#first impressions and outside perspectives | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yndrgrl · 2 months

Text

yandere! bakugo, the no. one hero in japan, is your boss, & you're his personal assistant

soft! yandere. fem! reader. pro hero! au. willing! reader. long ass fic. ooc! bakugo.

warnings: nsfw, power dynamic, implied age gap (not too big tho lmao), p-in-v, obsessive behavior, stalking, toys, slight coercion

a/n: guys... what's the "read more" feature 💀

---

you are a phenomenon, at least in the world of working under big-league heroes you are. traditionally, employees that have five years of experience under the company will most likely get the position of secretary, then after years of being a secretary, they have an opportunity to be promoted to personal assistant. so when you, a random, nobody college student with only dead end job experiences on your resume, got hired as his secretary -after applying as a joke- the office was buzzing with rumors & critiques. you knew that they all harshly judged you by the way they glared at you when you left after your second interview with big boss man himself. you were self-conscious, especially after you got that fateful call from dynamight's personal phone that you've gotten the job. insecure, that's what you felt.

dynamight, on the other hand, didn't feel the need to explain himself to anyone. he honestly couldn't care less about the chatter circulating his office.

from an outsider's (& anyone else's to be honest) perspective, it seemed like a terrible choice to hire you. however, dynamight knew what he was doing; he knew you.

he saved you once upon a time, when he first debuted as a pro hero. you could never forget the ruby color of his eyes, the scars & soot that he was covered in. you could never forget the serious expression he wore as he carried you to safety.

at first, you were just another damn civilian caught in the crossfire between him & a gang of wannabe mastermind villains, then he looked into your eyes-- your captivating, watery, (color) eyes. his breath hitched as his gaze pierced through yours. he blamed it on a quirk you might have. fall-in-love-with-a-single-gaze quirk? yeah, that must be it, he thought.

your first encounter left you both in a confusing state of emotions, but you soon considered it a distant memory of tragedy then hope. it sparked a -seemingly- unachievable dream to, one day, work under dynamight. you remember him all to well, & sometimes, when you think about it too much, you tear up that such an influential figure in your life will never remember you in the same light.

or so you thought.

unaware, you thought he forgot all about you, but no. he thought of you everyday. he cursed himself for never saying anything more than, "are you alright?" then guiding you to the paramedics. he never got your name, & he hated himself for it. for years, he would look for your face in the crowd. his heart would flutter when he thought he saw your doe-like expression-- until he gave them a closer look, & it wasn't you.

& so, when you walked into his office building just as he was leaving through a different exit, he caught a glimpse of you. he did a double-take, slowed his pace, & his ruby eyes grew wide. it was you going into the interview room. "mr. bakugo, this way, please," a stranger guided him, yet he couldn't rip his gaze from the room. you were right there, & he can't even talk to you. he was being rushed off into a black suv to go to some random conference.

as soon as he got back to the office, he racked through all the resumes, quizzing the interviewer that day about every applicant. his temples ached as she kept talking, but he couldn't get too mad at her. after all, he told her to tell him about every single person she interviewed today. "-then before my lunch, the cutest, little lady came in. it was clearly her first time interviewing for such a position," the older woman chuckled. dynamight's ears perked up. could it be?

"tell me more," the blonde inquired.

"oh, you know. it's just her resume wasn't the most impressive compared to everyone else's."

he wanted to ask what she looked like, but that would he too out of character for him. however, he knew that if he let her keep talking, she would describe her in more detail.

"is that so?"

"oh yes, but she was so sweet that i wanted to offer her an intern position instead. she seemed so eager, you know? she honestly looks like a girl i once taught. did i ever tell you that i was a teacher, bakugo?" she questioned, having a tendency to go on tangents

"i do remember you telling me about that," he told her. he's grown into a gentleman through out the years... or he's just a little less of an asshole, it's hard to tell. he's grown more respectful for his elders (as in the senior citizens who love reminiscing of their youth, not the "elders" who are snakey businessmen). "how were they alike?"

"oh, man, you're really testing my memory," she laughed, "they both had the most beautiful, (color) hair, but the girl i interviewed was definitely not my old student, i think. (y/n), the young woman i interviewed, had such a fun style too! i think her eyes were... actually i don't remember," the woman paused for a second, before her eyes lit up. "wait! she took a picture for our system! you have to see her, bakugo, she's really just the cutest. i think she would make a great intern, & maybe one day, a great secretary!" with a few clicks of her mouse & words typed on her keyboard, she pulled up a picture of a woman, a picture of you. she turned her screen towards the pro hero. it was you.

"so, (y/n), is it?" your boss, the dynamight, sat across from you, a desk in between the two of you. he acted like he had no idea who you were, even though he spends the majority of the day in office watching your through surveillance cameras. he just loved the way you walked with such subconscious confidence.

"y-yes, sir," you cleared your throat. what kind of impression are you making by stuttering?

you were warned by all your coworkers that dynamight does take shit, that he is a tyrant, & that he can smell fear. naturally, you were sweating bullets. "please, call me katsuki," he requested. he watched your brows furrow in confusion before snapping back to a relaxed expression. "you've been working here for a little over a month, is that right?"

you were bewildered. you felt like your coworkers lied to you about him being so rude & uncooperative. he seemed nice, stern, yes, but nice nonetheless.

the shocking, yet welcomed, kindness eased your nerves. your lips broke into a small smile, saying, "yes, it has been."

"how has it been? working here?" he questioned, leaning back into his chair. your eyes darted from his bulky form to the window to the cup of pens on his desk. you were in a mental quarrel. for the most part, your coworkers have been alright to your face. they'll let a snarky comment come out then mask it as a joke. but you knew the rumors swimming around the office, you knew how they all thought you were under qualified. of course you were, so speculations of how you had rich parents or you're just a really good temptress started to blossom.

you could lie to save all of their sorry asses, build rapport with them, or you could tell the truth, get a more favorable outcome for yourself but be labeled a tattle-tell & a bitch.

"(y/n)? is everything alright?" katsuki's uncharacteristically softened voice called out. "you know you can tell me anything that's going on. i only have your best interests in mind, you're mine," he paused, "you're my employee."

you must've misheard him, so you shrugged it off. "can i be honest with you?"

"of course."

you took a deep breath. you're already committed. "i don't mean to already cause problems or be, you know, that girl, but there have been some things said about me by my coworkers that i just don't really like. i mean, i don't think they meant it in a rude way, but i also don't want to have the reputation that they're trying to paint for me... does that make sense?"

this is was a surprise to katsuki. he's usually in touch with all the gossip in his agency. he would be an idiot if he thought that people wouldn't be offended that he hired you over them for such a position, but he knew your charms could get you far. how can your charms get you far if no one gave you the time of day, though?

you realized your disadvantages in this job. you had no degree yet, you were probably the youngest in the office, & you have no real experiences outside of customer service. however, you didn't know that the older, more experienced workers would be so hostile to you.

"what have they been saying?" katsuki asked, leaning forward.

"they've just been saying how i must have rich parents who got me this position or like, i must be doing... favors for someone on the hiring team."

katsuki gritted his teeth, his composure slipping. it made him absolutely sick thinking about you with someone else.

you continued, "& some of the jokes they tell me feel inappropriate? but that could be just because that's their humor."

you're so cute, trying to protect them, katsuki cooed in his head.

"i'm sorry to hear your experience has been pleasant so far. i can assure you that i'll have that taken care of. who's been saying those kinds of things to you?"

"oh... um... it's hard to say. i think it's best just to send out an email to everyone because i don't really know who says those kinds of things." it's a lie, but you didn't want a big confrontation & write an official complaint so soon into your first corporate job.

"(y/n)," katsuki said in a nearly-demanding tone. "tell me the truth." he was intimidating in the blink of an eye.

"i-i promise i am," you replied, nervously scratching your knuckle. "i just... uh, don't really know who's talking about me behind my back?"

it was silent for only a moment. katsuki's eyes were glued on your smaller form. you gulped.

"i want to schedule another meeting next week to ensure that the harassment was put to a stop."

a week came & went, & the meeting you had with katsuki was brief. in short, he asked, "have you heard anything more?"

you replied truthfully, just as last time. "yes. it could be in my head, but it's worse now."

the company-wide email didn't work, & it enraged katsuki that his employees, the ones that work under him, are defying him with such misplaced confidence.

how dare they insult him by disobeying him, & how dare they make you feel unwelcome.

because of their antics, he has been floating around your workspace. his mere presence causes all the bothersome whispers into quiet typing. looming over your cubical, katsuki, with a ghost of a smirk, would observe your work-- how you would mess up twice as much under his gaze. "it looks good, (y/n)," he praised before looking at all of the peering coworkers. he would shoot them a glare.

he was such a good boss to you.

the more you worked at his agency, the more you saw of him. & the more you got comfortable with him. he may be your boss, but he was slowly becoming you friend, you felt. the more you saw him, the more you realized he was your work crush. what a cliche.

you sat in his office, this time with your lunch on his desk as the two of you chatted. it was the new norm to eat lunch with each other. you don't know when it happened but it was also the norm for him to order whatever you wanted. you insisted on paying him back every time, however he never let you.

"this is so good, i haven't had this in forever," you raved as you took another bite of your food. "thank you so much! i really owe you one."

"shut up," katsuki said back with a slight smirk. god, he loved spoiling you.

"no, but i do though," you said, whining. the banter between the you two sprung up after he, for the fifth time that day, stopped by your cubicle a few days ago. his humor was crude & could be consider bullying... but he's so hot-

"(y/n), you don't owe me anything. it's just a thank you for doing such good work, so don't be a dumbass & try & pay me back or something," katsuki practically yawned. he was swimming in money, so much that he didn't know what to do with it, so what better way to spend it than on you? "besides, i was your age once. you need to save."

"you're not that much older than me, just a few years," you rolled your eyes. "also, i do have a quick question."

"what is it?"

you fished two pieces of paper out of your bag. "i think there was some sort of mistake? when i got my paycheck, i got two checks?"

"yeah?"

"well, it's just... i'm one person?"

katsuki laughed out loud. he loved toying with you; he knew what you were trying to ask, but hearing you dance around the question was just too cute.

"yeah, i know that, (y/n)."

"katsuki, i'm serious!" you half-joked, half-said. "why did you send me two checks?"

"one is your payroll check," he told you; you nodded. "the other is your bonus." you had to stop yourself from dropping your jaw

"wait, what? i still don't get it," you replied. "my paycheck is too much. i don't usually get this much."

"i gave you a raise," he said in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. "didn't you read my email i sent?"

"o-oh... yes, of course-"

he shot you a look that said, "don't bullshit me."

"okay, i didn't... but still! i didn't even do anything to get a raise."

"whatever, just eat you food."

the next day, his heart swelled (more than usual) when you walked through the door. you were practically glowing in a new, clearly expensive outfit, your hair done, nails painted, & a gorgeous smile gracing your lips.

"someone's happy," he commented as he followed you to your cubicle. "what's the big deal?"

"i don't know, i just had a lot more money saved up than i thought so i decided to treat myself out," you admitted, gitty.

you dolled yourself up with the money he gave you. it only made him want to spoil you more, shower you with gifts & give you whatever you want.

"i'm glad you're enjoying your raise," he chuckled, a smirk on his face because, in his peripheral, he could see your coworkers' jaws drop in disbelief. he leaned close, brushed your silky hair away from your neck, behind your ear. katsuki whispered, "you've been so good, you deserve it." your face exploded into a shade of bright pink as you stuttered out a thank you.

you couldn't get that moment out of your head. the thought burned itself into your memory. it made your core throb. he was so close to your face, you could smell his expensive cologne. it was intoxicating. he made you just so desperate.

after a long work day, you got back to your cozy, one-bedroom apartment, and a package awaited your doorstep. katsuki, from a security camera he secretly installed, watched you bring it into your house. you went straight into your bedroom & placed it on your desk.

you spent so much already, what more could you have gotten? it's not like he's complaining. he's happy to provide for you. you're just so cute; you act like you've never seen money in your life. he wants to show you how good life can be with him.

you slid the blade of a pair of scissors across the tape of the box. eager, you unboxed the product, rubbing your thighs together.

