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#and i got it again immediately every time i half-woke-up in the middle of the night
taexual · 16 days
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sleepwalking ● 21 | jjk
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pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.
genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers
warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, FLUFF!!, angst, SLOW BURN
words: 16.4k
read from the beginning ○ masterlist
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chapter 21 ► love me 'til my heart stops, hit me like a freight truck
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You didn’t have the courage to knock on Jungkook’s door when you woke up the next morning. Your mind had sobered enough to recall stumbling into his room after accidentally trying to pick his lock, and you did not want to remember anything else. The rest of the night was blurry anyway, but you deduced easily enough that Jungkook was the reason you woke up smothered under the warm covers.
You wanted to stay in your room for as long as possible, but your headache was so severe that, if divided between people, it could have knocked out a small village for two days. You needed water. Most unfortunately, the hotel had no room service, so you had to find your way out of bed.
The world had finally stopped twirling around you, but that wasn’t a big improvement because other things bothered you now, like the carpet texture under your feet. Or the light that burned your eyes. Or your satin dress, which had felt comfortable last night but scratched you all over this morning.
Lacking the energy to change, you drew the curtains to block out the late morning sunlight and threw on a robe. Then you hesitated in the middle of the room, trying to place your belongings. You thought you remembered having a jacket on yesterday, but as you scanned your room, you couldn’t see it anywhere.
To make matters worse, when you left your room and the door shut behind you with a loud click, you were forced to pause and strain your muscles to stay upright. Every sound felt amplified like a megaphone had been taped directly to your brain.
You took a deep breath and turned the corner towards the stairwell. Your morning got a little brighter just then—you saw Luna cross the corridor, looking almost exactly how you felt. Taehyung was at her side, pushing a water bottle into her exhausted hand as he led her back to their room. He noticed you and immediately shook his head in disapproval, first at you and then at his girlfriend (not for the first time, judging from Luna’s defeated sigh).
Just as you were about to speak up in your defence, you smacked right into something solid and recoiled in surprise.
Jungkook nearly dropped his phone from the impact. He grabbed the railing of the stairs for support and turned around.
“Shit—hi,” he said. “Didn’t expect to see you out of bed so early.”
The feeling was, obviously, mutual as your reluctant mind needed a moment to understand what was happening.
“What are you—why are you just standing here?” you asked, rubbing your forehead with your fingers. You had hit the clasp of his necklace when you walked into him, and the sharp pain began to pirouette around your head again.
“I was on my way downstairs for breakfast,” he said, a hint of amusement threading his every word as he observed your attempts to make sense of your surroundings. “But I wanted to text you first, so I’d know what to bring you.”
“It—thank you,” you replied, softer. Your thoughts had knotted into a jumbled, incomprehensible mess as images of Taehyung and Luna flashed through your mind again. “But I can go down. I think.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. He remembered you saying that last night, right before he’d half-carried you to your room. “Walking isn’t your strong suit when you’re drunk.”
You took a sharp breath. The mention of alcohol seemed to cause an unpleasant swirl in your already upset stomach.
You wondered briefly how noticeable your sudden nausea was, because Jungkook put his phone away and reached for you. You realised right then that you hadn’t even glanced in the mirror before you left your room. You could only imagine the state of last night’s makeup on your face right now.
“It’s clearly not my strong suit now either,” you said. “Sorry I nearly pushed you down the stairs just now.”
“It’s okay,” he said, snickering. One of his hands hovered over your arm in case you were planning to topple over. “Are you sure you should have drunk that much last night, though?”
“Of course I shouldn’t have,” you said, shielding your eyes with a weary hand as curious rays of sunlight filtered through the small windows by the stairs. “But what’s done is done. I think I’ve already embarrassed myself enough by breaking into your room last night, so that’s my punishment. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook said. He took a small step to the left to provide you with a shadow from the sunlight. “You didn’t do anything I haven’t seen before.”
You groaned. “That somehow makes it worse. But serves me right, I guess. I even lost my jacket.”
“You—” his laughter cut him off. You groaned again, only adding to his amusement. “Different shoes and no jacket. Sounds like quite the night.”
You wanted to shake your head but did not dare move it. Instead, you leaned against the wall, seeking additional steadiness that your stiff legs could not provide. Your ankles felt stretched out and twisted around, and the rigid hotel slippers did not help.
“Get something to eat,” Jungkook suggested, noticing your struggle to hold yourself up. “You’ll feel better.”
You closed your eyes. Your stomach was already churning precariously; you weren’t ready to eat yet.
“No, I just need water and I’ll be perfect,” you said. “I’m going—”
“I can bring it to you,” he offered promptly.
“I’ll walk,” you asserted. Then, realising that you were declining his kind intentions and he deserved an explanation, you cleared your throat and gestured around vaguely. “I brought this upon myself, you know? So…”
“So, you should punish yourself for having fun?” he questioned skeptically.
You shrugged. You did feel responsible for your splitting headache. But you also hoped that walking around would help ease your frozen muscles, which was, perhaps, a result of sleeping like a log all night. Although all that drinking and dancing probably added to the pain, too.
“Could you check on Maggie for me, though?” you asked, holding onto the railing nearby to keep your balance because the wall was not enough. The more you blinked, the more your body yearned to recline. “I’ve seen Luna, so I know she’s alive, but I haven’t heard from Mags.”
“Oh, yeah, of course,” he said, pivoting around you. He was evidently prepared to fulfil your request immediately.
You stopped him by placing an unsteady hand on his arm.
“I haven’t forgotten that we—we need to talk,” you said. “And our film.”
Jungkook turned around again. Despite the uncertainty that seemed to boil in his stomach at that thought, he liked hearing this – we need to talk. Our film. He thought he would have liked hearing about you peeling potatoes and parallel parking between two trucks together.
“Oh.” He looked at the small window in the stairwell; the stained glass was thick, but the sunlight behind it was too persistent. “Well—we don’t have to talk or watch anything today. You should—”
“No, no, we will,” you insisted. You said this with no additional pain on your face, and Jungkook took it as a positive sign. “Let me just grab some water, and—”
“I’d prefer it if you got some proper rest first, actually,” he said as you pushed yourself off the wall and paused to catch your breath after the exertion. “I can tell you’re not feeling well.”
You huffed again. Really, an average crow—one of those cawing in the trees outside the hotel—could have recognised that you weren’t feeling well. You wondered if you had enough energy to pretend otherwise.
“I’m—well, I’ll take something for my headache when I get back to my room,” you said. “And, if you wouldn’t mind, I could use a quick nap. And then we—”
“I’ll get us some snacks,” he decided, “so you can come straight to my room after you wake up.”
You managed a grateful smile. “Okay. That sounds perfect.”
He smiled back, and for a minute, the two of you lingered in the warm silence, watching each other as your silhouettes merged into one in the hazy sunlight. Once the realisation dawned that you were just standing here, staring at each other and grinning, the two of you erupted into bashful chuckles and looked away.
A new, unexpected feeling joined the heaviness in your stomach, replacing some of your nausea with a sensation oddly reminiscent of bliss.
“I’m off, then,” Jungkook said, waving his hand towards the corridor. “I’ll check if Maggie’s okay.”
“Thank you,” you said, “I’ll see you later.”
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And it really was much later.
When you returned to your room with a water bottle, Jungkook texted you to confirm that Maggie was alive and well, albeit dying of thirst, which he helped her out with. Apparently, she also had your jacket.
Relieved that some of your concerns had already been put to rest, you finished your water, took some ibuprofen, and returned to bed.
And when you woke up, you were understandably startled to discover you had slept for over five hours.
You opened the curtains to get a better idea of the time, but the overcast sky made the hour seem even later than it really was. So you tried another approach and went to the bathroom to wash up, get rid of the pillow creases on your face, and fully wake yourself up.
By the time you knocked on Jungkook’s door, it was almost seven in the evening. You arrived armed with your laptop and dressed in appropriate film night attire: dark joggers and a hoodie. But so much time had passed since your encounter in the stairwell that you wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d found something better to do instead.
Actually, you realised while you waited for the door to open—or not to open—that two weeks ago, Jungkook would have probably gone out with Sid to avoid spending this time alone. But now he opened the door for you, smiling as if you had just made plans and he hadn’t been waiting for you for hours.
“Hey,” he greeted, stepping aside to let you in. “I was just about to check on you.”
“I think I went into a bit of a coma for a while there. Sorry,” you said, walking inside. “And, of course, I’ve got a headache again now because I’ve been asleep for so long. Should we go for something to eat, and maybe—”
You stopped abruptly when you noticed the snacks strewn across his bed—a mound of chocolate-coated dragées, an unnecessarily large fortress of chocolate-chip cookie boxes, and an entire trove of crisps and popcorn. It took you a minute to comprehend it all, and then another minute to come up with a possible explanation as to how he could have got all this; there were no grocery shops within five kilometres of the hotel.
Jungkook closed the door and followed your gaze to his bed.
“Oh,” he said, not responding to your unasked questions. “Maybe it’d be better if you had a proper meal—”
“Are you kidding?” You jumped on the bed with an energy you did not realise you had and reached for one of the brown bags of chocolates, nearly dropping your laptop in excitement. “We’re eating this, and absolutely nothing else.”
Jungkook knew you liked chocolate the most, but he did not want to brag about the three taxis he had to take to eight different shops to get it for you. To be fair, he had not expected your favourite brand to be so hard to find, but he was determined. He would have found the factory and made the chocolate himself if he had to.
“It’s probably not the best choice for breakfast, though,” he said, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants. “Even if it’s, uh, seven in the evening.”
You waved away his concerns, your mouth already full of sweets. Smiling, Jungkook sat down on the other side of the bed and pulled out a box of gummy bears that you had overlooked while trying to take in the abundance of snacks.
“So, uh, how did last night go?” he asked as he meticulously picked out the red bears and accidentally scattered the yellow and green ones on the bed.
“You know how it went,” you said. “You probably know more than I do, actually. The last thing I remember is Maggie swiping someone’s feather boa off their neck.”
“Oh, so that—” He stopped picking the gummy bears from the sheets. “Y-you had a feather in your earring when you got back. I was—honestly, I was a little worried that the three of you had robbed a zoo and tried to bring back a peacock or something.”
You snorted. “We might have tried. Did you check my bag for any stray lizards?”
“You didn’t have a bag when you got back.”
You stopped chewing and turned to him. “I—I didn’t have my bag with me?”
Jungkook paused, too. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to analyse what items you had with you when you showed up on his doorstep last night.
“You had your key,” he said slowly. “And—well, that was it. Are you sure you had your bag with you when you left?”
You tried to piece your fragmented memories together, but your mind struggled to reconstruct the precise sequence of events. You remembered having an umbrella because it had been raining. You also remembered sitting in your bathroom for what felt like half a minute but must have been longer because Luna and Maggie looked a little distraught when they found you there.
You set the candy aside.
“I might have—yeah, I might have left it at the hotel,” you said, realising. “After I talked to my mum.���
Jungkook finished chewing his handful of gummy bears in silence. Each calculated bite seemed to propel him toward a precipice from which there was no return. He hadn’t expected the two of you to get to this point so quickly, even if he was glad you did.
“And how—how’d that go?” he asked.
“Well, it—I mean, we talked,” you said, settling against the headboard of his bed. “She, um—I-I don’t know what I expected her to say, to be honest. I asked her to tell me about her relationship with my dad, and she—well, she certainly did.”
Jungkook took a moment to study the expression on your face, searching for something that he could point out to keep you talking.
“But, uh, you wish she’d said something different?” he ventured when you offered no further explanation.
A measured breath preceded your response. You wanted to explain but finding words proved almost as difficult as confronting your mum about this yesterday.
“I guess I wish it would have made more sense to me,” you finally started. “I had some time to think, and—well, I disagree with almost every single reason my mum had for getting back together with him. But I’ve realised that there’s probably nothing that either of my parents could say that would change my mind. I’m disappointed and angry, and I think I’ve felt this way for a while. I’ve tried not to feel that because it just seemed childish and immature—but I am angry. And that’s fine.”
You lapsed into a silence that Jungkook did not want to disturb. He could tell this was a pause, not a complete stop, and he was too nervous to speak anyway. He was afraid of the parallel between your parents and the two of you—especially in light of everything that Sid was currently sending to his phone.
“I-I mean,” you resumed and Jungkook made an effort to focus on the sound of your voice and not his thoughts, “the way my mum looked at her relationship—honestly, I do think she has a lot of courage. But she, um—she also has—her attitude just seemed a bit reckless. I don’t know. I guess I might never understand why she thought that getting back together with him once wouldn’t already be enough, but that’s—that was her choice. She explained it to me in a way that made sense to her, and I’m grateful she did. But sh-she seems to have blocked out everything that happened after each of their break-ups. She said she was now at peace because she had always listened to her heart. And I’m happy for her, really. But, well, I’m not at peace. This back-and-forth... it brought our whole family nothing but misery, and that does not seem fair to me, or to my brother.”
Jungkook did not think he would ever hear you realise the things he had realised long ago. You had always been so determined to help your mum heal that you’d closed your eyes on your own pain. But it was there. Feelings did not go away just because you wished them to; he knew this well.
And he felt relieved, he realised. No matter what else happened tonight, at least you finally accepted that you had a right to feel wronged.
“Is that why you feel angry?” he asked.
“It... well, mostly, yes,” you said. “Because on top of everything else, this significantly affected how I view my own relationships. I wanted my parents to be happy together. But they just weren’t. And I ended up convincing myself that their unhappiness was universal and inevitable. That anyone who tried to get back together again was bound to fail again. I wanted them to defy these odds, and when they didn’t, I thought no one ever would.”
He toyed with the gummy bear package, and only looked at you for no longer than two seconds.
“But that’s not true,” he said, his voice quiet, tentative.
“It’s not,” you agreed. “I get it now. I may not understand my mum’s choices, but that’s because I didn’t live her life. And that’s exactly it. That’s what helped me come to terms with it all. I got it. My parents’ relationship is not a rule. If anything, it’s an exception.”
Something was glistening on the very edges of his pupils when your eyes met. It struck you that he had been waiting for you to come to this realisation.
“Just because it didn’t work out for them,” you said, looking down, “doesn’t mean it won’t work out for us. That’s, um—that is the main thing, I think.”
Jungkook swallowed. It seemed to him that there were many things to say in response, and he could not find one that he needed. He sort of felt as if he were navigating a field of landmines only visible to himself—but instead of avoiding them, he deliberately tried to step on one. He needed the explosion. He needed you to say something more. But he didn’t know how to get you to say it.
“It’s—that’s good,” he eventually said, because it was all he could manage.
You weighed your next words as your headache doubled and receded in anxious, intensifying waves.
“I’m—I just want you to know that this is still the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” you said. “Which makes me incredibly fortunate on the one hand, because, well, this is nothing. Right? But also it—well, I’m just scared. I don’t think that’s going to go away. I don’t think things will suddenly be better because we decide so. I think it’s going to be something we’ll have to work through.”
“That’s fine, though,” he said right away, and a tired weight heaved itself off your chest and rolled down, relieving an immense pressure inside you. Just like that. “I just want to try again with you. But better this time.”
Your teeth dug into the corner of your lip. You wanted that, too, but you didn’t think labelling it like this was right.
“Trying again,” you said, “implies that, um, we’ve stopped doing something, and now we’re doing it again.”
He gave you a puzzled look. “Right.”
“I—I’m not sure if we ever stopped.”
He took a shaky breath, uncertain if he ever released it or if it would remain trapped somewhere deep inside his throat.
“My mum… uh, she also told me about the songs,” you said and Jungkook looked up as though his conversations with your mum surprised him, too. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
This was precisely why, Jungkook thought, turning away. Because you could not look at him when you talked about the songs he wrote about you, and he couldn’t look at you, either.
Rubbing the side of his nose, he said, “your mum, uh—she warned me that you might get physically violent.”
There was a sheepish grin tugging at his lips; he was joking.
Still, you shook your head. “But I mean when we were—when we started talking again. Not just at the bar in Oslo. Or at the hotel in Manchester.”
He coughed, feeling the sparkles in his lungs as they caught fire. You remembered, then—not just the two songs, but where you were, and what you were doing when he told you about them.
“Did you want me to tell you about the rest of them?” he asked, finally looking up. “You looked about ready to leap out of the nearest window when I brought it up.”
“I—okay, you’re probably right,” you conceded. “But, uh, my mum mentioned a new song you’re working on.”
Jungkook expected that to happen, but his stomach still churned anxiously as he smoothed the bedding with his palm. “Hmm.”
“Can I hear it?” you asked.
He brought his hand to the back of his neck. “Are you sure you want to?”
“Yes.”
He looked at you again, searching for a stronger confirmation in your eyes—and finding it there. He slowly rose from the bed and pulled out his phone from his pocket.
“It’s—I think it’s the most personal song I’ve ever written,” he said, and you held your breath. “Your mum warned me about it, which she’s never done before. Usually, she just gives me permission to release the song and sometimes offers a compliment.”
“She didn’t like it this time?” you asked while he unlocked his phone.
“No, she said she liked it a lot,” he replied, placing his phone on the bed. The screen displayed various voice notes: some with gibberish titles, others numbered. The newest one was labelled, PUDDLE_FINAL11. “But she also said that this is a song I should run by you first.”
You crossed your legs on the bed and hesitated awkwardly for a second—unsure if you could really listen to the song and sit still. Then, you leaned back against the headboard and closed your eyes.
“Let me hear it.”
Jungkook watched you get comfortable and bit his lip. He knew this was what you did when you were nervous or excited—crossing your legs on the couch when the film you two were watching got to the most interesting part; crossing them on the chair in the library when you were studying for final exams, crossing them on the passenger seat in his car when you were on road trips, playing Guess The Song (he always won, which he took great pride in).
“This is, um, the song that I told you I was writing in Oslo,” he said. Your heart was racing just like it had back then. “It’s what the band and I are working on right now. Yoongi, uh—he’s the one who’s working through the tone and the instruments, and—well, that stuff. I’m just kind of there to sing and look pretty.”
You opened your eyes again to give him a look. “You wrote the lyrics.”
“I—yeah, okay. And I wrote the lyrics.” He took a deep breath. “This is—it’s still a demo, though, so—you know. Keep an open mind.”
You froze as soon as he pressed “play” on the voice note. This appeared to be the eleventh version of the song, as indicated by the number at the end of the title.
The recording began with soft, but quick guitar chords. The song was not slow-paced and seemed much more postcore than the band’s usual music. Even though his guitar was the only instrument accompanying his hesitant but clear voice, you could easily imagine an overlay of drums and bass.
How I run when my phone lights up with a text /
My friends all know, “is that your ex?” /
They said I bet you want her, bet you love her, bet you can’t forget /
I don’t remember why I lied, why I agreed, why I made the bet
You turned to look at Jungkook, your eyes filled with graphic surprise, but he was staring at his phone, his lower lip trapped between his teeth. He was tugging on it so forcefully that his lip ring strained against his skin.
The music shifted into a rhythmic bridge—Jungkook had stopped strumming and began to tap the body of the guitar instead, mimicking the beat of Hoseok’s drums.
This feels like a disease I suffer /
Might break just thinking of her /
Can’t breathe, cannot recover /
I love her, I fucking love her
“The chorus is next, and—” Jungkook cut in over the music, “—it’s very simple, but it’s not done yet. It should still sound better with Yoongi’s guitar, and all the rest.”
Immediately, he returned to his own guitar in the recording, the chords rapid and eager as he sang—his voice louder, more forced, emanating from deep within his diaphragm as the song reached the chorus:
I can’t look you in the eyes /
When all I say are these stupid lies /
The memories of when you were mine /
Are playing in my tired mind /
Scared to fail, so I’d rather get high /
Yeah, but I have to stand up and try
The song slowed for the exit of the chorus and Jungkook sang it to complete silence:
And this is nothing fucking new, /
I’ve always been in love with you
You sucked in a breath and closed your eyes again. If your heart hadn’t been pounding so intensely, you might have been able to envision what the musical break that followed after the chorus would sound like once it was accompanied by Taehyung’s bass.
Before you could try to calm yourself, however, Jungkook began the second verse on the recording:
How I miss you and this feeling is all that inspires /
How this pain shifts, grows, how it turns into fires /
It will burn when I write, when I think, when I sing /
Flames will turn to ashes, turn to words, turn to ink
Right as the chorus started again—his voice growing more passionate as he lost himself in the song—Jungkook cleared his throat and commented over the recording, “I wrote that part in Oslo. While—after I asked you to come meet me at the bar.”
You nodded—or thought you nodded; all movement felt surreal right now—and listened in silence.
“The refrain,” Jungkook spoke again as the second chorus ended and the music began to speed up, “is my favourite part. It’s kind of pop-punk, largely inspired by blink-182, but it’s also just… it’s a way to get it all out.”
As soon as he finished talking, you heard the refrain on the recording—his words were rushed, the music barely catching up.
Biffy Clyro at a wedding, but we dance on separate floors /
Hotel bathrooms and champagne, we’re hiding there with open doors /
Years ago before I saw you, I was lost without a cause /
You changed my life from the first time that our paths had crossed /
I knew about you way before, I didn’t think this through /
I walked up to you after class, because our meeting’s overdue /
Years later we’re in Paris, I looked around and knew – /
It was always you, it was always you, it was always you
You focused on the screen of his phone as the song played and you did not dare to move—not even when the final chorus finished, and he reached over to stop the recording.
He asked, “what did you think?” and you realised that your mind was as silent as this room once the song ended.
You felt lost in the echoing recesses of your mind. There were so many things in your head and at the same time, there weren’t any at all. Because everything—from the first time he introduced himself to you after class, to Chloé and Kihyun’s wedding in Paris, to the bet he’d made with Sid and Jude—had just been said.
“I… think you are insane,” you said, glancing at him. “And also incredibly talented to manage to put all of that into a—into one song.”
“Yeah?” A satisfied grin was playing on his lips and you couldn’t take your eyes off it. “Did you like it?”
You shook your head, because this was too feeble—like. Sitting on his bed in this room, you doubted if you had ever simply liked anything when it came to Jungkook. Every emotion you felt for him had always been so much more intense and infinitely deeper.
“It’s—fuck, it’s a great song,” you said, tapping your palm against the bed. Jungkook recognised the beat and felt his heart soar. The whole room seemed to brighten, not at all threatened by the darkness outside the window. “It sounded good. The rhythm—it’s really good. I can see it becoming a crowd favourite.”
“Thanks,” he said but did not relent. In all the crowds in the world, he was going to search for you. “But what did you think?”
Watching him watch you, you said awkwardly, “I liked your voice.”
He laughed, finding the real compliment in your flustered expression and your struggle to answer his question directly.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll take it.”
“Was this the song you played for Yoongi and Namjoon that time?” you asked, so you could avoid giving feedback about the way he captured your whole life in his lyrics, and now your heartbeat matched the rhythm of the song. “W-when Yoongi came to talk to me, worried about you?”
Jungkook still nursed a bitterness about Yoongi’s initial reaction to the song and pursed his lips.
“Yeah, um—at the time, I only had the second verse,” he said. “That’s probably why he was concerned.”
“Well,” you dropped a pillow onto your lap, “it doesn’t sound like a heartbreak anthem.”
He snorted. “I hope not.”
You did not say anything else for a while.
You were not in control of anything that was happening inside of you right now, so this was the best you could offer. A big part of your brain was preoccupied with keeping you seated on your side of the bed instead of reaching—lunging­—for him, and an even bigger part was still processing the song he had just played. This left you with very little strength to be eloquent.
You liked the song. You liked his voice. You were worried the fire inside your chest would do irreparable damage to your heart. You wondered what went on in your mum’s head when she heard it.
“I can’t believe you sent that to my mum, though,” you voiced your latest thought. “The whole thing?”
“Yeah,” he said with a shrug because getting feedback from your mum had become a regular practice. He had continued to reach out to her even after you started to manage Rated Riot.
“With the curses and everything?” you asked, your nose scrunched.
He laughed again. You looked so beautiful like this, analysing his lyrics in your head. He didn’t know what to do with himself.
