he walked out into the parking lot, but his attention was suddenly drawn to something behind you.

You ignored that and said, “well, we can’t rent bicycles at this time and—”

“Sorry—hold on for one second,” he stopped you abruptly.

You turned around and followed his gaze until you spotted Minjun by the restaurant across the street. Your lips parted in involuntary surprise, but it wasn’t Minjun’s presence that really startled you. It was the fact that he was leaning against a motorcycle, of all things, and there were two more bikes parked right next to him.

When you looked back at Jungkook, he looked almost relieved.

How wonderful it was, he thought, that Sid was such an insufferable idiot that he would decide to have a drag race in the middle of the Netherlands.

From across the street, the bike Minjun had rented out appeared to be a Kawasaki. Despite Jungkook’s previous bad experiences with the brand—involving a mild concussion and a dented metal fence, which, in his defence, appeared out of nowhere—this gave him an idea immediately.

“Could we go over there? Or maybe you could wait here for a minute?” he asked you while already walking away—and pulling on your hand until you had to let go because you were absolutely not going over there. He promised, “one minute!”

You could tell right away that he’d just found a potential means of transportation.

“Jungkook, that’s probably not a good idea!” you called out as he neared the street.

“I’ll be right back!” he shouted, forming the shape of a heart with both of his hands as he went.

You cringed as he crossed the street without looking both ways, but fortunately, there weren’t a lot of cars around. Unfortunately, however, you couldn’t hear what he and Minjun talked about due to the distance and the heavy gusts of wind.

You waited alone, with only your confusion for company.

If Jungkook stayed with the band while his friends went out, and now he went over there to borrow some devil-sent motorcycle, then clearly, that had to mean that he finally started to make smart(er) decisions while still being on good terms with his friends.

So, what was it that worried Taehyung so much?

“Dude!” Jungkook exclaimed across the street from you when he finally reached Minjun and scared the hell out of him with his shout—he flinched so vehemently that he nearly knocked the bike over. “Whose is this?”

“Uh—mine. We rented bikes for the race,” Minjun explained and glanced at you standing by the exit of the venue. “Sid was about to call you and force you to come with us—”

“I need it,” Jungkook interrupted, choosing to ignore the fact that there wouldn’t have been enough bikes if he had come along.

Minjun turned to him with raised eyebrows. “Huh?”

“I need to borrow it.”

“Borrow—it’s a rental.” Minjun turned his head to look at the neon green motorcycle. He knew that riding down the city streets with Sid and Jude on rented bikes was already reckless. Subletting the motorcycle to someone else, however, might be equally as stupid. “It’s in my name.”

“It’s the least you can do for me,” Jungkook said right away as if he had planned this in advance instead of only noticing Minjun and the motorcycle a mere two minutes ago.

His words weren’t entirely true, considering that Minjun wasn’t the one who had manipulated him into this mess. But Jungkook was appealing to his conscience—and that thing was eating Minjun alive. You could see it from across the street, even without knowing the reason for it.

Minjun bit his lip, fighting a very unpleasant battle with his own self.

“Okay. Fine,” he conceded, even though he knew very well what Sid would say about his impartiality and about the fact that he’d now have to ride as someone’s passenger—likely Jude’s, because Sid would rather cut his own head off than allow someone else on his bike, even if it was a rental. Hurriedly, Minjun added, “you have to return the bike back by midday tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” Jungkook replied brightly. “That’s more than enough time.”

“I’ll text you the address of the rental place,” Minjun continued, getting his phone out.

Jungkook kept on nodding. “That’s great. You do that.”

His friend typed a text message and pulled out the keys to the bike from his jacket pocket. He tossed them to Jungkook just as his phone vibrated.

“Don’t wreck it,” Minjun warned. “Or yourself.”

Jungkook grinned, swinging his right leg over the motorcycle and putting the key in the ignition. “I won’t. Thanks again!”

His friend glanced back at the restaurant, suddenly grateful that the take-out was taking so long to prepare. This meant that Sid and Jude wouldn’t notice Minjun giving the bike away—even though they would notice it gone and would probably realise where it went.

Meanwhile, Jungkook revved the engine and turned towards the parking lot of the venue.

The Kawasaki felt unusual underneath him and it made him miss his Katana, but he swallowed the disconcert. Beggars couldn’t be choosers—this was better than nothing in any case.

He stopped right in front of you in the parking lot, switched the engine off, and leaned back from the handlebar to give you a smile.

“So?” He patted the side of the bike. “Ready for a ride?”

You shook your head, disapproving of the cheesy grin on his face, and sunk your teeth into your tongue to resist a smile.

There were numerous—numerous—reasons why you weren’t ready to climb on this bright green monstrosity that must have been visible from any space station above. If not visible, then certainly audible.

“There’s only one helmet,” was the one concern that you chose to voice.

Jungkook hadn’t considered that as he glanced at the helmet, attached to the tail of the bike. He leaned over to unhook it and offered it to you.

“No,” you said before he started to speak. “If anything, you should be the one wearing it. You’re the driver. And the vocalist of a band that’s literally on tour right now. You can’t perform if you get your head snapped off.”

“Can’t perform if I get yours snapped off, either,” he argued. “Put it on. I’ll go slow.”

This was still a safety hazard, and at first, you debated arguing. Then you tried to rationalise.

Jungkook hadn’t had any alcohol after the show—which was very unusual, now that you thought about it. He must have been planning something all along.

Additionally, the streets were mostly empty, except for one car whose driver gaped suspiciously at the many motorcycles on the street, narrowing his eyes at each and every one of them as he drove past.

There was also Minjun across the street, looking as though he was praying that you and Jungkook would drive off quickly.

“Come on,” Jungkook encouraged. You understood his impatience—if Minjun was here, the rest of the Insolent Idiots couldn’t be far behind.

You looked back at the helmet in his hands.

This wouldn’t be the first time you’d gotten on a motorcycle with Jungkook, but it had been a while.

He had always been a huge fan of anything that could reach over a hundred in under five seconds, so he’d been riding bikes since before he was legally allowed to. However, the two of you had already broken up when he purchased and restored the Katana that he never stopped talking about—so you’d never ridden with him when he actually owned the vehicle.

It occurred to you suddenly that Jungkook had probably never mentioned his motorcycle since the tour started. You made a mental note to ask him about that later.

Now, you finally took the helmet from him and pushed it over your head. Maybe the most important justification for your decision was this: you’d missed the excited twirling of your heart when he took you for a ride.

The joy that Jungkook felt as he watched you put the helmet on surprised him.

He remembered the first time you struggled to fasten the straps under your chin and managed to graze your skin. Now, listening to you sigh as you squeezed the helmet over your head and tightened the straps without his help, he realised that you hadn’t forgotten. That you were still used to this.

Excited shivers ran across his skin as you climbed on the bike behind him. But he could sense your apprehension—your initial instinct was to hold onto the back of the bike.

“Come on, now. This isn’t your first time,” he said, looking at you over his shoulder. “You know I won’t go unless I know you’re holding on tight.”

“I assure you,” you said. Your voice was muffled by the helmet. “I’m holding on tight.”

He clicked his tongue as he turned to face forward again. “I happen to not believe you.”

“Tough.”

“We’ll be here a while, it seems.” He released the handles and leaned back. “Maybe we should see if Sid wants to join us, I’m sure he would love to—”

“My God!” you groaned. “Fine.”

You wrapped your hands around his waist but kept your touch light, almost nervous. Grinning, Jungkook reached for your hands and pulled them closer to make sure you had a strong hold.

When he squeezed the clutch, he felt you tighten your arms around him even more. Satisfied that he could feel more of your weight against his back, he finally pressed the starter and pulled the bike off.

He raced down the street—much to Minjun’s relief—at a speed that definitely would have been dangerous for someone without a helmet if there had been other cars around. But the road was empty and there were hardly any turns to make.

And as he sped down these empty streets, you had to admit to yourself that this was, simply, thrilling.

The rapid pace seemed to elevate your insides, forcing you to hold onto Jungkook more tightly as you rested your head against his back and watched the streetlights blur together. The deafening sound of the engine, the dark visor of your helmet, the intoxicating speed, the rough metal underneath your thighs, and the soft leather of the jacket that he was wearing—all of it was absolutely exhilarating.

Jungkook knew—he’d always known—that you would have enjoyed the thrill of a late-night ride far more than a simple walk down the Tilburg streets.

And he was excited to see your silly grin and dilated pupils after you took off the helmet outside of the park. He was almost flustered by your glow—and by the fact that he was the reason why you looked so happy and so overwhelmingly full of life.

He nearly forgot to lock the bike as he looked at you.

But then the sudden memory of why he’d brought you here caught up to him like a painful crash.

“Uh, so,” he turned away, “should we go explore?”

“Might as well,” you joked weakly. Your legs were still a little shaky from the ride. “Since we’re already here anyway.”

“Right. Well, I wouldn’t mind taking another drive,” he said with a more confident smirk—that only grew in size and arrogance when he saw you smile at the suggestion. Then, he looked down and added, “but I also wouldn’t mind just walking and… talking.”

The two of you had done a lot of that—just walking and talking—since the tour started, so agreeing to this felt natural and harmless.

The park was beautiful indeed, just as the pictures on Jungkook’s phone had promised. Granted, walking through it at night when the streetlights were so sparse, provided a layer of eerie uncertainty—but even now, you were mesmerised.

In addition to the bold squirrels, peeking at you through the tree branches—their fur barely noticeable among the dark foliage, but their little beady eyes glistening—you could also see the sky above. You could see all of it, it seemed. And the patterns of the stars were so bright that you found yourself stopping several times, utterly captivated by them.

You regretted not learning the names of constellations—or how to differentiate them—but looking at the night sky was a breathtaking experience regardless.

The sky looked different here. And it felt closer, too. It was something you didn’t believe you could ever get used to, no matter how much you stayed here.

After a short while, you and Jungkook arrived at a pond, and he informed you that this was the very centre of the park.

It reminded you of home in an odd way, even though there weren’t many ponds back home—and none of them looked quite as charming as this one. Yet there was something familiar here, something homely. Even at night, in a park that resembled a forest more than a cosy picnic spot, there was something heartwarming here.

You could have been feeling this way, you supposed, because Jungkook was holding your hand as he guided you down a narrow plank over a dark creek. Without him, the eeriness of spending the night in an old park alone would have been much more noticeable. But with him here, it just felt comfortable. As if you both knew that you were destined to be safe from all harm here.

The stream ran deeper into the forest, and there were several benches scattered in the clearing on either side of the creek. The two of you sat down on one of them and listened to the silence of the trees and the gentle flow of the water.

Remembering suddenly, you spoke up—quietly, mindful not to disrupt the peace of all living things around you. “Did you know that my parents actually had their first date by a creek?”

Jungkook turned to you. He was more comfortable being loud, because he didn’t feel like a guest here. With you there, he sort of felt like the night—and everything that it touched—belonged to him.

“That’s a… very specific location,” he commented.

“Yeah.” You snickered. “There were no creeks in our town, dad took mum to the city where he grew up.”

“Oh, that’s actually nice,” he said, a little surprised. He’d never met your dad, but he knew that ‘nice’ wasn’t the adjective that was usually used in the same sentence as his name. “Was the creek special to him?”