"what are you up to, hm?" he whispered to himself. he chewed his lip, cock already semi-hard because of your after-work attire-- which was compression shorts & an oversized, white tee without a bra.

you ran to the bathroom, all he could hear was the water running. you were too quick for the camera to render. one minute you were your room, then the bathroom, then back into your room. there was a sneaky grin on your face as you hummed in approval.

your body was blocking what you bought until you walked away to grab something else from your bed stand drawer. katsuki's eyes widened. standing straight up (with a slight left curve) was a silicone dildo colored a fleshy pink. next to it was a ripped-open box that it came out of; "pro hero dynamight replica dildo! life-like! bring your dynamight dreams to life!" the box read.

he twitched, it was comical, could be considered creepy to some. but to him, it riled him up. this meant you wanted him, needed him, just as he needed you.

you swiftly came back to the toy with a bottle in hand. you laid a towel on your seat before sitting down. logging onto your computer, you couldn't help but feel utterly ashamed, embarrassed, but it's not like anyone is watching you, so no one would know. there was a knot pent up in your stomach, begging to be massaged out. you pulled up a video of your boss, the dynamight, where it was showcase of -what fans called- daddy/sexy/hot moments of his. you were so embarrassed, but he was the only one who could satisfy your craving.

god, i'm such a creep, you scolded yourself as you took off your shorts & panties. just an awful, horny weirdo, you thought. the toy you bought was big & girthy, & it was clearly artificial because there's no world where man can actually get that big, right? you prepped yourself by circling your clit with your middle finger, then dove into your wet hole with three fingers. you let out a sigh of ecstasy.

you poured lube onto your toy, then you began stroking it to coat every inch & "vein". katsuki already had his cock in his hand, matching the tempo of your strokes, beads of precum leaking out of his tip. "fuck, (y/n)," he muttered with his eyes glued to the screen. you're katsuki's little camgirl.

you took the dildo, closed your eyes, & began mentally preparing yourself for the toy. you've never taken anything this big. slowly, you pushed the dick into your wet pussy with your breath held. once it was half way inside, you let out a shaky groan, trying to adjust to the size. "ngh~ ah~ k-kats-suki," you whimpered, the video still playing clips of him.

"(y/n)," katsuki moaned back, wishing you could hear him. "put it all the way in."

you must've been put on this earth to obey him because, after he said that, you sunk the dildo into pussy. you let out a squeal; your eyes shot open only to roll in the back of you head. "so big," you whined. you waited for yourself to adjust. with your feet on the rests of the chair & one hand on your clit & the other one pumping the dildo in & out of your hole, katsuki started to screen record everything.

"harder, baby," he demanded, "go fuckin' harder."

you were in your own world, acting as though he were there with you. "p-please katsuki." you started to thrust the toy in all the way, taking it nearly out, then shoving it back in. you did it as fast as you could, but it still wasn't enough. you bucked your hips into the dildo. "uh~ mmm~ fuuuck."

while still in your pussy, you set your legs down & placed the base of the dildo on the chair. you started to ride the toy, its artificial veins wracking against your nerves, sending electric shocks up your spine. your ass & thighs jiggled every time you lifted your hips & shot them back down; katsuki was mesmerized.

his hand tightly jerked his hard cock, more precum leaking out. there was nothing else that mattered except you; his phone buzzed from notifications sent by his friends & colleagues. he couldn't tear his eyes from your sexy figure, bouncing up & down the dildo.

"k-katsuki! 'm cumming!" you moaned out. you threw your head back, mouth agape, your riding becoming erratic.

it was music to his ears-- you yelling his name. "baby, cum~" he replied, as if it were the real deal. as if you were actually there with him, as if you were the one squeezing his throbbing dick. he watched as your back arched & your body spasmed around the dildo. you kept calling out for katsuki until your high ran out. you cleaned up, hid the toy in your bottom drawer, did your nightly routine as if nothing happened, then went to sleep.

katsuki, still hard even after cumming, needed more.

the next day, you woke up with sore thighs & a distinct throb in between your legs. even after fucking yourself silly with the dynamight toy, it didn't satiate your hunger. you were embarrassed that you thought of your boss that way. you couldn't help but feel ashamed; it felt so good. it felt so good thinking, fantasizing, about katsuki's muscular physique, his thick, hard cock pumping in & out of you. it almost felt right to think of him that way.

while your head was still clouded with lust, you put on a black, lace thong under your pencil skirt that was just barely long enough to be considered work-appropriate. you wore translucent, black tights underneath & a cute pair of mary janes. your shirt was tight fitting. it eventuated every curve of your body in the most flattering way, &, feeling confident, you unbuttoned the first two to show a bit of your collarbone, nothing more. finally, you did your hair & makeup & cooked yourself a quick breakfast, then you were off to work.

at work, you just had an aura about you-- satisfied, calm, & joyful. you must've gotten a good night's rest, thought you coworkers.

katsuki knew better though.

as you strutted to his office, you had a pep -& a slight limp- to your step. you held a binder close to your chest. you felt like a stereotypical secretary in one of those cheesy, horny 2000's movies. you gently knocked on katsuki's office door, & heard a faint, "come in."

"good morning," you smiled as you sauntered closer to his mahogany desk. you plopped yourself down in the same seat you always do & set your binder down on his desk; he never minded.

he had his eyes trained on you, darker than usual, & greeted back, "good morning, (y/n). how are you?"

"i'm doing good, how are you?" you responded, an innocent smile flashed towards him.

you were anything but innocent, katsuki thought. "i'm actually having a tough morning." this shocked you because katsuki really didn't seem like the type to open up, especially to some random employee he hired.

"i'm sorry to hear that," you said, "can i ask why?"

"i've just been so... pent up," he told you, his jaw clenching for a second before he swallowed.

he didn't take his eyes off of you for a second, & you noticed. you squirmed under his serious gaze. "you are the number one hero right now. it's a lot of pressure," you tried to rationalize.

he stood up from his chair slowly, so you figured you must've overstepped. "i-i'm sorry, katsuki, i didn't mean it in a rude way," you defended, & he still hasn't responded.

he stalked closer to your chair until he was directly in front of you. you gulped, looking up at him. you didn't know whether it was appropriate to sit or stand, so you stayed still, sitting.

another awkward moment of silence passed, & you were about to look away when katsuki started, "the only other time i've been pent up like this was years ago."

"what made you stress so bad?"

"a saved a girl. she was beautiful, & i was dumb. i never got her name, i barely even talked to her. our encounter was brief, yet i couldn't take my mind off of her. for weeks, i was just so frustrated, i didn't know why. years passed & i thought i was finally over it, finally i came to terms that i would never again see her," he ranted, & you lowered gaze, breaking the eye contact. "i had searched everywhere for her. in every city i've ever visited, in every crowd that would form, in every building. i never found her. all my efforts, to waste."

you were sensitive, maybe too sensitive. your doe eyes teared up as you looked down at your lap. "i... i don't know why you're telling me this."

a warm hand cupped your chin; it guided your face upward, & there you were again, locking eyes with your boss. this time, your eyelashes stuck together with tears that have yet to fall. "i never found her, (y/n), & it hurt because i knew that i am the best for her. i gave up," he took a short pause, drinking in your defeated expression that you tried to mask, "until one day, she walked into my agency for an interview, a position she wasn't -at all- qualified for."

you swallowed the lump in your throat. "what are you saying?"

"(y/n), i've been so pent up lately," he restated, his hand still cupping your face while the other adjusted his pants. your eyes followed his other hand, widening. was he hard.. for you? "& i know you've been so stressed lately. it's such a big position, y'know. being my secretary, & all. i can understand why you're frustrated."

"i-i'm not frustrated, katsuki," you softly claimed.

he quirked a brow, his lips upturning into a smirk. "oh? is that so?" you nodded your head. "then i'm gonna need some help so i'm not as frustrated, do you think you can help me with that, hm?" he was taunting you, joking with you. he must've somehow found out about your secret crush on him, & now he's using this as a lesson then he's going to fire you.

still, foolishly, you replied, "i c-can help you with whatever you need, sir." his gentle grip turned harsh as soon as you shut your mouth. he forced you to look up, & he had an unreadable expression.

"now it's sir? what happened? you were so cute when you said my name," he growled, licking his lips. you were speechless, at a lost for words. "go on, tell me."

"i just don't want you to be mad at me," you said, cheeks flushed red. he was so close, he was making a fool of you, & he wouldn't stop staring at you. you succumbed to the mental pressure he was putting on you. you ripped your face from his vice grip as you started to ramble, turning your face away from him, "i-i don't know who told you i had a-a crush on you or whatever, b-but i was never gonna act on it, i swear! i-"

you were cut off by a sudden sting from your scalp; katsuki's fingers found themselves entangled in your silky hair. you let out a yelp in pain, & you instinctively yelled, "hey! what's your prob-" your tone lowered into a mumble, "-lem?"

your heart was beating out of you chest, just a few centimeters away from your parted lips was katsuki. in all of his glory. you had your eyes glued on him, scared to look down slightly. it was already in your sight of view. in one hand was your head, in the other was his hard, throbbing cock. "(y/n), you said you were gonna help me, didn't you?"

"uh huh," you said mindlessly as you held your breath. wide-eyed, your gaze flashed towards it then it went back up to him. he had a shit-eating smirk as he rested his heavy member in the middle of your face.

he commanded, "lick it." his cock was the length of your red hot face. he twitched when you looked at him, rubbing your thighs together.

"wh-wha?"

"i said, lick it, (y/n)."

you hesitated; you didn't even know where to begin. his length was tantalizing, girthy. his tip was leaking beads of precum. his balls were swollen & heavy. was this still a joke?

suddenly, katsuki yanked your head back. with your mouth wide open -due to the shocking pain of your hair getting pulled- he slammed his dick down your throat. his hands were on both sides of your head, & he was in complete control. "i don't like repeating myself," he harshly said, forcing you to spit all over his length. your hands shot up to his hips, & you tried to push him away, though you didn't want to.

you weren't used to such a big man; he's the biggest you've ever been with. you gagged on him, & he let out a sigh of pleasure. your eyes crossed with tears streaming down your face, your mascara ruined. your lungs started to burn & you tried to beg for air, but it only came out as muffled moans. katsuki, feeling merciful, pulled his cock out of your throat, leaving his tip on your tongue.

you inhaled deep, only deep throat him again. he repeated that action -pulling himself then shoving himself back into your warm mouth- every time going more rough. he fucked your mouth, strings of precum & spit leaking onto your lap. you didn't even realize that katsuki released his grip on you until your shirt was torn off your body.

you let out a squeal that was muted by him. "fuck, (y/n)~" your boss moaned out, unbuttoning his own shirt. "you're such a good girl f' me." through your teary eyes, you saw katsuki throw his head back.

"need you," he said. " baby, i need your pussy right fuckin' now." katsuki took himself out of your mouth, leaving you with tongue hanging out of your mouth like an animal.

he made you stand up, then he crashed his lips onto your swollen, lipstick-smeared ones. sloppily, his tongue left nowhere untouched, & all you could do was moan as he overwhelmed you. his hands caressed every part of you. he groped your tits through your bra, he squeezed the fat of your ass through your skirt, & he rubbed your clit through your stained thong. your hips started to grind on his slender fingers. "katsuki~" you said in between kisses.

that was enough to make him feral (as if it weren't already). he let out a low growl as he turned you around. katsuki, with one hand, bent you over his desk, ass up in the air. he bunched your skirt around your waist, exposing you. katsuki needed you right in that moment, so he ripped a hole in your stockings & moved your string -that's supposed to be your undergarments- out of the way. he rubbed his tip along your folds; katsuki could almost salivate. after all this years of fantasizing & frustrations, here you were, underneath his bulking size, wet & ready for him.