“She knows I curse,” he said. “She’s read most of my lyrics. Also, I am twenty-six.”
“Still,” you muttered. “There’s so much—you, um—you mention the bet in the song.”
His expression grew serious.
“Yeah. One of the first times I texted your mum, I…” he paused here, tracing his fingers lightly over his eyelids. “Well, actually, I was drunk, so I mostly remember this from the screenshots I took. I asked her if I could write a song that would bring you back to me. I was really—well, drunk and, you know. Sentimental. And she said—and I actually remember this part, because, somehow, no one else thought to say this to me—she said that I could, but I had to be honest in my lyrics.”
He fell silent, but it didn’t feel like an invitation for you to respond.
Looking up at you after a minute, Jungkook continued, “every song I wrote about you was honest. I meant every single word in every single verse. And I was hoping one of them would bring you back.”
It began as a faint buzzing in your chest and escalated into a gentle whisper, then erupted into a loud scream, filled with all the longing that’s been there all this time—mostly dormant, but restless. This longing wasn’t buried under mundane, daily tasks, it just existed right there in your chest, pushing sharply into your heart every time you thought you forgot, thought you moved on.
Every time you looked at him, every time you remembered him, every time you fell asleep, the longing was there, and it was growing, always growing—even more rapidly now that you and Jungkook began to spend more time together. By now, it had grown far larger than your chest could hold. And it was screaming.
“I’m—I don’t—I’m not sure I was ever really gone,” you confessed. “I think I... I actually called my mum with a decision already made. And I just needed her to say it was going to be okay. Because, you know. She’s my mum.”
There it was—the explosion he’d been waiting for. He could see the clouds in the distance but he hadn’t felt the impact yet.
“W-what’s your decision?” he asked.
“I want to try,” you said. “If you—if you’d—”
“I swear to God,” he interjected, his voice gaining volume as his heart rate gained speed. “If you're going to ask me if I want to be with you, I’m not sure I’ll make it.”
A smile flickered across your features, but you clutched the bedsheets underneath you tighter to control your expression.
“Let’s give this a chance,” Jungkook said, echoing everything that your heart demanded from you. “I know you’re scared of what this could mean for your job, and—”
“No,” you cut him off. “That—what happens with my job, happens. That feels—it feels like something we can figure out. But I want to try, and that’s what’s scary. Because this isn’t something we can solve, we either work out or we don’t. And I’m scared I won’t always be able to overcome my fear that we might not work. I’m scared I’ll still try to run away from everything.”
“I’ll find you,” he said, and your heart threatened to stop. “I’ll always find you.”
“You shouldn’t have to, though,” you protested weakly. “That’s not fair.”
“My love,” he said, sliding closer to you on the bed. You felt very light-headed. “Anything’s fair to me when it comes to you. Stay and let me make you happy.”
It was remarkable how his hotel bed managed to fit both of you and all that you’d carried inside you for all these years.
You shook your head.
“I’m happy,” you said. “This is right where I’ve always wanted to be. I’m not going anywhere.”
Jungkook looked at you, and he felt like he was nineteen again, watching you from across the campus quad. Thoughts of how to approach you—how to talk to you; how to look at you—were running rampant in his overstimulated mind. He had just left Sociology class where he’d doodled and daydreamed about you the whole time and now that he had a chance to talk to you, his legs had turned to stone.
He knew you liked Hayao Miyazaki, and he thought, alright, he would lead with that. And then in a frantic attempt to explain his determined stride towards you with a murderous expression on his face, he had ended up introducing himself as Neighbour Totoro.
Your smile in response should have been plastered on billboards; and was, on billboards, actually—all over the canyons of his mind. All he could do after that was just stammer about seeing you around campus, noticing that you shared a few classes together, finding it really cute when you dozed off during your professor’s philosophical rants, and wishing very much that the earth would open up and swallow him whole because what the fuck was he saying to you right now—and you’d smiled again. And the stones in his legs had melted.
You gave him your phone number and invited him to a party that someone on your floor was throwing that Friday. And you’d said, “I think it’d be really cool if you came,” but all that he could hear had been the violent pounding in his chest.
His heart pounded just as intensely now.
“Yeah?” he asked you, breathless and half-drunk as the rest of his hotel room drowned in your eyes.
He thought he could feel the earth move. He thought he could will it to stop, to pause for just a split second until you replied and he could—
“Yeah.”
He had arrived at that party back then, and you had found him right away. You’d spent the whole night talking until he finally mustered up the courage to ask you to hang out alone sometime. Maybe watch a film and have dinner? And you’d said yes.
You’d said yes seven years ago, and now you were here – saying yes, again.
Jungkook reached for you so quickly that you barely noticed the smile on his face, let alone the one on yours. His hands were soft on your cheek as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a clumsy kiss—but your mouths needed less than a second to find a familiar rhythm.
His tongue met yours, and he tasted like the memory of every time you’d kissed him before and a promise of every time you’d kiss him in the future. He tasted like everything you’ve ever wanted and everything you thought you’d lost.
“Did you know,” he whispered, his words punctuated by heavy breaths and your lips smacking against each other, “that I dreamt about you—on the night before you showed up at the company—as our manager—?”
You pulled back slightly to be able to look at him, your lips parted in a surprised smile. “No. What did you dream about?”
“This, actually,” he said, kissing you once more and frowning when you pulled back again, waiting for him to explain. “Except neither one of us pulled away.” He paused here, looking at you very meaningfully. You pressed another kiss to his lips and he grinned, continuing finally, “I hadn’t dreamt of you in months, and I woke up from a text message in the middle of kissing you in that dream. I was obviously pissed. I looked at the text, and it was from Yoongi. He was saying, ‘we’re meeting our manager today, don’t be late’ or something like that. And I remembered debating just going back to sleep. But I forced myself out of bed, thinking that this manager better be worth it.”
Your smile was absurd. “Was she?”
He nodded, tracing his fingers down your neck to your collarbones, and bringing goosebumps to the surface of your skin.
“She was,” he said.
“You didn’t say one word to me throughout that whole meeting, though,” you pointed out.
Jungkook shrugged.
“I hadn’t seen you in two years,” he said. “I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would tell you how long I’d been waiting for you.”
You did not feel yourself respond with a defeated, breathless, “oh,” but Jungkook smiled when he heard it.
“Yeah,” he said, leaning in. “Hardly professional.”
“Mmhm—” your hum drowned in his kiss. “Hardly.”
There was something artificially sweet on his tongue when you kissed him back—likely from the gummy bears—and it made your hands instinctively reach for his shirt, pulling him closer. He wondered if you noticed the way his heart rate quickened at that; he found your need for him exhilarating.
You kissed him harder and remembered all your stolen kisses throughout this tour. This did not feel anything like it.
This kiss was not hurried—not until the five minutes you’ve allotted yourselves were up. It wasn’t secret—not until you had to leave your hotel room in Amsterdam. It wasn’t pretend—not until you had to admit to yourselves that you weren’t and could not be friends. And it wasn’t a dream, either—not until one of you had to wake up and realise that this had just been your subconsciousness, refusing to let go. To move on.
The kiss was slow. It was not rushed, and not hidden. It was true, and it was real.
Your heart finally returned home.
Then, Jungkook slowly pulled away, his pupils dilated and filled with something distracting that lingered on his mind.
“You didn’t say anything to me, either,” he said slowly. “When we started to work together, I mean.”
“I know,” you replied, letting go of him. It did not feel fair to touch him when he said that, but Jungkook felt lost for a moment after you pulled back your hands. “I wasn’t sure if I should.”
“Hmm.” He needed to find the string attached to the words he’d kept inside, and he needed to pull them out, but he could only do that by looking away. “I, uh—I get that now, but back then, I felt very, um—well, left-out, I guess. For lack of a better word. You talked to everyone else but me.”
You were struck by the immediacy and the clarity of these memories: how you’d made a deliberate effort not to talk to him unless it was necessary, because that was the only way you could stay professional. In hindsight, that should have probably been a hint. If you had to go to such lengths to avoid someone in order to remain professional, it likely meant you weren’t truly professional, just pretending to be.
“I know,” you said. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s—well, I could have said something, too,” Jungkook said. “But after a while, it seemed to me like we’d silently agreed to just ignore our relationship, so it didn’t feel right to bring it up again. I didn’t want to make things awkward.”
Your smile broke through the sombre atmosphere in the room. You couldn’t listen to this without pointing out his reactions to you in those first few days. Jungkook had been very loud about doubting your authority.
“You used to complain about me all the time in the beginning,” you reminded him. “You said you wouldn’t take orders from a kid.”
He grinned, remembering, too.
“Well, I had to say that,” he defended, a glint of mischief in his eye. Age had been his favourite argument against working with you. “How else could I hide that I still had feelings for you?
You looked away—he expected this, and his smile grew wider. You thought you had him there. But he knew that in all the years you’ve known each other, you could not find a moment where he didn’t love you. He couldn’t find one himself.
“Maggie told me you were the one who told her we had dated,” you said then.
Jungkook did not immediately remember. “I did?”
“Yeah,” you confirmed. “We were all drinking together, and you—”
“Oh, yeah,” he cut in, nodding. He recalled Maggie responding to him as though he’d told her he was an escaped convict. “In the parking lot. I don’t think she believed me at first, actually. I was very good at acting unbothered.”
You arched an eyebrow. “She said she came to check on you because Hoseok noticed that you seemed bothered.”
Jungkook clicked his tongue. “Well, Hoseok notices these things. It doesn’t count.”
You grinned, shaking your head.
Jungkook, meanwhile, remembered something else now that you’d mentioned Maggie. It was something he’d held close to his heart for years, and he was hesitant to bring it up now. He knew it was probably not real, but he held onto the ignorant hope that it might be.
“Did you… tell anyone on the staff?” he asked.
“Hm? About us?” you clarified.
He nodded.
“Just the band,” you said.
“Oh.” He held his breath as he considered how to explain this, and how to brace himself for your response. “Because, um—well, apparently, Maggie spoke to Jin after I talked to her. And then Jin talked to Jimin. And Jimin told me that he thought I just had a crush on you.”
“A year ago?” you clarified, a little uneasy about the timeline.
The girls had tried to reassure you last night that you and Jungkook were really not that obvious—but perhaps the truth was that you had wasted all these years just like you feared.
You put unnecessary strain on your heart because you’d convinced yourself that this was how things were meant to be. You’d convinced yourself that Jungkook really did not love you anymore. And when you realised that maybe he still did, you’d convinced yourself that second chances did not work, and it was better to suffer through the initial break-up for years rather than attempt to try again.
“Yeah.” Jungkook swallowed, getting to his point. “And, um—a while after that, Namjoon said he thought you might have a crush on me.”
You blinked, feeling your heart leap into a thrilled dance, each beat a self-assured I told you so.
“Namjoon said that?” you asked weakly.
“Yeah,” he said, keeping his eyes on you. “We were both drunk, trying to work on a song, and not doing so well. I was upset about something that day, so I thought he was just saying that to comfort me. Cheer me up. He said he noticed you staring at me during our meeting earlier that day. He said he thought it was meaningful. Said you didn’t seem to just be dozing off.”
I told you so—
I told you so—
I told you—
You remembered that meeting.
You remembered looking away from Jungkook and meeting Namjoon’s raised eyebrows. You hadn’t realised you’d been staring. But he had.
Right now, in the hotel room, you did not say anything, but Jungkook felt the bubble of hope swell in his chest, straining as it threatened to explode.
It was true, then.
You had been watching him during that meeting. So much so that it led Namjoon—a very smart, but arguably the most oblivious man in the country—to notice that something was going on.
You cleared your throat. “Did he—uh, did he know about—”
“He knew I was writing about you,” Jungkook replied. “The second he yelled at me and told me to stop writing about abstract feelings and start writing from my own chest, I pulled out three different songs for him. He always knew.”
“Hmm.”
A moment of silence followed, allowing the two of you to simmer in the sounds coming from your chests.
You thought you were trying very hard to ignore him and focus on your job, and you did, really. Especially when you first started to work together. But gradually, the less you talked about your relationship to each other, the more your suppressed feelings made themselves known: it was the way you always happened to stand next to each other at the label events. It was the way Jungkook was the only one who remembered where your office was in the labyrinth of corridors at the company building. It was the way you looked at him when you talked to him. It was the way he teased you at every chance he got.
“So, the roadies thought you were dating Namjoon,” Jungkook concluded, “while Jimin thought I liked you, and Namjoon thought you liked me.”
“Yeah. Apparently, we’re all twelve,” you said. “I love how that’s ongoing, too. We’re still a very hot topic.”
Jungkook chuckled, seemingly as entertained about this as Seokjin had been when he mentioned the bets the staff had going about the two of you.
“I know,” he said, trying to restrain his reaction for your sake. “But it—it’s just us. You know? We’re the only ones who really know about us. You and me. And about fifty people on this tour with us, but that’s—well, who cares?”
“Yeah,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Not a big deal.”
He heard the sarcasm in your tone, but he still grinned. “Yeah.”
You looked down and brought your hands over your sweatpants, and his smile faded. He seemed to react to your next words before you even said them.
“I’ll have to, um—I’ll have to talk to the label about us,” you said. “I’ll have to tell them.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Another silence stole away any remaining words. Jungkook wondered if the two of you were really as powerful as he’d imagined. He wondered if you had the authority to decide what you’d do.
“What do you think they’ll say?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” you replied. There was a calmness in your voice that he wasn’t expecting. “We’ll see.”
“Should I—should I talk to them with you?” he suggested—and realised right away that this would not work.
“Probably not,” you replied gently. “It’ll feel a little like we’re talking to our parents. And not, you know, our employers.”
“Right.”
You glanced at him and realised that he appeared more worried than you felt. You thought that perhaps this was how it was between you two: one of you panicked while the other stayed level-headed to provide reassurance.
“It’ll be fine,” you said. “We got so far, right?”
“Yeah,” he said, chewing on his bottom lip. “But, I mean, what if they say this can’t happen?”
“Well, then we break up, of course.”
He gave you a long, questioning look. “I’m serious.”
“I am, too,” you replied, not serious at all.
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, now you want to joke about it. Okay.”
You laughed, and immediately made him smile, too. Leaning into him—almost reflexively—you placed a hand on his chest and gently pulled him down onto the bed until the two of you were lying face-to-face. Finally, he laughed, too.
The truth was, you felt nervous as well. But some innate balance required you to look on the bright side when he couldn’t. Surely, if you overcame yourselves, you could overcome external hurdles, too.
“I’m not joking,” you said. “It’ll be fine. We, um—we know our issues now. I think we can figure out what we should do no matter what happens. We’ve grown.”
Jungkook looked at you for a minute, then finally exhaled and reached out to touch your cheek.
“Alright,” he said, the tips of his fingers careful as they traced over the side of your jaw. “We have. We used to never talk to each other.”
“Yeah, that had always been the core problem with us,” you agreed, leaning into his touch and singlehandedly stopping his heart for a dangerous minute.
The two of you found it very easy to point out your flaws now—like teachers marking all the issues in a student’s essay: lack of communication, toxic friendships, parental trauma.
“None of that now?” Jungkook asked.
“None of that now,” you agreed, closing your eyes.
You felt him scoot closer to you on the bed as his palm replaced the tips of his fingers on your cheek.
“I’m not going to shut up about how much I love you, though,” he whispered.
You looked at him again, and your smile stretched from one corner of his hotel room to the other.
“I’ll take that over silence,” you said.
He responded with a shuddered breath and moved closer. His lips found yours blindly, but effortlessly. His kiss was soft, slow, and lingering because now you had all the time in the world and he was determined to savour every moment.
Pulling back slightly, he brought his nose to yours, and the air you exhaled as you chuckled softly made him close his eyes again. He kissed your cheek and the corner of your lips and the edge of your jaw, and somewhere along the way, he realised that he had wanted to say something else but now he forgot all about it. He kissed your lips once more instead. Then twice more—until you were smiling too much for the kiss to feel like anything other than a gentle peck.
He settled back on the bed next to you. He was so close that you could barely look at him without your eyes going out of focus. And he was beautiful like this—his hair falling in loose, messy curls around his face, his eyes alive with an energy so powerful that you could not look away from him once your gazes met. His lips were parted as he breathed steadily, running his tongue over his lower lip.
You watched each other just like you had earlier in the corridor, with the tips of your fingers locked onto each other’s skin as though transferring electricity from one heart to the other, and back again.
“I’m sorry I did not want to talk about our relationship,” you finally admitted, your voice a timid whisper. “I thought the safe choice would be to speak to you one-on-one as little as possible. And after a few months, it became easier to be in the same room with you without my hands shaking, and my heart—well, anyway. I didn’t want to ruin what little stability we had with each other. Even though for a long time—maybe even the whole time, I don’t know anymore—we were there, in the back of my mind.”
He exhaled. “We could have talked about us before.”
“We should have talked about us before,” you corrected.
“Right.” He rolled onto his back. “Instead, I drank three bars into bankruptcy in those first few months after you started working with us.”
He remembered Sid’s messages as soon as he said this, and for a brief, irrational moment, he waited for you to stand up and leave the room. Instead, he was startled when he saw you smile out of the corner of his eye.
“I know,” you said softly. “I was asked to pay off your debt at one of them.”
He turned to face you, his eyes wide. “No—w-were you really?”
“Yeah,” you said. “Sid called and gave me an ultimatum: either I came to pay for your bill or the bar owner was going to call the police on you.”
Jungkook had to really concentrate to remember anything, and he quickly felt embarrassed that he even tried. He could not remember his own name, that was how drunk he would get in those days. He couldn’t bring them back to his memory now, no matter how much he tried.
“Where was Sid, then?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” you replied. “Probably tripping on something in a random hotel. He never called me if he was still with you.”
Jungkook swallowed, his thoughts racing.
“Well, I mean—shit,” he said. “How much do I owe you?”
“You don’t,” you replied. “I came to the bar and told the owner your name was Isidore Mercer-Hastings, and that they should contact the police to settle the bill for whatever you drank that night.”
Jungkook raised his eyebrows. He thought he lacked Sid’s perpetual sneer to pass as someone from a conglomerate family.
“They believed it?” he asked.
“Well, they didn’t know who you were,” you said. “And it was resolved very quietly after that. I doubt the bar owner even managed to write a report after he mentioned the name at the station.”
“Someone in Sid’s family must have handled it,” Jungkook speculated. You thought so as well. “Sid never said anything.”
“I don’t think he expected me to fight back, actually,” you said. “In any case, I paid the price. After that, he started leaving you in all kinds of shitholes for me to find a lot more frequently.”
Jungkook realised that a ball had formed in his throat.
“I-I didn’t even notice it,” he admitted. “He—he had me by the throat, and I thought he just wanted to hang out with me.”
You didn’t want the topic to shift to Sid, but it felt inevitable. He was the additional burden on your relationship, he always had been.
“And he’s in London now,” you said, sighing.
Jungkook exhaled, too. “Yeah.”
“What are we going to do?”
He looked at you for only a moment, but his eyes were filled with an unexpected alarm.
“I’m—well, nothing?” he said. “I don’t know.”
“But—I mean, he has to be here for you, right?” you questioned.
Jungkook’s phone weighed heavily in his pocket.
“He probably is,” he said.
“So, he stalked you all the way to London,” you noted. “I think we should start considering the possibility of you getting a restraining order against him, or—”
Jungkook whipped his head to face you. “Isn’t that—uh, a bit dramatic?”
Frowning, you propped yourself up on your elbows and turned to him. “He is stalking you, Jungkook.”
He looked away and brought his finger over the bedsheets. If Sid had sent him only that one video, perhaps Jungkook could have handled it quietly. But Sid had kept them coming.
And Jungkook had already tried it before: this method of not telling you and hoping to find a way out of a predicament that he’d allowed Sid to put him in. It hadn’t been successful. He had no intention of trying it again.
“To be honest,” he said, sitting up, “that is not the only thing he is doing.”
Your stomach clenched with something it had come to know very well over the past few days – pure dread.
“What do you mean?” you asked.
“He, um—he’s sending me things.”
“Oh, God.” You turned away from him, groaning. “Don’t tell me he’s sending you the body parts of people he’s stalked before.”
“N-no, that—no,” Jungkook said and then paused to snicker at the thought. “He’s just—he’s sending me videos.”
You did not feel relieved. The way he said it made it sound like it was not just videos. It sounded like it might as well have been severed limbs.
“What videos?” you asked reluctantly.
He hesitated before answering, hoping—almost irrationally—that he would find a way to summarise the videos for you in a way that would diminish their significance. But he was worried he’d make it worse instead. He didn’t want to casually mention them or act like it was not a big deal, only to hear your negative response. You’d think he was still incapable of realising what he was doing, you’d think he hadn’t changed—and he had. He was sure he had. But his hands were shaking as he tugged on the bedsheets and refused to look at you.
“Of—of me,” he finally admitted. “Of us hanging out together before this tour.”
“Oh.”
He did not like the thickness of the silence around you. He didn’t want this to turn into yet another problem. And it wasn’t—it was a continuous problem that he’d willingly brought on this tour.
Jungkook couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything he did with Sid, and now he was convinced that his guilt wouldn’t even make a difference. He’d tell you about this, and the videos would be too much, and he would not be enough.
You’d warned him you were afraid; he didn’t want to add more doubts to what already seemed like a hesitant decision. Of course, he believed in your relationship too much to think that you were willing to try again just for his benefit. He believed you wanted this, too. But he was also rational enough to understand that you couldn’t just wish for your relationship to work out this time, and it simply would. You had to work on that. And he was sure that these videos would hinder the progress you’ve already made.
He decided he didn’t want to talk to you about this as though he needed your help solving this issue. He wanted to tell you about it with a solution already in his mind.
“T-they’re not good,” he added. “But I—”
“Why is he sending them to you?” you interrupted.
He paused, rearranging his thoughts. He wondered if you were intentionally avoiding asking him to show you the videos, or if you did not want to see them. He was not sure which option he preferred.
“He’s, um, threatening to show them to you,” he said.
“Unless you do what?”
“Unless—” He paused again. “I—I don’t know, actually. I don’t think he wants me to do anything. He’s just taunting me. I tried to block the number, but I assume he has multiple disposable SIM cards or something because I keep—well, different unknown numbers keep sending me videos from the same… situations.”
You looked away, absentmindedly patting the pillows on the bed.
You were certain that Sid had a goal in mind, he just hadn’t told Jungkook about it yet.
“Well, what’s in those videos?” you asked.
Jungkook shut his eyes. He was sure of it now—he would have preferred it if you hadn’t asked about the contents of the videos, after all.
“We’re—we’re drunk in all of them,” he said, his tongue catching on the dryness of his mouth. “Just doing dumb shit. Shit that I thought I left in the past. I know I left it in the past, I’m just—but with Sid pulling it all out now, it feels like—it feels like I’m still there.”
You frowned, puzzled.
“But you’re not still there,” you pointed out.
“I’m not,” Jungkook said, but his voice sounded distant. “But it—you were always the one who made sure that Sid and I didn’t damage the band’s reputation, or—well, anything else. I’m sorry about that, by the way. I-I don’t want you to think that all that you’ve done was in vain, and I don’t want you to think I’m still the same—I know I’m not—but it feels like—”
“Jungkook,” you said, cutting him off by placing your hand on his shoulder.
His distress reminded you of the night he told you that Sid was in Manchester with you. He was breathing heavily, barely able to choose his words. He thought, clearly, that you were going to blame him for this. He thought he’d let you down.
“Show me,” you asked.
And he showed you—because he knew he had to. He took a deep breath, sat down next to you, and played the videos for you, starting from the very first one.
But like he had yesterday, he cut the video off just as his hands reached out for his dance partner and he wrapped one of his legs around their ankles.
“Wait,” you raised your eyes to Jungkook’s restless gaze, “what happens next?”
“I, um—” he paused, attempted to inhale, and forgot all his words.
He thought he showed you enough. He thought showing you the rest of the video was going to be bad. He hadn’t considered how bad it would be if he had to recap it himself.