“Not really,” you replied, shattering the romantic image that had already formed in his head. “It was the only pretty place that he could think of at the time. At least that’s what my mum thought.”

Careful, because this was a delicate topic and he didn’t want to come off like he was defending your dad, Jungkook asked, “she never found out if there was, maybe, more to it?”

“She never asked,” you said. “Either way, that date didn’t exactly end well. In the long-term, I mean.”

Jungkook looked down at the dark ground beneath his boots. A few blades of grass poked through the dirt on the shore of the creek.

“I know what you mean,” he said slowly. “But can you really say that with such certainty? She has two kids. And you’re both pretty great.”

You smiled at this, and it gave him the courage to smile, too.

“Thanks,” you said. “And yeah. I guess you’re right. Some good did come out of it.”

The two of you were quiet for a minute. It was a comfortable minute, too, but only as long as you managed to keep your mind empty.

You succeeded—the memories of the stories that your mum had told you were slowly fading, overtaken by the calming whispers of the trees around you—but he didn’t.

“I never asked—and I don’t want to intrude now, but, uh,” Jungkook started, “from what you’ve told me before, I assumed that your parents got back together at some point, right?”

You nodded with an exhale from somewhere deeper than just your chest.

“Several points, actually,” you said.

Happy that you seemed willing to share this, he encouraged, “yeah?”

“Yeah. She kept taking him back when I was young, and my brother was—well, a baby, essentially,” you said. “Everyone told her not to do it, not even for the kids. They told her to move on, maybe find someone better. My uncle—mum’s brother—protested against this especially much. He had been against their marriage from the very beginning. But my mum loved the guy.”

The smile on your face when you said that last part made Jungkook tense—it contradicted so much with the sadness in your eyes.

“Did he love her back?” he asked.

You were about to respond with a reflexive answer that had been ingrained in you by years and years of your mother screaming about how your father was a good-for-nothing loser, how he could never love anyone other than himself, and plenty of other colourful descriptions that you probably shouldn’t have known at your age at the time. And yet, despite the intensity of her emotions after every break-up, she still took him back. Until one day she didn’t.

And now you had to pause.

“That’s probably a million-dollar question,” you said with a sad chuckle. “I don’t know. Is that awful of me to say? She doesn’t think he did, but she still got back together with him so many times. So maybe he did love her in his own fucked up way. But I-I don’t think someone who loves you is supposed to hurt you like that.”

Jungkook had leaned back as he listened to you and he nearly toppled over backwards at your words.

You were right, of course.

Someone who loved you should have never hurt you.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking. “That’s, uh—that’s not awful. That’s sad, I think. Your mum deserves better.”

“She does,” you agreed. “But I understand now that—well, in a way, she is who she is because of all that happened to her. She’s very strong and she cares so much. And the fact that her only flaw is loving people too much, it’s—I don’t know. Lately, that just makes me admire her more. Because she sees the best in people. No one does that these days, everyone’s always afraid to get hurt. But my mum, she’s like—she’s fearless. You know? I genuinely respect that.”

“Even if she really does end up getting hurt?” Jungkook asked.

“Yeah. Even then. And maybe that’s the thing,” you said, looking up at the sky again. “I mean, in general. The people we love are the only ones who can hurt us like that. Or, rather, it’s precisely because we love them that it hurts so much.”

“Hmm.”

He wasn’t sure if you were still talking about your parents by the time you reached the last few sentences, but he was too afraid to ask. He couldn’t even look at you as he stayed frozen in the same spot.

“I’m probably not making much sense,” you added with a small, uncertain laugh. “I just meant that it took me a while to understand my mum. Actually, I don’t know if I even fully understand her to this day, but um… I watched her give second chances to people who held the most against her and could hurt her the most. I thought they didn’t deserve it. But she... She knew the risk, she was familiar with heartbreak, and still, she stayed hopeful. For a long time, I resented that. I thought that was a—a weakness. It sounds cruel. But I thought I could never do that.”

You paused again. The memories—of more than just your parents—flashed in your mind a little too quickly for you to collect your thoughts. You looked down to compose yourself and felt Jungkook’s hesitant glance.

Finally, you finished, “all these years of watching the back-and-forth between my parents… It made me think that I could never give someone a second chance.”

Digging into the dirt with the heel of his boot, Jungkook asked, “you, uh… you don’t think so anymore?”

He glanced at you once more and then looked away again, even though you weren’t looking at him. Your gaze was fixed on the creek in front of you.

“I don’t know,” you said after a moment. “I think I’m less decided about it now. I admire my mum for having the courage for it, even though it rarely ever works out. And now I guess I think that it is more of a case-by-case kind of thing. It depends on the person.”

Feeling as if his chest had absorbed the water from the pond and everything inside of him was being flooded, Jungkook didn’t dare to inhale.

Breathlessly, he asked, “what about me?”

“You?” you echoed awkwardly. He gave the smallest of nods in response.

You realised quickly that you hadn’t said this to him in over four years, and it felt terrifying to admit it now with the solemn trees, a hurried creek, and curious squirrels for an audience.

“Well, fuck.” You swallowed. “I mean, I love you. You know?” You chuckled to hide your unease and leaned down to touch the blades of grass growing under the bench. “Too much for my own good, probably.”

Jungkook suddenly forgot how to breathe. He looked up instead, but only caught a glimpse of the stars in the sky before he closed his eyes. The view behind his eyelids felt more special to him than the shimmering sky above—it was all darkness and dim echoes of you saying you loved him.

He couldn’t tell you now. How could he? You loved him.

And a second chance with you was all he’d ever wanted.

When he opened his eyes again, you were watching him. There was a haziness in your eyes—from the starry night, from the motorcycle drive, from the long overdue confession—and a small smile on your lips.

The moment that his eyes drifted to your lips, he felt himself inhale—more than once and he would have floated away—before he leaned in, responding to everything you’d said with a kiss.

He’d tell you about the bet, he would—but not now. Not when he felt your breath hitch as his lips touched yours. Not when you kissed him back, replacing all air in his lungs with your taste.

Right now, neither of you needed to say any other word as the forest around you settled. The leaves were frozen as if the wind didn’t dare to rustle them for fear of interrupting you.

The thought made you smile into the kiss—what a self-centred way to interpret your surroundings—and Jungkook pulled you closer.

For a minute, he made it feel like the world really did stop turning for the two of you. Like the forces of the universe had interfered to—

He pulled away all of a sudden, breathing so heavily that he was nearly hyperventilating.

He couldn’t do this. He’d already done too much.

The time that he’d borrowed—that he’d stolen—to be with you in peace had run out. Not even the universe could give it back to him.

“I’m sorry. There’s just, um,” he began, looking down and bringing a hesitant finger over his lower lip. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You felt your heart skip over a beat.

Immediately, you found yourself returning to the hotel room in Amsterdam. It felt vastly different now and the difference sobered you up—you had been in your hotel room then, but you were alone in an empty park tonight. And you realised that discussing it here would be a mistake.

Whatever he was about to tell you might make it difficult for you to stay here and you would have no way to leave.

“Wait,” you said. The word caught him off guard. “Tell me when we get back.”

He blinked. The very reason why he’d brought you here was to tell you the truth in a place that was yours for the night.

“W-why?” he asked.

“It’s not fair to me otherwise,” you said. Your heart had shifted from pleasant pounding to near-panicked banging, and you were starting to feel nauseous. “I’d be very inconvenienced if I was left here alone.”

Jungkook appeared even more perplexed. “Why would you be—I’m not leaving. I’m staying with you.”

“That’s assuming I don’t kill you after you tell me what you’re about to tell me,” you tried to joke. There was a small—almost desperate—smirk on the corner of your lips.

Jungkook looked away.

“Oh.” Nervously, he licked his lips. He hadn’t considered you being so uncomfortable after he told you that you wouldn’t want him around. And now that he thought about it, he felt a little dizzy. “Well, that’s, uh… that’s fair enough. Should we—do you want to go back?”

The dread in your stomach seemed to grow at this question.

You knew that you had to be aware of what was happening with him, but the ceremony of it—the trip to this beautiful spot and the kiss that unintentionally coaxed him into the truth—scared you.

You wanted to resist the rational parts of your mind and stay here, where you had just forbidden him from speaking about this.

“Not really,” you admitted.

Jungkook nodded, relieved by your honesty. “Me neither.”

So, you stayed still for another minute. Then another minute. And another one. Until all the additional time you’d given yourselves had run out, too.

You peeked at Jungkook out of the corner of your eye, afraid suddenly that he would look back at you and then you’d have to talk, after all.

He seemed very far away. Much further than that first night in Amsterdam, when he came to your hotel room to talk.

Now there were sirens blaring in his head and a relentless pounding in his chest. You could almost hear it when you looked at him.

At last, you said, “but we can’t stay here forever.”

Despite looking like he had drifted into another realm deep inside of his mind, Jungkook sighed. He’d been listening to you breathe, listening to the way the wind played with your hair. He was here.

But he really wished he wasn’t.

“I know,” he said.

Still, the two of you remained on the bench for another five minutes, surrounded by the quiet rustling of the weary trees. Even they seemed anxious for you.

This might be the last silence the two of you would share, Jungkook thought grimly.

He felt terrified.

Finally, he took a breath and turned to you. “Let’s—”

A faint buzzing from the back pocket of your jeans startled you both. The sound seemed so foreign here, like something that had travelled across time and space, and accidentally ended up here—in your universe, where it didn’t belong.

You pulled out your phone and saw, first of all, that it was four in the morning, and then that Namjoon was calling you.

“I should take this,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the tension that had left your hands very cold.

“Go ahead,” Jungkook mumbled.

This was fine, he tried to tell himself while you stepped away from him to answer the call. He would take you back to the truck stop where the tour buses should have been parked by now. And then he would tell you.

And whatever happened next would—

“So, that was Namjoon,” you said, returning to him with your phone in hand. The call had lasted for less than a minute. “Apparently, someone stole Yoongi’s laptop.”

Nearly thrown off balance at the news that sounded somehow disrespectful, considering the many things you already had to process, Jungkook frowned.

“Someone stole Yoongi’s laptop?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” you said, sliding the phone back into your pocket. You knew something like this would eventually happen. “Namjoon said that he and Yoongi went out for more drinks, and when they got back to the bus, the laptop was gone. They’re not sure when was the last time they saw it.”

Jungkook stood up from the bench. “Well, why do they think someone stole it? Maybe he just lost it.”

“Yoongi’s not the kind who loses things,” you pointed out.

“Well, Namjoon could have lent a hand with that.”

You shook your head to conceal your small, involuntary smile and shrugged, acknowledging that there was a chance that this really was a false alarm. Especially if Namjoon was involved. You all loved him very much, but he had a talent like no one else to consistently misplace his own—and others—belongings.

“They were already quite drunk when I talked to them backstage before leaving,” you said. “So it’s possible they got even more wasted and just lost track of it. Either way, I need to go back and find out what happened.”

You returned to being the band’s manager, and Jungkook wasn’t sure how to handle the sudden switch. He wasn’t sure how to handle anything that was happening. This whole park was spinning around him.

He felt a little bit like the creek behind him as he watched you—flowing somewhere on pure instinct, with no clear destination in sight.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said. Hesitantly, he extended his hand for you to take—to help you over the loose wooden plank again. And to ground himself with your touch. “Let’s go, then. We’ll talk later?”