"please use me, sir," you cried out in a hushed, yet urgent, voice. you were begging for him. i have to be dreaming, he thought. the moment he penetrates you, he's going to wake up, he's sure of it. you had your back arched, & you looked back at him, eyes half-lidded & cheeks flushed. "take out your frustrations."

he wanted to resist, he didn't want to wake up from this ecstasy dream. but he was just a man, & pure instincts took over.

katsuki lined up his cock with your entrance & snapped his hips forward, plunging himself ball-deep into your pussy. hands clasped over your mouth, you let out a scream. he was splitting you apart, your walls stretched out to accommodate his length & girth. your dynamight toy undersold him.

katsuki, in pure bliss, stood still for a second. he drank in everything that was happening, how this wasn't a dream anymore. you were so tight & desperate, sucking him in deeper. your juices stained your ripped stockings as it dripped down your thighs. slowly & shallow, he rocked his hips against you, grinding.

soon his grinding became primal. anything that has ever stressed him was put into his thrusts, & all you could do was lay there & take it. he pistoned in & out of you, hitting your g-spot every single time. you creamed, & came, & creamed again as he abused your sensitive spot. slaps & squelches bounced off the office walls. katsuki fucked you harder into the desk, trying to make you spasm all over his cock for the fifth time when-

brring! brring!

"what the fuck," he groaned. katuski's office phone broke the sounds of years of frustration. his harsh thrusts turned half-assed as he took a glance at the phone. "DEKU," the contact name read.

"goddamn it," muttered katsuki, "god fucking damn it." that's what he gets for bullying him all those years, i guess.

"y-you should a-answer that," you said, breathless. "it m-might be important."

"yeah, yeah. i know," katsuki said before slapping your ass. on the last ring, katsuki finally picked up the phone. you thought that, out of curtsy for deku, he would've pulled out or something, but no. he was still stretching you out & he showed no intentions on pulling out.

you, by accident, squeezed his cock, your body was trying to milk him. katsuki shot you a dirty smirk while he was on the phone. "what do you want?" his gruff voice demanded.

control yourself, (y/n), you thought to yourself, you're gonna get caught if you make a sound.

katsuki, on the other hand, had one mission: make you lose composure. honestly, it's a win-win. deku hangs up the phone, & everyone will know that you're his. katsuki pressed the phone between his ear & shoulder by tilting his head while his hands gripped your hips. hand-print bruises would be left in their wake, but you didn't care.

katsuki was hitting your cervix, & that was all you could focus on. you bit your lip until it was raw, your hands clasped so tight around your mouth until it was hard to breath, & you still were letting out whimpers.

deku said, "are we still going to have that meeting this afternoon?"

katsuki kept thrusting in & out of you, just a slightly bit more gentle (but not by much). "what?" he replied. he noticed your pussy tighten, squeezing him.

"kaachan, our meeting? this afternoon? at 2:30?"

"yeah, fuckin' cancel that," he told him. katsuki, with one hand still in your hip, grabbed a fist full of your hair & pulled you up. you stood with your back arched, dick impaling you, & your hands draped to your side. your mouth was fully open with your tongue hanging out. you were so close to the phone, any sound you make would be heard.

"you can't just cancel our meeting," deku sighed. "what are you doing that is more important?"

god, deku really knew how to get under katsuki's skin. just the tone of his voice made him made, so, naturally, he took it out on your poor body. faster, he pumped his cock in & out of you, your tits spilled out of your bra & your tits jiggled with each thrust. "please," you mouthed. you were so close to cumming, & you couldn't keep it in any longer. you were starting to see white stars clouding your vision.

"i'm busy fucking, okay?" katsuki yelled into the phone, eyes trained on you like a hawk.

"wh-what?" deku sputtered out, "what did you say?" you clenched, you were so close to getting caught by the number two pro hero.

"i said, i'm fuckin' busy," &, with that, he slammed the phone down to end the call. "you. fuckin. slut." he pounded you, & you let him use your tight pussy. his fat cock slammed in & out of you relentlessly. "i bet you wanted to get caught, huh? you just want to get caught?"

"n-no! i-i don't wanna!" you told him through hiccups.

"then what we're you trying to pull?" katsuki sneered, giving a light tug to your hair. your scalp was already aching terribly good. his hand dove in between your legs. his fingers started to rub your clit while he was still balls deep inside of your hole.

"n-nothing!" you cried followed by a breath of moans. "'suki, please~ it's too much." you began to see little white stars cloud your vision. it couldn't have been more than forty-five minutes, but you can't even remember how many times you've came. you were passed the point of overstimulation, whatever that is. "i-i-" you couldn't even get another sentence out, just muttering words & trying not to scream out in overwhelming pleasure.

"you're- you're-" katsuki mocked, and he finally let go of your -now- knotted hair. you collapsed on the desk, but his hand was still toying with your clit. your small hands gripped onto his forearm. you tried to push his hand away from your sensitive spot in hopes of getting a break. instead, he kept his position while his other hand winded back & smack! a red handprint gracing your ass. "you said i could use you, remember? thought you could handle, babe," sneered katsuki into your ear. "not only are you my slut, but you're also a dirty liar."

the vice grip he had on your hip released, then his arm snaked around your neck. your chin rested where his arm bent. with every thrust, he would flex his arms, & your throat was caught in between his thick forearm & bicep. "no, i'm not," you squeaked out. your thoughts, your words, everything would get interrupted by his constant choking.

you were still such a brat, defying him. it made it more interesting, katsuki would admit. it also made him rationalize that you deserved all the overstimulation, pounding, & bruising you've received-- & have yet to receive. "oh, you're not?"

"n-no," you droned into another moan.

"so you've never thought about this? about us? about me?"

"n-"

he tightened his muscles, constricting your airway. "tell. the. fuckin'. truth," he commanded, god, he wanted to humiliate you.

&, as if on cue, you gave in. "i-i've thought 'bout y-you," you told him through whimpers. you could feel your juices leak out of you.

"good girl," katsuki purred, playing with your clit more rough. pleasure jolted up your spine, the white stars turning into tunnel vision. katsuki felt your head drop slightly, you were losing focus. your sight was blurry from the mascara & tears. "stay with me, (y/n)."

"uh huh," mindlessly, you nodded. you didn't know if you could orgasm anymore, yet you still felt that all-too-familiar knot in your stomach. your clit was swollen, your g-spot abused, throat hurting from his cock & the pressure around it. you didn't care, you've never felt more safe. "pl-please c-cum with me," you begged.

katsuki twitched inside of you. he chuckled, "if you beg like that, i don't think i can hold back, babe."

the pet names sounded like music to your ears, & a sudden rush of motivation coursed through your veins. "katsuki~" you whined, voice high-pitched.

"(y/n)," he growled lowly. was it a warning? perhaps. you didn't care, he could punish you if he ever so pleased.

"'need your cum."

"sh-" he stuttered, &, just like that, the tables were turned. "shut up.

katsuki's cool composure was slipping. giddy & still driven by pleasure & motivation, you said, "please~ i need you."

"fuck, baby."

"i-i need you to fill me up."

katsuki tensed, his arms choking you. his thrusts were erratic & shallow. every sensation -you squeezing his cock, you wetness seeping out of your pussy, all of it- was amplified. he drove his hips forward, his tip stuffed inside your cervix. "t-take it," he huffed out.

not even a second later, jets of hot cum exploded inside of you. his warmth filled you, just as you asked. he painted your pussy white, & you came all over him for a final time, your pussy pulsating, milking him for every drop. the two of you stayed in that position, relaxed. he held you in his embrace, heavy breaths on your skin. katsuki pressed butterfly kisses along nape of your neck lazily. "so good f' me," he praised into your ear as he grazed your side with his fingertips. "so beautiful."

you hummed in respond. "you're my girl, aren't you?"

"only if you take me out to dinner after this," you joked, this was just a hookup because there's no way he would think of you as anything more, you figured.

"of course, whatever you want," he responded to your surprised. he pulled out of pussy, cum leaking out of your hole. he didn't care; no, he was proud. he sat you on his lap, forehead pressed against yours. katsuki, with his thumb, stroked your cheek & sang you sweet nothings. "you took me so well. i didn't go too hard, did i? you're mine," he would say.

"katsuki?"

"yes, princess?"

"why are you still hard?"

#bakugo x reader #anime and manga #bakugou scenarios #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha fanfiction #mha x reader

544 notes · View notes

woso-dreamzzz · 3 months

Text

Accident

Kyra Cooney-Cross x Gorry!Reader

Summary: It wasn't planned

You were the best mistake Kyra ever made.

It was a complete accident when she kissed you, tripping in the crowded pub and smashing her lips against yours.

You giggled at the horrified look on her face when you helped her to stand, one of your hands still holding her waist. "Usually someone has to buy me a drink before kissing me."

You didn't yell at her or scream or punch her in the face so Kyra took it as a win even though her insides were twisting in horror and her face burned red.

"I can still buy you that drink?" Was what she offered in return.

"Sounds good."

Your love affair begun in that moment.

Kyra counted herself lucky that she managed to find the only other Aussie in London who wasn't attached to a football team. She also counted herself lucky that you avoided football like the plague.

Ever since the World Cup, the attention she was receiving was just a tad too excessive so it was nice to sit with you at home and relax, to not be Kyra Cooney-Cross the midfielder but just Kyra, your girlfriend.

"My sister plays," You said one evening as you swiped a chip off her plate," That's probably why I avoid it. Call me childish but I can't be into the same things my sister's into. It would make me seem like a very bad little sister."

"Or a good one, from her perspective," Kyra laughed.

"It's not that me and Kat aren't friends," You said," It's just we're very separate in our interests. I never really enjoyed being compared to her."

"And so you avoided football?" Kyra quirked a brow. "All football?"

"Well, clearly not all football," You replied, leaning forward to capture Kyra's soft lips with your own," Not yours."

Kyra drew away with a cocky smirk. "Of course not mine. You're my wag."

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever."

Domesticity with you was easy, Kyra found. It was completely stereotypical to move in after three dates but she was a big believer in if you know you know.

And Kyra knew.

So, she moved in with you.

You did the chores around each other. If you did the laundry then she did the dishes. If you hoovered then she polished. It was easier than ever before and Kyra settled easily into life with you.

"My sister's moving to London," You said one evening as you lay in bed together," Would you like to meet her?"

Kyra, who had been drawing absent patterns on your arm, froze. You didn't speak much about your sister just that she lived in Sweden with your niece and her fiancée. It was clear that you had a close relationship from the few times that you spoke about her.

Kyra's throat bobbed a little bit in worry.

You were her first proper girlfriend (and she was yours). She just knew that she had to make a good impression.

"You don't have to," You said when you noticed her silence," It was just an idea."

"No! No...I'd love to meet her."

"She'll love you, Kyra. I promise."

The week running up to meeting your sister was full of worry and anticipation. Kyra wrote out a script in her notes app about conversation starters and things to say about herself that would make her seem like the best possible partner for you.

She didn't want to leave anything up to chance with this. Not with you and not with your sister.

Kyra paced outside of the café where you agreed to meet her, wiping off her sweaty hands and muttering under her breath about how best to introduce herself.

"Kyra?" A familiar voice from behind said," Is something wrong?"

"Mini!" Kyra exclaimed," What are you doing here?"

"I'm meeting my sister soon," Mini said," She's meant to be telling me some big news. What about you? This is pretty far from St Albans, isn't it?"

Kyra laughed awkwardly. "I'm meeting my girlfriend's sister today. I want to make a good impression. I don't want her to kill me or something for knocking around with her little sister."

Mini laughed, clapping Kyra on the back. "Don't be stupid, Kyra," She said," You're the best girlfriend anyone can ask for. No one's going to want to kill you."

A blur appeared around the corner and you wedged yourself between the two of them, throwing your arms around both of them. "Kat! Kyra! You ruined the surprise! We were meant to tell her together!"

Kyra looked between you and Mini.

Mini looked between you and Kyra.