“I flip this person on their back,” he said, forcing himself to continue. He was going to tell you everything, even if he had to rip his heart out to do it. “We, uh—we make out. Or try to. It’s, uh—it’s definitely too much. But we’re drunk. Then a security guard comes to tell us we can’t do that here. I then declare that we’re getting married, so he can, respectfully, get fucked. And all of us get escorted out of the club.”
“Ah,” you said. “You must have been really wasted.”
Your voice sounded disconnected somehow—like you hadn’t fully grasped that he was the person in the video.
Or, he thought in a brief moment of lightness, maybe you had grasped it, but it made no difference because it’s been so long.
But Jungkook couldn’t hold onto this hopeful thought for too long. He felt he deserved stronger adjectives.
“Is this it?” you asked after a moment. His phone screen had gone dark after he hadn’t pressed on anything else. “Is that all he—”
“No,” he said. “That’s, um—that’s only the first one he sent.”
Then he played you the three newest videos—the ones he’d just received earlier today after he turned his phone back on.
All the videos were from days that he could scarcely remember. Sid had filmed him dancing, arguing, screaming, engaging in other activities that would earn a community label if the video got publicised, and drinking. Alcohol was featured heavily in all the videos.
You maintained a neutral expression through the first few clips but finally frowned when you watched the third one. In it, Jungkook was having a heated argument with someone outside what appeared to be a nightclub—the only indication was a bright neon sign behind the two figures on the screen.
Jungkook was visibly agitated in the video, hurling all curses known to mankind—and some only known to animalkind—at a red-faced man whom you did not recognise. The man remained silent, swaying slightly on his feet, frowning more and more with each passing second.
You attempted to remember this moment, trying to place the street where the video was taken—you thought Sid had asked you to pick up Jungkook from somewhere around here. But as you watched it, you could not remember Jungkook harassing a seemingly random person. And then you realised that this likely wasn’t a random person, and Jungkook wasn’t the one harassing him.
Turning your head to look at him, you were surprised to see the resolute defeat on Jungkook’s face. He appeared to be waiting to be sentenced.
“He cut the video,” you said, looking back at his phone, “to make you look intentionally aggressive. This guy—he approached you at the bar, didn’t he?”
Jungkook only hummed. It took him another minute to relax his muscles so he could speak—by that time, the video had already ended, and he snickered bitterly.
“Yeah. He used a few pretty slurs, so I told him we should take it outside,” he said. “Right after the video ended, he actually threw a vodka bottle at my head. It didn’t hit me, but we got into a—a fight, and I cut myself on a shard. No stitches, but, um, it bled like a bitch.”
“Fuck, that’s—I-I remember you bleeding,” you said, looking away. You’d wrapped your scarf on his hand when you found him behind that club, on the street from the video, sometime later. He’d refused a hospital and you had not slept the whole night after you dropped him off at his house. “What was Sid doing while that was happening?”
“Well, he watched,” Jungkook said, locking his phone. “He watched and filmed, and now he’s trying to make it seem like I picked that fight.”
You quieted. The videos had made it very clear that Sid was crafting a narrative about Jungkook—to make him look like an ungrateful, aggressive, alcoholic womaniser. Clearly, he was creating Jungkook’s fictional image after himself, and you would have pointed out the irony if you weren’t so annoyed.
“I know it’s my fault,” Jungkook added. “I shouldn’t have allowed him to get under my skin like that, but—”
“How long ago was this?” you interjected.
“I—it—a while,” he said, worried that this was the wrong answer. “I can’t remember.”
“Were you in Rated Riot?” you asked, hoping to determine a more specific timeline, because understanding when the videos were taken might help you figure out what Sid wanted. But you also just wanted to keep asking Jungkook for technical details to keep him out of his own head.
“I think so,” Jungkook said. “Because—I’m trying to figure out why Sid chose to send me these specific videos since I’m sure he has a lot of other great ones, you know what I mean? So, why these?”
“Why?”
“I think it’s because he called you to come pick me up at the end of these nights,” he said with an unsettling hollowness behind his eyes. “And you—well, I don’t remember, but according to what Sid told me later, you never asked what we were doing. You just pulled me out of these situations… and brought me home. A-and now he wants to show you that—he wants you to know what we were doing. What I was doing.”
“Okay,” you said. “But it—it’s been ages.”
He seemed taken aback by the ease in your voice, and his surprise was crushing. You realised he was expecting you not to talk to him again now that you’ve seen the videos.
To Jungkook, that would have made sense.
For years, his self-worth depended on how he was perceived and whether he lived up to expectations. And he balanced between wanting to live up to very different expectations from very different people: Sid, on the one hand. You and his grandmother, on the other.
That was why he didn’t tell his grandmother that he was friends with Sid. It was why he didn’t tell you about all his failed attempts at making your relationship special. It was why he refused to admit to Sid that he still loved you.
And, ultimately, it was why he did not want to reminisce about the nights in Sid’s videos. Nights when he knew he was making mistakes, but he needed to escape from his thoughts too much to care.
Jungkook realised all that. He understood. But there was nothing he could do with the voices, screaming at him in his head. They were telling him that his friends had all turned to reasons why you broke up that first time. He turned them into those reasons. And now those reasons were right here, on his phone.
“I know. But I just—it feels like this is something I can’t run away from,” he said. “It feels like Sid is telling me that this is who I really am. That I’ll always fuck up in the end, and that I’ll die trying—and failing—to be someone better.”
You were shaking your head, and Jungkook shook his, too, to counter your refusal to agree with him.
“No, look, I think that Sid means to use this to, well, to humiliate us,” he insisted. “Or—or just you. Like, ‘see what he was doing? And you still took care of him.’ So you would—you would realise what I’m—what kind of person—and you would change your mind about me—and about—about this. And then...”
He could not find the end of his sentence, but you knew what this was. Jungkook excelled in most things, but he had a throbbing Achilles’ heel – it was his fear of disappointing the people who mattered most to him.
The first time you learned this about him was at his twenty-first birthday party. Minjun, already very drunk, had decided to make a toast and told everyone a story about when he and Jungkook were fourteen. Among all of Jungkook’s friends, Minjun was the only one who’d actually been to his house, and on that day, they were riding bicycles around Jungkook’s front yard with Jungkook and his cousins. Jungkook wanted to perform a trick and he wanted Minjun to record it to brag to Sid later. But as soon as he lifted the front wheel off the ground, he ended up in his grandmother’s azaleas.
The story at the birthday party ended there, with everyone politely laughing and clapping, but Jungkook gave you the rest of it later.
Apparently, his grandmother had warned him about the flowers in advance; she told him not to bike there. And he had. He’d done what she told him not to do. Really, it was because he wanted to outdo Sid, so this could have been another thing that Sid had ruined—but Jungkook couldn’t even get to that part. He was already defeated by the sheer force of his guilt for letting his grandmother down. He was devastated.
He said she hadn’t even yelled at him after she saw how grief-stricken he was. But he still replanted the whole garden and watered the shrubs every day.
And as you listened to Minjun’s story at that birthday party, you realised that even then, almost a decade later, Jungkook flinched every time his friend mentioned azaleas. And he would keep flinching, as you would see in years to come, whenever his grandmother would bring up her garden.
Jungkook never forgot his mistakes, and they all weighed heavily on him. He could only escape them when he was surrounded by people, their voices drowning out his own.
He thought no one knew—he took a paradoxical solace in the belief that only he and the voices in his head knew about what went on inside him—but you’ve seen it over the years.
“No—but these things don’t make you a terrible person,” you said. It didn’t feel like enough, but the thoughts in your head were fast and frail—you could not find one to settle on.
Still, Jungkook looked stunned.
“I—they don’t?” he asked—with a genuine confusion that broke your heart.
“Jungkook,” you said, the edges of your voice desperate.
“No, I—I know,” he said, averting his gaze. “I know. But—really, this is my fault. I did that. I went out with him. It’s—”
“Your fault was staying with Sid for so long,” you interrupted. “That’s your only fault. But realising what was wrong with these people that you surrounded yourself with—that—that’s not wrong. That’s good. You’ve come a long way from the days in those videos.”
He heard you. But a sudden memory still resurfaced in his head: Taehyung had talked to him in the hotel corridor in Amsterdam. He had accused him of fooling around with you and reminded him that your relationship affected the whole band. Jungkook had told him he was serious. He wasn’t fooling around.
He’d meant it—but the bet had been ongoing. However much he wished it not to be, it was fucking ongoing.
And now Jungkook was all the more aware of the thin line between your decision to try this again with him, and the absolute recklessness of this choice. Had he come a long way? Was he different? Or was he really just running away from who he really was?
It would affect the whole band, Taehyung had said.
If he wasn’t good enough for you, he would ruin everything.
“But look how long it took me,” he said with a frustrated sigh. “I can’t—I can’t erase all the shit I did just because I suddenly decided to be a different person.”
“You can’t erase it,” you said, the conviction in your voice rivalling his anxiety, “but you can learn and move on from it.”
He shook his head again. “How can I do that when Sid won’t let me move on?”
“You can do it by accepting these videos as lessons,” you said. “But leaving everything in them in the past. You can do it by not letting Sid get to you anymore. I mean, you’re already doing it. You showed me the videos, which was what Sid threatened you with. You took away everything he was holding against you. You’re doing okay, Jungkook.”
He looked down and swallowed.
He wanted to believe he was okay so much. But there were so many weights on his chest and he could not shake them off. He could not escape them. He could not even pretend they were not there.
This was the reason, he knew, why he dreaded being alone and inevitably recalling every single time in his life when he could have been better, but wasn’t. When he could have been more, but chose not to. When he could have chosen you, but didn’t.
He longed for you in a way that he hadn’t longed for anything in his life before—so much that it hurt to think and his whole body felt grey and tense—but he’d already let you down. He’d let himself down.
“I hurt you,” he said after a minute, covering his face with his hands. “And, fuck, I don’t—I’m not saying this to guilt-trip you into forgiving and forgetting everything. I’m just fucking—I’m so fucked up. I love you more than anything in my life, but I-I can’t spend a single minute by myself without thinking about how fucking fucked up I am. And I’ve done so much stupid fucking shit. I don’t want it to hurt you any more than it already fucking has. And I know you’re the last person who should be comforting me about this. I’m just—I can’t get over those—”
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your chest against his, forcing him to still in your embrace and finally stop speaking.
After a breathless minute, he finally inhaled and you felt him lower his hands from his face and tentatively slide them around your waist, his grip tightening as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. It was still his fear talking, you could feel it pressing against your chest as you pulled him closer until you couldn’t breathe, either. “I don’t think I can ever be enough for—”
“You’re you, Jungkook,” you cut him off. “That’s enough for me.”
He let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes; you felt his lashes flutter against the side of your neck.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
You shook your head against his shoulder. “I love you.”
He held you and breathed you in for an amount of time that no clock could not keep up with, but it still felt insufficient. And when you pulled back slightly to look at him, he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that expressed everything that words could not.
“Thank you,” he added. “For everything.”
You kissed him back—not to say you’re welcome, or no problem. You kissed him to tell him that you had finally made a choice. You were here. And you were staying.
He understood all of it as his lips pressed to yours, as your tongues touched and your breaths mixed together, as his hands settled around your waist as if they’d never been elsewhere. But you sensed his nervous heartbeat against your chest, even though he tried to fight against it.
“Promise me,” he whispered against your lips, “that you’ll tell me if I let you down again.”
Gently—but swiftly—you pulled away.
“I’ll tell you right now,” you said, the firmness in your tone contrasting with the tenderness of your touch as you held a hand to his chest and another one on the side of his face. “You let me down when you put yourself down. We make mistakes, we own up to them, we learn from them. We try too hard, we don’t always succeed, but we get through it together. That’s what we do. And we talk to each other about it all.”
The second you stopped speaking, he pulled you to himself with enough force to knock your breath out of your lungs. You rested your head against his, your heart pounding to the beat of his pulse.
“We’re very co-dependent,” he whispered and the tension in your chest finally eased at his light tone.
“Yes,” you stated. “It’s how we are.”
He snickered and lingered some more in your arms. You rested your hands on his back, rubbing gentle circles and steadily calming down his mind, his heart, and the entirety of his tired soul.
“Maggie, um—she took a picture of us in Amsterdam,” you said. “Did you know?”
He furrowed his eyebrows but allowed you to pull away as he thought about this.
“Wh—oh, in the bathtub?” he asked.
“Yeah. You’ve seen it?”
“Yeah, she sent it to me a while ago,” he said. And, overwhelmed by the honesty of the moment, he added, “it’s beautiful.”
That wasn’t a secret—he’d named his newest song after the moment you’d shared in that bathroom—but he still questioned if he should have said this right now. He could imagine your shock about the picture—that was why he chose not to show it to you when Maggie sent it to him.
But your expression remained gentle, almost pleased.
“Yeah, I liked it, too,” you said. “Well, after I got over the fact that we left the fucking door open.”
He chuckled softly, the sound straining against the cuts and bruises in his chest.
“But anyway, my point is, focus on things like that,” you continued. “That’s who you are. You’re not a video from fuck knows how long ago. Sid doesn’t own you, and he does not control you.”
Jungkook swallowed and lowered his gaze. He nodded his head a few times, but you still started to feel uneasy—was this enough? Or was Sid’s presence in his head still heavier than yours?
You looked around for a distraction, and quickly found one, partially hidden under a stack of cookies.
“We had a film to watch,” you said, pulling your laptop out and accidentally knocking down some of the candy towers he had built on the bed.
Jungkook glanced up and caught a bag of chocolates right before it hit him on the arm. “Oh—w-we had. But how’s your head?”
You had completely forgotten it existed at all, which certainly alleviated your headache. The pure adrenaline from being so close to him probably contributed, too.
“It’s good,” you said, opening your laptop and turning around to adjust the pillows on the bed for more comfort. “I’m great.”
“I still think you should get proper food,” he said, and it struck you that this pattern of worrying, comforting, and taking care of each other in turns was truly a regular occurrence between the two of you.
“I’m fine,” you said. “We’ve got chocolate and more cookies than we should be allowed to eat. I want to live out my nine-year-old fantasy and my dentist’s worst nightmare.”
He smiled at that, but still hesitated. “Okay, but—well, maybe you would rather sleep?”
“I—alright.” You pushed your laptop aside and crossed your arms over your chest. “Now it’s starting to sound like you don’t want to watch this with me.”
“I do,” he said, coming to sit across from you so he could push the laptop back towards you. “I’m just—”
“I’m fine,” you repeated. “I want to be here.”
Hearing that made him happy—the jump-off-buildings kind of happy, where he was glad to have you here or else he really would’ve had no way to keep it all inside himself—but he seemed to still wait for something. The air in the room was still thick with everything that you’d talked about tonight.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “We don’t have to do this—after everything.”
“I want to do this,” you said. And then, responding to the doubts he chose not to voice, you added, “I want to do everything with you.”
He watched as you leaned over your laptop to set up the film across the bed from him. He hadn’t realised he could feel so suffocated from the butterflies in his chest—his stomach could no longer contain them—and he was worried about opening his mouth in case they would try to escape. They’d fill this whole room with their fluttering wings, and the two of you would simply not fit.
“I love you,” he breathed out.
You raised your head and smiled at him—easily, effortlessly. Like you’ve done countless times before.
“I love you, too,” you said.
There wasn’t a building tall enough, he decided. Your voice resonated in his pulse and as long as his heart kept beating, he would always land on the ground perfectly safe.
“Alright,” you said, interrupting his very productive Staring and Smiling. “Let’s watch the film.”
“Alright.”
He returned to his side of the bed and managed to settle on the very edge of it. He watched the paused screen of your laptop and twiddled his thumbs. It took him half a minute to notice you were watching him.
“What?” he asked then.
“You’re comfortable?” you questioned. “Your grandma is going to be disappointed if you tell her that you watched the film but couldn’t even see the screen.”
He looked away. “To be fair, my grandma would be disappointed if she found out I had you in my room and I was across the bed from you.”
You tried everything to suppress your smile, but it crept onto your face in blatant defiance and chose to stay there.
“Well, what’s stopping you from coming closer?” you asked.
��My heart, I think. It might really stop this time.”
You laughed, and he was forced to acknowledge that he did not need to be right next to you for his heart to stop. All it took was this.
He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to recover from the fact that he could finally do this again—sit on the bed with you, watch films together, listen to you laugh, kiss you, tell you he loved you and hear that you loved him, too. And no one could text him and wake him up from this dream.
“Come here,” you said, raising your arm over the pillows to make space for him by your side.
He was beaming. Neither Sid, nor any voice inside his head could ever taint this moment or take it away from him.
Jungkook scooted closer to you, seemingly determined to make you regret your invitation. He immediately draped a hand over your waist and a leg over yours, his body warm, his touch inescapable. You started the film on your laptop, but doubted, suddenly, if you’d be able to watch anything with him so close.
One of your hands had come to rest on the back of his head, gently teasing the strands of his hair as he lied on his side next to you, almost half of his body thrown over yours. His fingers toyed with the edges of your hoodie, and he kept humming an unrecognisable tune under his breath. You weren’t sure if he even realised it, because every time you glanced at him, especially during your favourite parts of the film, he was diligently watching the screen. The only times he looked up at you was if you stopped playing with his hair.
Then, once the film ended about an hour and a half later, Jungkook pulled back a little to be able to see you in his dark room.
If not for the tapping of his leg against yours, he would have looked like an ancient sculpture with the contours of his face illuminated by the glow of your laptop screen. It felt exceptional, somehow, to be able to witness him like this, and you came to the same realisation as you had in Stockholm while walking down empty streets at night with him, and in Amsterdam, when he lied on the hotel bed next to you. You realised how effortlessly poetic he looked. How otherworldly.
And you realised you loved him far more than words could describe.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed.
His expression darkened, but he did not move to check who’d texted. He was determined to stay in the dream he was having.
Within seconds, before either of you could say half of a word about the film you’d just watched, his phone buzzed three more times.
Finally, he exhaled. He did not need to look at his phone; you both knew it was Sid.
“I told Minjun about this earlier today,” Jungkook said, reaching over to grab the device from the other side of the bed. “He thinks I should ignore him, but I’m not sure if that’ll work. I, um—I had hoped Sid would forget about the bet and just leave me in peace, but he saw how bothered I was, and that brought him joy. He never forgets anything that brings him joy. And this is something else that—”
“Reply to him,” you said.
“I—hmm?” He blinked. “What?”
You shrugged your shoulders. He appeared even more perplexed by your apparent nonchalance.
“He’s clearly anticipating it,” you explained. “Text him that I’ve already seen those videos. Add a heart.”
Jungkook was not sure what to make of this. Last night, you had tried to stop him from doing the very thing you were now suggesting.
But then he looked down at his phone in his hands—several new notifications about video attachments from unknown numbers were on his screen—and he thought he understood what had changed. He could see how your responses to Sid had been building up to this point. The bet was just one of many instances, a small drop in an endless ocean of shit that Sid came up with and encouraged. All of it had brought you and Jungkook to this moment: with the videos on his phone looming over him.
Sid may not have been the sole cause, but he had reinforced Jungkook’s already prominent reliance on external validation and his subsequent isolation anxiety. He even played a significant role in exacerbating these issues. Jungkook was aware of it, even if he couldn’t help it. And you were aware of it, too.
While he wasn’t sure how deep inside of his mind you could see, Jungkook looked at the determination in your eyes, and he understood. You were on his side, and after everything you’d talked about tonight, you were angry.
He considered your suggestion again.
“Won’t that antagonise him further?” he asked cautiously.
“Sure it will,” you replied simply. “But what else can he do?”
“I’m not sure I want to find out.”
“Well, he wants you to react,” you said. “He’ll continue to spam you with everything he has in his gallery unless you show him that he’s got nothing to win. You said he’s taunting you, he’s threatening to show me the videos. Well, I’ve seen them. He can’t do anything about that now.”
The more Jungkook thought about this, the more his heart rate increased.
“But then,” he said because he’s known Sid for most of his life, “he’ll find a different way to get under my skin.”
You shook your head. You were convinced that the only reason why Sid got so far, why he had such a tight grip on Jungkook’s thoughts, was because Jungkook allowed it.
“He won’t have that much power,” you said, “if you won’t give it to him.”
Jungkook was still hesitant—his habit of blindly following Sid’s lead was very hard to kill—but he unlocked his phone.
“Alright,” he said. “But—okay, I guess he might not believe me if I tell him you already saw the videos. So, what if I—”
“I’ll text him.”
His stomach sank in horror.
“You—no,” he disagreed, panicking as he got up on his knees on the bed. “No, no—w-we don’t even know these numbers he’s using.”
“I don’t need them,” you said, taking out your phone. “We know it’s Sid. We’ll strip him of all his courage by exposing the anonymity he believes he has.”
Jungkook watched you in helpless awe—as though you were doing something truly impressive rather than simply sending a text message. He leaned in closer to be able to get a better view of your phone screen as you selected Sid’s contact (saved as “ASS #1” on your phone—with Jude following as “ASS #2,” of course), and typed: “I already know about the videos, thank you for thinking of me 🖤”
Then, you put your phone away and turned to Jungkook. He was still biting his lip, evidently doubting and regretting at least half of his life.
“There’s a second part, you know,” you said.
“Hm?” He glanced at the black screen of your laptop. “Of the film?”
“Mhmm. He’s escaping from LA this time. Do you want to watch it?”
Jungkook felt a little dizzy. This was over, then. You sent the text, and that was it.
He was forced to accept that even though he had cut his ties with Sid, he could still feel the phantom grips of Sid’s collar around his neck. He wasn’t sure if he would have believed in himself enough to send one text and be done with it. He needed a deeper provocation—like Sid’s descriptions of you before he punched him—or someone actively supporting him all through it—like Minjun and Taehyung, when he gave his Katana up.
And you, he thought. He was thinking of you during all those times.
“I—well, yeah,” he said finally. “Let’s watch it.”
You nodded and returned to your laptop to prepare the second film. You had your back turned to him, so he could not see the slight tremor in your hands. You did not enjoy texting Sid, but he was using you to get back at Jungkook, and you were tired of sitting down and taking it.
“Do you think,” Jungkook said, leaning back against the pillows, “I should get an anaconda tattooed on my stomach?”
Your relief was so strong that you didn’t even realise you had started to laugh. Kurt Russell’s character had a very prominent shirtless scene in the film, and you had been waiting for Jungkook to mention it.
“That was a cobra,” you said. “And no.”
“I think it—wait, why not?” He leaned forward to look at you, offence prominent on his face. “It looked cool on Snake.”
“You’re not cool enough to pull it off,” you replied. He raised his eyebrows, and you shook your head to hide your smile and to emphasise your point. “It just wouldn’t work.”
He nodded slowly, his lips twisted ironically. “Oh, I see, okay. So, what would work for me, then?”
“Maybe a cute little rabbit.”
“A rabb—oh, sure.” Crossing his arms over his chest and pouting, he looked very much like the tattoo you were imagining. “Go ahead and mock me.”
You squinted your eyes. “A rabbit with a lip ring?”
“Mhmm.” He tilted his chin up. “I will get a cobra tattoo out of spite now.”
Snickering, you hit the spacebar on your keyboard and started the film.
“Let’s watch the second part before you decide rabbit or cobra,” you said.
“I’ve already deci—”
Your phone vibrated on the bed, cutting him off. A familiar anxious shiver ran down your spine.
You glanced at him, and just as before, the two of you quickly came to the same conclusion, and the radiant smiles on your faces suddenly clouded again.
Breathing a little heavier, you paused the film after less than a minute and picked up your phone.
There was a new text message from Sid. He had sent you a link to what appeared to be an Instagram post. His message underneath it read, “Okay :) and do you know about this? x”
You had a feeling what was coming even before you clicked the link; your subconsciousness had made the connection before it should have realistically been possible.
The link directed you to Sid’s profile and the picture he’d posted four minutes ago: it was the black-and-white bathtub shot that Maggie had shown you at the bar last night. Sid had captioned it, “so happy for you!”
Jungkook cursed softly on the bed behind you.
You were not sure if you were breathing.