You took his hand. “Yeah. We’ll talk later.”

The truth was, you did not want to talk later.

You had a terrible feeling about it, and however irresponsible it may have been, you wanted to delay it as much as possible.

When you and Jungkook returned to the truck stop, Yoongi and Namjoon had already figured out where the laptop was. They looked very pleased to have remembered the Locate My Device app, never mind that you were the one who had kindly reminded them about it over the phone.

The laptop was, as it turned out, at a McDonald’s across the city. Neither boy could recall ever going there, so they remained convinced the device had been stolen.

You listened to their hypothesis with a serious face. But, unlike them, you were sober—the few beers you’d had after the concert were long forgotten—and you knew that the “thief” would probably be smart enough not to stop for a McFlurry after stealing someone’s computer.

The logical explanation was that your usually lovable and dependable boys had gotten so drunk that they’d forgotten about the fast food trip and left the laptop there themselves.

Regardless, you had to investigate. Because Yoongi and Namjoon were both pale with terror—and still buzzing from the spontaneous beer-tasting adventure that they’d gone on—it was up to you to find the computer.

You didn’t mind. This was your job, anyway. And you were eager to do something that did not involve talking about whatever it was that Jungkook wanted to talk to you about.

Jungkook, on the other hand, did mind. And it was evident when you exited the bus and saw him standing by the doors, pouting.

“I have to pick up the laptop,” you said, “and maybe report it to the police if it was really stolen.”

“Should I come with you?” he offered, not meaning to give you the option to refuse—which you took, of course.

“No,” you said, “you need to rest.”

“And you don’t?” he countered. “You’re the one who’s so overworked that—”

“Don’t start with that again,” you said, raising a stern hand to cut him off before someone overheard. You caught the flash of surprise in his eyes and the expression on your face softened a little.

You hadn’t meant to sound harsh, but you’ve had an impossibly long day.

“Don't worry about me,” you said. “This is my job. I have things to do. Laptops to save.”

“If I come, then—”

“Stay here,” you interrupted. “You had a show tonight. Now you have to get some sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

Biting his lip as mixed feelings of guilt and regret bubbled in his stomach, he asked, “we’ll, uh—we’ll talk, though. Right?”

“We’ll talk,” you promised. “Tomorrow.”

He fought with himself for another moment and then ended up saying, “okay. You never take me with you anyway.”

You didn’t have time to argue, so you kissed him before you went—quickly, softly, and with a nervous smile as you pulled away—and his heart seemed to leave with you as empty echoes of his racing pulse reverberated through his chest.

Tomorrow was very far away.

That would have been good if Jungkook still felt the paralysing panic from a few days ago. But even though he still felt scared now, he had already braced himself for the emotional consequences of telling you about the bet. Delaying it—against his will, this time—felt excruciating.

He knew he was the one to blame – he kissed you in the park instead of telling you about it right away, and then he agreed to wait until tomorrow.

And maybe this was what he deserved. He should have told you. But he hesitated and tried to convince himself of all sorts of irrational thoughts—and now here he was.

Alone.

And he was so frightened of being alone that he climbed right back on the motorcycle and headed to the address of the rental shop that Minjun had given him. He needed to do something, because he couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t scream at the top of his lungs, either.

Easily enough, Jungkook found himself in the bar of a hotel across the street from the rental shop. The shop didn’t open until eight, so he had a little over two hours before he could return the bike. A little over two hours before the night ended and he had to figure out what to do next.

He finished his first glass before a single thought could occur to him. By the second one, he felt his body start to relax, but chaos continued to reign in his mind.

What will I do, what will I do, what will I do?

As Jungkook lost track of how many drinks he had, he pondered every which way to reveal this to you and all the questions that you might ask.

What was the trip to Paris for? And the persistent way he followed you around? The conversation on the bridge in Stockholm? On the rooftop in Oslo? The bicycles in Amsterdam? The nights in your hotel room?

None of that was truly for the bet. But would it matter?

You said you loved him tonight. But you’d hate him tomorrow.

Maybe he could wait for five days until he formally lost the bet. Maybe he should tell you then. Maybe the fact that he lost something important to him would make up for—no.

Jungkook shook his head, nearly spilling the bourbon in his glass. He paused then, not even sure if he was still drinking bourbon. It all just tasted wet to him at that point.

Regardless, he couldn’t tell you after losing the bike. Even losing it didn’t seem like such a tragedy right now, compared to losing you.

While he agonised over it, the bartender continued bringing him drinks—always on the rocks, even though he couldn’t feel the cold anymore. The bartender was a kind elderly man, who probably should have known better than to keep serving alcohol to someone at six in the morning, but his experience told him that Jungkook was someone who needed it tonight.

Soon, however, Jungkook’s pride—his high tolerance for alcohol—became his biggest foe. He didn’t even realise how intoxicated he had become.

For all intents and purposes, he believed he was still fairly sober, considering how easily he spilt everything that was bothering him to the bartender. He even understood the advice he received in return—not that there was much to it.

“You have to tell her, son.”

He did have to tell you. He knew that.

And he was going to, he decided. Right now.

Jungkook found his way out of the bar with relative ease. Sure, he forgot that he had driven Minjun’s bike there, but he was able to walk without stumbling much, and that surely had to be an achievement.

Swaying only slightly, he stopped in the lot where the bus was parked and found your contact in his phone. Of course, the many emojis he’d used ensured that your name was the first one on the list, but he still found it easily enough.

Now, he had to admit this: he wasn’t sure if you actually answered his call. But he asked you to please, come outside, and within three minutes, you were standing in front of him.

If he had been aware of how drunk he was, he would have realised that he was screaming, so it didn’t matter if you’d picked up his call or not. You would have heard him anyway.

“What’s going on?” you asked, too confused to feel worried. You’d just returned with Yoongi’s laptop about half an hour ago. You weren’t sure if you’d even fallen asleep before coming outside again. “Are you drunk?”

There was exhaustion in your posture that Jungkook was too drunk to identify. You were very tired of dealing with the problems of drunk people tonight.

When Jungkook spoke, words poured out before he could properly think them through.

“Listen,” he said. His tongue felt oversized in his mouth. “I have to tell you something. I can’t—I should’ve told you this a long time ago. Maybe on the same day. Actually,” he hiccupped, “I never should’ve done this at all, then there would be nothing to tell.”

He hesitated for a moment, because in his mind—which was positively swimming in whiskey—he worried that his words may have caused a misunderstanding. He saw the frown on your face and cut in before you started to speak.

“Actually, no,” he said. “There would be things to tell. Because I like—I really—I like to talk to you. I want to tell you all kinds of things...” he paused here. Shook his head. “But not this. I don’t want to tell you this. But I must.”

He thought he came off very determined here, very confident. Really, he just sounded tired and drunk.

“Jungkook,” you said. “When I said we’ll talk tomorrow, I meant in the morning.”

“It’s—” He hiccupped again. “It’s morning.”

He wasn’t wrong, of course.

“After we got some sleep,” you clarified.

“Well, I can’t wait that long,” he insisted, stomping his foot and throwing himself off-balance. He had to lean against the side of the bus to stay upright.

You could tell that whatever he wanted to tell you was far worse than you expected. He was so drunk that he could barely stand, yet he was as determined as ever to get it all out right now.

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. The anxiety that you’d evaded was quick to resurface, and even you felt a little unsteady on your feet.

“Okay,” you said. “Well, what is it?”

Jungkook straightened as much as he could.

A deep inhale, followed by a sharp, rushed exhale.

“I made a bet with Sid that I’d get back together with you.”

Silence came next.

You felt a sinking sensation deep within you as if something—an invisible current—was pulling you under the surface of the water. The ground beneath you swirled in uncertain whirlpools.

“Sid said I couldn’t do it,” Jungkook continued after a moment, his eyes cast low. “And I was—I wanted to prove him wrong. He is wrong. He’s always wrong, he’s such a—anyday. I mean, anyway. T-that’s not—I didn’t—this isn’t making any sense.” He slapped himself on the forehead in newfound frustration and you flinched at the abrupt motion. The slap only made the truck stop start to spin around him. Pressing his hands to his hips, he tried to explain, “I didn’t win or anything. Which you obviously know, since we aren’t back together.”

He laughed sadly here. You narrowed your eyes and felt one of them twitch.

The night was cold, and you clutched your arms tighter around yourself. Your posture was not aggressive—you gazed somewhere past him and you appeared frightened. You looked as if the wind might snatch you and carry you off to a place that he could not reach.

But then your eyes met his and there was a frigid emptiness there that he didn’t recognise. He shrunk into himself when he noticed it.

“I-I bet my bike, so I lost that,” he continued. “Well, not yet, but I’m going to lose it soon. Not on purpose, but Sid won’t fucking let me end the bet—” he cut himself off by inhaling again.

It seemed like there was so much oxygen in his lungs—he kept breathing in as he spoke, but never breathing out.

“That’s not the point,” he finished his thought. “What I wanted to do—to say, I mean—is that I’m sorry. I wasn’t—I shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid. Sid got in my head.”

“Sid,” you repeated suddenly. The sharp sound of your voice startled him into looking up. “Got in your head.”

He looked at you for half a heartbeat. Somewhere in the whiskey haze, he could recall his conversation with Taehyung—or someone who resembled Taehyung. Jungkook remembered something about this being his own responsibility.

But then, he wasn’t sure if he remembered who Taehyung even was. Because, to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he remembered who he was.

“That’s an—that’s… that’s an excuse,” he managed to say. The letter S tasted wrong in his mouth. He clicked his tongue and continued, “he’s always in my head. I should’ve known better. I—I’m so sorry.”

You were breathing heavily, but you weren’t speaking.

He blinked his heavy eyes, each one of his eyelashes like lead.

“I just… I want you to know that everything that happened—it wasn’t because of the bet,” he said, swallowing after a great struggle. All these drinks tonight, and his throat still felt dry. “It was because I am—I really have been in love with you the whole time, and I—but I couldn’t—I can’t ask you to get back together while there’s this bet going on. Not that you’d agree—I just hope that you would—but I... i-it wouldn’t feel fair. It’s so—it’s all so fucking stupid.”

He groaned again and covered his face with his hands for a moment while he tried to collect his thoughts. There was so much he wanted to tell you and all of it was coming out so quickly that he wasn’t sure he told you anything at all.

“I had to—I should’ve told you sooner,” he said. Then, biting his lip harder than he’d meant to—the metal piercing dug into it painfully—he added, more softly, “I’m really sorry.”

You remained firm in your position and really started to resemble a statue. Contrary to what he expected, you didn’t ask him a single question. You just stared at him without any distinct emotion in your eyes.

He didn’t know what to do.

“Aren’t you,” he said shakily, “going to say anything?”

You finally moved—to inhale, then exhale. All through it, your chin was turned up as you looked at the line of trees in the distance.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” you finally said.

It was a sharp knife to his chest, this hollow voice that was supposed to belong to you.

He hung his head and took a deep breath.

None of this mattered.

It was over.

“You’re drunk,” you added then. “Go to sleep.”

He thought he caught a glimpse of sympathy in your words and he grasped at this flimsy straw and held onto it with all his might.

“Y-you heard me, though, right?” he tried, his voice desperate, eyes watery. “None of it was for the bet, I really—”

“Go to sleep, Jungkook.”