"She's your sister?!"

"You're dating Kyra?!"

You looked between them. "Do you two know each other?"

Kyra watched as Mini's eyes narrowed.

"I take back what I said," Mini said," I'm going to kill you."

#woso x reader #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

918 notes · View notes

taexual · 4 months

Text

sleepwalking ● 16 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

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

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: fluff (if you squint really really hard), ANGST, strong language, explicit descriptions of violence & the process of cleaning wounds, mentions of loss of consciousness, SLOW BURN

words: 12.2k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 16 ► i’m still your favourite regret, you’re still my weapon of choosing

The performance in Cologne the next day passed by in a blur. Jungkook refused to speak to anyone and only opened his mouth when it was absolutely necessary during the sound check—and even then, most of his vocabulary consisted of grunts or monosyllables.

He wouldn’t have called it sulking—he would have called it existential sorrow—but from the perspective of those around him, that was what this was.

He had dreamed of a happy ending with you. Now, he feared there would be no ending at all. He feared you’d leave and your goodbye would come in a letter. Or maybe just a farewell email.

“I had a wonderful time working with you and I wish you all the best for the future,” would be the last thing you’d write. The last thing you’d say.

You’d leave and he would never see you again.

Although he didn’t talk to you, Jungkook watched you a lot. The band had to do some interviews backstage before the Cologne show, and you were in the room with them, behind the camera. He counted, you only looked at him once.

After the concert, Jungkook took a long shower, but it could not drown his fears. When he returned to the hallway outside the dressing rooms, he saw that the post-show drinks were already finished and everyone had returned to the bus. He’d hoped that would happen. He needed a few more minutes alone.

He entered the changing room with a towel draped over his shoulders and quickly changed his shorts into sweatpants. Just as he pulled his hoodie over his head—somewhat laboriously, as his arms were still damp from the shower—he heard something vibrating against the leather couch in the room.

Confused, he pulled the hoodie on and walked over to the couch. He didn’t recognise the phone, but Taehyung was calling it, so chances were good that the device belonged to Luna. He made a mental note to bring it to her and placed it back on the couch while he packed the rest of his things.

He had just unzipped his bag when he heard the door open and turned his head. His expectant heart immediately jumped over several beats at the possibility that this was you.

But it was the furthest thing from you.

It was Sid.

Sid had many useless, irritating talents, but always finding Jungkook when he was alone, was his most impressive one.

Jungkook started to roll his eyes even before Sid spoke up, but that didn’t deter the older boy from entering the room.

“You’ve been ignoring us the whole day,” Sid said, closing the door behind him. “Well, I don’t care if you ignore everyone else. But you’ve been ignoring me, and I can’t allow that.”

Jungkook threw his jeans and shorts into the bag.

“That is so kind,” he said without looking up. “Did you miss me that much?”

“I did,” Sid said, and even without looking at him, Jungkook knew he had his usual psychotic grin on. Leaning against the dressing table, Sid added, “the clock’s tick-tick-ticking.”

“If you don’t leave me alone right now,” Jungkook retorted, unplugging his charger and packing it, too, “my foot is going to be kick-kick-kicking your ass.”

Sid merely snorted at the threat. “You’re very hostile, you know? It’s just a bet.”

Jungkook scoffed.

He remembered hoping that Sid would eventually forget about the bet if no one mentioned it. How very naive he had been. Sid would never forget. He was like a hateful elephant in this case—he had a flawless memory for anything that benefited him and was constantly at the centre of attention in any room he was in, making it impossible to escape his presence.

Jungkook couldn’t believe that he had once clung to the Katana so tightly that he didn’t even consider the possibility of losing the bet as soon as he made it. It seemed absurd now. What did he want to prove? Nothing made sense to him anymore.

“Is it? Really? Just a bet?” he rebutted, moving closer to Sid with each question. “Because when I told you I wanted to end it, you acted like we signed a fucking contract.”

Sid shrugged, his indifference as irritating as it was insincere.

“A bet’s still a bet,” he replied. “You’ve got to keep your word.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook turned around and grabbed his hairdryer from the table. They had already argued about this before. He didn’t have the energy to keep doing it, and he still had things to pack.

“Get fucked, Sid.”

“Come on,” Sid said, clearly expecting a more grandiose response from him. “You keep saying that. But I’m willing to talk to you here. Tell me what happened.”

Jungkook glared at him through his peripherals. “What the fuck do you mean, what happened?”

“Well, you were acting so bold and confident before,” Sid said in a breathy voice, presumably to imitate Jungkook’s manner of speaking. “You were sure you’d get back together, no problem.”

“No,” Jungkook countered, straightening up. “I was sure we could go on a date, no problem. That was the extent of the bet for me.”

It was bad enough, he knew. But he couldn’t move forward if he didn’t own up to it.

“Aww.” Sid tilted his head sideways and pursed his lips to feign sympathy. “But you couldn’t even do that...”

“I fucking—okay,” Jungkook stopped when he felt his agitation grow. There was a voice in his head—very similar to yours—reminding him that Sid wasn’t worth it. “Get out. I’m serious.”

“Was that all talk?” Sid continued as if the younger boy hadn’t spoken. “Admit it, and maybe we’ll come to a different agreement about the bet.”

“Get,” Jungkook said, gritting his teeth, “out.”

Sid clicked his tongue, but the pleasure that this interaction brought him was prominent in his eyes. Antagonising Jungkook was his favourite part of the day.

“Predictable,” he said. “It seems I overestimated you, after all.”

“What the fuck are you on about now?”

“Well, you know,” Sid continued to spin his webs around Jungkook. “You and your manager. I thought you’d win the bet for sure.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jungkook asked, “yet you still agreed to it?”

Sid’s eye twitched slightly—Jungkook felt a great sense of satisfaction at the sight; it wasn’t often that Sid was forced to question his own logic, however momentarily—but he recovered too quickly.

“I like to gamble.” He shrugged. “What can I say?”

“You can shut up,” Jungkook suggested.

“However, you didn’t manage to do it,” Sid went on. “And I have to say, I am genuinely surprised. Not about you, no. I always knew you were pathetically in love with her, that’s just who you are. No offence, just the truth, really. But she’s just—I mean, come on.” He paused to laugh, one hand on his stomach as if he found himself so amusing that he needed to keep his guts from spilling out. “You fluttered your eyelashes at her once, and she went to Paris with you. She’s that fucking easy.”

Jungkook felt the room still as he lifted his gaze from Sid’s stomach to his eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Sid’s grin was about as wide as the distance from this venue to the nearest hospital, where Jungkook thought he was about to send him.

Sid pushed himself off the table he’d been leaning against and walked over to the rack of clothes next to the couch. Jungkook watched him, stiff and belligerent.

“I thought she was keeping you on a short leash. And don’t blame me. I mean, you always ran after her as soon as she called,” the older boy continued, laughing with a little shake of his head—as if in disbelief. He turned and leisurely strolled back towards Jungkook. “But she—I mean, I get the feeling she doesn’t like me very much, but even I could have taken her out if I wanted to. Honestly, man, I’m surprised you couldn’t do it. She’s that specific type—you know the one—where she’ll say yes to anyone if they just put in enough effort—”

Jungkook’s punch landed right on the side of Sid’s mouth, cutting him off.

Something in Sid’s neck cracked as the blunt force twisted his head to the side. The corner of his mouth was bleeding, but he still had an almost defiant look in his eyes when he turned back to Jungkook. The tips of his fingers were painted scarlet when he pulled them back from his lips.

“I fucking warned you,” Jungkook growled while Sid continued to stare at his hand. “Get your ass out of here right fucking now or I swear they’ll have to carry you out of here in a fucking box.”

Sid spat the blood from his mouth on the floor and glared at Jungkook.

“That the best you can do?” he challenged. “Huh? Maybe that’s why you couldn’t even get someone like her to—”

Jungkook raised his fist again, but Sid had already been anticipating it. He pushed Jungkook’s hand back with his forearm, knocking the younger boy off balance for a moment—it was then that he landed a punch on Jungkook’s left cheekbone.

A sharp pain surged through the side of his face, but Jungkook was wide awake and furious.

In less than a second, he noticed Sid swinging back again—Sid had always been strong but slow—and Jungkook blocked his blow with his left wrist and rammed his shoulder into Sid’s chest, pushing him into the wall and wrapping an arm around him. The older boy thrashed and squirmed with raging strength until he freed one of his hands.

Jungkook tried to pin Sid’s left arm against the wall—he was left-handed if barely even that—but, being the massive pile of unbelievably lucky crap that he was, Sid managed to use his right fist to reach the boy restraining him.

Sid’s unexpected southpaw caught Jungkook just as he was lowering his head to avoid the blow from the older boy’s dominant hand—and his right fist connected with the side of Jungkook’s head, between his eye and temple.

“You’re f-fucking embarrassing,” Sid snarled, bloodied and breathless, as Jungkook staggered backwards, dazed from the blow. “Weak fucking piece of sh-shit. Birds of fucking feather, you two—both fucking worthless and—”

Sid inhaled quickly before finishing his sentence—but then he ended up not even finishing his breath.

Aggravated and filled with raw adrenaline, Jungkook delivered a furious uppercut, his fist colliding solidly with Sid’s chin. The older boy was propelled backwards by the force—Jungkook heard the thud as his head hit the wall.

Already groaning, Sid was determined to fight back—never mind that the room was spinning—but Jungkook took advantage of the moment while Sid’s vision was still cloudy and pinned him against the wall with his full weight.

“I thought I told you to shut the fuck up,” he hissed, pressing his forearm against Sid’s neck.

Choking, Sid immediately grabbed Jungkook’s arm to push him off, but Jungkook had a clear strength and fury advantage. He did not budge as the older boy resisted him.

Sid knew this wasn’t a good look for him—he could feel that if Jungkook pushed his forearm into his neck any harder, he’d lift him off the ground. Unable to breathe, the older boy paled, but his eyes were black with rage.

“Face the fff-fuh-fucking facts. You’re weak,” Sid wheezed, livid. There was blood in his mouth and something else that rolled around his tongue when he spoke. “And she’s a f-fucking—”

“One more fucking word,” Jungkook warned, pressing his arm harder into Sid’s throat—the other boy couldn’t even look at him anymore, his head was pushed too far back, “and you’ll have to be fucking dissected to find out what the fuck happened to you.”

Sid gasped for breath but refused to stop speaking. “I—unf—f-fucking—”

“What the fuck—” a shrill, startled voice demanded from behind the two boys, “—is going on?!”

Jungkook jumped—Sid felt his arm shove deeper into his throat and let out a half-stifled cry—and turned to see Luna standing wide-eyed in the doorway of the changing room.

He tore himself away from Sid, who dropped his hands to his knees, panting and clutching his throat before straightening again as though nothing was wrong. But his attempt to inhale properly resulted in another violent coughing fit. He bent over to spit out some blood and something else.

The two boys watched as a tooth rolled into the revolting mixture of spit and blood on the floor. Sid looked appalled as he reached for his mouth again, almost prepared to count all his teeth to check if he’d really lost one or if spare teeth were just something he carried around in his mouth without realising.

“Do I have to ask again?!” Luna cried, too shocked to make sense of what she had the unfortunate luck of interrupting.

“It’s okay, Luna,” Jungkook said, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “Sid was just leaving.”

Sid glared at him, coughed again, and leaned in closer.

“All bark,” he hissed hoarsely. Jungkook could see the small gap next to Sid’s lower canine when he opened his mouth. “No bite.”

“Get fucked,” Jungkook said. “And pack your shit. Don’t come anywhere near me again or you’ll be eating through a fucking straw.”

He watched as Sid narrowed his eyes, fighting a battle within himself. Jungkook’s jaw was clenched, his fists ready to strike if he made another comment or exhibited any signs of even thinking about you.

Finally, Sid turned around and stormed out of the room. As soon as he walked down the corridor without so much as a glance at Luna, she went inside.