“Fuck,” Jungkook said again. “He—he must have got it from my phone. Maggie—she sent me the picture, and Sid—”
“This piece of fucking shit,” you swore. Your hold on your phone remained firm, despite the device shaking in your frustrated hands. “He’s definitely not just taunting you, he’s targeting us both.”
The Rated Riot fans knew who Sid was, they saw the picture. Jungkook glanced at your screen once more as you clicked on the likes. They were pouring in too quickly, and the total number—which Sid had not made private, of course—could not refresh in time.
Neither you, nor Jungkook said anything. Neither of you drew any obvious conclusions. Simply watching as the image spread online was already enough.
People said a picture was worth a thousand words, and you wondered about the value of this particular one.
You hadn’t even talked to the label; you’d barely talked to each other about your relationship. How would this look for you? What would you do?
“This is what he wants, then?” you asked, staring at your phone. The usernames on the screen blurred together. “For us to break up? He’s that miserable?”
Jungkook felt a knot straining in his stomach, and he could not respond.
“And why do it like this?” you questioned further. “What the fuck is wrong with him, aside from the obvious? What does he gain from any of this?”
Jungkook thought he knew what it was. He could feel it that night when he handed Sid the keys to the Katana. But he hoped—he really fucking hoped—that Sid would get over it. He got his way, after all.
“He won the bet,” Jungkook said, “but I did not lose anything. He can’t stand the thought that I’m—h-he needs me to know that I’m not better than him.”
You groaned. “Fuck—fuck him. Fuck his immature shit, and his fucking ego. Whatever it is that he wants, he’s not going to get it. He’s already done enough.”
You got up from the bed, and Jungkook watched you move around his room with a quiet purpose that he could not decipher.
“What…” he cleared his throat, “do you mean?”
“I don’t know yet,” you said, and your pacing increased. “But we’ll figure it out. He’s not getting his fucking way.”
Jungkook felt a little foolish as he asked, “you’re not mad?”
You stopped in the middle of the room and looked at the uncertain arch of his brows, the slight pull of his lips. You wondered if you would have had it in you not to strangle Sid if he was in the room with you right now. Really, Jungkook wouldn’t even have to do anything. Maybe dig a hole later.
“At you?” you asked, returning to the bed. “Why would I be mad at you? I—I’m angry in general. But I think Sid would have found some kind of a picture of us and posted it anyway. At least we managed to get on his nerves a little first.”
You sat down beside him, and he ran his fingers through his hair, half-nodding, half-shaking his head.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he decided. “We might have, uh, actually pushed him into doing this without thinking it through. He didn’t even tag us in the picture, right? And I mean, I know it’s us, but we’re completely in the dark, and—”
He stopped talking when you abruptly jumped up, scrambling to unlock your phone again.
“W-what is it?” he asked, alarmed once more.
You returned to Sid’s profile, clicked on the picture, and refreshed the post.
He hadn’t tagged you.
Jungkook was easily recognisable in the picture if you expected to see him there. However, it was likely that besides Maggie and Luna—who already knew it was you because Maggie had said so—no one else could identify the other person in the bathtub.
“Shit, you’re right,” you said, your heart speeding in your chest. “He didn’t tag us. If I hadn’t texted him, he might have posted the picture later, after thinking it through better, and—but he hadn’t. Fuck, this is—we can fix this. I—oh, we will fix this, and I’ll fucking make sure this is the last game he plays with us.”
Right away, just from the tone of your voice alone, Jungkook knew that Sid had lost. He’d lost and he didn’t even know it yet.
You hadn’t broken up. You were together—seemingly even more together now than you were hours ago, when you’d first entered his room.
Finally, Jungkook exhaled in staggering relief.
The two of you had already won.
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chapter title credits: normandie, “blood in the water”
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luciwritesstuff · 6 months
Text
taking turns | an (un)expected blurb
pairing: dad!tom holland x mom!f!reader
warnings: none really, just fluff, some innuendos but nothing too naughty. mostly just new parents parenting whilst also being in love
a/n: surprisseeeee. pls enjoy some domesticity and comfort because you all deserve it <3 and so do these two hehe
series masterlist | main masterlist
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gif credit: @/tomhollandnet
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You wake with a start to the familiar sound of crying. It's dark out, and the alarm clock on your bedside table shows that's it's somewhere around 3 o'clock in the morning.
You let out a slight groan as the wails echo through your bedroom from the cot which stands a few meters from your bed. You rub your eyes as you swing your legs to the side of the bed, heaving a sigh as you prepare to get up.
"Huh? What? What's wrong?" comes Tom's sudden, groggy voice as he sits bolt upright in bed next to you.
"It's fine," you say through a sigh, blinking the sleep out of your eyes, "She's just hungry, I forgot to set the alarm to feed her. . . go back to sleep,"
"Jesus," he lets out in a moan, falling back onto the bed, "When is she ever not hungry? Kid eats more than a bodybuilder,"
"Like father, like daughter," you mutter half-jokingly as you get to your feet, and he lets out a weak chuckle as he turns around in bed, burying his head half in the pillow.
"I'm not taking responsibility for this," he counters, his voice muffled by the pillow, "Besides, a healthy appetite is a good sign,"
"You'd be singing a different tune if it were you she was sucking the life out of every 2 to 4 hours," you tell him as you approach the crib.
Sure enough, your daughter is lying in the middle, wide awake and screaming her lungs out, little fists waving around in the air.
"Sucking the life out of?" Tom repeats, turning back around to give you a sarcastic, but sleepy smile, "Motherhood is supposed to be a blessing and a gift. . . aren't you feeling the glow?"
"I hate you," you mutter with a shake of your head as he chuckles again, sitting up in bed.
"I got you," you say through a strained breath as you pick up your newborn gently, "Sh, sh, sh. ."
You move to sit in the rocking chair next to her crib, being careful to support her neck as you get comfortable, before cradling her against your chest with one arm and using your other one to unbutton your sleep shirt, your baby still wailing in your arms.
"Okay, okay, alright," you say as you try to rock her, but you focus on getting her to latch, "I know, I know. . ."
Her crying stops almost immediately as you start to feed her, and you let out a small sigh as your head falls back against the headrest of the rocking chair, which moves gently.
"It's a miracle how well that works," you let out in a breath, "Who knew my boobs could be so soothing," 
You hear Tom chuckles again into his pillow.
"Like father, like daughter," he responds cheekily, and you pull a face.
"Don't even start," you say, and he laughs as he turns onto his back, propping himself onto his elbows.
"What time is it?" he asks, and you suppress a yawn.
"Somewhere around 3AM," you say, continuing to rock in the chair as your head falls against the headrest, "I thought I'd set the alarm to feed her, but I must've fallen asleep before I had to chance. . . sorry I woke you,"
"I don't ever want to hear you apologize for that again," Tom says as he looks at you, and even though it's dark, you can see the skeptical eyebrow he raises, "Seriously. . . it isn't your fault she cries, that's literally all babies do. . . and you aren't the only one responsible for the alarm, I set one but she just woke up before it went off,"
You can't stop the small smile appearing on your lips. "You set an alarm to feed her?"
Tom shrugs. "Sure I did. . . you were up with her all night yesterday, and besides, there's like a liter of milk in the fridge from when you pumped all day. I may be a man, but I try my hardest not to be completely useless, "
"Hm, you're doing surprisingly okay," you say with a small smile, and Tom lets out a hum as he falls back down on the pillow.
"Glad to hear it," he says in a chuckle, and you lean your head against the rocking chair as you close your eyes. You sit in silence for a second, the two of you in the semi-dark of the bedroom, the only dim light coming from a star-shaped nightlight plugged into the wall near the crib.
Then, after a minute, you suddenly inhale sharply and look down at your baby. "Ouch. . . jesus christ, she bites, too,"
The moment the words are out of your mouth you know what Tom is going to say, and your eyes snap up to look at him. He's laying back, eyes closed, but you watch the corners of his mouth twitch up into a growing smirk.
"Don't you dare say it," you tell him, and Tom's smirk grows, eyes remaining closed as he lays on his back facing the ceiling
"Say what?" he says with false innocence, and when you say nothing, he lets out a breath, opening his eyes, before sitting up. He moves his legs to the side of the bed and gets to his feet.
"You want a glass of water?" he asks you, and you nod as your head lays back against the chair's headrest.
But then you grimace again as you feel the same sudden feeling on your chest. "Christ. . . I'm not sure I like it when she does that,"
"You like it when I do it," Tom says coyly, and you give him a look as he passes you by.
"You're the worst," you deadpan, shaking your head, "I knew you wouldn't be able to let that one slide,"
You hear Tom's chuckle as he walks into the bathroom adjacent to your bedroom, light in front of the mirror flicking on and shining dimly onto the carpet at your feet.
"Almost as if you know me too well," you hear him joke as the tap runs, and you raise your eyebrows for a second even though he can't see you.
"I'm married to you," you let out, "I should hope I know you well enough,"
The tap switches off, and you hear Tom's footsteps as he comes back into the room, light flicking off. "In that case, here you go, wife,"
He sets the glass of water down on a little table next to the rocking chair, and you give an appreciative hum, before frowning slightly as your head lays against the rest, eyes closed.
"God, we have to see our parents tomorrow," you say through a groan, and Tom lets out his own sigh, hand coming up to rub his forehead.
"I thought we'd agreed to cancel that," he says, and you groan.
"I don't think either of us did cancel it, though," you inform him, and he lets out another breath, shaking his head.
"Brilliant," Tom says, and you open your eyes to look at him standing opposite you, hand on his hip and the other clutching his water.
"Maybe it's good," you say with a shrug, "We have been in the newborn bubble a little,"
Tom stands in front of you, taking a few sips of his own water before putting in down as well.
"I happen to enjoy our little bubble, love," Tom says through a breath as he leans down, and you feel him press a kiss to your forehead before he looks down at the baby.
"Is she finished?" he asks you, and you look down.
"Think so," you say softly as you feel her unlatch, her small eyes half-closed as she starts to get sleepy.
"Here," Tom says, arms reaching down towards you, "Give her to me, I'll put her down,"
You nod, before sitting up straight to hand him the baby.
"Come on," Tom says through a strained breath as he takes the half-asleep newborn from your arms, "Come sit with daddy for a bit,"
You swallow slightly, trying to hold your coy smile at the nickname, but Tom notices and lets out a soft tut, shaking his head.
"Let's give mummy a moment to compose herself, hm? She's acting like an absolute animal,"
You let out a soft chuckle as Tom walks away with your daughter in his arms, starting to pace gentle circles around the room as he rocks her over his shoulder.
You grab the glass he'd set down next to you and practically empty it, your mouth feeling a lot less dry when you're done.
"What time are they coming?" Tom asks you in a quiet voice as you get to your feet, and you peer at the alarm clock for a second.
"In about 7 hours,"
"Christ," Tom mutters, before pacing another circle, patting the baby's back.
"Alright, you sleep," he assures you, "She's pretty much nodded off anyway, it won't take long"
You don't argue with him as you nod with a hum, before crawling back into bed. "Don't forget to burp her,"
"What exactly does it look like I'm doing, darling?" Tom asks you, and you can hear the raised eyebrow in his tone, which makes you smile into your pillow.
"You're a good daddy," you mutter, your voice the same coy undertone as earlier.
"Pervert," Tom says almost immediately, tutting jokingly with a shake of his head and a smile.
You bury your head further into the pillow and let out a sleepy chuckle as you feel yourself fall back into slumber.
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ahhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHH. this just felt cute to write I had to. as usual, reblog, like, comment and drop me an ask to let me know what you think 🥰
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emssturniolo · 6 months
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unrequited love <3
pairing: christopher sturniolo x reader
summary: you always thought chris didn't like you back until nick made you realise
a/n: this is quite long, and i have no idea if it makes sense, but i like the concept of it :) happy reading ! heheh
you and chris had been friends for only about a year, but to you it was an entire year of what you thought was unrequited love. what was it actually? chris being scared to make a move
you had met the triplets at a mutual friend’s birthday party. you and matt had bumped into each other, him knowing who you were (you had no idea who he was, but anyways). upon talking for a couple of minutes, nick had come to matt to tell him where their seat was on the large table which stood in the middle of a lit garden venue in los angeles. nick had fallen in love with you instantly, stealing you from matt and taking you over through a little path which led to another section of the venue which had a pool. soon enough, you, nick, and madi had become the magical trio. after talking for about half an hour, you had discovered that nick and matt were triplets – there was a third one named chris. nick had promised you to introduce you to chris by the end of the night, sensing that the two of you would get along; but the three of you had gotten along so well that you forced everyone to move to the seat to their left until there was a space next to nick’s seat. you gladly accepted the seat, glad you had found someone to talk, since you had gone to the party alone
nick had kept his promise – well what happened was that nick was so excited for you to sit next to him that he had totally forgotten about chris, and he ended up sitting between you and complete stranger; but at least nick was right. you and chris clicked within seconds. like, literal seconds
the moment you laid eyes on the boy, you were whipped. he was the prettiest boy you had ever seen. ever. you weren’t one for falling in love, and you had never really had a ‘crush’ since middle school, yet the boy you hadn’t even told your name to casually walked into your heart and made it his home, without even knowing
it’s been a year since then, and your feelings haven’t changed – they had only gotten 10x stronger with every smile, conversation, and late night drive you two had taken, which was a lot. today was no different; you had woken up in the boys’ LA house yet again after the millionth sleepover you guys had had, and the day went by pretty quick. you had left the house after breakfast to go to the mall with nick and madi, and you guys returned home later that afternoon – but the entire trip, you had something on your mind. chris had been acting weird since you got to their house last night. he’d talk to his brothers and madi normally, but you had the feeling he was avoiding you. you thought you had done a great job at hiding that you were upset, but nick knew, and he knew exactly what it was about
he had caught on to the way you and chris got along, but decided to keep quiet just not to make things awkward. yet the way chris laughed louder at your jokes than at anyone else’s, and the way you blushed every time he smiled at you did not go unnoticed from nick. once you got back home, madi got into the shower, which nick took as an opportunity to confront you about the situation
unbeknownst to you, chris had also fallen in love with you when he met you. though he was slower to realise what the feeling was exactly, you had also made your way into his heart. big time. you were all he ever thought about when you weren’t around, and his first thought the second he woke up in the morning. hell, he thought of you when he was upset, immediately making him smile
“hey y/n, can you come with me for a sec?” nick asked you. you gave him a quick hum and followed him to his room. he sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to him, signalling for you to join him. you sat down, and he pulled you in for a silent hug. “what’s this for?” you questioned. “i know chris can be difficult sometimes, just give him time. he’s trying to figure shit out ‘cause he doesn’t want to hurt you. you can trust me when i tell you he cares about you though.”. that one small sentence felt like being hit by lightning, but you didn’t want to assume anything, so you went on. “what do you mean?” you said through a laugh. “i just, i noticed the way you act around him, and the way he acts around you. i know he has your heart, y/n – and you have his. he’s just scared of losing you.” nick reassured you. now, the lightning bolt that had hit you before gave you electrical energy. energy full of love, and it was circling in your blood and all around you, and you were emitting it all around nick’s room. you would’ve sworn chris never thought of you like that, but you were so glad he did. so, so, so glad he did. “do i just like, wait for him to do something, or do I help him out?” you asked nick. “i mean it would help me out a ton if you did something because seeing him be so awkward and weird around you makes my eyes dry. oh god, and the annoying questions ‘where’s y/n?’, ‘did you talk to y/n today?’ ‘nick when’s y/n coming over?’.” you giggled, your heart fuzzy and warm from the thought of him constantly thinking of you, the same way you always thought of him. “thank you – so much.”
now you found yourself knocking on chris’s bedroom door. he let out a ‘yeah?’, so you opened his bedroom door – and there he was, sitting on his bed, the pretty boy you loved so dearly. “oh, hey.” he said, locking his phone and setting it on his nightstand. “hey, uh, can we talk. like it’s not something too serious, but i guess it uhm-” your voice cracked. your palms were starting to get sweaty and your heart was starting to pick up it pace. “i guess it means a lot to me.” you finished. “of course, what’s up?” chris said, a worried expression on his face. “you know when we met at that birthday party? and we were sitting next to each other and you were god knows where and then you sat down in your seat next to me ‘cause you were hungry?” you questioned. “mhm” he said, signalling for you to continue. “i just, i remember the second i my eyes met yours i-“ you let out a breathy laugh and continued – “i may have thought you were really cute – and that may have never changed.” you weren’t nervous anymore, not when he gave you that smile. not when you realised that he was blushing. not when he got up and walked over to his desk chair, which you were sitting on and bent down to come to your level, grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you
“i wanted to ask you to go on a date last night, but you, nick, and madi had already made plans to go to the mall today and i just wanted you for myself.” he admitted, looking you in the eyes with nothing but love. “you’ve got me, pretty boy. i'm all yours.” you said, kissing the bridge of his nose. he held out his hands and pulled you up from his chair, and hugged you tight. you had never felt so loved, and chris didn’t plan on making you feel any less loved. after all, your heart was a pretty comfortable spot for him to stay in, and you felt quite comfortable in his, too 
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preg-lix · 7 months
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I want to be egged so badly today. I want some tentacles to get me down at the beach and fuck me senseless.
I felt the strange ripples when it came in me, but I didnt think through the cause of them. I was too much in a hurry to stumble out of the water afterwards, scared and turned on. I told my partner what happened and they comforted me, but I could also see the glimmer in their eyes. They fucked me hard, helping me cum since the tentacles didnt get me off.
The next morning they woke before I did, caressing my bloated belly. I was pregnant, they told me reverently, which gave me chills. Maybe i had been impregnated by the monster, but my partner looked way too sure about it. They promised to take care of me while I burgeoned with the monsters young. They told me they wondered what tentacle beasts would roll around inside me like waves of the ocean.
After a week I looked quite pregnant, and I think my partner was disappointed to see I was clearly pregnant with eggs. You couldnt tell at a glance, but I could feel them squishing against each other, and if you pressed into my skin in just the right place you could feel the outline of them. I was paralyzed by them, in shock every day I woke to a bigger womb. Every time I almost succumbed to the horror my body presented, my partner would soothe me; promises of care, love, and great sex kept me numb most days. They worshiped my belly, constantly rubbing and kissing and fucking all over me. I had never seen them so needy, but they couldnt keep their hands off my the whole pregnancy. It felt good to be desired like that in all honesty, but I was frustrated that it came at the price of my inhuman occupants.
I was growing fast, mostly at night, and after two weeks I looked near a due date. My body ached from trying to accommodate such quick expansion, and the weight bearing down on me made me hornier than usual. Eventually the strain turned into proper cramps, and i realized i was ready to birth them.
My partner held my hand through every contraction, rubbed my back and patted me softly in comfort. They whispered words about how much they loved watching me try to birth my eggs, how much they wanted to fill me again and again with eggs, babies, anything to keep my body ripe and bred.
After hours of struggles, I realized in a pain-induced haze that I couldnt give birth on land. Not even being in the tub had helped, and my water, if I even had amniotic fluid, hadnt broken. I begged my partner to take m to the ocean, to return me to their home so I could get them out of me. They agreed and packed up some things for us in the car. I may have just been delirious from my birthing pains, but it really felt like they were taking their sweet time loading me into the car.
It was the middle of the night, so no one was around. My partner hefted me out of the car and down to the shoreline to sit on a rocky inlet near where I got impregnated the first time. My body finally recognized that I was in the waters of origin and the contractions were worse than ever. My partner helped spread my legs as eggs finally rolled down to exit me. They were larger than I expected, a stretch but not horrifyingly large. I managed to birth one with a moderate amount of struggle, but the rest were close behind. The eggs that left me immediately sank in the water beyond my vision. I shuddered through to process, certainly uncomfortable but nowhere near what a human baby would do to me.
After half of the eggs were out of me and I was too exhausted to comment, my partner finally cracked and began rubbing off on my lower back. They were ranting about how hot I was. how good I looked pregnant, how my moans of pain alone could make them cum on the spot. They did finally cum, but seemed ready for round two almost immediately.
By the time the last egg slipped out of me, I was tired enough to sleep for a week. My whole body ached from the strain, and I just wanted to go home. My partner had other ideas, though. They held me tight in the water, assuring me that they would take care of me, that I was fine. When I insisted i needed to get out of the water they told me they wanted the tentacle monster to come back, to breed me again, to start over. I struggled, but my abused body couldnt fight them. Eventually, their prediction came true and tentacles rose out of the dark water to caress me again. I cried that I wanted out but my partner promised they would make it good for me. They told me they loved my weeks of pregnancy and they wanted more eggs in me, that I was meant to be bred.
Even through the pains and aches, the stimulation of the tentacle inside me was turning me on. My partner played with my sensitive areas, knowing exactly where to touch to drive me wild. With the added sensation, I did orgasm before the tentacle was done with me, satiated in my partners arms. I felt the telltale signs of more eggs rippling into me and I wondered faintly how many times I would end up full of eggs
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cycat-carisi · 4 months
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Lonesome Superhero
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Pairing: Gator Tillman x f!reader (not romantic)
Summary: Gator keeps hitting on you and you finally give him a piece of your mind. He's not the sweet boy you once knew anymore - or if he is, it's far too difficult to see.
Tags: No spoilers! Angst. Post episode 1 and 2.
Warnings: language, misogynistic themes from the show
Length: ~1.3k
A/N: This just popped into my head and I needed to get it out. Gator is despicable and unless he has some major character growth, I can't bring myself to romanticize him. I do think his character is super intriguing though. I hope we get to dive deeper into what makes him tick throughout the season. (:
(Plus, I have a theory that Gator may have unintentionally been a witness to his mother's murder as a boy...)
Fic below the cut or on AO3 here
You swallow thickly. Not again.
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It's in the way the frosted glass door harshly swings open that immediately lets you know who is behind it. There could only be one person who felt entitled enough to barge into a retirement home like he owned the place.
Turning around from your medicine cart, you find him standing there in his camouflage cargo pants and a black t-shirt that is two sizes too tight. His hands perch on his hips as his narrowed eyes and cocky smirk aim in your direction.
"Gator, please. Not today," you speak coldly.
His smirk only grows. "Oh, c'mon, babycakes, you don’t know what you're missin'!"
"Gator!" you scold, trying to hush your voice in front of your patients. "Come with me, please." Anger bubbles up inside of you as Gator's face contorts into a triumphant grin. He saunters forward as you lead him toward the back entrance of the small facility.
In the shadow of the building, the fall air nips at your bare arms. The chill, however, is easily quelled by your boiling blood.
"How dare you come to my place of work!" You waste no time laying into the Tillman son.
Your ferocity catches Gator off-guard, causing panic to dart across his features. He takes a half-step back, pulling his head and neck along with it.
Oh, but you’re far from done with him.
"For weeks now, you've been popping up wherever I go, asking me to go out with you in the most degrading ways possible! Every. Single. Time. I have turned you down, yet you clearly cannot take ‘no’ for an answer! And now you have the audacity to show up at where I work and do the same? No! It doesn’t work like that, Gator. I worked hard for my career. I went to college, got my license, and came back here to help my community. I am respected in this building, and I will not tolerate you waltzing in here like God's gift to women and disrespecting me in front of my patients!"
Out of breath and seething, you continue to stare Gator down. He looks downright gobsmacked – a mixture of a wounded pup about to run and a cornered hound ready to bite.
The silence is deafening. You wait for Gator to snap back like he always does – some moronic comeback that's as pathetic as his barbed wire LOL tattoo.
And predictably, he does just that. "What the hell?!!" he cries out, stepping towards you and invading your space. The pungent odor from his last puff of vape wafts off his breath. "I'm the law in this town! I'm a winner! All you ever do is humiliate me! You're fucking awful!"
"I'm awful?!" you scoff, eyebrows shooting skyward. You're about to rip him a new one when you simply stop and shake your head in pity. "What happened to you, Gator?"
Once again, the Tillman son is rendered speechless. His dark brow pinches together in confusion. "Wha-?"