He couldn’t go to sleep, not if it meant he’d have no one to wake up to.

“Can I—” He coughed, the words catching on the sandpaper in his throat. “Can I talk to you in the morning?”

You stayed silent for a long, almost never-ending minute. Jungkook counted each second in his head, and he knew he might have messed up the numbers at least three times, but it still felt like you’d never speak again.

“I don’t think,” you finally said, “we have anything left to talk about.”

You turned around, but stopped for less than a moment, seemingly hesitating when you heard him call your name. Then you took another step and opened the door of the bus, climbing inside and leaving him here alone.

This wasn’t the first time you walked away from him, but this time, he knew it was his fault.

And there was another element to the suffocating grip around his neck—ever since you began to manage Rated Riot, you’d never left him alone when he was drunk.

But you left him tonight.

And even drunk, he knew what it meant.

He thought he’d prepared himself for this. But the sight of your back as you walked away from him, the sound of the bus door as it clicked shut behind you, and the feeling of complete silence around him at the truck stop—it all finally knocked all the oxygen out of his lungs. It made his heart beat faster, ridding his bloodstream of alcohol until all that he felt was pain.

He was not prepared for this. He doubted he ever could have prepared for it.

But he should have known this would happen.

He really fucked up. He ruined everything. It was over.

Hunching over as he tried to inhale but couldn’t, Jungkook pressed his hand to his chest. He felt something pulsating under his fingers, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Someone had emptied out the cavity inside of him where his organs had once been and filled it with rocks.

His vision was white and blurred. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t stand.

He didn’t know what was happening to him.

He felt himself slide over the side of the bus until he hit the floor and smacked his head into the bus wall as violent tremors took over his body. He tried to breathe as he counted the beats of his heart until he couldn’t listen to his pulse whispering the same conclusion to him over and over again.

It was over.

It was over.

It was over.

It was—

His hand dug into the gravel on the ground, then grabbed the front of his shirt and held it in a tight fist. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Nothing worked to stop the relentless judgment from breaching his resistant mind.

He ruined everything. It was over.

Jungkook didn’t know how long he struggled to fill his lungs with something other than the heavy, opaque pain of losing you again.

He didn’t know why he struggled, nothing even mattered anymore.

When he eventually realised that he was still here and you still weren’t, there was an early morning redness in his eyes and on the edges of the sky above him.

Most unusually, the only clear thought in his head was about the bike that he’d told Minjun he would return. Another promise that he had failed to keep as he suddenly remembered abandoning the motorcycle by the bar.

Then he remembered the bar.

He had already drunk half of it.

He struggled to his feet, rubbed his eyes with the balls of his palms, and went back to finish the other half.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “what do you want from me?”

prev ○ next

[billgetsmewet]

Fem reader and 2009 orrr 2007 Tom try be quiet on tour bus 😜 you can include any type of smut 🥰🥰

Tysm ily 😘

Secrecy

a/n: this was my oldest ask that i left rotting in the submissions box so im doing it since u guys r starving or somehting idk (i havent been posting bc im lazy and all i do is think ab getting drunk or high every weekend🤔🤔🤔ALSO FINALS)

LETS BEGIN!!!!

warnings: nsfw, p in v, dom!tom, public s€x, petnames

You had a stupid drunk idea and made a bet with Gustav and Tom that you would come to their next tour with them on the tour bus. Worst idea ever! Youve never been so bored for hours on end, theres nothing to do, the bus stinks and youre super hungry.. also horn-

Youve been driving around for the past 4 hours , trying to get to the next place, however its taking long. Its getting hot in the bus, and theres no airconditioner…

You and Tom are sitting next to eachother on one of the bunk beds, Tom is trying to lighten up the mood by joking around but its obviously not working. He gives up, laying down on his back.

Hes wearing striped pyjama pants. Doesnt sound too hot, but is the hottest thing hes ever worn.. atleast to you, since youre ovulating.. obviously.

He groans as he moves around, making you drool with excitement..

He takes one look at you and already notices the situation, he pulls you down with him.

Luckily its as if all the band members are programmed to get the fuck out whenever something dirty happens, they start to go out of the bedroom into the kitchen of the bus.

Tom smirks at you and glances down at your pussy.

Whats wrong baby? he asks sarcastically as if he doesnt know what your problem actually is.

You grind yourself against him for the smallest spark, just to feel something. Please.. i need it so bad, Tom..

Need what? he replies, teasing the actual fuck out of you. But he doesnt get to enjoy that much, since you start palming him, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

Oh come on now.. he groans, trying to keep his cool, but you can already see sweatbeads forming on his forhead. Hes obviously already close.

You knew he doesnt last long. It was a good part about him though, cause with him.. neither did you.

He eventually gives up and tucks his pyjama pants down, his cock springing up.

His precum already leaking from his tip, he slides your shorts down, aswell as your panties and quickly grabs a blanket ontop of you two.

He guides his cock into you, making you moan like crazy.

He was massive, not just lenght wise, but he was wide..

His veiny cock bouncing in and out of you made you feel even more wet, just the thought of this situation could make you cum.

He rubbed your waist, trying to get you more comfortable as he put one hand on your stomach , so he could feel when he hit your walls.

The joy couldnt last long tho, as Georg barged in, making him slip out of you.

Whys there a blanket on you guys? its like 30 degrees out.. boiling hot

———————————————————————

a/n : ALRIGHTTT THATS IT MY HANDS HURT BYE😇🦄🎀

[rimunagenius]

(HC) Soft!Naomi Mcpherson x photographer!reader

You knew Naomi since college. Met them before they had met Katie and Josette.

They had been your first friend in college, and since you were majoring in photography, and they were getting their band up and running, you both decided you could be their photographer/media manager.

When MUNA started gayotic, you had been behind the cameras laughing and watching them talk about the funniest topics or the most strangest things. Never on it.

Muna was playing a show in France which meant a long bus ride before the ferry and an impending deadline for a new ep

The three members were about to start the pod, you meddling about in the bus looking for a change of comfy clothes

“Hey, Naomi? Where did I leave my black spandex shorts?” You called from the small hallway

“Yeah, Naomi…where did she leave them?” Josette looked at her bestfriend, eyebrows wiggling

“In my bunk, babe.” Naomi shouted, “We started the pod already, btw.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, thank you, love you.”

You and Naomi started dating after MUNA’s first record came out. You guys had basically been a couple. Kissing and cuddling and sometimes sleeping with eachother ;) had to celebrate records releasing and deadlines being met somehow ;)) WINK WINK 😜

You put on black spandex, your leg tattoos all on display, above ankle white socks, doc marten boot shoes (idk how to describe them..basically their laces boots but ankle boots?) with a black crop top tank so your arm and sternum tattoos are on display (with hair in a half up half down claw clip with curtain bangs out…i wore this outfit today and i loved it LET ME HAVE THIS)

“Y/N, come and talk with us.” Katie shouted into the small doorway of the small room.

“Oh, okay” You walked in, Naomi’s cheeks reddening, smile forming at your look. At you.

“Gorgeous! Do a spin for us!” Josette shouted, her being your biggest hype man

“So, introduce yourself and what you do for us.”

“Uh…I’m MUNA’s photographer and media manager.” You smiled at the camera, this being a filmed ep.

“She’s being modest…she’s our bestfriend and the one and only Naomi’s girlfriend”

“Yes. That I am.” You smiled and look at your partner.

“Prettiest staff member we have. Might kiss her on the lips, among other things…” Naomi said, sliding their glasses down the bridge of their nose to look at you “seductively” while wiggling their eyebrows

Naomi basically has their hands all over you the whole time your on the pod

When Frankie and Gio join, you sit on their lap to make space, Naomi’s hands wrapped around you securely or hands on you hips

“You look so pretty, baby” They’d whisper in your ear when everyone was talking loudly over eachother

or “My pretty girl”

“Okay say bye and then say your name and then ‘I love you’” Katie said after her and Josette said bye

“Bye, thanks for having me, I love you Y/N”

“I love her too” Naomi said, leaning over and kissing your lips before they continued the outro

Getting up after the ep, you stood up infront of Naomi because you were still on their lap, they smacked your ass

“Ow!”

“Oh im sorry, it was just right there…any excuse to touch it” they smiled cheekily

“Haha, very funny” You grabbed the hat on their head, forcing them to stand up

Holding it away until they leaned in to kiss you, their hands holding your waist pulling you impossibly closer to their body

“I accept your apology”

“Oh, I didn’t know i needed to apologize for smacking my girlfriends ass” They stood infront of you, sass all over their face

“Okay, apology acceptance, revoked”

“Okay im sorry. I really am”

“Uh huh”

“Would a kiss better my chances?” they asked leaning in in

“Nuh uh” You rolled your eyes

“Apology sex?”

“There you go, baby. Your getting it now.” You smiled and walked away, blush rising on Naomi’s cheeks once again

[marvelous-slut]

idk how i keep writing about our boy happy, like i have so many WIPs and two of them are chibs & juice, literally almost done and my brain said “but how about we write one for happy AND finish it all in one day.” like ?? idk guys he has a choke hold over me and i’m not even complaining i love his ass 🫶🏻 anyways here’s to my happy fans i hope y’all enjoy some smut. this also gets no title bc my brain ain’t working enough for that right now, so sorry xx

SMUT! 18+ ONLY my friends, if you’re younger than 18 please exit left! lots of smut, didn’t proof read

“we’re gonna head to the porn studio boys, gotta talk some business with Luann.” jax says, hoping on his bike. tig stands with happy as he throws his hands up.

“come on man, we’re standing right here and you’re just gonna rub that in our faces.?” jax smirks and straps his helmet on.

“never said you guys couldn’t tag along, i know how much the two of you like pussy.” tig needs to hear no more as he walks over to his bike and hops on. happy decides to join them as he does in-fact love pussy and he definitely loves porn.

_________

immediately when entering Luann’s porn studio, tig is gone. he’s looking around the studio, he’s looking at the half naked women strutting around, he finally stops when he sees a girl on girl scene being filmed. not even a fire could take his eyes off this action. happy follows, looking around himself. he sees spots Luann speaking with a familiar face.

“holy shit.” he mutters out, he recognizes your face and body from anywhere. he’d never admit he had a favorite porn star, he did enjoy most of what he watched, but you in fact got him off quicker and made him harder than any other woman he’d watched on screen. he swears he’s seen every film you’ve had, girl on girl, straight, threesomes, but his favorites were your solos. he notices the tight royal blue dress hugging your body and he feels himself growing harder. once he sees you break away from Luann he decides to take his chances. he watches you wrap a bottle of water around his your lips, he comes over and grabs a bottle as well.

“hey.” he says, feeling like he can hardly speak, you turn around and smile at him.

“hey.” you say back to him, noticing the leather that matches your new business partners SAMCRO. he stares at you for a moment, unsure of what else to say, you decide to break the silence. “cat got your tongue?” you ask him, he puts a head on the back of his head.

“uh. no. you just look familiar.” he says, happy doesn’t usually feel nervous around anyone especially women but he felt like he was meeting a big time celebrity which he guessed that was somewhat accurate.

“which movies your favorite baby?” you ask, running a hand down his leather. he smirks, looking you up and down.