Still completely bewildered, she stopped abruptly in the middle of the room. The pool of blood was between her and Jungkook, and they both looked at it for a moment.

“What—” she began, then paused to suppress her disgust as she lifted her gaze from the floor to Jungkook. “What the hell happened here?”

He walked over to one of the cupboards by the window, searching for towels. He needed to clean this up or the venue would report the damages to you.

“Nothing,” he replied.

“You’re bleeding,” Luna said, stepping closer. Jungkook froze as she took one of the towels from him and reached up to his temple. “You’re bleeding so much, in fact, that you might need stitches.”

He shook his head—and then received a punch in the ribs from her. He yelped in surprise and learnt to stand still while she wiped the blood off.

“It’s fine,” he insisted. His temple throbbed with pain, but it still couldn’t compare to the sharp-edged emptiness that he’d felt all day.

“It’s not fine,” Luna said, pulling away. The towel was soaked with blood. Jungkook had to admit that he was surprised he was bleeding so much. Despite the sharpness of Sid’s fists, he had assumed that he’d been merely scratched. “Let me find—”

“No!” His eyes were wide in sudden panic. “Don’t—don’t bring her here. Actually, don’t tell her about the mess here at all. Please?”

Luna watched him for a moment, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion (was he serious?) and eyes bright with pity (what a shame to be so stupid).

“Jungkook,” she said patiently. “You’re going to have bruises all over your face. Probably even a black eye.”

He exhaled and looked down.

He knew he couldn’t keep this from you, but involving you now was the worst possible thing he could do. He was supposed to make things right.

“I know,” he said slowly, “but—I’m… I don’t want this to be another one of my messes that she has to clean up. That would definitely make her give up and go to Reconnaissance.”

Luna lowered her gaze, taking a moment to process the fact that Jungkook knew about the other band, but instead of the hysterics that everyone would have expected from him, he’d been rather composed all day today. Until he got into a fight with Sid, of course.

She tossed the towel onto the puddle of blood on the floor. She had no intention of cleaning it up herself, but she couldn’t stand to look at it.

“Well, have you considered not getting into this mess in the first place?” she asked then.

“Believe it or not, he started it,” Jungkook mumbled as he gathered more towels from the cupboard.

“Does that even matter now?”

Luna had to step back as he bent down to mop the floor. Some blood had already seeped into the wooden floorboards, but Jungkook scrubbed over the stain with the towel anyway.

“No,” he said, concentrating his irritation on the repetitive motions as he wiped the floor. “I guess not.”

“At least let me get some band-aids for you.” She looked around the room. There didn’t seem to be any first-aid kits here, but she had a few band-aids in her bag that she’d left in the waiting area outside. “Although I don’t know if that’s even enough.”

“It is enough,” Jungkook said. “I’m fine. He barely—barely touched me.”

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Luna turned to the door, muttering under her breath, “fucking boys.”

Jungkook couldn’t help a small smile.

“I heard that!” he shouted.

“I wanted you to!” she shouted back without turning around.

He chuckled, then winced at the sharp twinge in his temple. The adrenaline must have worn off, or the pain was getting stronger. He stopped scrubbing the floors, hoping to leave a message for the organisers and personally apologise for the mess later.

Then he crossed his legs on the ground and leaned his head against the wall. For just one second, he closed his eyes and rested.

He made a decision while he did.

He resolved to make sure that Sid wouldn’t come anywhere near him, Rated Riot, or you.

He finally realised that he had friends here—real friends. They had been here all along, the people who loved him. Hoseok, who took care of him when he was hungover. Yoongi, who tried to find help when he thought Jungkook was feeling a little too much. Taehyung, who didn’t leave even after Jungkook admitted how much he’d fucked up. And Luna, who looked about ready to physically beat some sense into him, but still stayed to help him with his wounds. Namjoon, Jimin, Seokjin, and Maggie, too—honestly, the entire team who laughed at his jokes, teased him and always supported him.

Although he was still worried about being alone with his thoughts, Jungkook knew he didn’t need Sid to fill the void. Now he wondered if Sid had always been the void he was trying to escape.

He was determined to prevent history from repeating itself. These people that he’d desperately wanted to call friends had already contributed significantly to your break-up once before, without him realising it.

Well, now he realised it. And he was going to fix it—all of it.

He could start by eliminating the reason why he kept making the same mistakes.

A minute later, Luna returned to the room. The sight of Jungkook sitting on the floor with his eyes closed made her look twice as she felt her heart drop in sudden anxiety.

She thought about turning around and looking for you, because you had a lot more patience to deal with this than she thought she did. But then, she knew that another argument was the last thing you or Jungkook needed right now.

She took a deep breath and approached him.

“Here,” she said as she grabbed another towel and squatted down next to him with the few band-aids that, frankly, seemed meagre when she saw the cuts and bruises on his face up close. “Let me help you.”

Jungkook had only briefly opened his eyes to look at her and then closed them again.

“Thank you,” he said as she wiped more blood from the side of his face before applying the band-aid. She didn’t mean to be gentle. She wanted him to understand how much he’d messed up. But her movements ended up being tentative and careful anyway.

“Don’t thank me,” she said, biting her lip as the blood immediately seeped through the band-aids. They would not hold; they both knew that. She sighed and pulled away from him. “She will see this. You will have to argue with her again. I can’t help you with that.”

He nodded his head once. “I know.”

Luna rose and walked over to the back of the room, considering this. She leaned her hip against the table and looked back at him.

“I don’t, um—okay. For what it’s worth,” she said, resting her hands on the table on either side of her. “I don’t think she’ll quit. Not even over this.”

“You really believe that?” Jungkook asked, opening his eyes. The hope in them was so bright that it was almost blinding.

Luna nodded. “She loves the band too much. Not even you can change that.”

He looked down. That would have to be good enough, he decided—just the fact that you would stay, even if it wasn’t for him. Even if it was despite him.

“I-I hope you’re right,” he said quietly.

“Okay, so now—” Luna jumped onto the table to take a seat, “—tell me what happened with Sid.”

Ordinarily, this would have been a long story. But Jungkook knew Taehyung might have made telling it a bit easier for him.

“Taehyung said you know about the bet?” he asked to be sure.

“Yeah. He told me back in Tilburg after he saw you leave with her to talk. Or, well, he assumed you would talk,” Luna explained. “In any case, you should be grateful that I know my strengths. Otherwise, I’d be punching you, too.”

Considering how much smaller than him Luna was, Jungkook smiled reflexively.

“I appreciate you not doing that,” he said with genuine respect.

“I’ve mentally kicked your ass, though.”

“Well, I deserve that, I guess.”

“So, this was about the bet, then?”

Jungkook sighed. He hadn’t technically allowed Sid to say any additional adjectives after he’d called you “easy,” but even this was too much. Jungkook wasn’t sure if he could talk about it without wanting to rip Sid’s eyes out and feed them to him.

“He was… just riling me up. He said some—some things,” he said, choosing a gentler word, even though several more appropriate expletives came to mind. “And he took it too far. Trust me, he deserved to get hit.”

“Oh, I trust you,” Luna said. “I just don’t think you should have been the one to hit him.”

Jungkook swallowed, feeling a metallic taste in his mouth. It didn’t bother him much. He’d tasted worse in the past few days.

“If I didn’t do it,” he said, “no one else would have.”

“Why are you so sure about that?” Luna asked, her voice less confident.

Most of what she knew about Jungkook and Sid came from questionable fan accounts she’d seen online—the stories she read were almost always outrageous, but now that she’d gotten to know Sid on this tour, she found those accounts much more plausible. Surely then, if Sid was this loathsome to everyone, someone was bound to deck him sooner or later.

“Everyone else is afraid of him,” Jungkook replied.

“And you’re not?” she asked.

The question felt mocking—even though it didn’t sound like that was Luna’s intention.

He thumped his head against the wall. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

The room was silent for a few minutes as Jungkook sat motionless, and Luna’s gaze kept wandering to the pile of towels on the bloodstained floor and then back to his resigned figure against the wall.

“Can I ask you something?” she said then.

His voice was tired. “Yeah.”

“Why did you make this bet in the first place?”

He inhaled, and a sharp, stabbing pain shot up from his lungs to his throat. It probably wasn’t a good sign, but he did not have the energy to worry about it at the moment.

He scratched the uninjured side of his face with his hand—his knuckles bruised and torn—and let his fingers linger there. It was a reflexive reaction, Luna observed, as he tried to hide from her. Or, rather, from her question.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “Sid and Jude were getting in my head about how I was like some—I don’t know, pathetic. They made me feel like I was less of a person because I still had feelings for her.”

“Less of a person,” Luna said, “or less of an asshole that they seem to be trying—and succeeding—to be?”

Jungkook sighed, allowing the pins and needles to settle in his oesophagus. He wanted to say something but swallowed the answer with the bitter taste in his mouth.

“So, you made the bet to prove them wrong?” she asked in response to his silence.

“I—I don’t know,” he said again. He sometimes felt like he was a different person when he was with his friends. And now that he was determined to never see Sid again—but the repercussions of their friendship were still evident—Jungkook didn’t know who he really was anymore. “I think, at first, I agreed to the bet to prove a point.”

Luna raised her eyebrows. “But there was another reason?”

“Yeah, I think that… there was something else,” he said with a slow nod. “I realised later that I might have agreed to the bet because I wanted to win it. Not—not for the money, and not just to prove that I wasn’t pathetic. I just really—I wanted to go on that date with her. I wanted her. And the bet was—it was a kick in my ass to finally act on my feelings.”

Luna’s eyebrows suddenly dropped in disappointment and she turned away to hide her expression, even though Jungkook was too weary to lift his head and look up.

“There were better ways to act on them, you know,” she said. “Less painful ways, too.”

“Oh, I know,” he said with a wry smile. “Unfortunately, I’m fucked up.”

“You… you’re not fucked up,” she said, although to be honest, after learning about the bet, she thought he might be. But now that she saw how much his choices tormented him, she realised that he wasn’t all black and white. He was very, very grey. “You just did a fucked-up thing.”

Jungkook snickered weakly. “That’s nice of you to say. But I was always… I’d always been a problem.”

“Because of your friends?”

“Yeah—well, mostly, yeah. B-but she—” he paused here as another jolt of pain shot through his chest at the mention of you. He filled his lungs completely with another sharp intake of breath, then tried again. “She still—she still loved me. You know? I used to look at my friends and think I had nothing compared to them. But then I met her, and I—I had everything. I didn’t deserve her, but I—she was with me. She wanted to be with me. And she was the one good thing in my life. And I took that for granted. And now that I—now that we… anyway. I blew it. Now I really have nothing. Serves me right, I know. I just wish she wasn’t—I wish I hadn’t hurt her.”

Luna closed her eyes and sighed in response to the endless additions that Jungkook could not seem to control as he spoke.

She felt a little upset, she couldn’t help it. But she also felt a little giddy. She’d never heard Jungkook say these things about you, but she’d suspected that was how he felt all along.

However, she wasn’t one to make empty promises, especially when those promises were not within her control, so she could not say things like ‘you two will be fine’ or ‘you didn’t blow it.’

Honestly, she couldn’t find an appropriate response no matter how much she tried, so for a good minute, the two of them sat in silence.

Then, Jungkook finally raised his eyes from the ground. “Why’d you come here, by the way? I thought everyone was on the bus.”

Luna blinked, remembering suddenly.

“I left my phone here after the show,” she said, instinctively checking her pockets to make sure she really did not have it.

“Oh.” He pointed to the opposite side of the room. “I think I heard it vibrate. On the couch.”

“Ah.” She pushed herself off the table. “Thanks.”

He watched through his eyelashes as she picked up her phone. One of his eyelids was dropping and he was afraid to blink.

When Luna glanced at the screen—and probably saw the missed call from Taehyung—Jungkook said, “you should go.”

She turned around and took in the scene in the room once more.

It was miserable here. Jungkook looked miserable.

“I’m sorry I can’t say anything encouraging,” she said, biting her lip. “She’s my friend. And you’ve done a—well, this isn’t good.”