You seize your opportunity to dive a little deeper. "I mean, what happened to the Gator from middle school? The one who used to be my friend? The boy who was sweet and kind and would spend lunch hours reading comic books with me. It's like you suddenly woke up one day and decided to become an asshole, always acting out in class and purposely bullying other kids. Doing reckless shit because your dad could get you out of trouble. And now? I think you've gotten worse! Hell, Mrs. Lakeland told me that you all but pushed Gladys Baker out of the way at the corner store the other day. What the heck is wrong with you? Who do you think you are?"
"I - I -" he stammers, head spinning. Then Gator swallows, puffing up his chest. "I take what's mine! I take what I'm owed. I made it through police training. People in this town owe me their respect, so I take it as I see fit."
"Newsflash! That's not how you get respect, sunshine," you retort. "Respect is earned, and from where I'm standing, all I see is a pathetic man-child whose daddy got him where he is today. 'My father is the sheriff' are the magic words that force people to step out of your way. That's not respect; that's notoriety from being a grade-A asshole!"
Gator's face twists into a snarl while his fists clench and unclench at his sides. You've clearly hit a nerve.
Even though you’d love nothing more than to lay into him some more, you remind yourself that it’s notworth the fight. Instead, your chest constricts with disappointment. "I don’t get it, Gator,” you speak softly. “Why do you let your father run your life? He says to jump and you ask how high. When are you gonna wake up and realize that he's just using you?"
If it wasn’t clear that you’d struck a nerve before, it certainly is now. Gator’s combat boot strikes the gravel, sending up a cloud of dust and dirt, and his cheeks glaze over with a deep red flush. "I don’t – He doesn’t –" Lost for words, Gator simply clamps his jaw shut. He kicks at the ground again and throws his hands to his hair, letting out a frustrated yell.
You hop back in surprise; a fearful gasp escapes you at his sudden outburst.
Gator's head whips back up, and those dark eyes meet yours.
Middle school was a long time ago, yet Gator remembers everything. He remembers how nice you were to him; how one day you saw this quiet boy sitting alone at lunch with a comic book and decided to come over and ask what he was reading. He used to dream of being as invincible as the superheroes in his books – Gator's way of shielding himself from everything that he'd seen. But then you came along and somehow made him feel a little less alone. He adored you and your friendship, eventually developing a little crush. That was, of course, before Gator was taught that girls weren't supposed to like comics, that men lead while women follow, and that his father's word was absolute. If he pleased his father, any situation could go Gator's way. The power sought after by characters in his comic books was right at Gator's fingertips; all he had to do was prove to the senior Tillman that he was worthy. Nothing else mattered.
And now? Gator almost had it. He was so close to having his father's approval. He was certain of it! Why couldn't you see that? Why couldn't you see how awesome he had become? He had buried his crush on you away while you were at college, but now that you were back, there was no reason to hide that he wanted you. And there should be no reason why you wouldn't want him either!
Except…your words today hurt. They made Gator feel puny and pathetic. How could you say that he was just his father's pawn?! He was his own man! A tough and strong and important man in this town...right?
You watch as despair briefly flashes across Gator's face before quickly being replaced by aggravation. He grunts again prior to spinning on his heels and stalking off.
No! Gator is his own man, and you were just the type of woman his father had warned him about! His crush is stupid, and so are you...
As Gator storms off, his ears catch your quiet words laced with pity. "Silly me for thinking that the sweet guy who read comics with me would still be in there.”
For the first time since he was a boy, tears stab at Gator's eyes. He scrunches his eyes closed and shakes his head, instead focusing on the sound of gravel crunching under his boots as he slinks away.
Thanks for reading! Feedback is loved ❤
(Part 2 here!)
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portalhan · 1 year
Note
Hi there :) I was wondering if I can get a fluffy felix timestamp where you’re invited over to his room and you end up sitting on his lap trying a new makeup style on him, but he keeps on flirting, kissing and hugging you to distract you. Then a member walks in on you guys and finds the interaction cute <3 (they’re both idols in this btw and both newly couples)
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──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ 18 : 06 ୨୧ ( felix )
pairing: idol!felix lee x idol! gn! reader
format: timestamp
warnings: brief mentions of food, one (1) mild curse word
word count: 1.5k (i got carried away, love this request way too much)
fae's notes: hi! oh my god, thank you for requesting this (you were also my first request, so extra love to you), this is so adorable! had so much fun writing this one up, i hope you enjoy it! also, just a quick disclaimer: i know the boys are now split in two dorms, but this timestamp has all eight of them living in their previous arrangement, except everyone has their own rooms. just because i wanted to include everyone here!
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"let me guess – you're here for felix?" minho's snarky tone is the first thing that greets you almost immediately after you ring the doorbell.
"no, i'm here to watch jisung and hyunjin fight over the tv again," you deadpan as you cross your arms, reciprocating his sarcasm. "of course i'm here for felix, dumbass."
the both of you crack a smile, and he wordlessly steps aside to let you in. you immediately remove your shoes and place them on the shelf by the side of the door. at this point, you've spent so much of your free time at the stray kids dorm that you know nearly every nook and cranny of this place like the back of your hand. the pile of unwashed, week-old laundry sitting by changbin's door, the broken curtain in the kitchen, the dozens of ingredients lying across the kitchen counter (minho was clearly busy prepping dinner shortly before you arrived). you exchange quick greetings with jeongin and changbin in the living room while on your way in, both of whom were huddled around chan's computer to play some video game. maybe it was among us, you couldn't be sure.
"is that y/n?" you hear your boyfriend's raspy voice echo through the hall before you spot him in his pajamas, hastily stumbling out of his room door. you feel your heart thump against your chest – it could never get old, could it? "y/n!"
he engulfs you in the warmest hug before you're even able to say anything. you wrap your arms around each other, as you burying your face in his chest to breathe his scent in. you feel his hand reach up to caress your hair. "how was your day?" you sigh. "tiring. back to back activities. there are only so many times i can perform the same song, you know? i'm sure the members aren't too thrilled about it either," you huff into his chest, as you feel it rattle from the giggles you elicited from him. "i can't wait for promotions to be over next week."
"i feel ya," he says, fingers combing through your hair.
"gross." wait a minute, that's not felix's voice. you peek out from above his shoulder, only to see seungmin standing in the hallway behind your boyfriend. he clearly just woke up from an afternoon nap, as evidenced by his shaggy hair and puffy face. ah, right, you were in the middle of a shared hallway. "get a room, you sickos!"
"sorry, minnie," felix chuckles, before taking your hand in his and leading you to his room. you flash seungmin a sheepish smile while waving bye, as you watch him snicker a little bit on his way to the living room. you think you might have heard him muttering to himself about how gross the honeymoon phase always is.
the next half hour with your boyfriend was spent just lounging around his room as you gossiped talked about everything and anything you could. you filled him in on the latest updates about your group, while he did the same with the kids. poor, clueless chan, who was cooped up in his own room on his laptop like the workaholic he is, unaware of the fact that felix and you were cracking up about how he mistook fire noodles for regular noodles earlier that day. "how is that even possible?" you ask between bouts of uncontrollable laughter, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. "maybe you should ask him about it later!"
as you settled down – cuddled up against each other on his bed, legs tangled and arms holding onto each other as if for dear life – a comfortable silence filled the room before felix asked you something. "baby, would it be weird if i asked you to do my makeup real quick? you're so good at it and i wanted to see what i'd look like with your style," he mutters, almost as if he was afraid of the boys eavesdropping. your head spins around as you search for his eyes, and the pout he had on his face was so adorable. how could you say no? "of course not, lix, it's not weird at all," you say as you reluctantly leave your comfortable spot in bed to look through his drawers for whatever makeup he had. you hear him whine a little bit at the loss of your touch while you start fishing the materials out. "you'd look so pretty."
it started with the two of you just sitting by the edge of his bed, knees grazing as you applied foundation with his blender. your eyesight was admittedly a little bad, so your face was a lot closer to his than was necessary. not that felix minded, though. this arrangement remained as you applied concealer, powder, bronzer and blush.
while you were turned to your side to browse through the eyeshadow options, felix cleared his throat. "hm?" you hummed, picking out the palette you got for his birthday recently. the peach tones and pink glitters would pair perfectly with his freckles. "you're so pretty." you whip you head back towards his direction, a little surprised at the sudden compliment. "you're so pretty when you're concentrating." you found yourself feeling glad about not having done his lips yet, because you took the opportunity to plant a quick peck on your boyfriend's lips as you giggled.
while blending the colour into his crease, you somehow ended up sitting on his lap. you weren't even entirely aware of it till you felt his hands snake around your waist. "oh my god, sorry, do you want me to get off?" you pause whatever you were doing, looking into felix's eyes with slight worry. "no, i love this. keep going."
look. you love him, but felix wasn't making it very easy to do your job. he is constantly distracting you by showering you with a series of flirty remarks, kisses and touches. you weren't complaining, though. first, he'd say, "i'm so lucky to have you as my pretty baby," and then the next he'd tighten his grasp around your midriff to pull you in a little closer. before you knew it, felix is peppering tiny, ticklish little kisses and soft bites across your neck and jaw (he better not have given you a hickey, your manager would kill you).
"felix," you say between giggles and whines. "i love you, but i can't do your makeup properly if you keep distracting me like this. it's so unfair, you know i can't kiss you back and ruin my amazing work." he chuckles, but continued to spoil you with even more kisses and cuddles anyway "sorry, baby, you're too cute for me to resist. i love you too much."
"i guess i'll have to do a rush job," you plainly tell him, felix's eyes widening at your declaration. "i'm almost done anyway."
now, all that's left is his lipstick. although, you have loftier plans in mind. you take the wand of the lip tint and apply it on your own lips instead, maintaining eye contact with him as you smirked. "i thought you were doing my makeup," he said, eyebrow raised. "i am." as soon as you were done, you wrap your arms around his neck and plant your lips onto his with a loud, dramatic smack, in hopes of transferring the colour. you both giggle into the kiss, before you let go to plant more all over his face, staining your hard work with his lipstick as he laughed uncontrollably.
suddenly, you heard the door creak open. "guys, minho told me to-"
you and felix immediately stop and look at the culprit who so rudely interrupted your little moment. the both of you are greeted by a dumbfounded chan, as an uncomfortable silence falls over the three of you. you could tell felix was getting flustered; he was shuffling very slightly, and you could almost see a redness colour his cheeks (no, it was most definitely not the blush you put on him earlier).
"sorry for interrupting," chan says sheepishly, as his hand reaches to scratch the back of his neck. "minho just wanted me to let you know that dinner's ready and everyone's gonna eat together if you wanted to join. you too, y/n."
"okay, thanks hyung. be right there."
as soon as you looked away, you hear the familiar snap of the camera. oh no. "sorry lix, you just look too cute to not take a picture. i'll send it to you on the groupchat."
"hyung! not the groupchat!"
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☆ 🖇️ 𖥻 <꒱ portalhan's navigation | m.list | request! ☆ 🖇️ 𖥻 <꒱
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rishiguro · 2 months
Text
56; TIRED
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iwaizumi nodded slowly. “cozy,“ he stated after looking around the room, smiling slightly at you. “and the room seemed smaller while we were on video call last night”
you hummed. “so, doesn’t seem half bad, huh?”
chuckling, he turned back to you. “i haven’t decided yet”
slowly nodding, you looked at him, completely silent, fingers twiddling in your lap.
truth is, with every passing hour you got more uncomfortable in this room, especially when you were alone. it was different, bare and cold, despite its warm colours.
you just wanted to go back home.
back to your comfortable, fuzzy blanket, your photo albums, your books and movies. back to your home close to that old ramen shop you loved, right next to some convenience store that you frequented whenever you craved something or couldn’t sleep.
back to normality.
but it seemed this was your normal now. you just had to get used to it.
“but, well,” iwaizumi continued after a while, eyes roaming around the room before looking back at you. “i’m sure we can make this seem a little more homey. some pictures, plants. i can bring you some more of your books if you’d like?”
now it was your turn to smile, your heart filling with warmth. “yeah. i’d love that”
surely that would make it easier to adjust to your new normal— keeping a little bit of your old self.
after a few hours have passed, you could feel your eyes getting heavier, threatening to close themselves shut. you hummed your boyfriend’s name, holding out a hand, which he immediately took. “i’m tired”
“then sleep?” iwaizumi proposed. you could clearly hear his amused tone, making you frown angrily at him.
“but it’s still so early,” you retorted, pushing your lower lip forward, “it’s not even 8pm yet, i can’t sleep, i’ll ruin my sleeping schedule,” you reasoned.
it wasn’t even a lie. you usually never went to sleep this early and when you did, you either woke up in the middle of the night or around dawn — with a raging headache at that. you really didn’t want to deal with that.
and, well, you really wanted to spend some more time with him.
sure, he could technically still come and see you most of the time, but there would be no more spontaneous midnight visits whenever one of you couldn’t sleep, you now had to rely on calls. sure, they weren’t bad, but they weren’t the same either.
“going to bed this early one time won’t ruin it, love,” iwaizumi reasoned, after scanning your face. you had dark circles under your eyes and you skill was rather dull and pale. you could barely keep your eyes open to look at him, like you were about to drift off to sleep any second now. he could tell you were fighting to stay awake.
you raised your eyebrows. “seems like you don’t know my body well enough”
iwaizumi grinned before he leaned forward, putting his lips right at your ear. “mh, i wouldn’t mind getting to know it even better,” he whispered, kissing your neck.
you weakly pushed him away, playfully smacking his arm. “keep it in your pants,” you huffed, trying to conceal the curl of your lips.
much to your dismay, he didn’t stop grinning, instead reaching out to catch your hand before you managed to pull it away. “that’s not what you said earlier,” he hummed again, kissing your palm.
“i hate you,” you mumbled, pulling your hand back, but only after smearing your palm on his sweater with a smile on your face.
in return iwaizumi laughed. “sure you do, love,” he hummed, softly caressing your cheek before kissing your forehead. “sleep,” he whispered.
you yawned, too tired to even argue with him and instead closing your eyes, snuggling into you blanket. “fine. just a nap,” you mumbled before drifting off to sleep, unable to see iwaizumi’s eyes fixed on your face, a love drunken smile on his lips.
he didn’t know how much time has passed when he heard a knock on the door, his body slightly jolting in surprise.
“hello, may i enter?”
sitting up properly, he put his phone away, turning to face the entrance. “oh, yes, of course”
“thank you” shortly after a tall, black-haired man — your nurse — entered the room. he nodded at iwaizumi before looking over, seeing your sleeping form. “i’m sorry to barge in like this, but unless you’re planning on staying the night, i have to ask you to leave”
“is it this late already?” iwaizumi blinked, quickly pulling out his phone again to check the time. his eyes widened for a moment as he realized that it had gotten late, getting up from his seat. “shit, yeah, sorry”
as the man left the room again, iwaizumi gathered his things and pressed another kiss on your forehead before leaving the room.
just as he was about to leave, he spotted your nurse again, quickly deciding to go up to him for a moment.
“hi. listen, i’m sorry. i completely lost track of time,” he apologized sincerely, an awkward smile on his face.
the black-haired man however simply shrugged it off. “don’t worry about it. it’s just policy — friends, family, spouses and such are welcome to stay the night, we just need you to sign a form,” he explained. pausing, he examined iwaizumi for a moment before pointing to a door at his side, labeled ‘staff only’. “should i grab it for you?”
“no, not today” he shook his head, while simultaneously being glad that this option not only existed, but also seemed very uncomplicated in itself. he had been afraid of having to call at least a day in advance or something similar. iwaizumi knew how much you would miss the spontaneity in calling him over at night — or vice versa — so being able to decide on a whim to actually stay with you was a relief. he held his hand out. “thank you, uh—“
the nurse grabbed it, shaking it quickly. “sakusa. i’m (y/n)’s nurse here”
“i’m iwaizumi,” he also introduced himself. “nice to meet you. formally, i mean”
“likewise”
quickly nodding, he began to turn around. “so, see you next time?”
sakusa nodded, bowing slightly. “goodbye”
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evanescent
/ɛvəˈnɛs(ə)nt,iːvəˈnɛs(ə)nt/ — “soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing.”
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rvbysrorld · 1 year
Text
Sleeptalk
Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader
Warnings:starts with fluff but quickly turns very angsty. Elektra. Talk of s3 matt, but this is set after s3.
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Matt sleep talks.
He doesn’t think he does.
But he does.
At first it was cute. Incoherent words jumbled with soft snores and adorable mumbles. The first time it happened it was 11:37pm on a Tuesday night, just after Matt got home from work and finally had time to relax. You two were watching a movie, not one of Matt’s preferred ways to pass time, but he’d rather spend time with you while listening to a movie, than to be without you fighting bad guys in the middle of the night.
You two were sitting beside each other with a few Blankets draped over your legs and torsos. Matt’s arm was wrapped around your shoulders lightly, just so he could feel that you were still there. You got just over half way into the movie when you noticed Matt dozing off. His head continuously drooping back onto the back of the couch until he would shake himself awake and his head would shoot up and his eyes would fly open. You watched him with adoration in your eyes for a few seconds until you decided that it would be best if he gets some rest.
You tried to manoeuvre his body so he was resting against your chest. But when you tried to move him his eyes opened and he took a sharp breath in as he woke.
“Shhhh Matty it’s alright, I’m just gonna lay you down so you can get some sleep.” You whispered.
It took him a minute to get his surroundings in check but when he did he laid flat on your chest with his face smushed in between your breasts.
“Mm’ wasnt sleeping..” he mumbled.
“Don’t lie to me matty, I know you’re tired”
You ran your fingers threw his soft brown hair until he started to snore. Then, after you heard him start to mumble into the fabric of your shirt.
“What was that honey?” You whisper
He continued to mumble and whisper incoherent phrases and you thought he was waking up until-
“Mm…I love you.” And then it stopped.
Wait, is he asleep..?
Your heart skipped a beat and stuttered until you calmed yourself down automatically, not wanting to risk waking him up. You run your hands through Matt’s brown hair, watching it turn a light shade of red and orange when the light hit it. You then kissed him on the forehead and whispered “I love you too matt”. In the morning Matt totally ignored and disregarded everything you said when you tried to tell him what happened the night before.
“No y/n. I don’t sleeptalk.”
“I heard it”
“No you didn’t babe.”
The one other time Matt sleep talked was a little different. It was 12am on a Monday. You had gotten home after Matt, a rare occurrence in the Murdock house hold. Foggy always tries to get matt to go home early on days where he knows matt stayed up all night daredevil-ing. He sees the bags under his eyes and the way he has to feel a line in a report over and over again because he keeps losing focus. Some nights he even falls asleep at his desk. But he never leaves unless he it utterly exhausted. Like tonight.
He had been dozing off at his desk and hadn’t even heard foggy open the door and walk into the room until he tapped Matt on the shoulder. Matt jumped awake and held his hands out in a fighting position, ready for any potential enemies or threats. But when he smelled the almost suffocating scent of foggys aftershave that Matt was forced to get used to, he relaxed.
“Hey buddy..” foggy says awkwardly, his eyes wide from the confusing interaction. “You gotta go home.”
“I’m fine foggy-“
“I wasn’t asking.”
So he went home. And immediately after entering the door he just managed to walk down the hallway before collapsing on the red futon and passing out completely.
And when you got home, that’s exactly what you saw. His back against the couch, his legs and arms splayed every which way, and his head tilted back with his mouth hanging open. How angelic you thought. You approached him and looked for any open wounds or bruises, something that would cause him to pass out like this, but after some time you nailed it down to one answer. Exhaustion.
You tried to move him so his head was up and his arm and legs were under his favourite thick blanket. You were walking towards the kitchen when you heard the familiar sound of Matt mumbling in his sleep. You continued walking to the kitchen and started making him some dinner for when he wakes up. Also silently listening to him and chuckling whenever you managed to catch a few familiar words he said in his sleep. You were dicing up carrots when you heard it.
“Elektra…Baby.”
You stopped what you were doing immediately. Elektra died…three years ago. You helped Matt make it out of the pit of depression he was in when it happened and after it all ended, he told you he loved you. As much as you tried to get him to open up to you about it, he wouldn’t budge telling you he was fine and he is just happy you are with him. But now it seems clear it was all a lie. Matt still loved her. He never called you baby, always sweetheart or honey, never baby. She was baby. A groan and the creak of the sofa brought you out of your thoughts.
“Sweetheart? What’s wrong? Your hearts beating faster than normal.”
You look up at him and although he can’t see them, you find yourself trying to hide the tears in your eyes.
“Nothing Matt.”
He looks sceptical for a moment but then he replies
“Alright…I’m gonna take a shower ok? Call if you need anything” he starts to walk off but pauses and turns around to face me “are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yeah honey…of course” you confirm.
He nods and walks off. And you find yourself praying to god that he never sleeptalks again.
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meiwoo-boo · 1 year
Text
streamer!twst : heartslabyul (platonic ver.) edition !!
romantic ver here!
heartslabyul , savanaclaw , octavinelle , scarabia , pomefiore , ignihyde , diasomnia + bonus
a/n : hellor mei here and i hope u enjoy this.. i (probably) had fun writing this soo!! please have fun reading it too (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠) also i got a bit lazy after caters part sorrg ☹️
desc: what if they stream?? and what if you're their friend??
characters: riddle rosehearts, trey clover, cater diamond, ace trappola, deuce spade
(gn! reader)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
riddle rosehearts !
he's definitely an educational streamer
and he got a set up that looks like a classroom
a big ass whiteboard, a desk and a lot of tools
he teaches math & history from middle school to highschool
people calls his streams "cute tutor bf roleplay" 💀
(^hes unaware btw)
he has all the stuff prepared before streaming, like the whole stream schedule is so organized it's kinda scary 😭
at the end of each stream, he asks the viewers is there any questions, his face gets super close to the camera to see the chat better
like this v
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stands there in silence as well 💀
the first time he did this he went viral on the internet for like a week
the people who watches his streams are either 1. actual people who wants to learn/study their maths and history 2. they just think hes cute (90% of them are in this category) or 3. his friends
he occasionally has special guests on, usually trey or chenya
he actually never planned to have special guests on his streams like ever but they crash his streams quite.. often
like
"alright, now at page 78-" "hey riddle (at the window)" "AHHHHHHHHHGGHHHHHHHH"
it makes the stream more entertaining
trey and chenya acts like his students and interrupts his lesson every 10 minutes asking questions
the viewers can see riddle getting redder each question
once he got so red he got compared to bob the tomato from veggie tales
has never fully lashed out on live cuz.. embarrassing
off stream tho
chenya and trey goes temporary deaf right after
he also sometimes show off some harmless spells on live and everyone loves it (this totally happens)
with (name) !
(name) is his stream mod
he doesn't have too many viewers so it's easier to manage
and plus (name) is probably his sanest friend with a lot of free time
so he asked them to be his mod
tgt at day 1 ‼️‼️‼️
they watched his channel grow, from 1 to 100k followers in a year
yeah it was impressive
they felt like a proud parent fr
(name) jst interacts with the chat and helps him fix up a few things most streams
some questionable donations and messages pop up from his viewers from time to time and (name), who was scared of riddle going 🍅🍅🍅🍅💥💥💥💥💥💥, IMMEDIATELY blocks them
like you see it for like a second, blinks, then that message is gone
it felt like it was just an illusion
once (name) fell asleep during a stream and a very, VERY questionable donation came and riddle saw it
"xxx donated 10$!: haha how big are you"
riddle started scolding the viewer and it got heated
riddle gets louder each sentence he says, the viewer responds quicker each time
eventually (name) woke up from a half-yelling riddle and realizes what was going on
they had to block the viewer, call riddle during the livestream and attempt to calm him down
ppl forgot what happened immediately and the chat is full of "omg mod voice reveal!!??1!2!???!!!!"
riddle calmed down after a minute, he then apologized to his viewers
off stream, (name) called him again and apologized for falling asleep and not blocking them immediately, they of course got an earful from riddle but he forgave them anyways
"it's alright, just dont let it happen next time. how about we go to trey's to get some pastries? take it as an apology from me."
trey clover !
i think we can all agree he does cooking/baking streams LMAO
he def bakes/cooks while chatting with the viewers
he has a hand cam + face cam
he explains what he's doing at the moment, because he knows some people bake/cook with him
^he also provides the recipe a day before the stream starts
his followers are probably mostly older women and thirsty teens
sometimes he invites cater, chenya or riddle on his channel as guests
he rarely interacts with the chat if they ever collab since, he fears that the three will burn his kitchen down 💀
ESPECIALLY riddle
they probably had a bag of flour explode on them before
trey asked riddle to open the flour (big ass mistake i say.. 😥)
the bag was weirdly tight, riddle couldn't open it with his weak arms
he got frustrated, then he pulled it with all his might-
POOF!
the bag exploded 💀
trey and riddle are now covered in flour
they just stared at eachother as riddle very awkwardly sets the bag on the kitchen island
the chat kept laughing at them as they stare at the flour
so they decided to just pour the remaining flour in the batter
at the end of the stream, while trey is showing off the pastry they made, all the viewers could focus on is the very..
floury background (wow im such an english genius)
they had a blast cleaning the kitchen after 😍🫶
he also sometimes plays games with cater
its usually when a new horror game comes out and its trending
he usually doesn't jump at the jumpscares but one time he got scared so bad he screamed bloody murder
it got clipped and it just became a meme
cater kept bringing it up whenever they talk to torture trey
(hes super embarrassed lmfaoooo)
with (name)!