“i prefer the solos.” you smile at him, usually the answer you got from men was girl on girl. you grab his hand, leading him to the back room where you and your girls got ready. thankfully most of them were sniffing around the SAMCRO members, giving them a good time. once the two of you were in the room, you kiss him on the lips roughly.

he runs a hand up to your ass and grasps it, before you know it you feel your back against the wall. you pull away from the kiss to help him take off his kutte, as he’s doing this he also sheds the shirt he wore under. you notice all the tattoos and his muscular body, feeling your body heat up. you’d slept with plenty of men and women, you would think being on camera would take some embarrassment away from off camera sex, but not with this man. at this moment you realize you didn’t even get his name.

you pull him by the waist band of his jeans and drop to the floor to your knees, undoing his belt and letting his jeans fall to the ground. once his boxers come off, your eyes grow and a loud “wow” leaves your lips. he smirks at hearing this, he would never not feel proud hearing about how big his dick was but he was ecstatic to hear it come from his favorite porn stars lips. he feels himself twitch as you wrap your lips around him. he’s met with a hand wrapping around him as well, even tho you were some what of an expert at the matter, you weren’t about to embarrass yourself a choke on this man. he notices your hair getting in the way and decides to hold it up for you, his fist wrapping tightly around it. you pull him out of your mouth, running your tongue from the base to his head. he moans out at this action, he pulls your hair as a signal to come up to him.

before you know it, you’re laying out on the couch. happy lifts your dress up, revealing that you have no panties on underneath.

“shit girl. no panties?” he asks, you pull the top of your dress down, revealing your breast. you feel your nipples become hard from the cold air.

“makes it easier for moments like these.” he grins, pulling you to the edge of the couch, he slides himself into you without warning. you let out a moan, you were already soaking wet. usually it took a little lube for the shoots, but this man did something that no one else had done in a long time. he’s thrusting slowly, but steady.

“god damn.” he mutters out, running his hand to your breast. “pussy is even better in person than then on camera. you know how many times i’ve fantasied about this?” he hears you let out the oh so familiar moans that before he’d only heard in porn. you lift your head up and grin.

“is it all you ever dreamed of?” you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to your face, kissing him sloppily and wiping away his sweat with your hand. he can feel the tops of your nails sticking into his neck. “shit. even better than that.” he says, thrusting himself into you harder than before. your moans mimicked what he has heard many times before, but it seemed more enjoyable this time around, much more authentic.

you wiggle yourself out of the corner of the couch and manage to get him to lay on his back, happy was taken back. he was used to doggy style or being in control in missionary, he couldn’t even remember the last time a woman rode him. you ease down onto his cock, “fuck.” he let’s out, he can’t believe what’s happening, it still doesn’t feel real. he feels like a teenage boy again fucking someone for the first time. you grind yourself on him, taking his hands and placing them on your hips to help guide you.

“how many times have you thought of this baby?” you ask, he digs his nails into the side of your hips, making you gasp in pleasure.

“you don’t even know.” you feel pressure building inside of you, ready to explode. “you sure do know how to work a man’s fucking cock.” the words send you over the edge, happy feels you clenching around him.

“oh my god!” you scream out, he watches your face, although he remembers plenty of the orgasms you’d had in your movies, he’d never seen one like this before. you continue riding him, finishing off your orgasm. you feel him go to push you off so he can cum himself, but you hold him down with your hands still grinding onto him.

“oh now, don’t think you didn’t do all that work to not get to cum inside of me.” you say, moving your hands to his face.

“fuck!” he let’s out, he releases into you and enjoys every second of it. no second thoughts. once the both of you have finished, you hop off him and grab the closest towel that had your initials printed onto it, specially made for you of course as you were one of Luann’s biggest earners. you throw one to happy as well, he stands up, cleaning himself off. you throw on a bright pink robe, throw your hair up into a bun and walk over to him.

“you know, i never did catch your name.”

“happy.” he says, you chuckle for a second until you realize he’s being serious.

“cute, i like it. we should do this again happy.” you say, grabbing your water and taking off to the restroom. he finished cleaning himself off and gives himself a pat on the back, realizing now he can have the real deal instead of his screen.

[paintbrushnebula]

I want Miles to be shown dealing with PTSD from Miguel's assault for the first third of Beyond's plot. Like even for a significant amount of time after he's been found by Gwen and the band, he's freaking out at everything. He stares at shadows, fearing that one of Miguel's loyal spiders could be lurking. He gets antsy when the gang insist on making a pit stop to rest or do something important (idk what the overall plot structure is gonna be like) because what if they get ambushed? He freaks out about going to any new location because he thinks they might be walking into a trap (or they're walking him into a trap). He'll outright refuse to be left behind himself alone for a moment once he's finally reached the point where he trusts his friends again. We just bear witness to Miles in this constant state of terror for the first third or so of the film, with so much to fear while not knowing what will happen to him in the end.

And he will be struggling to bottle up all this pent up stress and terror he's amassed in the past 24 hours with nowhere healthy to put it because he still doesn't know who he can trust and also because he's Miles and you know he's shoving down all his negative thought patterns and just how afraid and anxious he is for the sake of his end goal. We'll see Miles' will to never dwell on things go from being his best quality to his worst obstacle simply because he learns these life lessons a little too well for his own good. He's gonna just keep going until he flies too close to the sun and shrivels up and burns. And all his pent up anxiety is gonna come out eventually for sure, but I think in a very ugly way.

Like I want his PTSD to really affect things. For his anxiety to affect the progress of the mission and slow the team down sometimes or give the spider society the upper hand while they're hunting them down across dimensions (that seems to be the direction they're going in since Miguel's final line in ATSV is a command to send every spider out to hunt for Miles). Like if they actually come face to face with society members and have to fight, Miles will freeze up in terror and he'll have to be rescued or the enemies end up succeeding in causing problems because Miles couldn't stop them.

Or better yet, and here's the real cherry on top: what if his anxiety causes his powers to malfunction. Like they still work, but he completely loses control over them when he's experiencing these moments of intense panic. He's so scared that he's flickering in and out of invisibility and instead of venom striking on command, he's having these infrequent yet uncontrollable electric outbursts that vary in intensity, like he's having bioelectrical spasms fueled by the panic, and he can't even concentrate enough to direct the venom strikes at anyone in particular. So now like he's essentially defenseless against the Society and it'll be another big factor in him learning to trust Gwen and the Spider-Band again, because he'll have no choice but to rely on them for his survival.

[the-s1lly-corner]

can you make headcanons for all the tadc cast with a reckless reader?

also, have a good day :)

-daz

TADC cast x reckless! reader!

last post for this batch! ill get right back to answering stuff soon! my cinnamon roll dough is almost done with its first rise and ill have to shape them soon! also gotta make the frosting..! short post since the base of one of my thumbs is getting a lil sore idk if its because ive been typing so much these past few days or if i just slept on my hand wrong; maybe both

CAINE:

youre in luck reader! you cant really get hurt in the digital world...! well, not... traditionally.. you can definitely still feel pain, thats for sure, but i dont think your digital body has any bones to break or skin to scrape..! so hey at least you can kind of be as reckless as you want without consequence...! except, there are consequences. caine is not at all happy at your recklessness.. i mean sure yeah some of his IHAs can be more... intense, i mean zooble almost got turned into a gloink, but..! i think he tones down his adventures just so you wont throw yourself into the danger

POMNI:

tries to stop you but her words fall short as you run in yelling into whatever the threat is without a second thought. "i- wait- er..." and youre gone, leaving pomni to hurry and try to catch up with you. she probably has to drag you to safety, assuming this isnt a case where you got all glitched up by an abstracted circus member.. shes gonna have to work herself up to get you to chill out; perhaps ending in a whole emotional thing where she just. explodes? perhaps

RAGATHA:

just because you cant get hurt doesnt mean shes not going to fuss over you. if there were a need for it i think she would keep a pack of Band-Aids on her. however, because you guys cant get hurt in that way, she tries to keep you in bed when you inevitably get knocked a little too hard and need to rest it off. dont even think about trying to get up out of bed, shes going to give you this stern look that only a few percentage of people can muster.

you know the look

the stern one

scolds you too if you get caught up in something real dangerous

only really softens up if you threw yourself in danger for the sake of another person, because i think ragatha would do the same

JAX:

"bet you cant make that jump"

"bet i <> can!"

que you absolutely eating shit after you fail to make that jump, comically flipping over yourself and face planting. you probably have cartoon birds circling around your head. jax laughs at you before eventually coming over to help you up. he will not let you live this kind of stuff, down

KINGER:

he gets so so scared when youre not in his sight, i think if he knew you were willingly throwing yourself into harms way? this man would have a heart attack! like really, or he would if he still had his organs and stuff...if he could he would keep you in his pillow fort with him forever... but he cant, so he has to settle with following you around with meek attempts to try to stop you

ZOOBLE:

zooble would do similar stuff as jax, but when you actually. go to do the dangerous thing they just pull you back. "dude. i wasnt being serious"

bro has to keep you on one of those kid leashes because your first instinct someone says "bet" or "no balls" or anything in that vein, you need to prove yourself

GANGLE:

her comedy mask probably falls off from the sheer shock from how easily you just. launch yourself into things. on one hand she worries for you, but on the other hand she cant help but feel a little jealous; i mean shes just ribbon and a mask, shes not really... tough... strong.. durable... she wants to be able to run around and do the things you do but theres that fear of being immediately broken down or overpowered, you know? didnt mean to get silly there; anyways i think she would try to keep in you bed to sleep off the soreness, like ragatha

[three--rings]

So I made a set of MDZS copies for an exchange.

I used the same typeset I did for my copies, not made by me. I didn't think I could do any better.

The best way I knew to make these fancy, without copying the set I made for me, was to do them full leatherbound. I had recently bought some leather from an auction in California and one of my fellow Renegade members was lovely enough to drive it all the way to TX for me when she moved.

So I didn't get the materials for this until almost June, and then my summer has been, uh, full of BS. Anyway, here's the finished product.

The design was determined by the color of the leather I got. These were some very lovely high quality goatskins from a defunct bindery. I honestly thought I was buying black and brown leather and I ended up with this deep blue and some greenish-brown.

So I decided to use the blue. I was also unable to purchase additional materials so I used what I had for endpages and everything else.

For cover decoration I decided it would be best to use the Foil Quill attachment for my Cricut, something I hadn't yet tried. Doing that on such expensive materials, when I had a deadline, was definitely a choice. I ended up having issues with where the decoration was placed, so I had to do some fudging when making the cases. And some of the foiling came out rougher than others and I have no idea why....

The designs are Sect symbols, of course, but from different sources, depending on what I thought would work best with the foil quill. We have the Jiang symbol from the donghua, the Wen symbol from the donghua, and the Lan symbol from CQL.

The spines have faux raised bands which I had to play with to get placed correctly since the decoration got shifted on some of them.

(More personal feelings about these under the cut.)

IDK, this is a project I really wanted to be better than it was, and I feel bad about how rushed I was. I found out I have to have surgery next week and therefore had to schedule a trip to see my elderly mom before that, two weeks before the exchange deadline. And then in the weeks before my trip which I had set aside to work on these, I caught Covid. So ultimately I was pressed up to the last minute, and some of the glue was still damp when I had to pack them up, so I left protector pages in one of the volumes.

Hopefully they're still nice to read and look pretty on a shelf.