Jungkook nodded and swallowed, but it didn’t soothe his dry throat. “I know.”

“I’d like to help, but I—I’m always going to be on her side.”

“Of course. I understand.”

Luna sighed, because he had claimed he understood, but still looked as if happiness was a concept he’d never experienced in his life.

“I just—I don’t know what to tell you before I go,” she admitted. She knew she didn’t owe him anything, but leaving him here in this state didn’t feel right, either. She had always been compassionate, but the intensity of it surprised her this time. “I don’t know what she’ll do. A-about you, I mean. Not about Reconnaissance.”

Jungkook considered this. The side of his head felt torn and cracked. The poor band-aids were already dark red.

“What would you do?” he asked.

Luna raised her eyebrows at the abrupt question. “Me?”

“If you were her,” Jungkook explained. “Or if I were Taehyung.”

She licked her lips, taking a moment to choose her next words.

“Jungkook,” she said. “No offence, but Taehyung would never do something so stupid.”

A defeated, humourless smile appeared on his lips. “Yeah. You’re right. He wouldn’t.”

As soon as the tiniest glimmer of hope in his eyes dimmed, his voice sounded as if it was coming from somewhere underground.

God, Luna thought. Now the room was even more dreary.

Even though she was going to support whatever decision you would make about this, she couldn’t just leave without saying anything to him. Having no one on his side while he tried to redeem himself was unfair.

Advice, she figured, had to be the best thing she could offer him right now.

“Listen,” she said with a determined inhale. “I can’t judge what I would do if I were her because I don’t share her memories. I don’t know what happened between you all those years ago. Or even what’s happening now. But… if I were you, I’d give her some time.”

Jungkook nodded, looking at her with what he hoped was a grateful smile.

“Interestingly enough, that’s what your boyfriend told me,” he said.

“Yeah? Well, he gives great advice.”

The corners of his lips stretched further. “Matching set, you two.”

Luna slid her phone into her pocket and grabbed her bag, zipping up the pocket where she had kept the band-aids.

“Just be careful, okay?” she said. “We’re leaving for the airport soon, so don’t stay here too long. Don’t make her look for you. I’ll, um—I’ll try to do damage control.”

“Okay. Thank—”

Before Jungkook could finish, the door of the changing room opened wider, diverting their attention.

They both turned to look with very different expressions on their faces—Luna was already scowling, thinking that Sid had come back. Jungkook, on the other hand, appeared absolutely terrified, thinking that it was you, about to witness him sitting on the bloody floor—literally—with band-aids on his face.

“Oh,” a gasp left Minjun’s lips as he stopped in the doorway. “Sorry, I was—”

“It’s fine,” Jungkook said, immensely relieved. “You can come in.”

“Hold on,” Luna warned. Minjun remained frozen under her gaze. “Will I have to intervene? Because I think we’ve spilt enough blood already.”

Minjun raised his eyebrows. “Whose blood?”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Jungkook said to the girl. “Thank you, Luna.”

She watched the two of them for another minute until Jungkook nodded reassuringly again. Hesitantly, she nodded back and gave Minjun a pointed look.

“Okay. But you watch your hands,” she warned. “He has to be on stage tomorrow.”

“I—I mean no harm.” Minjun raised both hands, taken aback by her hostility. “I don’t know what happened here, but I’m—I come in peace.”

“Good,” Luna said with a firm nod. She glanced back over her shoulder at Jungkook. “I’ll see you later. Put some ice on your eye when you get back on the bus. It won’t do much for the colour, but it might help with the swelling.”

“Will do,” he said and called out as she exited the room, “thank you again!”

After Luna had left, Minjun entered the room and closed the door behind him. Only then he noticed the bloody towels and the dirty floor. Squinting, he leant forward a little and detected something else between the towels.

“So,” he said, straightening. “What the fuck happened and whose tooth is that on the floor?”

Jungkook snorted. “Sid’s.”

Minjun’s face lit up with childlike glee. “No fucking way! Did you do it?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said with a grin that made him look vaguely menacing, considering how bruised and battered his face was.

“Awesome, man,” Minjun said, coming closer to pat him on the back before squatting next to him.

“He deserved it.”

“I don’t even care, to be honest. I’m impressed.”

“Yeah. Well.” Jungkook lifted a hand to gesture at his own face. “He’s landed some good ones, too.”

Minjun observed his bruises and the bloody band-aids that seemed quite small for a normal cut, but remained remarkably resilient on his fresh wounds.

“You’ll live,” he concluded.

Jungkook turned to him. A little awkwardly, he asked, “why, um… why are you here?”

“Ah.” Minjun reached into his pocket for something. “Here.”

Jungkook immediately recognised the keys to his Katana in his friend’s palm.

Speechless for a minute, he just stared at Minjun’s hand without moving. He had a feeling—against his better judgement—that this was a trap. That by taking the keys, he’d sign something else to the devil.

“What—?” he tried to ask.

“Take it,” Minjun urged, wishing to relieve himself of the unwanted weight of the keys in his hand.

“But the bet—”

“Fuck the bet,” he said, waving his palm up and down when Jungkook still didn’t reach for it. “It went too far.”

“Sid,” Jungkook began, hesitation and doubt evident in every centimetre of his face, “didn’t agree to this.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure Sid’s mother didn’t agree to give birth to a fucking clown, but shit happens,” Minjun countered. “Take the damn keys.”

Jungkook finally extended his shaking hand and felt the familiar cold metal under his fingertips. He paused before pulling back with the keys.

The Katana was his. But instead of relief, he felt a new weight in his chest.

“Why?” he asked, looking down at the key ring, adorned with a gaudy, jewelled pendant with the initials “JK.” It was a trinket you had bought him during a drunken escapade at a local fair. He still remembered your delighted squeal when you spotted the two letters in one of the jewellery stands.

“Because this is stupid and pointless,” Minjun said. His legs had gone numb, so he mirrored Jungkook’s position and sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. “Some fucking bet is not worth ruining your relationship over.”

With a small smile on his face—because they were two miserable losers, hanging out on the floor of his band’s changing room—Jungkook clutched the keys and pushed them into his own pocket.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it earlier,” Minjun said. “I was afraid, I guess. Of what Sid would do if I went against his wishes. But then I… came to pick you up from that hotel bar in Tilburg—”

“That was you?” Jungkook cut him off. He had been wondering how he ended up back on the tour bus.

“Yeah,” Minjun replied. “You called me and asked to take the bike back to the rental shop because you couldn’t do it anymore. Man, I swear, I thought you were on some bridge, the way you phrased it.”

Jungkook looked away. He was not in a good place when he called his friend, and alcohol must have exaggerated it. “Sorry.”

“You still looked worse than I expected when I got there,” Minjun continued. “I thought I might have to take you to a hospital to have your stomach pumped, and I don’t fucking speak Dutch. Nor did I know where a fucking hospital was in Tilburg.”

Jungkook laughed at his rising tone, and Minjun smiled, too.

The smile turned ironic, however, when he added, “you threw up on my shoes.”

Jungkook, who never got drunk enough to experience a hangover the next day, let alone throw up, raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I don’t remember that,” he said, meaning that it didn’t happen.

Minjun ignored the dismissive tone in his voice—he had a ruined pair of Converse to prove his accusation.

“Lucky you then,” he retorted. “You regained some colour after that, though. But you wouldn’t stop talking about her. It was like—like you couldn’t understand anything of what was happening, but you could still remember her. It hit me then, how little the bet really mattered. I mean, I always thought it was stupid, but that night, I—I saw what you were feeling. You regretted everything. I wanted to give you the keys right then, but you looked like you couldn’t recognise yourself in the mirror, so I just dropped you off on the bus. One of your—Hoseok was awake. He thanked me.”

Jungkook needed a minute to reflect on the conversation he’d had with Hoseok later that same morning.

“He didn’t tell me,” he said.

Minjun shrugged. “He had nothing to thank me for, anyway. I’m your friend. Sorry I didn’t act like it before.”

This was the first time that one of his friends had apologised to him, and Jungkook recognised the significance of the moment. He realised with blinding clarity that out of the three people he had invited as his personal guests on this tour, there was only one he truly wanted to stay here.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, a little overwhelmed. “I’m—thanks for doing this now.”

Minjun nodded and the two of them shared a moment of comfortable silence. But Jungkook couldn’t quiet his thoughts—Sid wasn’t here, but he still couldn’t shake his presence.

“There was something that Sid said to me today,” he spoke up. “I-I think he likes her.”

“What?” Minjun was surprised. He glanced back at the tooth on the floor in front of him. “What’d he say?”

“He—just some shit.” Jungkook looked down and pulled on a loose thread on his sweatpants. “About how he could have convinced her to date him.”

Minjun blinked in another wave of surprise. He had a very different understanding of what Sid felt for you and Jungkook, but now he was confused.

“He’s just trying to get under your skin,” he tried to rationalise.

“No, but think about it,” Jungkook said. “Why else would he go to such great lengths to persuade me to participate in this bet? To force me to continue it after I’d clearly won?”

Again, Minjun needed a minute to find a response.

Jungkook clicked his tongue and looked away. “See, you can’t disagree.”

“I mean…” Minjun bit the corner of his lower lip. “I guess it makes sense, but—”

“I know that she wouldn’t consider him in a million years,” Jungkook added. “I’m not even thinking about that, I’m just… wow. How fucking stupid. He ruined this for himself and for me.”

His friend sighed. He didn’t want to keep talking about this. “Yeah.”

“And I let him,” Jungkook finished.

“Yeah,” Minjun repeated. “He deserved getting his tooth knocked out. And you deserve the swollen eye.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and puckered his lips. He wasn’t going to disagree, and Minjun smiled in relief when he saw the humour in his friend’s eyes.

This had to happen, Minjun thought. Jungkook wouldn’t have been able to move on if he had not found another way to prove that his own self—and his relationship with you—was the one thing he would never lose, no matter how hard Sid tried.

“What, um,” Jungkook asked after a minute, “what are you going to do when Sid asks about the keys after the bet is over?”

Minjun, feeling much more relaxed, merely shrugged. “Knock another one of his teeth out?”

Jungkook laughed and smacked his friend on the shoulder, despite the pain in his head when he moved.

“Oh, come on,” Minjun said, grinning. “He still has, like, fifteen left.”

“I’m sure he has more left. Implants or not.”

“Now, see, implants are harder to knock out. We’d have to meet and discuss the logistics of that. Perhaps attack in secret.”

Jungkook laughed again, and Minjun joined in, too.

They both felt significantly better.

However, Jungkook still had a lot of things to take care of as soon as he got up from the floor.

He should have told you about the bet earlier, but he hadn’t. All he could do now was make amends for a lapse in judgement with terrible consequences.

No.

There would be no consequences. He would make sure to never hurt you again.

And he’d begin by following through with his plan.

Jungkook asked Minjun to give him some time alone and found his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants. He dialled Seokjin’s number, and Seokjin referred him to the Head of Security on tour, Mick.

Mick was lovely. He fostered pets and looked after injured animals in his cabin on the edge of the forest, where he lived with his three dogs. Jungkook had visited him once and felt very much like he imagined Harry Potter to feel when he saw Hagrid’s hut for the first time.

Mick was also three times larger than Jungkook. His primary responsibility on tour was preventing intoxicated individuals from climbing onto the stage and ensuring trespassers did not decide to have an excursion on the band’s tour bus.

Now, Jungkook decided as he spelled Sid’s name to Mick over the phone, Mick was going to make sure that Isidore Hamlet Mercer-Hastings—a name that likely had Shakespeare himself rolling in his grave—could not enter any venue where Rated Riot was scheduled to perform.

It wasn’t quite as dramatic as a restraining order, Jungkook supposed. But blacklisting Sid from his gigs seemed like a good start.

Half an hour later, Jungkook had barricaded himself behind the curtains in his bunk. He was fully awake but he didn’t want you to see what he looked like.