(name) is another frequent guest on his streams
they're friends with trey before he started streaming
trey could still interact with chat often if the special guest that day is (name) since they at least wont destroy his kitchen 💀
chat LOVES them
chat thinks they're sweet
sometimes a little QnA happens and (name) just leans on the island as they answer each and every question
cue trey doing all the work in the back LMAO
during a stream where trey's baking a cake for his own birthday, (name) and the other three (cater, chenya and riddle) snuck in his house with a plate of cream in their hands
just as trey was waiting for the cake to bake, they all barged in and threw it on him
BUT because (name) charged towards him first, and the other three decided to throw it, they also got slapped with the cream
it also got on trey's cameras 😭
chat actually got jumpscared when they barged in wwwww
they all end up laughing anyways
"geez, it also got on my camera! haha, why don't you clean my kitchen for me later, (name)?"
cater diamond !
he probably does almost every kinds of streams
makeup, gaming, just chats, karaoke etc.
he usually does just chats
he responds to almost like, everything chat says to him 💀
he probably tried doing an asmr stream before
fails the first few seconds and then just decided its gonna be a mukbang stream instead 😒
his stream titles probably all starts with "cay-cays blablabla"
he often has guests on his channel
like everytime it's a new person
they always look like they're being held hostage
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sry just felt the need to draw that 🥺🙈
he gets sponsors often
probably has like 1m followers
he streams often and is actually entertaining
on his gaming streams he plays at least 2 games
so it's like 4 hours long if he decides to do a gaming stream that day 💀
he probably plays roblox horror games often 💀
and those shit itch.io/steam indie horror games
after getting jumpscared by those games he SCREAMS with an echo and then bursts out laughing
why do i feel like he will accidentally say something problematic and offensive on stream then immediately end the stream
and runs on magicam and types out a long ass apology the second he ends the stream
he's suddenly sonic the hedgehog 😰
on halloween he probably does a makeup stream before starting a gaming stream
just so he can play horror games in his halloween costume at like 3am
speaking of 3am
i think he may or may not did THOSE types of 3am videos 💀
not stream related but 😭
cay-cay tries the AMONG US potion at 3AM and turns into THE IMPOSTER‼️‼️😱 (REAL)
with (name)!
a friend of his that appears on his stream pretty often
either in person or online
if they are his special guest that day they'll either play roblox/multiplayer games or do some indoor activities
in horror games cater always forces them to walk in front of him
but somehow he always gets jumpscared/killed first 💀
they will go in a laughing session for 3 minutes 💀
in person streams with (name) is even more chaotic
once cater was doing a pranky pranky on (name) 🤪
he finally got permission from them to do their make up
he lied to them saying that he's gonna do vkei make up on them
oh yeah and chat doesn't know he's pranking them AND (name)
everything seemed to be going fine until he pulled out the green makeup palette
"..uh cater i dont think the vkei make up you're doing for me needs green?" "oh yeah that picture is just for reference~ im adding some stuff ! 🥰🥰"
then he painted their entire face green
the chat saw what (name) looks like and is going WILD
cater gave them the mirror trying so hard to not laugh that he's basically vibrating
"cater i dont look like mana sama" "y-you do look like mana sama.." "i look like shrek cater"
he started to cry laughing as he tries to take a photo
(name) just looks at him in disbelief while getting closer to the camera
they started whispering things that will get his account banned
and he did get banned for a month🥰
and it got harder to try and get (name) to do in person streams w him
"im sorryyy (name)!!! i promise i won't pull a shrek prank on you again~ please come back on my channel? chat misses you!!"
ace trappola !
gaming streamer.
he streams fortnite and valorant.
he also plays often with deuce
he totally has a smp server w deuce
i know almost nothing about valorant and fortnite so i cant say anything about who he mains 😞
he probably curses the fuck out of his teammates and gets banned like every month cuz of his super offensive words 💀
he's that type of streamer who's extremely problematic but you still want to watch him bc he's also super entertaining 😒
his smp streams are the most popular
he argues with deuce often because he kept taking deuces diamonds
"I FINALLY FOUND ONE WHY DID YOU TAKE IT" "geez i just need it for my sword and i only took some" "ITS THE FIFTH TIME THIS MONTH ACE GIVNEITBEBEJFIFRI"
he surprisingly has a lot of followers
ugh
half of the reason why he's popular because of clips of him raging bc he lost to children on roblox "longest answers wins"
everytime he loses he opens voice chat and starts yelling at the children
some kids talk back to him so it's just..
stupid 🧍
its either he got so mad and left the game or he curses the kid out of the game
he once rage quitted so HARD he slammed his keyboard that it broke and even slightly cracked his monitor 💀
i feel like he'd get so mad if he loses to a girl in a game of valorant
no...NO...NO!!!!!!!! i-i lost to a FEMALE 🤢🤢!!! DISGUSTING!!!! -ace trappola
probably got edited into a sad edit audio before
he reacted to almost every video under the audio, made fun of them, then got sick of his own voice 🧍
everytime he plays a horror game he goes "oh i wont scream only pussies screams im a man"
first minor jumpscare he hit a high note
he kept trying to convince chat he did not get scared and became ariana grande for a split second
he just gives up trying to convince everyone he didnt scream after the tenth jumpscare
with (name)!
they met through deuce
became pretty good friends after playing a few games together
ended up joining his and deuces smp server
and started to show up on his stream sometimes
everytime the three of them plays together they had to babysit adeuce
because of that chat just started calling ace "baby ace"
he doesn't appreciate that
so he stopped arguing with deuce too often and (name) is finally relieved
once he decided to do a crafting stream cuz (name)s visiting in person
they were making 5 minutes crafts products.
everything was tested on ace
chat has took multiple screenshots of him wearing those stupid stuff
(name) has changed their every social media profile into a screenshot of ace wearing a stupid 5 minutes crafts product
he's starting to find it kinda funny now
"hey, (name). change your profile picture... it's getting so ridiculous im starting to find myself funny."
deuce spade !
he does bike streams!
he puts a monitor on his helmet everytime he goes out on a ride on his blastcycle and streams them
occasionally has someone behind him and it's either ace or epel
with epel the stream is very nice since their conversation is really wholesome
and if it's with ace..
well uh
ace would scream, deuce would scream back
and it becomes a bass booted stream of two guys screaming at each other
also when deuce turns back while arguing with ace all the chat can see is
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new ace_trappola meme
as stated in ace's part he also does gaming streams
the smp streams with ace and sometimes aiming games
he goes on cater's stream sometimes
probably got dressed up as a magical girl once in cater's stream
just that alone got him LOTS of followers
his chat are so nice too
they love him, he loves them
he really appreciates his chat
actually gets a lot of fan mails 🤧
he has like 26 streams of him unboxing fan mails
probably got emotional once while unboxing and cried
got the whole chat panicking 😭
overall a wholesome biker guy that streams 🥰
with (name)!
appears in most of his chat/game streams
in the smp streams they usually exchange super valuable stuff in private
their houses in minecraft are connected while ace's is isolated
chat finds their friendship absolutely adorable
in one of their streams, where (name) went to his house, they decided to watch those brain riddle videos (specifically the ones from bright side)
it's just a dumb & dumber combo trying to solve the riddles
when they actually got one right (which is the last one) they got so happy and (name) just straight up tackled deuce to the ground
deuce hit his head very hard on the ground and his earphones snapped 💀
he uh
fainted for a bit 💀
(name) thought they committed a murder and BEGGED the chat to not report this to the police..
he woke up after like 10 seconds 💥
they just sat there for a minute staring at the camera with the broken earphones on the table 💀
then they ended the stream, after a day that clip of (name) tackling deuce and deuce fainting went viral 💀
well they basically flew so
"ahh.. every viral clip of me is so embarrassing!.. well, at least it was fun, hehe."
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tooneys-russo · 3 months
Text
You Decided For Us
Plot: Riley and Alessia have a messy history. Now that Alessia is back in the UK can they work out their issues?
Previous Parts: Chapter 1
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Chapter 2
The next morning Riley woke up in Leah’s bed with the blonde next to her. She remembered coming home to Leah waiting for her, she was still crying and immediately collapsed into Leah’s arms. Leah never said anything in judgment of Riley, all she did was take the girl to her bed and lay with her until she fell asleep. Riley rubbed her eyes and went downstairs, she felt the hangover immediately as her head throbbed and her stomach churned. She went to the kitchen and began cooking some pancakes and eggs for when Leah woke up. It wasn’t long after the smell started spreading through their house that Leah was downstairs sitting at the island bench. “Do you want to talk about it?” Leah asked cautiously. “Well, Alessia and the United girls were at the pub. We got into it again. I kissed Ella, then Alessia kissed me. That’s it.” Riley slid over a plate of food to Leah. “Wait, you kissed Ella? As in Ella Toone?” Leah shoved half a pancake in her mouth. “Yeah. Just to prove a point that I could kiss anyone and it’s not hard to hook up with someone.” Riley grabbed a cup of coffee and a plate then sat next to Leah. “Shit. Then Less kissed you?” Riley nodded in confirmation. The two ate in silence then got ready to head to training. 
Riley stood up in front of the team before they headed out to start. “Hey everyone. Just quickly before we get started. I want to apologise for my behaviour at the game against United. I had some issues with Alessia that got out of hand and I was reckless and that led to the team being punished. I promise you that after my suspension I will be better for this team, I will give you guys everything. I am so sorry again.” The girls came over to the girl and wrapped her in a team hug. Jill pulled Riley to the side. “I never knew that there was something between you. If I had known I never would have.” Riley smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s ancient history with Alessia, I am sorry you got caught in the middle.” 
During training Riley pushed herself as hard as she could, nearly vomiting by the end of the session. “Riley, come have a chat with me.” Jonas called out to the midfielder and she followed him to his office. They sat down and Jonas smiled at her. “Very brave to admit you messed up. You know I want you all to be the best that you can be, I know for a fact that you are on your way to being one of the best in the game and I want you to live up to that. You can’t play this weekend but you can after Christmas. In that time I have set you up with the psychologist here, there is no pressure there is a standing appointment once a week on Tuesday at 3pm. When you are ready they will sit with you and you can talk about anything you need.” Riley looked down ashamed. “Hey Riley, this is not a bad thing or a criticism. I just want you to keep your head, a few yellow cards is fine but what happened on the weekend wasn’t you. We want the old Riley, the one who lights up the stadium and makes girls question every move they make. The appointment is there whenever you want it, I will not know if you do or don’t go only you will. You aren’t in trouble, we just want to take care of you.” Riley nodded and stood up. “I am sorry Jonas. For it all. I will be better and I will think about your offer.” Jonas stood up. “You are harder on yourself than I could ever be. Head home and have a safe Christmas.” Riley walked out to a waiting Leah and Katie, they took her to the dining room and made sure she ate. Riley didn’t say much, trying to keep her head down and just eat. 
Lotte came over and sat close to Riley. “Hey, I heard what happened. Look I know you probably forgot but we have the good peeps dinner in a few days. We can keep you two separate but I would totally get if you didn’t want to come.” Riley shook her head. “No, I want to see everyone before we have our Christmas break.” Lotte smiled and rubbed Riley’s back. “Perfect, I know Georgia wants to see you.” Riley smiled softly. 
The day of the Good Peeps dinner Riley, Leah, Georgia and Lotte had gone to breakfast to try and relax Riley just a little. As soon as Georgia saw Riley she jumped onto her wrapping herself around her fellow midfielder. “I have missed you so much!” Georgia kissed Riley on her forehead. “My sweet little Gooner.” Riley laughed hard at Georgia’s reaction. “Hi G. It’s good to see you too, my little Bayern Babe.” Riley lowered Georgia and hugged Lotte hello. They all sat down and ordered some food, Riley got pancakes with hash browns, Lotte got an omelet, Leah and Georgia got a full English breakfast. Lotte and Leah were talking about the upcoming games after Christmas, Georgia took the distraction to lean over to Riley. “Hey, I’ll protect you tonight.” Riley smiled. “Thanks G. Appreciate it but she won’t come near me I don’t think. But I do have to apologise to Ella for kissing her. I shouldn’t have done that.” Georgia laughed. “Hey was she at least a good kisser?” Riley rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s Ella she’s good at everything.”
Riley and the girls were getting ready for dinner, Riley settled on a dark green short sleeve button up shirt with tan skinny pants and white converse. They got into a cab together and turned up to dinner, Ellie, Ella and Alessia were already there. Alessia was holding flowers and sitting nervously at one end of the table between Ella and Ellie. She stood up as Riley, Lotte and Georgia walked in. The girls all greeted each other, Riley avoided Alessia and walked past her to sit down diagonally to her. Alessia kept her eyes on Riley as the girls began to catch up. “Oi Less who the flowers for?” Georgia asked the blonde. Alessia bit her lip. “They are for Riley, to apologise for everything.” She handed the flowers over, Riley took them from the blonde. “Thank you Alessia.” The ice was broken slightly as the girls began to reminisce about their time in the youth age groups. 
At the end of dinner Alessia had a quick chat to Georgia and Lotte as they headed outside to meet Riley. The brunette turned around to see the blonde walking over. Lotte and Georgia watched the interaction closely, Alessia begging them to give them a minute together. “Can we talk?” Riley sighed and looked down. “Yeah sure. What do you want to talk about?” Alessia ran her fingers through her hair. “I want to apologise for what happened the other night. Also for the shit I did all those years ago. I swear to you that I never wanted to lose you, I think we were perfect together and I ruined it. I should have talked to you, maybe it could have worked. But Riley please know I truly care about you and I want us to go back to how it was.” Riley looked at the girl, anger beginning to rise inside her. “How it was? What when we were dating? Or when we were flirting? Or before I ever met you? Because that one sounds perfect.” Alessia clenched her jaw at Riley’s reply. “I just want us to be something, more than whatever this is.” Riley stepped back. “I will be civil around you, but we can’t be anything more. There is just too much pain. I am sorry.” Alessia nodded. “I can settle for that.” Riley walked past Alessia with her flowers and met up with Lotte and Georgia. She quickly grabbed Ella’s wrist. “I am so sorry for kissing you the other night.” Ella shrugged. “Hey I’m not mad about it at all. You are a great kisser.” Riley laughed and hugged the girl goodbye. 
Riley put her flowers in a vase as soon as she got home, they were gorgeous she couldn’t deny it. Leah didn’t push to ask how the dinner went, she had Lotte and Georgia update her on what went down. Riley went straight to bed and looked through some older pictures of their group thinking about what they had all gone through to get to where they were. 
Alessia was miserable for the week leading up to Christmas, she and Lotte had met up while Alessia was staying with her parents and they went to Winter Wonderland. They walked around having some mulled wine and some rum eggnog. They were certainly a little buzzed when Alessia caught sight of a familiar brunette. “Riley is here.” Alessia began walking towards her and Lotte grabbed her hand. “No way.” Lotte quickly said. It then registered to Alessia that Riley was there with Hayley Raso, the Australian had her arm around Riley’s waist as they laughed together. “What the fuck?” Alessia looked at Lotte. “How long has that been going on?” Lotte shrugged. “I think it is only their first date, look just leave them be. She is happy.” Alessia groaned and watched the pair as they laughed and took a couple pictures. It was killing Alessia to watch another girl make Riley smile like that, she saw them going to the ferris wheel and turned away. It was breaking her heart seeing the one who got away be claimed by someone else, someone who would appreciate her. Alessia tried to focus on Lotte and them having fun but it was difficult with Riley being so close but so unattainable. 
That night there were pictures online of Hayley and Riley together, including one of them kissing. Alessia saw these and immediately messaged Ella telling her. ‘I am happy for her. About time she met someone Less, try to be happy for her please.’ Alessia rolled her eyes and went onto Riley’s instagram seeing that she had posted pictures from the Winter Wonderland but none featured Hayley, that made her a little happy considering she wasn’t broadcasting them together. Alessia liked the post and turned off her phone to avoid seeing more happy pictures of Riley with Hayley. No one had made Riley smile like that since Alessia all those years ago.
Chapter 3
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songbirdstew · 2 months
Text
Well, Tom Petty, it turns out I DO have to live like a refugee.
We are back in evacuation mode. I guess a three and a half year break isn't bad.
Saturday, we woke up to half an inch of ice coating every possible surface.
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Our power went out at 3 that afternoon.
Sunday, we woke up to an inch thick layer of ice coating every possible surface.
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None of this is snow. It is all ice.
The outside temperature ranged from 23 to 27*F. By Tuesday, the inside temperature had dropped to 39, our power bank was drained, and our devices were near dead. Our immediate plan was to head to the Parks center, or if that didn't work, to City Hall (where our library is), both usually sound options for getting a cup of coffee and charging up. We would make contact with the outside world, check the weather forecast, make a plan, then head back home to grab essentials. But C's sister happened to text me right as I was gathering everything up, so we headed for her place instead.
The path from here to there was NOT GREAT BOB.
The roads were all coated in ice, still. Even in the middle of town, on the main thoroughfares, on the Priority 1 deicing routes. All along the route, there are power lines down, power poles down and broken, transformers exploded, trees down, trees snapped in half, trees sliced down the middle vertically. There are power lines dangling over the road, lying in the road, draped across people's driveways and over their front doors so they can't get out. Half the traffic lights were out.
So as soon as we got here, we decided to stay put for the night. The cats were loaded on food and water, and the house was safe and sound.
We quickly learned the entire East half of our town (where the Parks center is) and most of mid town and downtown (where the library is) were totally without power, plus the Parks center's parking lot was blocked by downed trees, so it was just as well we ended up skipping our initial idea and just came straight to Emma and Zev's.
Today, C&I went back to get things we'll need while we're here (we brought NOTHING with us yesterday). The temperature finally rose, so most of the ice had melted. Most of the traffic lights were back on.
But everything else is still the same, if not worse. Once the ice melted, everything that had been hanging by a frozen thread just crashed. Large parts of town are under orders to boil all of their water (remember, they don't have power). When we got home, we found a tree branch had completely shattered the rear window of C's car while we were gone. A huge hunk of ice fell out of the same tree and put a brand new dent in my fender while we were there. It was still only 37* at our house, even though it was up to 47 less than a mile away. The fuck?
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The kitties were okay. Charlie seemed perfectly fine (like, What? You were gone?), and Glitch was well, but very, very sad. She HATES being alone (she doesn't even like being alone in a room when people are home). She HATES it when I'm not there. She could tell we were leaving again right away, and she was so unhappy. I set up her favorite blankets for her on the couch and on the bed. We gave them food and water for a few days, plus wet food with calming drops mixed in. We freshened their boxes, and we closed them in their separate spaces so that Charlie won't be bullying Glitch & stealing her food the whole time.
Curtis plans to go back out to the house on his own tomorrow, largely to further inspect his car and take more pictures for the insurance company. School is cancelled for the week. So far I have not had to go in to work, but tomorrow and Friday remain to be seen. My boss will let me know sometime in the morning whether she expects me to work or not, and then Curtis and I will decide if we think it's safe enough to get me there and back. We haven't been to that part of town, so we don't know how bad the tree damage etc might be. If it's anything like the rest of the city, I know I won't feel comfortable navigating that in the dark.
For now, we are good, and warm, and safe, with people we love. Emma and Zev are such good influences on Royal, that Royal actually ate something green today (enchilada sauce).
Please snuggle your kitties for me and kiss their stupid little heads, okay?
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writer-in-theory · 1 year
Text
Aftershocks — steddie.
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Summary: After the Russian interrogation takes a greater toll on Steve than expected, he tries to hide the seizures from Eddie. Everything is fine until the Upside Down comes back. Prompt: A2 - “I am not a role model” Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: Teen Word Count: 3.6k Content Warnings: Descriptions of seizures, Mild language Also Read On AO3: Here A/N: Am I back with another completely self-indulgent fic where I put my own problems on a comfort character? Maybe. Regardless, this is another fill for @harringroveson-bingo ! A huge huge thanks to @serenity-lattes because once again, this wouldn't have gotten done without them. Between headcanoning, encouring me to write it, helping to write a bit of it, and beta-ing? Yeah, basically a co-writer over here. Also a huge thanks to @lcvingprentjss for encouraging this to be written and beta-ing, and as always, for putting up with the incessant screaming while this was a work in progress. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy!
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The first time it happened, Steve wasn’t sure what to think.
Five nights after the battle at Starcourt, when the bruises were beginning to fade and the cuts were scabbed over, Steve woke up in the middle of the night. It felt like his body was fighting an invisible enemy—his limbs moving against his own accord and his back arching then relaxing in such a stilted way he struggled to catch his breath. It only lasted a few seconds, not even half a minute, but Steve was sure it had been hours. 
He didn’t get back to sleep that night, preferring instead to sit awake on the couch with a book in his lap he’d never read. He sat guard against whatever it was that made his body move that way, keeping every light in the living room on to warn against some Upside Down force that was capable of taking over him the way it had taken over Will and Billy. 
The next morning when Robin slipped into the Beemer and asked why he looked so tired, Steve almost told her. The words got caught though, sticking to the roof of his mouth like caramel as he fought to let her in. Everyone always thought there was something wrong with his head because of failing school so badly, why prove them right?
So even when it happened again a week and a half later, then again two weeks after that, Steve didn’t say a word. He got better at managing it—learning to sleep with several pillows around him so he stopped smacking his arm against the wall so harshly it bruised, always disappearing to his own room when the Party, Nancy, Jon, and Robin would sleep piled up in the living room lest they all get scared by it. Even when Eddie would come over to help them both get some sleep, Steve would disappear into the bathroom when he could feel the warning signs, dragging as many pillows and blankets as he could out of the closet without waking up the other man.
Steve did what he always did: he managed on his own. 
There didn’t seem to be any one obvious trigger. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of one, other times, a sound would hit the right pitch for just enough time to send him straight to the ground. Though, the ones that terrified him the most, came out of nowhere, with little warning. 
It had been one of those that almost spoiled his secret for him, during one of his and Robin’s shifts at the Family Video. It had been a good day, for all intents and purposes. Tuesdays were never particularly busy, but there was a big enough rush when the high school let out that kept them both from total boredom. 
Except as Steve leaned against the main counter, he could feel a pressure building in the back of his head. It was an odd tugging sensation, one that gave him a sense of what stars must feel like when they curl in on themselves and become a black hole. Almost immediately his heart rate picked up, eyes scanning for a good enough escape. Running out the front door would be too obvious, and would inherently produce a handful of worried phone calls after Robin told all of their friends, and worse, his boyfriend. The only other spot for any sort of privacy was the backroom where they took their breaks, consisting of only an old table and a barely functioning TV. There was no padding there, nothing to protect himself from whatever his body did while he lost control, but it was his only option if he didn’t want Robin to find out.
“I’m taking a break,” Steve choked out, wincing at the way his voice shook involuntarily. 
“What? Hey, dingus, I don’t know if you forgot but you took your break twe—Fine! You owe me!” Robin shouted after him, not sounding particularly angry but annoyed enough that Steve was sure he’d hear it later.