[lewsnumerounofan]

team bonding (lh x reader)

summary: you may work as a personal trainer for lewis, but that doesn’t mean the two of you have to keep your relationship professional.

notes: nswf, coworker relationship, unprotected sex, fingering, public sex kinda??, maybe choking?, 1.8k words, !!!!not!!!! edited

masterlist

+ i wrote this while playing hay day and also i don’t know how past/present tense works and i’ll never learn. i’m sorry. was sorry. will be. idk.

“Lewis we can’t-”

Your words are cut off by Lewis’ full lips slanting over yours, his hands already rucking up your flimsy athletic top. He’s got you pressed up against the wall in a matter of seconds.

“Lewis we’re in public,” you grit out, but he’s already pulling off your shirt, ducking beneath your pushing arms to tongue at the exposed skin of your breast, your neck. He’s so warm against your skin, so needy that you almost let him. Do let him, for a moment. But when you look up from Lewis’ mouth you’re met with your own dazed reflection in the mirrored wall opposite you. Already your neck is marked purple and red, and you look disheveled under the frantic hands of the man almost on his knees before you. This is wrong. More than that, it’s wrong in the Mercedes training center, where anyone could come walking in at any moment.

“Lewis, stop.”

Lewis pulls back, his hands lighting delicately on your hips. Brows furrowed with concern he follows your eye-line to the mirror. You watch as his expression changes to one you’d grown all too familiar with--he doesn’t even both to hide his smirk as he rounds on you again, teeth biting into the plush skin of lip.

“What, you don’t like watching?” he asks.

Of course he’s not thinking about getting caught. Or maybe he is, maybe he likes the idea of it. After all, he did make a career off adrenaline.

“No that’s not-”

“So you do like watching,” he says, and the teasing heat in his voice makes you blush and turn your face away. He loves winding you up like this. From the first day you met he’d been trying to press your buttons, trying to see just how far he could push the quiet new staff member. You couldn’t really blame him--Lewis was curious by nature, so when you had arrived to temporarily stand in on Angela’s personal training duties, he hadn’t been able to keep himself away. It had started off innocently enough. A few private glances during team debreifings, a few unnecessarily long touches when correcting his workout form. Eventually though, it had landed you here. Pressed to the wall, his muscled thigh thick between your legs.

“We can’t do this here, Lewis. We’ll get caught,” you say, but he only raises an eyebrow, letting a lazy grin curve across his face.

“What, you don’t want our coworkers seeing you like this?” he coos, pressing his hands flat to the exposed skin of your breats, the tender marks he’d left. Under his tattooed fingers your breathing becomes quicker, a fact he notes with a quick click of his tongue. His hands trail lower, fingers slipping deftly under the waistband of your shorts and leaving you fighting for words.

“Or even worse… like this,” he says, and then Lewis is tugging you around until you’re facing the mirror. You both groan at the image reflected back; you, shaky legs and bruised chest, and Lewis, one arm banding around your middle and the other down the front of your pants. You couldn’t look away from his liquid gaze, heavy and languid in the mirror. Even as his fingers dared reach lower, brushing through the brazen heat of your core.

“Lewis…” you say, but this time you’re begging him to keep going rather than stop. Every part of you is narrowed to the big fingers playing between your legs, touching you everywhere except where you need them most. Desperate for something --anything-- you let yourself grind back into the hard shape of Lewis at your ass. He hisses, his grip on you tightening.

“Playing dirty, huh?” he says, but his voice is hoarse and you know his resolve is wearing thin. He keeps you there for a moment longer before finally circling hard on your clit. You whine into him and you can’t help but buck your hips because Lewis is taking up every sense in your body, legs going weak as he licks up your neck. To satisfy the needy sounds you’re making he pushes two fingers into you, murmuring you can take it as the stretch becomes the only thought in your head, the only thing you can feel. You can barely stand as the knot in your stomach tightens and tightens, leaving you gasping and shaking until--

“Open your eyes.”

Lewis’ command cuts through your hazy world of pleasure and you force your lazy gaze back to the mirror, to the sight of Lewis’ strong arms tensing around you, to the wrecked view of you; cheeks rosy, mouth bitten and red. You watch Lewis finger fuck you--watch as his dark eyes practically devour your writhing body. The result of Lewis’ fingers runs down the insides of your thighs, and the image is so intimate, so filthy it has you cumming.

Lewis barely gives you time to breathe before he’s jostling you over to one of the many weight benches scattered across the room. He navigates your wobbly limbs until you’re on your knees, elbows planted on the plastic-leather of the workout equipment. Behind you now, Lewis slows long enough to trace mindless, gentle patterns on the smooth skin of your back. He looks thoughtful, caring, almost, as you turn back to watch him. But then his head lifts and he catches your eye. Smirks. Bastard, you think. The soft touches from before disappear, replaced by his rough hands dragging down your shorts and then his own. You don’t care that he can see you staring as Lewis pulls his thick cock from his boxers, tip already sticky with precum.

For a split second you consider crawling around to taste him, the sudden urge to have him fat and silky in your mouth overwhelming. The smell of him, the way he would talk you through relaxing your throat around his cock. The small, breathy noises he would make when you hum.

Lewis, though, has other ideas. Through the mirror you watch him spit into his palm, rubbing it over his length before notching himself into you. Here he pauses, tattooed chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You okay?” he checks. You respond by pushing your hips back, desperate to feel him inside you despite the heady overstimulation from your last orgasm. You need this--need him--in a primal, untamed way you’ve never expeirenced before. Every part of your mind constricts to where he’s touching you. The warmth of his big hands on your hips. The press of his knees inside yours, pushing your legs open and wide for him. And then--the slow, steady press of his cock as he forces you open. You can’t do anything but take him, mouth open and gasping as Lewis stretches you, fills you, completes you. Doing so good for me, he says, words tight and edged with a moan as he gives you more, more, more. You can’t think past where you’re connected. When he finally bottoms out neither of you move, too consumed by pleasure. You manage to crack open your eyes to see Lewis, chest gleaming faintly with sweat, lip between his teeth.

“So good,” he’s saying, but you can barely hear him becuause you’re watching his arms flex as he readjusts his grip on your hips.

“S’always so good with you,” he murmurs in your neck as he leans forward to kiss up your spine. The change of angle has him even deeper, has you both moaning as Lewis buries himself in your hair.

“How do you do this to me. Everytime,” he says, and all you can say is baby, baby before Lewis is pulling out and slamming back in, rocking himself into you with enough force that the bench moves. You hardly manage to keep yourself propped on your elbows as he fills you up over and over, his own groans spilling into your ears. Already the knot in your stomach is back, accompanied by a dull ache from your previous orgasm. As Lewis winds a hand through your hair, he loops his other underneath you to again rub over your swollen clit. The sensitivity has your legs clenching uncontrolably, your vision blurring with each new pass of his fingers.

“Lew, it’s too much,” you try, but he only redoubles his efforts. He covers you completely, lips tugging at your neck, hand slowly closing around your throat, hips still pistoning into yours. You’re intoxicated by the power he has over you, the complete way in which he weilds it. The fingers gripping your neck are more a show of dominance than anything else, Lewis’ way of saying you’re mine. If you were any less helpless you’d consider fighting back, giving him the sass he loved so much. But you’re drunk on his cock, on the way he knows your body. And when he bites at your ear and repeats his words from earlier you’re helpless.

“Open your eyes.”

In the dim remnants of day light Lewis rises from behind you like a god, the deep cuts of his shoulders and chest carved from shadow. Below you, his arm disappears fully into darkness as he works at your clit, muscles appearing and reappearing as he moves. He’s got you all pressed up against him, leverage gained by the big, tattooed hand splayed like a necklace across your throat. Still thrusting, Lewis locks his dark eyes with you and you can’t look away, even as you feel yourself tipping over the edge.

“Lew, I’m gonna-”

“I know, I got you,” he’s panting, and then you’re both collapsing onto the bench, gasping at the heat of him finishing inside you, the mind-numb clench of your second orgasm.

“Lewis, Lewis.”

Tears pool at your waterline as your legs keep shaking.

“I know. I know, I got you,” he repeats, and he grabs for your hand, squeezing it tight as the two of you lie there, breathing.

Quiet. For a little while it’s just quiet as you collect yourself and feel the drip of Lewis down your thighs. You could live and die for this, you decided. These moments with him. And then he’s shifting, drawing himself up and retrieving your clothes, moving slowly in the low light. You’re cold without him.

He comes back to you though, kissing at your shoulder, your knee, your cheek as he insists on dressing you himself. Only when you’re tying up your hair does he at last relent, settling to trace doodles over your the exposed skin at your ankle instead.

“Told you,” he says. You glance at him, at the mischievous smile he’s failing to hide.

“Told me what?” you ask. You can’t help it, but you find yourself smiling too as he pauses his finger-drawing to look at you.

“Told you we wouldn’t get caught.”

“Shut up Lewis.”

[starry-eyed-extraterrestrial]

Talking about the Mötley Crüe tarot cards, and how perfectly they fit with each of the members cause I haven't seen anybody talk about this yet.

Nikki,the Devil - I think this one is pretty self explanatory. The devil (upright) represents addiction, oppression, dependency and powerlessness and this fits so well with young Nikki who was strung out on heroin and powerless in the face of his addiction.

The devil reversed however represents independence, freedom, release and the reclaiming of one's power which is perfect for older Nikki who gets over his addiction and reforms and metamorphosizes into a far better human being.

It's kinda funny because Nikki is the only one who's card has a more positive connotation when in reverse but I think this also represents how Nikki's life only really started looking up when he got older and kicked his addiction.

Vince , the sun - the sun upright represents confidence, optimism and success and Vince is obviously very confident and optimistic in his daily life and all of them are obviously very successful because of Mötley crüe.

The sun reversed though means pessimism, conceitedness and unrealistic expectations. When things don't immediately go Vince's way he becomes sulky and miserable, and things usually only don't go his way because he has unrealistic expectations, he either holds people or himself to too high a standard and gets fucked because they or he obviously couldn't live up to said expectation.

Vince can also be conceited he's very vain and empathises his self importance often throughout their entire career, and this fact has bit him in the ass multiple times.

 Tommy , The Lovers - I know his card technically only says “the lover” but no such card exists, so I assume they just based it off the lovers which represents love (duh), balance, unity and choices.

Tommy has a lot of love to give and hands it out in spades to anybody who he's even passively liked or talking to. He also definitely brings a balance to the band that isn't talked about enough, in the early days he was definitely the middle ground for any spats between Nikki and Vince, listening and comforting them both in his own way and being fair by not picking a side and just hearing them out until he could eventually calm Nikki down and explain the situation better from Vince's point of view and vice versa. He also unionises the guys by by being this comfortable loving presence that's usually so understanding.

The lovers in reverse however means disharmony/chaos, imbalance and bad choices. We all know Tommy can be a very chaotic force to be reckoned with and this can cause imbalance in the established relationships that he has with the other members because yes he's quick to love, he's also quick to hate and sometimes without warning with how quickly his mood can change which can lead to a lot of confusion and disharmony. Also I don't need to tell you that Tommy has made some bad decisions in his life.

Mick , the magician - this card upright means willpower, resourcefulness, skill, and manifestation.