Naturally, you had assumed he was sleeping and had no reason to talk to him anyway, so you kept yourself busy with an e-book in your bunk as the bus made its way to the airport.

Then, most unfortunately, your relative peace was disturbed when you received a text message from Nick Zhou. It was as if he could sense the terrible turmoil in your mind and your heart, and he wanted to add more fuel to the fire.

Things like that happened sometimes, you thought. Coincidences—unless you decided to treat them as signs.

Nick had sent you a picture of the perfectly green palm trees visible through a window. You zoomed in and assumed that he had taken the picture somewhere in Australia, where Reconnaissance were currently on tour.

In the text below, Nick said, “new album in progress. Would be nice to have you with us when we put it out!”

Anxious suddenly, you considered putting your phone away and just carrying on with your e-book. But your uncertainty was relentless—maybe if you replied to him, you’d gain a clearer understanding of what you should do.

You typed back, “hope you’re having fun! I’m still thinking about it.”

Then you exhaled and tossed your phone to the farthest corner of your bunk so as not to be bothered in case it vibrated again. Texting him back didn’t work. You felt just as tense as before.

You exhaled and attempted to keep reading, but silence was simply not meant for you today.

With the flight to Manchester only five hours away, Luna decided it was a good time to discuss with you what had happened in the changing room.

“Hey,” she whispered as she crept up to your bunk, moving stealthily and quietly as if she were a secret agent on a mission.

You looked up at her from your screen. “Hi.”

She wanted to talk to you, but now that she was doing it—or getting to it—she didn’t quite know how to proceed; or even where to begin, actually.

“So, um,” she said, sitting down on your bunk and taking her time to find a comfortable position. You put your tablet away and watched her. “I wanted to check up on you a little.”

You smirked. “Yeah? But not a lot?”

“Not yet.” She smiled at your teasing question. “You’re not critical, but I do think I have some cause for concern.”

You pulled yourself up and pushed a pillow behind your back to sit straighter. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, you and Jungkook seem to be avoiding each other.”

You regarded her for a minute until you reached the inevitable conclusion—you suspected it yesterday, and now Luna’s knowing gaze fully convinced you that it was true.

“You know about the bet,” you said.

Luna looked around. No one on the bus appeared to be listening. Nearly everyone that she could see either had headphones on, or had their curtains drawn.

She glanced back at you and settled her gaze on the corner of your dark brown blanket.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I found out about it at the same time as you, more or less. Jungkook had, um—he’d talked to Taehyung before he told you.”

“Ah,” you said. “Well, that’s—I’m glad we all know, then.”

Luna noted the imperceptible look in your eyes. She wasn’t sure if you’d meant what you said.

Really, you weren’t sure, either. On the one hand, you were relieved that you wouldn’t have to retell what had happened to your friend. You weren’t sure you’d manage.

But on the other hand, the fact that other people knew about the bet did not feel particularly comforting—because this was one of the situations that you’d been desperate to avoid: your relationship with Jungkook getting so out of hand that the people around you began to talk about it.

However, you had been thinking a lot in the last few days and you realised that learning about the bet had helped you find some relief, too.

There was something bothering you for weeks now, something that was off in your surroundings, and now you finally knew what it was. It felt like a crooked picture frame on the wall. Like a non-alphabetical arrangement of books on a shelf. Like a bet about your relationship.

And now that you knew, the world had realigned again. You would have been able to breathe easier if you weren’t so embarrassed that other members of your team also knew about it.

“Well, aside from that,” Luna went on, keeping a careful eye on any changes in your expression. “I talked to Jungkook today. And I’m not defending him—”

“If you say ‘but’ next,” you interrupted, “that will negate your point, you know.”

“However,” Luna said instead and you rolled your eyes. “I think the bet is only half the picture. I mean, it’s shit. He fucked up. But I think that he’s been with you because he really wanted to be. Not because of the bet.”

If you had shaken your head any more vigorously, it might have flown off. Luna was slightly annoyed by your adamant rejection of everything she was saying—which made it easier for her to tell you the news.

“He fought Sid,” she said.

You frowned. “So?”

“Knocked his tooth out, I think.”

Your frown turned into shock as your eyebrows shot up nearly all the way to your hairline. When Luna said that they fought, you obviously did not expect it to be a physical altercation.

“They fought?” you repeated.

“Yeah. Because Sid can’t keep his mouth shut,” she said. “Jungkook loathes the guy. I don’t know what sort of friendship they had before, but there’s none of that left. If I hadn’t walked in, I don’t know—I mean, he—he hates him.” Luna swallowed here, figuring that additional details might make it harder for her to make her point. “But more than that, it looked to me like Jungkook just hates himself. Now, what you want to do next, that’s up to you. I just wanted to tell you what I thought. I talked to him. He was miserable.”

“Well.” You swallowed. “He lost the bet.”

“Not about the bet. He has feelings for you. Real feelings.”

“How—”

“Don’t ask me how I know that,” she cut you off before you could ask exactly that. “These things you can just see. And it’s especially obvious in him. Because, look… Here are the facts. He had the option to keep the bet a secret from you. Or he could have gotten back together with you and won the bet. If not, he could have waited for this to pass, or until his friends told you. But he was the one who told you that he fucked up. That’s got to count for something. It’s okay if it’s not enough. But it—well, it sort of feels like a start. Because he finally got it through his thick head that this is what matters. You. He loves you.”

Your skin shivered—an automatic reaction to these words—but you scoffed. “And knocking out Sid’s tooth is a way to show it.”

Luna groaned and was about to protest, but you stopped her by shaking your head again.

“Luna—I mean—thank you, but… this is the same shit again,” you said. “The exact same shit that made us break up the first time. Except now, there’s so much more at stake. It’s no longer just about us.”

“Is it?” she asked. “Is it, really? I mean, I understand why you would think that, considering your—uh, your job. But it’s… Really, it’s just you. The two of you. As it’s always been.”

You sighed and pulled the sleeves of your turtleneck down until you could hide your fists in them. You kept your gaze on the blanket beneath you—undoubtedly disagreeing with her again—and Luna let out a soft, tired breath.

“I’m—whatever you do next, I’ll be on your side,” she said. “If you walk away, I walk away. It’s simple. I just think it’d do you two good to talk this out. When you’re ready. So that you would know what you’re walking away from.”

You were starting to shake your head again, but stopped abruptly, realising the futility of it. You weren’t actually disagreeing with Luna’s point, after all.

“It would be good,” you said. “But I don’t want to talk to him about this. This was a mistake from the very beginning.”

“So… what, then?” she asked, worried about the burden of even more unresolved feelings that you would have to carry around every day if you allowed this to linger. If this became another thing that you never talked to anyone about. “You think you can just go back to the way things were?”

“No,” you said. “Because I’m still very annoyed. But after that, then yeah. Ideally.”

Luna tried to conceal her skepticism, but it was evident in the way she sucked in her lips and nodded her head. “Okay.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks for the optimism?”

She sighed and turned to face you again.

“I get it,” she said. “I understand why you don’t want to see him right now. But I also… kind of understand why he did what he did.”

Your eyebrows rose again. “Why he made the bet?”

“No,” she said, raising her index finger and closing her eyes to emphasise her point. “Not that. That I don’t understand. I meant the fight with Sid. Sid is a big reason why you’re in this situation and Jungkook had no other choice left. He got into that fight because he’s shit at choosing friends, but he loves you.”

You ran your tongue over your lips and looked back down at your blanket. “I don’t know which one of those things outweighs the other one.”

“Yeah, well, think about that,” she said. “Then talk to him.”

You were both aware that giving this advice was much easier than actually following it, and a silent minute passed without either of you looking at each other as you pondered the future.

“Nick texted me,” you said suddenly. You hadn’t realised how much his message weighed on you until you told her. “Just to check in. And, uh, to remind me of his—his offer.”

Luna did not like this, and she was glad you weren’t looking at her and didn’t see the expression on her face.

“What did you tell him?” she asked.

“I told him I’m still thinking about it.”

You felt Luna shifting her weight and fidgeting on the bunk next to you. She was uncomfortable, you could tell.

“You’re, uh… you’re really thinking about this, then?” she asked.

You threw your head back and rested it on the pillow. “I’m thinking about a lot these days.”

“Well, that’s—that’s good. Right?” she said, quietly hoping that your contemplations would eventually lead you to a decision that would cause you less suffering. She didn’t think leaving Rated Riot was that decision. You had made a family here. “Take your time with these things. Really think them through. Avoid everyone for a short while if that’s what you need.”

“Hmm. How can I avoid everyone, though?” you asked dryly. “If Jungkook got into a fight, I need to see him.”

“Ah.” Luna finally looked at you, feeling guilty somehow, as if she was the one who had punched him. “Yeah, that’s probably true. He, um—it’s not a disaster, but he did miss a couple of, uh—”

“Is he bleeding?” you asked, appreciating her effort to convey the situation without causing you alarm, but also without downplaying it.

“Well, not anymore,” she said. “At least, he wasn’t the last time I saw him. There is a, um—a black eye situation, though.”

You groaned and dropped your hands on the mattress in irritation.

“Fuck—you see? He’s doing it again. Leaving me no choice but to—oh, fuck it.” You slapped your hands on your knees and sat up straight. “He’ll have to wait until we arrive at the airport. I’m done jumping at the slightest sound he makes, manager or not.”

“I agree with that,” Luna said. “But I see that you don’t really mean it.”

You closed your eyes. “I have to mean it. I know it’s my job, and I know Jungkook never forced me into anything I didn’t consent to, but he just—this whole time, he acted like he was genuine when he was just doing what he always does. Playing along with Sid’s sick little games. Maybe he deserves to bleed a little for that.”

Luna was about to argue, but only nodded. She was very glad you were talking about this, even though you had dismissed everything she’d told you about Jungkook’s feelings.

She knew that you needed more time. You’d heard her. You just had to be in the right frame of mind to believe her.

She knew you’d get there, just as she knew Jungkook was not going to give up on you.

“Yeah,” Luna finally said. “He can wait. Do you... want to talk about it? About what he did?”

You looked murderous. “Absolutely not.”

She expected as much.

“Well, in that case,” she pulled her phone out, “you want to see something that Crowley did to my mum’s curtains? She took a video to show me.”

Your tension seemed to fade straight away. Luna’s troublemaker cat—named aptly after a Supernatural character with a redemption arc that Crowley, the cat, could only dream about—had never failed to ease your mind.

You needed some time alone. And you were very happy to be alone with her as she stretched out on the mattress next to you and played the video on her phone.

You caught glimpses of Jungkook and his heavy sunglasses on the way to your gate at the airport, but you didn’t have the time to check how bad he looked. The other Rated Riot members had already smacked him on the back of his head after they saw his band-aids, so you decided to wait until you could talk to him in private.

About an hour later, you spotted him going to the men’s room. You waited a few minutes and stood up, too.

The restroom was empty except for the two of you, and you quietly placed your carry-on bag on the ground next to the door. Jungkook hadn’t even noticed you enter.

“There you are,” you announced from the doorway.

Jungkook flinched and splashed himself as he washed his hands in front of the wall-sized mirror.

“You were—were you looking for me?” he asked. The automatic sink stopped and he moved his hands back under the faucet to get the water running again.

“I’ve been informed you have a black eye,” you said, coming closer. “I wanted to check the damage myself.”

The side of his face that was visible to you showed no signs of injury, but when you looked at his reflection in the mirror, you saw the red and purple bruises on the side of his face, concealed by a few persistent band-aids.

Jungkook swallowed and shook his hands several times to dry them. Then, he stepped back, allowing you to examine him. “Well, here I am.”

“Here you are,” you repeated. His gaze remained fixed on yours as you scanned his features. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“Not really,” he said. “Want to tell me if you’re leaving to work with Reconnaissance?”

“Not really.”

He pursed his lips. “Well, then. Can I ask—”

“No,” you said immediately. He stopped speaking and clenched his jaw.