It was the closest call he’d had in a while. Nearly the second Steve turned the lock on the door, his knees were crumpling under the weight of him. He had just enough sense to grab haphazardly at the edge of the table, slowing his fall just enough so he wouldn’t hit his head again. 
There were varying degrees of these episodes. Sometimes Steve wouldn’t fully jerk around oddly but would lose time without much warning. Others, he’d clench up and jerk so badly his joints would ache for days afterward, sometimes straining his muscles like he’d gotten injured playing sports. This was one of those other times, as nearly every muscle locked up painfully the second he hit the ground. Steve was never sure how long they lasted, but by the time he could pick himself up and swipe the tears off of his face, Robin was making a joke about how only Steve Harrington could get lost in the backroom.
Eventually, Steve began to figure out how to handle it. He knew that when the lights on the TV began flashing too much to close his eyes tight and knew all of the excuses for the bruises and scrapes that would work on the others. And though Steve knew he’d never quite be as okay as he was before the Russians, he found a system that worked well enough. It wasn’t perfect—there were still moments in time when it grew tough to hide how much he was hurting, how scared he was when a string of episodes happened too close to one another. These were the moments that threatened to destroy all the work he’d put in to seem okay because with one look Robin seemed to see right through him on those days. 
She knew something was wrong. After everything they’d gone through together, after all of the painful days post-Starcourt they’d spent reassuring each other that they were fine, that no one was coming after them, it was impossible for her to not see the fear lingering in his eyes. Robin always asked him, sometimes with a look far more effective than any words could have been, but Steve would shrug it off, distracting her with another joke or topic change. 
It worked on Eddie too. He hated making him worry, especially after Eddie had spent so much time helping him recover from the “mall fire” Steve had been caught in. After so many late nights Eddie spent holding onto Steve, promising that whatever it was that had happened in the mall was over, Eddie recognized the signs of hurt. Steve was struggling again, his hair more unkempt and those dark circles reappearing under his eyes as he feared sleep again, scared to wake up without control again. He hated it, hated that even after surviving everything it still wasn’t over for him, but he would hate bringing Eddie into this even more than he already had. Eddie got to be free from the Upside Down and all of its horrors, and like hell would Steve ever be the one to ruin that for him.
Except, sometimes there really never was a choice, it seemed. Because months later, when Steve had begun to get into a rhythm with his episodes, everything turned on its head. Suddenly he was getting a phone call in the middle of the night from Wayne Munson, saying that there was a dead body in the trailer and Eddie was missing, that the cops thought he did it no matter how many times Wayne said that their Eddie couldn’t have.
How many times would they defeat the Upside Down only to have it return again? They keep sacrificing everything, only for it to come back even stronger a year later. There was nothing worse than seeing that haunted look on Eddie’s face: the one Steve was sure he’d given once, when he was sure the demodogs would have taken him out in the tunnels what felt like decades ago. But there was no real time to explain everything, only giving bits and pieces of the years they’d spent at war with this thing so Eddie would know what they were facing. 
Steve supposed, after everything, it only made sense for the Upside Down to take this from him too, this secret he’d kept carefully wrapped up now exposed for his friends to see.
It happened after he’d been pulled through the bottom of Lover’s Lake into the Upside Down. After struggling for breath in the water, and then having to fight his way out of the hold of dozens of weird demobats with sharp claws and even sharper teeth, Steve wasn’t surprised when he felt that familiar tugging at the base of his skull.
“Oh, shit,” he hissed after spitting out the gluey blood from one of the bats. 
The second Steve was on the ground, the others’ attention was pulled away from the strange world around them to focus on him. The convulsing wasn’t as bad as it had been in the past, though Steve could feel his muscles locked up so tightly he was sure something would tear if his body moved wrong. What made this one the worst, though, was that he had three of the most important people in his life standing over him now.
“Steve?” Nancy asked, face contorting into pure concern.
Robin laughed at first, even nudging his hip a little with the tip of her shoe. “C’mon, dingus, very funny. Rabies doesn’t even do that until 24 hours aft—Shit, Steve, Steve are you okay?” The amusement quickly morphed into panic as Steve didn’t get back up off the ground. “What’s happening?”
“He’s seizing,” Nancy spoke up, instantly taking the lead once she recognized what was happening. “Quick, we have to get him on his side so he doesn’t hurt himself.”
Steve could feel hands on him, Nancy’s smaller ones pushing his legs while Eddie’s moved his torso into the right position, holding onto him as tightly as he dared to keep his body from moving back to the supine position. 
“Stevie, baby, it’s gonna be okay,” Eddie choked out, not even bothering to hide the tears building and falling from his eyes. The past few days had been like his own personal preview of Hell, but this? Seeing the love of his life suffering without being able to do anything but hold onto him? Eddie was sure nothing else could ever be as terrible. “You’re gonna be okay.”
Eddie repeated it for the full episode, using his free hand to brush through Steve’s hair as his body began to relax under Eddie’s hands. “What was that, baby?” Eddie dared to ask after Steve had time to catch his breath, instinctively turning further on his side to hide his face from Eddie. 
It wasn’t that he was ashamed, but the idea of Eddie, Robin, and Nancy having to see him like that made his chest hurt worse than the lack of oxygen. It made him hiccup, his chest stuttering harshly as he fought off the tears he so badly wanted to let out.
“No, ‘s fine. I’m fine,” Steve answered as he began to force his breathing into something that resembled normal, sitting up and pointedly staring at the ground between him and Eddie. “It’s just a thing that happens sometimes, it’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? What the hell, Harrington!” It was Robin who lashed out first, standing a few steps away from where the other three were huddled together on the ground. Her hands were pulling on her hair harshly, tears streaking down her face, and the kind of fear that Steve hadn’t seen since they were being interrogated in the mall basement was written clearly in her eyes. “That is the opposite of not a big deal. You collapsed. I thought you were dying.”
Steve picked at the cuff of one of his pant legs, mourning the way he’d have to ditch his favorite pair of jeans when all of this was over. It was better than seeing the distress on all of his friends' faces, seeing everything he’d fought so hard to avoid.
“How long has this been happening, Steve?” Nancy asked, her voice gentle like she was scared anything more than a whisper would spook him. Steve shrugged, working his jaw as if he might eventually answer even when he had no intention to. “You could’ve told us. We could’ve helped.”
“Didn’t want you to,” Steve murmured, suddenly shaking his head and climbing to his feet. He brushed off the three pairs of worried hands that immediately reached for him, taking a large step back so they couldn’t stop him. “Don’t. Let’s just get moving, okay? We have to find a way outta here.”
“Stevie, we have to ta—” Eddie began, and Steve would hate himself for it later but he couldn’t help but turn on him, cheeks burning with all of the frustration, fear, and humiliation he was feeling after making his friends witness that.
“Just drop it, Eddie. I’m not talking about it, not when we have better things to do,” Steve snapped, picking a direction and immediately starting off toward the horizon, not bothering to check if anyone else was following.
No one said anything for a long time. It wasn’t until Robin and Nancy walked ahead of them in the weird forest that Eddie spoke again. They were walking so close that Eddie’s shoulder brushed Steve’s, still exposed to the chill despite the vest that Eddie had wrapped him up in moments before. It wasn’t the first time Steve had worn something of Eddie’s, but it was the first time Eddie ever let anyone but himself touch his battle vest. 
Steve didn’t have the brain power to consider the implications of that.
“Are you really okay?” Eddie asked when it was just the two of them, watching where he was walking but stealing glances at Steve every second he could like if he didn’t then Steve would collapse again.
“I’d be better if everyone stopped asking me that,” Steve huffed, looking up at the red-tinged sky like it might hold the answers he was looking for. The annoyance felt odd on his tongue, barbed and misfitting as he lobbed it harshly at Eddie. The man was just worried, Steve knew that, but already he could see how everyone was treating him differently. Eddie, as close as possible, like he could catch Steve if he collapsed again, and Nancy, who glanced back at him every so often to make sure he was still upright. Even Robin, not once making fun of him since it happened despite having had plenty of opportunities to do so.
“Stevie,” Eddie pressed, finally stopping completely so he could focus his attention on Steve. “We’re worried, that’s it.”
“I know, I know that,” Steve groaned, “I just...”
“What?”
“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know,” Steve let out, running a hand roughly through his hair. “If there’s something wrong with me, if everyone knows I could do that at any second...You don’t get it, Eds, you can’t.”
“Try me, big boy,” Eddie continued, no judgment in his eyes at all, “Before today, I wouldn’t have believed a lot of things. But evil wizards and portal dimensions kinda changed that.” Steve knew he could trust Eddie, and knew that he had been there for him in ways no one else had before. Still, he could feel panic clawing in his throat as he tried to get the words out. 
“In all this shit...I don’t know, protecting the kids? That’s always been my job, the one thing I was good at. If I can’t be trusted to do that then...what the hell am I here for?” Steve tried to get out, pointedly not looking at Eddie as he spoke.
“Hey, hey, who said anything about not trusting you?” Eddie instantly spoke, moving around so he could stand in front of Steve. He pressed in close, making it impossible for Steve to avoid looking at him. “Stevie.”
He couldn’t help the little smile that pulled on his lips, just having Eddie this close to him. So Steve looked up, his vision swallowed up by expressive brown eyes. 
“Stevie, you’re the damn kids’ hero. They won’t stop talking about you. It was almost getting annoying how much I had to hear about how great you are. I think you’re Dustin’s role model for life,” Eddie spoke.
“I’m not a role model,” Steve answered automatically, cheeks heating up at the thought that he’d really made such a good impression on them. He wanted to be a good support source for them, to help them get through all of these awful experiences they’d all had together. If he could make Dustin’s high school life a little better, if he could be the big brother he’d always wanted to be and the one Dustin had once said he’d dreamed of for years, then everything would be worth it.
“Please, you’d think Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington turned into the goddamn Mother Theresa,” Eddie teased, fingers brushing over the makeshift bandage wrapped around Steve’s middle. “This won’t change how anyone sees you. If anything, seeing you fight through this shit will make them look up to you more, they’ll be insufferable. We just want to help, Stevie, you shouldn’t be doing this all alone.”
And that, well.
“Whatever, Eds,” Steve scoffed, a soft smile clear on his lips as he pulled from Eddie’s grasp and started walking. “C’mon, the girls are getting ahead of us.”
“What, not even a thank you kiss?” Eddie called after him, pulling a startled laugh from Steve.
“Ask me after we’re back in the Rightside Up.”
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Steve had almost forgotten about it, after.
After nearly losing Eddie—“What happened to not pulling any hero moves?”—and narrowly saving Max from Vecna, all Steve wanted to do was to sleep for about a week. The entire group gathered at his house, all feeling similarly that it would be much worse to spend this first night alone.
The first night was always the worst, after. When the shadows were still fresh, when he could still hear all the nightmarish sounds and feel the lingering fear of imminent death, the idea of being alone made Steve want to curl up and cry.
That was how he ended up on the floor of his living room piled on top of pillows and blankets while the Party and teens all spread out around the space. He ended up between Eddie and Robin, with his back pressed to Eddie’s front while one of his hands reached out to hold onto Robin’s arm in front of him like he was making sure she wouldn’t disappear in the middle of the night.
It was easy to fall asleep. It was much harder waking up.
It wasn’t a bad one by any means, as it seemed even his body was too exhausted to fully go through the motions. And yet Steve was still startled away by his body tensing, hands curled up painfully toward his chest as his legs twitched and kicked out at Eddie.
This time, though, he didn’t wake up alone. Instead, he came to on his side, with Eddie pressed up close to his back and nose pressed into Steve’s neck, whispering gentle words into his skin. Robin was holding him too, arms wrapped around him from the front and telling him that everything was going to be fine. They were quiet about it, voices barely over a whisper so they didn’t wake the entire group and prompt an explanation Steve was too tired to give.
But God, they were there. 
His heart ached in a way it hadn’t ever done before, the feeling swelling in his chest as he let himself be held by the love of his life and his best friend in the entire world. All at once, the past several months of pain rushed up on him, forcing a choked-out sob from Steve’s lips. The tears kept coming once one had been allowed, one hand curling tightly into Robin’s shirt while the other reached out to hold tightly to Eddie’s hand. So Steve cried, allowing himself to take comfort where he never had before. 
Steve wasn’t sure how long he cried, just that by the time the sounds eased into something resembling a whimper, he felt more exhausted than he had in ages. It was bone deep, running right through him like all of the tears had caused an outpouring of the last energy reserves Steve had been holding onto. Like, one hug from Eddie and Robin shocked him out of the adrenaline state he’d been living in since the first seizure.
“Thank you,” Steve whispered, voice watery with tears he didn’t have the energy to feel embarrassed about, “thank you.”
“That’s what we’re here for, dingus,” Robin answered, her own cheeks wet with tears.
“Go back to sleep, Stevie, we have you,” Eddie promised, pressing a kiss to Steve’s jaw as his hand started rubbing comforting circles into his hip. “You don’t have to deal with this alone anymore. We’re here.”
Maybe it wasn’t perfect. There would be more episodes, and more tears, and more tough conversations Steve wouldn’t always be ready for. But through it all, he’ll know he had this—people who cared about him, people who loved him.
That knowledge alone made everything feel like it would be okay again for the first time in months.
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Hot Gum (Part2 of In Betweenin')
Pairing: Suguru Niragi x fem!reader
Summary: Y/N regrets loosing the one she loved
Warnings: swearing, and that's probably all
A/N: I'm alive! And I'm back with new writing. The first part is linked in the title of the first part! Let me know if you see any mistakes. Also if you want me to write something for you, go and ask either in private message or in the inbox... I'm open!
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The screams. The chaos. The fire. It was everywhere. It was making your head hurt. You couldn't breath. You felt the burning sensation, it was in you, it was eating you alive....
You woke up rapidly, panting, covered in cold sweat. Again the same nightmare. You grabbed the nearest shirt and wiped your face and neck with the material then sighed.
Those nightmares have been haunting you since you had escaped the 'Beach' before it burned down totally. Of course no other than Niragi had helped you disappear into thin air before anyone could have found out about you still being alive. You were grateful that you were still alive, walking and breathing, yet you were worried. Why? Because when you had left the 'Beach', Niragi wasn't with you. You have waited for him on the shore, hoping he would somehow come back to you, but he hadn't.
You got up from the bed in someone's flat you have been occupying for some time, and got out on the balcony. Cold, night breeze touched your skin causing goosebumps on your arms, you flinched. This coldness cleared your mind a bit, got rid of those memories, only for a moment but it was enough, you needed a break from them.
You put your head on your intertwined hands that were lying on the railing and sighed loudly. You felt lonely, have been feeling that way for some time, and even though you've met some other people nothing could feel this weird void inside of you.
"Chishiya, you should have died in there instead of him." you whispered.
"Don't tell me you're crying for me."
This voice.
You lifted your head from your hands and immediately a smile crawled onto your lips. You could bet your eyes were shining while looking at the man you thought you had lost. His hair and half of the face was hidden under the black-and-white shirt you remembered him wearing.
The whole body was covered in bandages, no skin was visible except from the half of the face. It was burnt.
You said nothing more, with a smile on your face and hope in heart you left the flat and ran up to Niragi , tripping over your own legs, to close him in a tight hug.
"Who gave you permission to touch me?" you were a bit shocked because of the harshness in his voice, you haven't heard it for some time, yet you didn't stop hugging him. "Move."
Niragi grabbed your shoulders and moved you away from himself what made you huff with annoyance, you missed him.
"How did you survive?" you asked.
"It's not so easy to kill me." Niragi huffed and smirked then looked you straight in the eyes. "So my bitch was crying because of me. Did you feel grateful?"
"No." you shook your head, but smiled telling him it was only a joke.
"Then you'd better be." the distance between you two got smaller with every step Niragi had taken and finally your bodies were touching.
You felt his breath on your skin, you felt his gaze on your lips, you felt his whole presence and God, you wanted more than just a look.
"Needy, huh?" Niragi chuckled and walked towards the flat you had left to greet him, leaving you in the middle of the street with disappointment on your face.
"You don't know how much" you whispered, but followed him inside. "Where have you been all this time? I've been looking for you."
"Oh, my bitch cares about me. Sweet." Niragi fell on the couch with his all weight but hissed because of the pain. "I had to do some things, talk with people and...why do I even explain myself to you?"
"Because you trust me." you handed him bottle of water, even though he hadn't asked for it, and smiled slightly when Niragi took it from your hand.
"Who told you that?" he laughed and took a big sip from the bottle. "Do you have a fever or what?"
You only sighed and sat on the table, your eyes glued to man's figure and a smile on your lips.
"You look creepy. Stop staring." huffed half-burned bacon (please forgive me for that) and throw an empty bottle at you.
"Ay." you kicked the plastic away and looked at Niragi again. " I missed you and I'll keep staring."
"Listen here, bitch." the man got up from the sofa and came closer to you, standing in between your legs with hands on both your sides. "I don't care if you missed me or not. I don't even wanna know. You're nothing to me. You mean nothing. You're simple a bitch that seeks my approval, every woman does that."
"But I am the only one you helped."
"You are." the way he said that made squirm in place, caused butterflies in your stomach and chills on your back.
But that wasn't all. Niragi grabbed your chin to keep it in place and hungrily pressed his lips against yours. Saying this kiss took away your breath wasn't enough. It took your ability to breath, speak and think, all in one.
"Now shut up and let me be." whispered Niragi with a mischievous smile before he left to go to the next room, the bedroom. "And don't you dare come here and interrupt me. I will kill you if you make a one step into this room."
"Got it!" you nodded with upside down grin on your lips.
Actually you didn't expect this going this way. God, you have never expected Niragi to come back. But here he was, lying in the next room whole and healthy...well, not so whole, some of his skin was missing.
"You know I'm happy you're back!" You yelled from the other room, swinging your legs over the ground.
"I don't care!" Answered Niragi, but after that he mumbled something you didn't hear.
The evening came pretty fast, faster than you expected. You sighed and started putting on some more comfortable clothes.
"Where are you going?" asked Niragi and leaned on the doorframe.
"To play a game." you tied your shoelaces and smiled. "Why?"
"Just asking and hoping you will leave me alone." answered Suguru.
"Maybe today will be your lucky day." your hair were turned into a bun and you nodded.
When ready, you headed to the door, but only grabbed the knob because Niragi stopped you.
"What about a 'goodbye' or 'see you'? Nothing?"
You chuckled and looked at him.
"You don't want to see me again." you repeated his words with a shrug. "I am making it easier for myself."
"Bullshit." growled Suguru, made two steps towards you and kissed you aggressively yet passionately.
Again this day, your breath was take away by the same man as before.
"I saved you because I want you, okay?" whispered black haired. "I want you to myself. I don't care what you think, you are mine now."
You gasped when you heard that. He cared about you? You were his? Your every dreams was coming true.
"Now go and kick some ass." Suguru kissed you again. "Come back in one piece."
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general--winter · 1 year
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uchiha shisui x reader - get some sleep
author's note: I promise I am working on requests, but holy shit I love Shisui so much. There's not enough content for me to be satisfied, so I think it's my job to provide. Please take this vent fic about my insomnia and my long distance relationship where I wish I could cuddle with my partner to sleep like this :(
rating: general
fandom: naruto
pairings: uchiha shisui x gn!reader
word count: 2288
warnings: insomnia
summary: You haven't gotten a good night's rest in weeks, and your roommate (secret crush, actually!) takes notice. You try to keep yourelf under control, but the sleep deprivation catches up to you.
The back of your eyelids are supposed to be the best thing you look at every day. Most people spend one third of their lives looking at it, so how could it possibly be so hard for you to enjoy it?
Your whiny grunt echoed throughout the eerily quiet and dark room, the sound of shuffling sheets ricocheting off of every surface imaginable while you adjusted your sleeping position yet again. Their slipping noise might as well have been as loud as standing next to a damn waterfall, because it made your eyes snap open for the umpteenth time that night. Accompanied by a throbbing headache and a parched mouth, you resigned yourself to a while longer with no sleep and padded your way into the kitchen of your apartment.
3:28 read the clock while you poured yourself a glass of water from the almost-empty filter. Fuck, had you seriously been awake and aware that entire time? Catching the clock in your room throughout the night at 12:50, 1:36, 2:47, or even 3:04 convinced you that yes, you couldn’t sleep. Again.
How long has it been since you’ve gotten more than one or two hours of fitful rest at night? A week, at least. Your sanity was practically caffeine and a prayer strung together with kiddie glue and ninety-nine cent store twine. At first you thought it was work. Five back-to-back A rank missions would ruin any jonin’s month, especially if you flubbed the last one for your team due to lacking the coordination necessary. But even after you were given the next three weeks off by the new Hokage, a friend of yours by the name of Kakashi, it was as if sleep was even harder to come by.
You figured maybe it was a jutsu of some kind that an enemy had been able to place on you, but Sakura was personally able to confirm you were not under any sort of chakra influence at the hospital. She was able to prescribe a medication to help you sleep while you waited for a formal appointment on the matter, but when you got back to your room, you gazed at the half-empty bottle in disappointment. All that did is give me the migraine of my life, you thought, wincing at the pain that was no longer there. You had headaches every night after laying fitfully on your pillows for hours on end, but you could have sworn that one had you dying, nauseous and wanting to murder the sun and every bird that started chirping that morning.
A door on the other end of your apartment gently made a noise, something you definitely didn’t expect. Your breathing became rapid as you sat on the edge of your bed, waiting to see if you heard anything else. You weren’t in a state to fight at all, and your roommate, Shisui Uchiha, somehow slept like a fucking log when he wasn’t on a mission. Your face contorted into a scowl. Sure, Shisui was nice, you considered him among your closest friends, and you maybe had the slightest crush on him, but this already smelled rotten of a half-baked scheme. But there’s no way you woke him up in the middle of the night, right?
Knock, knock, knock!
The sound of your own bedroom door being gently tapped made you jump and wind up a fist, ready to see who would come through, daring to invade your home.
“Are you alright in there?” a gentle voice you recognized immediately sounded through the thick wood.
You had woken your roommate and secret crush, Shisui, up. Somehow. You’d been so quiet, too, at least you thought. Why was he up? Or was he never asleep?
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you responded in a rasp through the door. “Just had to grab some water. Forgot to take a glass with me to bed.”
He made a noise of confirmation. “Sounds like you need it. Jeez. You were stumbling through the kitchen like a bull in a pottery shop.”
“Is there anything you need?” you pointedly asked. I’d like to get back to kicking and whining in bed.
“I actually can’t sleep. You want to hang out for a little while?” Shisui proposed through the door.
An odd development. Shisui of the Body Flicker, one of the strongest shinobi in Konoha, was to your knowledge, the heaviest sleeper you’d ever met.
“No, I’m okay.”
“Come on, not gonna help a friend out?”
Ugh. He’s gonna pull this.
You swung the door into your room to greet him. From above, Shisui was giving you a pout and serious puppy dog eyes. His black locks were smushed in on one side, making a small mound of hair. And looking at his eyes, they were cutely puffed up from lack of sleep. This man was too adorable for his own good. You wanted to reach your hand out to smooth his hair, and you almost did in your sleep-deprived state.
“Guilting me, huh?” you instead said.
“You know you can’t resist.” He threw a lopsided grin your way.
“No, I can’t,” you grumbled. You took your full glass and stumbled out of your room. The lamp had been flicked on, bathing the simple common room in a warm, yellow light. Vaguely, you recognized that splashes of water were tipping over your cup and hitting the rug. 
In one swift motion, Shisui took a seat on the couch and draped his arm over the top, inviting you to sit next to him. You took him up, grabbing the remote on your way. Ah, you wondered, he probably just wants to watch more television and didn’t want to disturb me.
A year or two ago, due to the many scientific alliances and treaties between the great shinobi nations, technology and communications developed at a rapid pace. One of these new inventions, television, provided entertainment in the homes of the masses via video. The television could show the viewer anything that was filmed with cameras; it looked like you were actually somewhere you were not. And well, your roommate had developed a habit of watching various nature documentaries in his down time. For the cute animals.