I've never seen a man with more willpower than Mick Mars who continued just doing the thing that he loves despite the pain and all the times he thought he wouldn't make it. He is extremely resourceful, in fact his resources were the only way they funded Mötley at the very beginning and he very clearly is a skilled guitar player.

The magician in reverse means cunning, wasted talent and deception/illusion.

Mick has always been open in his overwhelming determination to have a successful band and I think he's definitely screwed a few people over in his life because of this fact (like Mötley's rhythm guitarist and he definitely deprived his own children time with him because of this).

I don't think Mick wasted his talent, but if he got too comfortable in his suburban lifestyle then he definitely would have (and according to the dirt, he almost did).

Idk, this post probably won't interest anybody, but I just thought I should bring this up and explain how I saw why they picked the cards for the members.

[starrykirsche]

oh my gosh your writing is so insanely good i dont understand how its gives me sm butterflies bro

could you mayhaps do a tom x fem!reader one again and they’re in like rival bands

maybe not necessarily rival bands but there’s like a lot of tensions between the members of each band and they’re kinda known for disliking each other but then like they get drunk one night and tom and r are alone and boom yk idk how to describe it im so sorry

thank youuu 💗💗

-💿

ugh ty 💿 anon, you’re basically keeping my motivation afloat rn. you’re requests are always so fun to dooo

sorry this fic has been like weeks in the making, i've been really busy :(

Make Friends, Make Lovers

Tom Kaulitz band v. band fic

You are the guitarist of the famous German girl group "Engelsoase". With three other girls by your side, you've enchanted the nations with your music. The only catch is, you're not the only stars to come out of the humble roots of small town Germany. A band of combating popularity stands eye to eye with the four of you. They call themselves "Tokio Hotel".

Truthfully, none of you have ever met face to face. All of the tension between the two bands is mostly for publicity. The fans eat up every jab that's thrown between the two bands. Though, watching cute boys, that in any other situation would be your peers, poking fun at you and your best friends has made you distain the rivaling band in a way that's much more real. You'll often find yourself ranting to your bassist, Nadine, about how everything your band does nowadays has to be somehow related to this "Tokio Hotel".

"Listen, if you have such a problem with it, why don't you just ask Kim to do something about it?" Nadine says as she sets down her magazine.

You roll your eyes, "What would Kimmy do about it? Other than lecture me."

"Honestly," Nadine stretches her arms above her head, "I don't really care."

You groan and heave yourself off of the couch, "Fine," Snatching the magazine away from Nadine, "But I'm taking this with me."

Cautiously, you walk into Kim's room, where she's watching the television with your drummer Ines. You stand at the doorway for a minute before you sigh. "Kimmy? Can I talk to you for a sec'?" You ask. Almost in unison, Kim and Ines turn their heads to look at you.

"Sure thing," Kim turns to look at Ines, who's already begrudgingly getting off the bed. The small girl pats your shoulder as she leaves. "What's up?" Kim asks as she pauses the TV and turns to look at you. You shuffle into the room and sigh.

"Listen," You sigh as you fidget with the magazine you took from Nadine moments earlier, "This Tokio Hotel rivalry thing is getting so old. I don't know how much longer I can just be okay with being a boy band's duff." Looking at her, expecting her to be annoyed by your confession, only to find she's.. not. At all. Actually, she has a small smirk creeping up her face. You speak up, having noticed her mischievous demeanor, "What? Why are you smiling?"

"Oh, no reason." She says, turning back to the TV, "I don't think you'll have to worry about that 'Tokio Hotel rivalry thing' much more." And with that, you leave her room in confusion.

For the next week, it was radio silent about Tokio Hotel or anything of the sort.

But, that Saturday, getting lunch with the rest of your band, Kim dropped the bomb.

Swallowing down another bite of wurst, she clears her throat and speaks up, "So, girls, I'm going to be taking us to Berlin this afternoon." The questions spring out at an instant. 'Why?', 'Where are we going?', 'Do we need anything?'. But you stay silent, because Kim is smiling at you in specific.

She shushes Nadine and Ines and smiles devilishly, "This has been in the books for weeks, and everything is well coordinated." Kim beats around the bush, but you have a hunch. A hunch that you hope so dearly isn't true...

The car ride to Berlin is a quiet one. You sit in the back seat, with your arms crossed. Nadine sits beside you with her headphones on, Ines in the passenger seat and drumming on her thighs with her hands, while Kim drives. You know where you're going, and you know you can't do anything about it. You don't know why you're so upset about it, but you are. It's not really the boys' faults, you suppose. Maybe it's the media's fault, or the interviewer's. But it's so much easier to dislike four boys instead of disliking thousands of faceless reporters.

The car pool comes to an end at a high rise building that towers above the vehicle. Sun already beginning to set, the four of you walk in…

The four of you are greeted by tall boys with the same expressions as you. Kim shakes the tallest one’s hand and it’s easy to tell this was set up by the both of them.

“Well, make yourselves at home,” The tall boy says, his eyes dark as he looks at Kim, “We’re so glad we can finally meet you all.”

He turns to the rest of his bandmates and nods, they nod back. Your eyes meet the guitarist of the rivaling band’s, you watch as he looks you up and down and bites his decorated lip. “Gross,” You mumble to yourself. But it seems Tom heard you, his gaze softening.

It seems as if all the band members divvy themselves out to their “counterparts” at first. Not you. You take the glass of champagne that the tallest boy— the one with the makeup on— Bill, was it?— and you make a break for the balcony that overlooks the city.

You let out a relieved sigh as you not so subtly slam the sliding glass door behind you. Taking a sip of the champagne in your glass— huh, at least they have good taste.

There’s a light breeze out here, and the city lights, you find, are quite beautiful. It’s tranquil, and you almost forget that you were forced to be here. It’s not so bad, you conclude, they seemed hospitable enough. Maybe that Tom boy was a bit too hospitable for your liking, but it could be worse.

After a few minutes, you hear the glass door to your back slowly push open. Rolling your eyes to yourself, you turn back to look who it is. Strangely enough, it’s Tom.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks softly. This.. weirds you put a little. Tom was the bad boy, the player, but he seems quite gentle now.

“Uhh.. sure?” You respond as your turn back to lean against the railing of the balcony. He shuffles over beside you. Already, you can feel his eyes on you. “What brings you out here?” You ask, turning to look at him slowly.

His eyes are wide and full, he clears his throat softly and looks up at the sky. “It.. got boring in there.” He says.

“What’s with the change of personality?” You ask, “What happened to player-Tom? The bad-boy?”

He looks almost embarrassed at the question, “Well, I tried it but.. you weren’t even wooed, even a little bit.” He chuckles, as if in disbelief.

“So now you’re just gonna act like a kicked puppy?” You giggle, he looks at you fondly, still a bit embarrassed.

“Yes, actually. That’s the plan,” Tom says lightheartedly, turning his body towards you a bit more. As if he’s growing more comfortable with you.

2 cups of champagne each. 2 hours later. Giggling and evading each of your bandmates. You find, you really enjoy this boy’s company. It’s late, but you’re not tired really. Not at all. You both sit criss-cross, side by side, thigh to thigh, with your backs to the railing as you watch all your bandmates play a board game together.

“Y’know… I really like you,” Tom says softly, turning his head to you.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re so different,” He adds, “You don’t care about all that superficial stuff, you’re fun to hang out with.”

After a quiet moment you nod, “I could say the same about you.. unfortunately.”

The both of you chuckle softly. He places his hand on your thigh.

“I thought I’d hate this— or just like hook up with Kim or something,” He says, and you make a mock throwing up noise, at which he laughs, “But I was wrong!”

The two of you just sort of.. look at each other for a moment.

To your complete and utter surprise, you go in for it first. It’s sloppy, and half hazard, the two of you’s lips meeting like neither of you have ever kissed before. But you both quickly get the handle of it, dear god he’s a good kisser. He pulls away and looks at you with wide eyes.

“Cool,” He mumbles to himself and disbelief.

“Yeah…” You whisper back, leaning in again.

[calholic]

T. KAULITZ x READER

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you and your band went clubbing with tokio hotel

★ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: mentions of alcohol, swearing

★ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i named all the members after jersey shore cast lol. also pt. 2 coming idk whennnnn

you and your band met tokio hotel at an awards show after party and the 8 of you hit it off immediately. since your band made similar music to theirs, you guys had a few things in common. after that night the 8 of you would hang out everywhere whenever you would see each other - which was not often since you were both from different countries.

you were secretly crushing from one of the members from the band, tom. he was just so dreamy when you first met him and the fact you were both guitarists made the conversations easier. you kept this crush secret for a number of reasons: not wanting to get teased by your members, being scared of rejection, and fear of ruining the friendship. being intimated by tom since you knew he was a playboy, you would usually avoid one-on-one interactions with him and mostly speak to gustav since he was the nicest or one of your band members.

you knew you had no chance with tom but when he would jokingly flirt with you, you just couldn’t help it.

sometimes you would catch him flirting with other girls when you guys go clubbing and you could pretend it didn’t hurt, or that it doesn’t pain you on the inside but you couldn’t hide the disgusted look on your face. usually after you witnessed him picking up girls you would avoid talking to him for a few weeks, then fold after he flirted with you and the cycle would study repeat.

the only person you’ve ever told about you crush on tom was jolie, the bass in your band. she was the only other girl in there so you felt like you could talk to her about anything and you could. she supported your crush except for the fact that it was one-sided and kind of toxic since you would end up getting your feelings hurt knowing the kind of person tom is. “he only needs love for one night,” jolie quoted, mocking what tom had said in an interview while laughing. “maybe i can change his mindset,” you said. jolie laughed at you before giving you a hug. “girl it’s not your responsibility to change this man. if he wants you he’ll come to you,” she said. “you’re right,” you sighed.

“hey guys, bill and the others are in town for their tour. they want to know if we want to go out with them tonight,” said pauly, the drummer as he walked in with vinny who’s on vocals. “speak of the devil,” jolie whispered to you. “uh- sure we’ll go,” you said. “where do they wanna go?” asked jolie. “probably the club or something i don’t know. i’ll tell them to meet at ours in a few hours though,” pauly said before leaving the room. “i’m not sure i want to go clubbing with tom again,” you said to jolie. “i think it’s best if you don’t but we don’t have any other choice. why don’t you just stay with me the whole night?” jolie suggested.

you smiled at jolie, “sounds good, i love you,” you said before giving her a hug. you and jolie decided to clean around the apartment a little before the others got here. you put on some music and the two of you started dancing. you were in your underwear since you’ve basically been in your pajamas and bed all day. you both didn’t think cleaning would take that long but minutes turned into hours and before you knew it they had already arrived.

your back was to the door and you were dancing as you wiped the counters. you didn’t jolie open door and you certainly didn’t stop dancing either. “uhm ______,” jolie said trying to hold in a laugh. you finally turned around to see tom recording as he tried holding in a laugh too. “fuck me,” you said before running into you room to put some pants on. when you got back everyone was on the couch now and you face was still red. the room was quiet as you took a seat next to jolie after waving to gustav.

“i like your underwear,” tom said smirking and laughing. “whatever perv,” you replied as you rolled your eyes, secretly enjoying the attention. “so what club do you guys wanna go to firat?” asked pauly who had no idea what happened beforehand. “uhh there’s not a specific one since we don’t know this city well so i guess we’ll just go whenever you guys pick,” bill said. “oh sure, let’s have a few drinks before we go then,” pauly said, getting up to grab some bottles.

“so you guys are here on your right? are you having fun in the city so far?” vinny asked trying to make some conversation and at the same time lighten the mood. “yeah it’s pretty fun so far,” georg said. “way different from germany i would say,” gustav added. “the girls here are hot, hope they let me hit,” tom said. the room immediately went silent and the atmosphere went back to being awkward. your smile faded as you looked at jolie. she gave you an “i’m sorry look.” you looked down at your thighs and didn’t say anything until you guys left for the club. no one noticed your mood change other than jolie but bill and gustav had and eye on you which you didn’t notice.

tom immediately broke off from the group and approached a group of girls when you guys got to club which made you stomach turn. “ignore it,” jolie said before grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the bar. after a while, the group had all split up, with some sticking together. georg somewhere upstairs, gustav and vinny spread on a couch, tom still with the girls, bill playing pool with pauly, and you with jolie at the bar. you weren’t in the mood for drinking so you just sat and watched jolie chug drink after drink and take one shot after another. when jolie was drunk, she would get flirty and approach the nearest guy which so happened to be a hot blonde sitting next to us.

you watched as she made her way towards him and excused yourself once they got handsy with each other. you decided to walk around and explore the bar since you’ve never been to this one. you found georg first when you went upstairs. he looked as he hunched over the balcony. “georg?” you called out. he turned around was obviously out of it so you decided it was time for you all to leave.

the two of you went to go find the others, starting with gustav and vinny. they were drunk as well which left you as the sober and responsible one. a girl was sat on vinny lap and you pushed her off, dragging the both of them to now go find bill since you figured he was responsible enough to stay somewhat sober. bill was by the pool table with pauly who was now pushing himself with a random girl. “bill!” you called out. he turned around and smiled at you. “oh hey ______,” he said. you gave him and hug, very glad to see him. “please tell me you’re sober,” you said as you let go.

“i am and why are you dragging around the others? are they drunk?” he asked “oh my god yes. i think it’s time to go home now i was just going around and finding the others,” you said. “oh well let me help then,” he replied with a smile. “perfect, i just need to get jolie and tom,” you said. “here take these three i’ll go get them, and watch pauly too,” you said running away before bill grabbed you. “uhm actually i’ll go get tom and jolie as well, why don’t you stay here?” he suggested. “oh… okay i guess,” you replied as he left.

you grabbed pauly away from the girl and called your manager, asking her to come pick you all up. you sat down and exhaled as you closed your eyes. you wondered why bill insisted on getting tom. a few minutes later bill came with tom and jolie who were both drunk too. “these people have a problem. anyways, i called my manager she’ll come pick us up soon,” you said. your manger arrived a few moments later and you got in. there was no room for eight people in the six passenger van so you all had to make space.

you sat by a window, tom squished next to you with jolie and gustav on the other side. vinny and gustav had to sit on pauly and bills lap since there were no seats left. “thanks for the ride, sorry to call you so late,” you said to your manager. tom fell asleep on shoulder, linking your arm with his and the others fell asleep soon after too. it’s was just you and bill awake now. “you like tom don’t you ______?” bill asked. this question took you by shock and you were dumbfounded. “no, why?” you asked laughing it off. “don’t lie ______, i see the way you look at him,” bill said. “you caught me i guess,” you replied.

“tom is complicated when it comes to relationships,” bill said. “i know bill,” you replied. “anyways!” you said trying to change the subject. “why didn’t you just let me go get tom and jolie?” you asked. bill was quiet. “do you really want to know?” he asked. “yeah…?” you replied. “i saw tom go in the bathroom with a girl, i know you like him so i didn’t want you to see that,” he said. “why would you tell me if you didn’t want me to see it?” you asked. “you were the one that wanted to hear it,” he replied. before you could say something tom suddenly woke up and looked at you.

“i’m hungry,” he said. “what?” you asked confused. “can’t we get something to eat?” he asked. you rolled your eyes and sighed “ fine, can you pull in to that restaurant?” you asked your manager. everyone was awake now as your manager pulled up to the drive through of the fast food restaurant. you guys quickly ordered and grabbed your food.

“do you guys have a show tomorrow?” you asked bill. “why don’t you stay at our place tonight, it’s late,” you suggested. “sure, we don’t really have anything scheduled tomorrow,” he replied. you brought everyone inside the apartment before thanking your manager once more. jolie went for the couch and sprawled out on it leaving the others on the floor. “why don’t you, georg, gustav and tom sleep in paul and vinny’s room while the others stay in jolie and i’s room?” you suggested to bill. “sounds good,” he said before taking them down the hall.

you sat down on the couch next to jolie, trying to wake her up as vinny and pauly walked into your room. “jolie, come on, wake up,” you said lifting her up and bringing her to bed. vinny and pauly were on your bed so you and jolie slept on her mattress. you laid down and thought about what bill said about tom - how he was with another girl. you then thought about what jolie said and decided it was time to move on from tom, the thought that he could flirt with you but be with another bitch made you sick.you decided to go bed, hoping to avoid him the next morning.

[1ovede1uxe]

not sure about requesting for multiple characters (plus I've seen your blog before and interacted with your posts, but for some reason I never requested lol) but I was wondering if you could write some hcs for Bucci Gang (each member individually) with a s/o who loves rock music. idk, on a date maybe, she starts playing queen or gnr songs at full volume? And when they both leave the place, she continues humming the songs? idk if this makes sense because… well… English is not my first language but anyway, have a nice day :))

hi! yes! thank you so so much for the request! I'm so sorry it took me an eternity to get to this, things got really busy really quickly. your request makes perfect sense, but it was super fun writing this! I don't write for characters under sixteen, specifically in a romantic setting, so I excluded Giorno from this, hope its okay!

bucci gang with an s/o who loves rock music :)

Bruno Bucciarati:

Bruno has a sophisticated taste in music, but he's completely open-minded and enjoys experiencing new things with his s/o. He appreciates the spirit of rock music and how it speaks to his s/o's nature. More than anything, the smile it puts on s/o's face.

Bruno finds it charming when his s/o blasts classic rock tunes, and he's not afraid to sing along or even tap along a little. It took some adjusting to, but he's found himself researching and listening more, initially for you, but now for the both of you!

He loves seeing his S/O so passionate about something, and he often surprises them with tickets to concerts as a way to bond.

in reference to both queen and gnr, I'd say Queen is definitely a bit more up his alley.

Leone Abbacchio:

Abbacchio, our emo king, absolutely loves rock. He may not want to admit it openly, wanting to appear sophisticated, but the heart wants what it wants.

He finds solace in the lyrics of rock songs, relating to the themes of rebellion and defiance.

Abbacchio appreciates his s/o's love for rock music, finding it refreshing and invigorating, and honestly grateful he has someone he can share this part of himself with.

He's not one to express his emotions openly, but when his s/o plays their favorite rock songs, he can't help but let loose a little and enjoy the moment with them, joining them in the silly moment.

Guido Mista:

Mista is a big fan of classic rock, especially when it's played loud and proud. He loves jamming out to Guns N' Roses with his s/o, belting out the lyrics and air-guitaring along with the music. Especially in the car, blasting loudly and singing on the way to a concert, or even on a super fun trip to just the grocery store.

Mista finds it so exciting to share his passion for rock music with his s/o and he's always up for an impromptu jam session.

He loves how his s/o's love for rock music brings out their playful side, and every moment they spend rocking out together is just as memorable as the last.

Narancia Ghirga:

Narancia is the epitome of energy and enthusiasm, so it's no surprise that he's a huge fan of rock music.

He may not know the bands or lyrics by heart, but he just loves to have fun with his s/o, singing along at the top of his lungs and headbanging like there's no tomorrow.

"hey can you put on that one song?" and it could literally be about any song.

Narancia finds it s/o, and he's always on the lookout for new bands and songs to enjoy together, even if he doesn't fully remember them, but he'll immediately know "hey s/o would love this song!"

He's constantly humming his favorite rock tunes which is a playlist made by s/o, and he loves it when his s/o joins in!

★ masterlist

[tojisun]

sun u should explain the ghost band lore bc i’m interested but no nothing about them

oki oki so ani this might take a while bc i went crazy explaining and it might be too long so uhm find the tl;dr at the end 😭

i swooned when i saw u ask this bc!!! mwah mwah <333 idk it made me so giddy teehee <33 also! this is what i know so far so there might be lapses in my explanation hhh

the band ghost or ghost (or ‘ghost bc’)

- they are are theatrical rock band mostly known for their satirical approach to organized religion (roman catholicism); they have a parody of the ministry (from the papacy down to the clergymen [dubbed as brothers/sisters of sins]). there are criticism that they are satanic and, well, that is their lore.

the current singer is called papa emeritus iv

- papa iv is endearingly called popia because before being papa, he was known as cardinal copia. he succeeded the previous three papa emeritus (primo, secondo, terzo) after the three have been killed. he also inherited the ghouls (specifically terzo’s ghouls).

- primo, secondo, terzo, copia are all acted by the same guy (tobias forge)! the lore is that they’re all brothers, fathered by papa nihil, but that copia wasn’t recognized as his son until later on when the three papas were killed. the ones who organized the deaths of the previous papas is sister imperator, copia’s mom.

- the papas, in order: primo, secondo, terzo, copia (cardinal), copia (papa)

nameless ghouls

- they are the people that tobias forge (papa) hires to play live! theyre not a concrete band since these instrumentalists could be/had been replaceable :((

- when ghost debuted, there were only four ghouls: fire, water, earth, quintessence. these titles are reflections of the instruments they play! fire (lead guitar). water (bass guitar). earth (drums). quintessence (rhythm guitar). later a keyboard instrumentalist was added and they were dubbed as the air ghoul.

- as the band grew more popular and more instrumentalists came and went, the fans began naming them. at the top of my head; notable old members include: alpha (fire). omega (quintessence). mist (water). ifrit (fire). zephyr (air).

- i think it was in 2019 when the ghouls were established and no one left (until, that is, june 2023). they were: dewdrop (fire; previously water so he replaced ifrit as lead guitarist). rain (water; bass guitar). aether (quintessence; rhythm guitar). mountain (earth; drums). swiss (multi ghoul - means he is a backup vocals, acoustic guitarist, tambourine). cumulus (air; keyboard and backup vocals). cirrus (air - keyboard and keystar). sunshine (multi; backup vocals).

- nameless ghouls as of july 2023: dewdrop (fire). rain (water). phantom (quintessence - he replaced aether). mountain (earth). swiss (multi). cumulus (air). cirrus (air). aurora (multi - she replaced sunshine).

- fave: nameless ghouls aren’t all just men!! cirrus, cumulus, sunshine, and aurora are ghoulettes

- i finally know who is who when they don’t have their instruments 😭

- they all wear the same thing for anonymity, although fans know who they are unmasked!

other fun info

- a ghost concert is called ‘ritual’

- they have this episodes (??) of more lore called ‘chapters’

- there are talks that copia will be replaced by a new papa but copia’s goodbye had been too quiet and peaceful so fans speculate that tobias forge is gonna do smthn else?

- papa nihil plays the saxophone!

tl;dr - tobias forge is a huge fucking nerd who made a whole satanic ministry and band for flare!