“Do you wanna watch Kiri Geographic?” Shisui snatched the remote from your hands and flicked on the television. “I’m going to put it on anyway, but what I’m asking is if you’ll be interested or if you’ll whine the entire time.”
“No, no,” you muttered. “Sounds like a good plan.”
The channel flicked on. On the screen, images of various sea creatures that lived in the Land of Water were shown. You registered some seals preying on penguins. The storylines of these shows really were ridiculous, the narrator always took the side of the prey, but what about the seal? Doesn’t he have to eat? Why does no one ever…
You jolted up automatically as your muscles lost control of themselves; your body began to slump towards the man sitting next to you. The smell of rosewood wafted to your nose and shocked your entire system when you realized your head had almost plopped straight onto his chest. Shit. I wouldn’t have been able to recover from that.
“All good there?” Shisui asked, not peeling his eyes from the television. You thought you caught a glint in his eye.
“Um… yeah, I’m okay. I just…” you started, your voice drifting off. You hated bothering Shisui with your issues, no matter how big or small. Unfortunately, he was persistent, and your brain was immensely foggy.
“Just what?” He lowered his arm to your shoulders, making your entire body stiffen like a wooden board. The simple motion sucked all of the breath out of your lungs and caused your heart to skip a beat. There was no reply to muster. 
“Seriously, (Y/N), use your words. Something’s up with you.” Shisui threw another grin at you.
Why is he acting so damn flirty tonight? you wondered. Sure, the two of you teased each other all of the time, but not like this…
“I, uh. I think I’m getting sleepy out here, so I’m gonna go back to my room,” you lied through your teeth, springing up and away from Shisui’s touch. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And don’t feel bad about the television, it won’t keep me up.” No, my dumb fucking body is doing that just fine.
“Your body is keeping you awake?” Shisui flicked off the program, leaning forward towards you. Had you just said your thoughts aloud? Fuck. It sure didn’t feel like it. In embarrassment, you scampered back to your room, the Uchiha hot on your heels.
A feeble attempt to shut your door was met by Shisui’s calloused hand on the edge, boxing you in. The warm light filtered into your dark room around the corner.
“Can I come in?” he gently asked, his soft eyes looking down at you.
I don’t want to bother him but… I think he wants to help, your brain struggles. On one hand, it’s totally mortifying to imagine telling Shisui any of the problems that had plagued you for the past weeks. But your body had enough of this. It made the decision for you, hijacking your brain.
“Yes, you can come in. Please help.”
Giving up, you opened the door further for him, immediately getting into your double bed to hide under the covers. Shisui took a seat on the edge, his eyes softly looking down at you. 
“I know everything from Lady Tsunade and Sakura-san,” he said in his smooth and relaxing voice. “You can’t fall asleep. Nothing’s working.”
“Why would they tell you?” you questioned back with an unintended amount of venom. “I was about to tell you anyway.”
“They know how stubborn you are. Kakashi had to force you to take off for the next few weeks, yeah?”
Dramatically, you turned your face into your pillow and let out a groan.
“Okay, so what? What are you gonna do about it?” You turned to face Shisui.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?” he proposed with a soft look on his face. Shit. His expression was oozing with concern, with fondness, with… love? It swayed you. Drew out a deep, repressed desire of yours. You drew up the corner of your comforter and scooted over.
“Lay… with me?”
Fuck. Why would I do that? you scolded in your head. I’m such an idiot, I’m so stupid, he would never—
“Of course,” he whispered, laying next to you.
Your head emptied of thoughts. Shisui was laying down next to you. Your roommate. Your friend. Your crush. His warmth and smell encapsulated you. You were drunk on it, your mind hazed. In a moment of what you would call ‘brilliance’ nowadays (but at the time it was more so a moment of ‘idiocy’), you decided to wrap your arms around Shisui and bury your head in his shoulder blades, relishing in the texture of his cotton bed shirt on your face. He laughed lightly, and you could feel the vibration on your cheek.
“You wanna cuddle? Is that going to help you sleep?” Shisui teased. You knew that this is incredibly out of character. But you were delusional from lack of sleep. If Shisui could get you to fall asleep, then you were going to kill two birds with one stone— finally sleep and show your feelings to Shisui Uchiha.
“It’s not. But I figured it would be comfortable.”
This drew another laugh from him. He spun around and you were now laying against his shoulder, the rest of your body flush with Shisui’s. From under you, his arm came and wrapped around your waist. The view of his face was foreign. Up close, he was incredibly handsome. You could see every detail of his lashes, every shadow that wisped around his eyes. It caused your heart to flutter uncontrollably.
“Hmm, comfortable. Laying against me? I might get the wrong idea if you keep saying things like that.”
“No, I think you’ll be getting the right idea.”
“We can talk about this in the morning” he whispered, his other hand reaching up to brush a stray piece of hair from your face and rest palm-down on your cheek. His scent washed over you. You were positive he could feel your heart racing there. 
“But I think I know how to help you sleep. Only for one night, but getting one night of normal rest might help you get back into the rhythm,” Shisui spoke gently to you, his black eyes meeting your own in the dim light of your room.
“And what would that be?” you questioned, voice slurring with exhaustion. You could barely focus on anything but how beautiful his eyes were.
“I can put you under a genjutsu. It will put you to sleep without fail.”
“Really?” you asked, elated. In an instant, you were nuzzled into his shoulder, arms wrapped around his lithe frame. “Can you at least stay here with me? After I fall asleep?”
“Yes,” Shisui laughed. “I can stay here. Now look into my eyes, okay?”
You obliged without question, the thought of cuddling with Shisui all night and finally getting a night of rest overwhelming you. His eyes focused on yours. So softly, so lovingly. You gazed right back with a similar expression. Red filled your gaze. Shisui’s Sharingan. The tomoe spun slowly, hypnotically. You were enraptured. Shisui hugged you against him tightly but ever so gently. His scent comforted you. His legs wrapped around your own. You were safe. You were secure. You were protected. And your eyelids, heavy with sleep, closed. Shisui finally bestowed upon you true, blissful sleep.
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raincoffeeandfandoms · 6 months
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“'Til the week do us part” (Alfie Solomons x fem!OC) Day One
Masterlist -> Prologue
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Alfie Solomons x Rose Coldwell (ofc) - Masterlist
Summary: Day 1 of 7. Alfie and Rose are finally in Wales. Winterstone resulted to be the biggest manor they ever seen. But if this "couple" think that they're the only one there, they're wrong. The frech are there too, and apparently they're not as friendly as they seem to be.
Warnings: None. || Enemies to lovers, fake marriage.||. This isn't part of my canon timeline. It's a “what if.”
Words: 1.6k
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London had dawned with rain. Rose let out a grunt of frustration when she woke up that morning. The nightmare was beginning that day.
They would ho in one of his cars, or so Ollie had told her when he had gone to her office the night before with a message from Alfie himself. From what Ollie had reported, Alfie had also obtained a fake marriage certificate, just in case. He needed her signature and Ollie had told her that, again in the words of his boss, Alfie would charge more if he had to keep saving her ass. Rose had sent him back the already signed certificate and a raised middle finger that she hoped Ollie would hand over to Alfie.
Carrying her suitcase with what she would need for a week, she finally arrived at the distillery. Unable to carry the suitcase and umbrella at the same time, it turned out that by the time she stood in front of the man who would pretend to be her husband for a week she was soaking wet.
"Looks like raining, pet," he said, staring at her.
"Thanks for the help, Solomons."
"Which of all the help? The fact that I'm your husband, the fake marriage certificate, my car taking you to Wales, my infinite wisdom in dealing with situations like this. Tell me, sweetheart, which of all the help do ya thank me for, mmm?"
Alfie looked at the woman beside him and smiled. They weren't in Wales yet and he was already amused.
It was 9am when his driver put both their bags into the car and they drove off. They had a couple of hours until they reached their destination. They had agreed on what story they would tell, if anyone asked. They would say that they had met at the house of a mutual Jewish friend and that they had fallen in love immediately. It was a basic story, without a lot of plot and easy to remember. They had also decided that this friend was Ollie, also to avoid making mistakes with names they weren't familiar with. Neither of them said much more during the trip.
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Adrien and Brigitte Anjou were French like the Allaires, the last owners of Winterstone. The aristocratic couple were not about to give up the opportunity to buy it, even though they had learned that a legitimate heiress had come forward. What could this girl and her husband know of such a place? The relics, the luxury... that was for people like them who were born into a privileged and wealthy world. Peasants, they would not appreciate it.
They could pay them half of what Winterstone was really worth if they gave them legitimacy over the property in return. Without claiming anything in the future. Surely the couple would appreciate the money they got. After all, it was not the first time the Anjou family had made that kind of deal. The château they owned outside Paris had been taken from a Spanish couple who had inherited it seven years earlier. This would just be a new business.
If they could do that with Alfie Solomons and not lose their lives trying, of course.
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The car pulled up in front of the majestic place.
"Fuck, sweetheart, this is a fucking palace." Alfie looked up to see the building that was built in front of them. "Who the fuck was your kin? Some descendant of the last fucking king of France?"
Rose shook her head. To tell the truth, she had no idea. She couldn't believe what she was seeing and she couldn't believe that it was legally hers either. Or almost.
"I hope you don't mind if I come visit you every now and then when you live here. I can't wait to put my ass on a gold toilet."
"Solomons!
"What? Surely there's one."
"God, you're... forget about it. And I'm not gonna live here. I'm not interested in living in a place like this. Who could?"
"I could. Then what are we here for? You'd have told Green ya didn't care."
"I didn't say I don't care, I said I wouldn't live here," Rose turned away from him and walked through the green gardens, turning in on herself. "Imagine a place like this turned into a school. Not for rich people, but for other children. Especially girls. With a place where they can learn and be somebody in life."
Alfie looked at her. Now that was an answer he hadn't expected. She had a dreamy look about her that he hadn't seen in her before.
The moment was interrupted by Mr. Green and the French couple they had yet to meet. Laughter from all three made both Alfie and Rose turn to look.
"Mr. and Mrs. Solomons!" greeted the lawyer as he approached them, "we've been expecting you."
Both men shook hands and Mr. Green greeted the woman with a nod.
"Allow me to introduce Monsieur and Madame Anjou," said the man. "Great friends of the owners of Winsterstone, when they still lived in France."
"I imagine so," Rose muttered, looking at them. She didn't have to wonder what they were doing there, she suspected. Surely they wanted that place as a third home. Or to put their dozens of dogs in there. She didn't know them, but she could imagine. All the same, the four greeted each other with a mock politeness that made Mr. Green a little uncomfortable.
Winterstone was twice as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. The colour of the carpets, the paintings, the statues. A large stained glass window was set in one of the rooms and gave an extraordinary effect to the place.
While Green was talking to Rose outside, the Anjou's showed Alfie one of, according to them, three libraries in the mansion. They were too cheerful and too eager to be guides to a place that did not belong to them, and this did not endear them to Alfie, in fact it had the opposite effect. More so when they thought they could speak French in front of him, imagining he wouldn't understand them. But he did understand them.
"You speak our language?" Adrien Anjou was surprised and even blushed embarrassed.
"Yeah, mate, I was in France, four years in the war. I don't know if you've heard of it..."
Alfie gave them both a dead stare and the couple refrained from making another comment. At least for the moment.
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A more amusing moment happened an hour later, when before lunchtime Green led him and Rose into a bedroom.
"The maids have prepared this room for you," he said. "Your bags are in here too."
The man opened the door and they saw the luxurious bedroom there. It was the biggest bed she had ever seen and probably so was he.
"See, love? We need one of these for our house," Alfie said walking in without asking permission. "It looks fucking comfortable."
"I hope you like it," the lawyer smiled before finally leaving and closing the door behind him.
Alfie saw the look of shock on her face as she saw that there was indeed only one bed. Of course there was only one, they were a married couple after all.
"Which side do you prefer?" he asked, touching the elegant blanket that covered the mattress. He had no doubt it had been made in some country outside the islands, it was too beautiful. Alfie looked at her "left or right? I don't care."
"Not a chance. I'm not sleeping in the same bed as you."
"You're not? Better for me. Good luck sleeping on the floor, luv. It doesn't look that comfortable, but if you like it..." He chuckled, before turning his attention back to the bed. He lay back across his legs and lifted his head off the pillow to look at her. "What? I'm not giving up the bed. Either we share it or ya sleep on the floor, I'm definitely not sleeping on the floor. My sciatica won't let me."
"I'll order a couch for this room, then."
"Really, Rose? On what grounds? We're fucking married."
"I can tell you snore like a dying seal and I need space. I bet you snore, Solomons."
"And I fart, too, like a fucking 20th century man. So if we're going to list the things I do like everyone else, we're going to get through the week without fucking agreeing, pet."
"You're the most disgusting guy I know."
"And the smartest. Otherwise you wouldn't have sought me out to help you with all this. And you did good, because I have to tell you about your tenants in your castle, love: the French. So choose which side of the bed you prefer, or else the carpet."
The woman finally gave in: "Left. But let's put a pillow in the middle. And if..."
"I'm not that kind of man, Coldwell," he interrupted earnestly this time. "Those kind of men I like to put a shot in the middle of their heads."
Rose looked at him and nodded.
"Left, then," he said slapping his hands together and standing up again. Alfie walked over to where she stood and took Rose's hand.
"What are you doing?"
"The right thing, sweetheart." His blue eyes, looked at her intently as he pulled something out of his pocket. It was a ring that he placed on her finger. Rose just watched him do it, she didn't have the reaction to move back. She couldn't.
"I thought people would ask why you don't wear a ring. So, to avoid that, I bought you one," he said. Alfie kissed her finger, "Now you are Mrs. Solomons."
"Only for..."
"A week, I know."
As he turned away to open his suitcase and take out the clothes he had brought, he saw out of the corner of his eye that she was stroking her finger, there where he had put the ring. Alfie smiled.
NEXT PART
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i’m actually curious to hear about what was gojo, shoko, and nanami immediate reaction to finding out about the abuse megumi suffered? like the way you said that nanami was the one who found out and how it played a role in nanami wanting out of jujustu society? i can only imagine how megumi must’ve felt like he’s the type to suffer in silence and assume the worst, so i just know he thought gojo and the others knew about the abuse but thought that it was something he was suppose to shoulder for tsumiki’s sake.
it also make me curious on your interpretation of gojo and megumi dynamic bc when megumi first woke up he was lowkey surprised that gojo was with him instead of doing gojo things, like it just make me think that despite megumi looking up to gojo as a parental figure and gojo taking in megumi as his own, megumi must think that he’s not a top priority in gojo’s life especially when the abuse he suffered at the zenins come into play.
Immediate reaction:
Nanami saw Haibara.
In my mind, Haibara died saving Nanami's life. Nanami would have died; Haibara died in his place. Nanami had survivor's guilt out his ears when they first adopted megumi and tsumiki, and a part of him always thought it should have been the other way around. Haibara was the one that had so much passion for life. He had a sister and a family and people he was close to. Nanami was always just... less, in his own mind. It wasn't supposed to go this way.
What happened to Haibara haunted him. He swore he would never again be so useless as he was when that curse ripped off the lower half of his best friend's body.
Adopting Megumi and Tsumiki actually made him feel like they were doing something good, for once? Gojo had all these pie in the sky ideals for what they would make this society into that a part of Nanami couldn't help but buy into. They kept the kids together. They were all genuinely happy, for a time.
The Zenin just shattered that reality. It had been cracking all throughout their custody, and it broke irreparably when the Zenin pushed too far and didn't even seem to think they'd face consequences for that. This isn't the first time they put him in a hospital bed, is the thing, and it was sort of a slap in the face for them all to realize that they had let it get so bad that the zenin genuinely thought they could do that to their kid without fearing reprisal.
Nanami saw Haibara, experienced some of the most potent guilt and anger he's ever felt in his life, and rushed Megumi to Shoko for treatment.
Then, he went back to the Zenin compound to kick Zenin Naoya's ass.
In my mind, Nanami and Naoya has a sort of ugly dynamic in school. Nanami and Naoya were in the same class year, so they were often paired against each other in goodwill events and the like, but Gojo was the one that Naoya wanted to rival.
Naoya was always after Nanami as a student. He has an insecurity complex the size of the international space station and constantly wanted to prove he was better by stepping on Nanami. He'd tried to kick Nanami's teeth in pretty much every time they had seen each other, and if Nanami was being honest? Naoya won almost all their fights.
But a lot of jujutsu sorcery is about mindset, and Nanami had the mindset of ripping out Zenin naoya's spine. He got into a brutal, bloody, neck-and-neck, good old fashioned semipublic brawl with Naoya in the middle of the Zenin compound, which is around the time that Gojo showed up.
And Gojo's reaction is what Maki remembers: the ground shook with his anger. And he took Megumi away forever.
But first, to wrap up Nanami.
Nanami really snapped when they were all in megumi's hospital room and Yaga was trying to figure out how the hell to fix this and floated the idea of a binding vow or something regulating Megumi's treatment. He broke down, started screaming at Yaga that Yaga and the higher ups were going to kill them, they were going to kill all of them. And just. refused to go on. He couldn't do it anymore. Not if it was just going to end like haibara.
He told Gojo he was taking visitation with Megumi and Tsumiki. They'd have a set schedule where they'd go stay with him. It would be reliable. It would be a place where they could go and not have to worry about the jujutsu world. They needed stability and safety, and Nanami wasn't about to walk away from them.
He also told Gojo he wanted their passports. And it was pretty strongly implied that it was so he could take them and run if he had to. Gojo gave them to him, and they both politely pretended like that would have made a lick of difference if Nanami wanted to take them and Gojo wouldn't let him. There was no where in the world that Nanami could actually run to that wasn't at Gojo's allowance.
Shoko I'm actually gonna decline to answer for right now. She had her own issues going on that we're gonna get into with more detail in the next few chapters that heavily contextualize what her response was.
What happened to Megumi was honestly was the real turning point for Gojo. He was over halfway there with Riko and Geto and Haibara, but Megumi set him on the road to no return.
He never forgave himself for letting the Zenin alone with Megumi, and he never forgave Yaga and the higher ups, either.
I really do want to emphasize that Yaga cares, but he approaches every issue with with a fundamental distinction from Gojo's--and he sort of had to, at the beginning. He didn't have to later, but he never really acted that fact.
Gojo has all the leverage in the world, is the thing. He's got power and money and influence. He was born irreplaceable. Yaga's got some very very limited leverage. He's extremely powerful even if he's nowhere near Gojo's league, he's got a useful technique, and he's good at playing the political game. That's it, and almost all of it is replaceable. Gojo can butt heads with the higher ups all he wants and be fine, but Yaga will be shown the door if he makes too much noise.
When Gojo first brought Megumi home, he had never gone up against the higher ups before. Not really. He thought he did with Riko, but the point was moot by the time the higher ups even found out about it. He hadn't figured out just how to push and how far he could go. He relied on the help of the only adult he trusted, Yaga, and Yaga taught him to play the game the same way Yaga had to play it his entire life.
Except Gojo never had to play the game. It was pointless from the start. Which means his kid spent a long time getting abused for absolutely no benefit, on Yaga's recommendation, to pander to some assholes who were never going to play nice back.
Megumi set him on the path to his Absolutely No Compromising policy with the higher ups and the rest of the society. He taught him that these aren't rational people who are working for a common good--they're fucking crazy and they will hurt kids to satisfy their whims. Every single time that he dug his heels in about a student with the higher ups, he had the memory of what happened to Megumi when he didn't dig his heels in hanging over him.
And a big part of that was that he doesn't know if he could handle feeling a second time how he felt when he found out what was happening to Megumi behind his back. He had built up this idea in his mind about how he would make a better world for the next generation, that he wouldn't be like the higher ups slowly killing geto by sending him on mission after mission... and then he got the very first member of his next generation and slowly killed him sending him off to people who were hurting him. It was gojo making the drop offs and the pick ups and not goddamn seeing it for all his six eyes.
He almost killed the entire Zenin clan, honestly. Wiped them all out. He's always sort of struggled with homicidal thoughts and low empathy, and just fucking. slaughtering the zenin felt like a pretty good idea right then.
But he didn't want to be like the great sorcerers of old, who were madmen on a power trip killing everyone who made them angry. and he knew if the slaughtered an entire clan of sorcerers, he'd become that. he couldn't come back. so he took megumi away forever, and he promised him it would never happen again, and he tried to do it right every time after, and it has never, ever felt like enough.
Megumi as a kid was just very young and not clued into the dynamics of everything and in a terrible fucking situation that he couldn't get out of. His family thought he was acting out and getting upset because he didn't want to stay with the Zenin, he wanted to stay with his sister instead. And they were coming off the sorcerer equivalent of the cold war just getting this compromise. They thought this was all about Megumi wanting to stay with his sister, and this was the deal they brokered to keep him with his sister. The zenin wanted tsumiki gone from his life completely. they wanted full custody of him. This, staying with them with a few days a month, this was what let him stay with Tsumiki the rest of the time. It was the best deal they got.
Of course, Megumi didn't understand what was really happening. And he thought that Gojo, who knew everything, knew this too, especially because Megumi had told him (as best he knew how). He thought he had to shut up and take it with the abuse or he couldn't stay with Tsumiki anymore. So he shut up and took it, and he's never really come back from it.
In my mind, Megumi walked into canon with a sort of mindset that he just would never be as powerful or big as someone like gojo. He didn't know he had special grade potential. He didn't think he could win special grade fights. he didn't know how to put in his best. and a big part of that was because he hadn't gotten past who he was as a little boy, who had to shut up and let himself be hurt. The Zenin were the ones who taught him how to feel small and helpless and frustrated with that fact. He had so much practice being hurt that he couldn't imagine a world where he was too strong to not be hurt anymore.
Megumi and Gojo's relationship:
I actually think Megumi's surprise came more from his conviction that Gojo would intervene if he had known the truth of what the Zenin had spent the past week doing to him.
Like, your reading is the one that's most apparent from what Megumi said. It's absolutely the impression Gojo took from it. But megumi was very out of it when he was talking, and a lot of wires got crossed. it had a very different context in his head that he couldn't really express in the moment.
Megumi's consistently shown to be one of the most strategically minded characters in the show. He's great at assessing threats, figuring out techniques, and coming up with plans to beat the odds. He knows how to properly assess his risks and figure out how to stack the deck to give himself at least a shot.
And I think Megumi realized that he wasn't getting out of the Zenin compound alive a while ago. And a big part of that was because he knew from the start that he could not for a second rely on Gojo coming to get him.
It was just math. Megumi didn't have a way out on his own. He would need Gojo to come get him out. But Gojo was busy. If he wasn't busy, he would have found out already, somehow, and he would have already come to save him. The Zenin only managed this because Gojo had a war, and he was busy, and he'd be busy for weeks.
And Megumi did not have weeks.
It was a constant running calculation for him. At first, maybe he could make it through a few weeks. It would suck, sure. They'd beat the shit out of him, but it wouldn't be the first time. He'd be in terrible goddamn shape by the end of it all, but he'd survived the Zenin's abuse before, and he wasn't six years old anymore. He could make it until Gojo realized what had happened, and then he would come. Megumi was certain of it.
Then, they locked him in the room with curses for days. And he realized that he would be dead before Gojo's war finished.
Gojo wouldn't realize he was gone for weeks. And Megumi's estimates of his own survival quickly dropped from a few weeks to a week, to a few days, to a few hours.
Gojo would save him, if he knew, but Gojo was busy. He had a war. He wouldn't be there for weeks, and Megumi did not have weeks.
It sort of stuck in his brain? Gojo was busy. He didn't know that the Zenin were doing this to him. That's the only reason why he wouldn't come for megumi, and he was not going to find out in time. He wasn't coming, and Megumi was not going to die waiting to be saved by someone who was. not. coming. he had enough pride left for that at least.
Seeing Gojo in his hospital room broke the math for him. It just didn't compute. He was busy. He had a war. The Zenin could only do this to him because Gojo was busier than he had been in a decade, and he wouldn't be back until after the clock ran out for him. He was supposed to die before ever seeing Gojo again. So why the hell was Gojo standing above him? He was supposed to be busy.
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