You were contemplating if you should have taken him to the hospital before the flight. You were also thinking about what to do with his bruises tomorrow since he had a performance, and appearing on stage with a black eye did not seem particularly professional.

“Does it hurt?” you asked. “These band-aids—did you change them?”

“No,” he said. It wasn’t clear which question he was responding to, but his answer seemed to fit both.

“You need to change them,” you said. “And clean the wounds properly.”

“I’m not going to a hospital.”

You sighed. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not that bad,” he said.

You looked back at the band-aids on the side of his face. They remained on his skin through the sheer force of will. Cuts and bruises peeked from underneath the dried blood.

“It looks bad with band-aids on,” you said. “I can only imagine what it looks like without.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “Luna said so.”

You knew right away that this was impossible; Luna would have known better.

“She said no such thing,” you replied.

“Okay, maybe she didn’t,” he conceded with a quiet groan. “But I’m still not going to the hospital.”

The irony of the moment—and how you’d insisted that you were okay a few days ago, just like he was doing now—was completely lost on you. You felt exhausted.

“Why…” you started to say, then sighed as you brought your fingers over your closed eyes. “Why are you making me do this?”

“Do what?”

“Clean your self-destructive wounds.”

“They’re not self-destructive—”

“Really?” Your eyes shot open, ablaze with agitation. “So, getting punched by Sid was, what? A fight for dominance that you’d planned in advance?”

He cleared his throat with indignation and continued his previous statement, “and I’m not making you clean my wounds. I’m fine.”

“Sit down,” you said, turning to grab your carry-on bag. “You’re not fine.”

Awkwardly swaying in the same spot, Jungkook looked around. “Where do you want me to sit? We’re in a public bathroom.”

“Jesus, Jungkook!” you groaned irritably. You were too tired to think of every little detail, every action, and reaction. You just wanted to take a nap on the plane. “I don’t care. Sit on the floor. Or on the toilet.”

“Neither seems sterile…”

“Good thing you didn’t get punched in the ass, then.”

He huffed but still went into one of the cubicles, lowered the toilet lid with a scrunched nose and sat down on it.

He leaned over to hold the door open with his hand until you entered a few minutes later. Before either of you could grasp how small the space was now that you were in the closed cubicle, you took out the antiseptic spray from your amateur medical kit and grabbed a cotton pad. By that point, Jungkook was too worried about what you’d do to think about how close you were.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked.

Concerned, he watched you pull a blue latex glove on one of your hands and spray the antiseptic into the air, aiming it at the floor to test it.

“No,” you admitted, taking a step towards him and stopping between his legs. With your gloved hand, you carefully peeled off the heavy band-aids from his face and tossed them into an empty plastic bag you’d brought for this specific purpose. “But neither did you when you picked a fight with Sid, so I think we’re even.”

He grimaced as the exposed lacerations on his skin immediately began to sting. “W-what makes you think I was the one who started that fight?”

“The fact that you won’t tell me what it was about,” you replied, bending your knees slightly to inspect his face. You were willing to help him look after his wounds, but changing the bandages was as far as you’d go—if he needed stitches, you’d drag him to the nearest emergency room.

“You know what it was about,” he mumbled, staring at the floor.

“I don’t.”

He didn’t want to say it. You knew he didn’t want to say it—that was why you were making him do it.

“It started about the bet,” he admitted finally. “But then he… said some things I didn’t like. Not that I liked what he said about the bet, either. But I got myself into that mess, so I—”

“What did he say?” you asked, interrupting his diversion.

You covered his left eye with a cotton pad to protect it, shook the bottle of antiseptic a few times, and sprayed it on the exposed wounds.

Jungkook winced as he felt the stinging pain grow sharper. He clutched the lid of the toilet seat, forgetting all about how he’d avoided touching it before.

“Just… some bullshit about you,” he said through clenched teeth.

Surprised, you pulled back to look at him. “He said something about me?”

“Yeah. So I socked him in the cheek.”

You watched him for a quiet minute.

Honestly, if Sid had said something about you, you probably would have punched him yourself if Jungkook hadn’t. But the way Jungkook phrased this—and this whole situation, in general—was so ridiculous that you had to bite the inside of your cheek to maintain a straight face.

“In the mouth,” you corrected. “Or so I hear.”

Jungkook couldn’t subdue the smile on his lips at the amusement that you tried very hard to hide. So, you knew about Sid’s tooth then.

“That was after he wouldn’t stop talking,” he said.

“Ah. Well,” you returned to work and gently patted his cheek with the cotton pad to remove the excess antiseptic, “I appreciate you defending my honour.”

“You don’t sound like it.”

You scoffed. “What do you want me to do? Jump on your white horse and ride off into the sunset with you?”

The light-hearted tone of your voice suddenly amplified your close proximity—he felt his legs tremble slightly as you stood between them to reach his face better. He wanted to reach out and wrap himself around you, to thank you, and to apologise again.

Instead, he cleared his throat and lowered his gaze.

“Well, that’d be nice,” he muttered. Then, added louder, “or, at the very least, you could stop burning me.”

“I’m disinfecting,” you said as you leaned in again, checking if the spray had absorbed into his bruises yet. His breath caught in his throat. You added, “I think.”

Jungkook didn’t think he’d ever felt a longing so intense that it could overshadow all physical pain.

“You think,” he repeated breathlessly. “Th—that’s reassuring.”

“It’s what my mum used to use when my brother and I would get cuts or scratches, and things like that,” you explained defensively. “Of course, this is hardly a scratch in your case, but I have nothing better to offer.”

He didn’t mean to come across as accusatory. He didn’t know what he was saying at all. You still smelled like apples. He was afraid he would pass out.

“This is fine,” he said.

He knew that you were already doing more than your job description entailed and your personal relationship permitted, and he was grateful for it. He hadn’t meant to cause you any additional problems, and he wanted to inform you of the steps he’d taken to fix the ones he’d already caused.

He waited until you had finished searching through your medical kit before speaking again.

“I, um—I banned Sid from Rated Riot shows,” he said.

You turned to look at him so quickly that a tired muscle in your neck spasmed in protest. “What?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Mick will take care of it if he shows up.”

“Mick—you banned Sid?”

“I banned Sid,” he repeated slowly, giving you a minute to process the news. “It’s done. I don’t—I never should have brought him to Europe with me.”

You straightened and attempted to compose yourself, but your mind was suddenly bombarding you with question marks and software errors every time you tried to form a coherent thought.

“Well, that’s—that’s right,” you finally said, clearing your throat. “And it’s about time you realised that.”

You didn’t know what else to say. Congratulating him right now, considering the repercussions of his last confrontation with Sid, seemed in poor taste.

Not to mention, you were a little confounded. After your last argument outside the bus, you’d expected a lot of drunk nights and a lot of new mayhem that you would have to put back in order. You weren’t expecting mature decisions.

Jungkook didn’t notice the utter shock in your voice, however, because his pulse tried to deafen him with a dreadful paranoia, telling him that this was too little and too late.

Notenough-notenough-notenough, the beat of his heart echoed in his ears.

“I know,” Jungkook said, louder than he’d intended. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

You pulled out a new cotton pad and mumbled something under your breath.

Jungkook gazed up at you as you hovered over him with your medical kit. “Can I—can I ask you something, though?”

You gently wiped the side of his temple where the antiseptic had dripped, all while trying to calm down the chaos in your mind. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Reconnaissance?”

There was a long pause as you returned to your kit—more for the purpose of giving yourself some time to think rather than out of necessity.

“I don’t know,” you finally said. “I wasn’t seriously considering it, and it never came up in a casual conversation.”

“We spent three days in Amsterdam, just the two of us,” he said. “How could it not come up?”

You gave him a look. “Really? You think you can ask me that when you knew—and participated—in the bet for weeks before telling me about it?”

Jungkook looked down. “It wasn’t weeks...”

“Well, fantastic.”

Unsettled by your sarcasm, he added, “and I told you, eventually.”

“No, I actually guessed it before you told me,” you said with one hand on your hip as you gazed at the restroom wall behind him, deep in thought. “I told you that you were only acting like that because of some external force. And you really were doing it to win a—”

“No.” He shook his head so fiercely that you almost worried he’d injure himself more. “The bet gave me a push. But I wanted you all along, and—”

“No,” you disagreed, turning away to throw the used cotton pads into the plastic bag. “You—just—just don’t.”

He already knew that this would be the wrong thing to say before he even said it. He simply couldn’t control himself—but he tried to now.

“I’m just—I’m trying to say that this hurt me, too,” he said slowly. “You’re—you might leave to work with a different band. A-and I was the only one who didn’t know about that.”

“I—”

“I know,” he continued louder, “that this is not the same as what I did. It’s not even close. But I still—I feel like this should have been something you talked to me about.”

You sighed and grabbed a glass bottle of iodine-based ointment from your bag. “It probably was.”

“Are you really considering it?” he asked. “Leaving, I mean.”

So much had changed since you told Maggie and Luna that you’d stay, and repeated the same to Yoongi and Namjoon.

All you could say to Jungkook now was a dejected, “I don’t know.”

The tight grip of pain around his chest did not ease, but he didn’t expect it to. Not yet, at least.

“I’m truly sorry,” he said, lifting his gaze. Both of you quickly averted your eyes as if the eye contact burnt. “For this and… for everything.”

You nodded in acknowledgement of the apology but did not reply to it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Reconnaissance,” you said instead. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

He nodded back and you continued to work in silence. You were glad that your current task required your full attention, so you did not have to linger on how wounded he looked—not just physically, but somehow intrinsically, too. If you glanced at him, all the tears and cuts and bruises on his heart would have been as visible as they were on his face.

You applied the ointment to his temple now that the antiseptic had dried—and Jungkook clenched his teeth again, keeping the painful hiss contained. The ointment was probably excessive, and it might dye his skin an odd shade of purple, but you didn’t know what else to do.

When you looked closer, his cuts didn’t appear deep enough to require stitches, so all you could do at the moment was ensure they didn’t become infected – and this questionable procedure should have accomplished that.

You pressed some gauze to the more severe wounds and bandaged them—as much as you could. You used smaller band-aids for the less serious cuts. Then, you stepped back to look.

This would need work. He looked like he slammed the side of his head into a wall and a toddler had attempted to provide first aid.

“This should hold for now before I come up with something else,” you said. “I have to go. I’ll need to find a way to incorporate this,” you gestured around his face, “into your look for tomorrow’s show.”

You turned to push the cubicle door open, then stopped short when you felt his cold, tentative fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Wait,” he said, releasing your hand as soon as he noticed you looking down at his grip. “Just… just tell me what’s going to happen.”

“With your face?” you asked with a confused frown. “It’s going to hurt for a while probably, but it—”

“With us,” he cut you off.

You looked away, maintaining your posture even as your heart refused to listen to your mind and proceeded to pound furiously in your chest.

“There’s no ‘us’,” you said.

“You can’t say that.” He stood up and suddenly reduced the empty space between you in the cubicle. “Not after everything that happened.”

‘Everything that happened’ seemed to have a bitter flavour—he could see the distaste on your face as your tongue prodded your cheek.

“It was obviously a mistake,” you said.

You remembered it all, you knew what it meant. But you didn’t want to trust any of the moments in your memory.

Jungkook could taste your bitterness in his own mouth.

You added ruthlessly, “and it’s over.”

“What’s over?” he asked. He tried to place a hand on his hip, but his trembling fingers slid down his hoodie and his hand dropped to his side.

“Whatever this is,” you said, and each of your following words felt like a new scratch deep inside of him. “Whatever you were doing to win your bet, and whatever I was stupidly playing along with.”

There was nothing but a few breaths separating the two of you in this cubicle, yet you may as well have been in a different orbit entirely. Desperate, Jungkook raised his hands to the back of his head and intertwined his fingers.

“I wasn’t—it wasn’t because of the bet,” he protested—not for the first time. With one more shake of your head, you turned around and pushed the door of the cubicle open. “Look, wait! I’m sorr—”

“It’s over, Jungkook,” you said, pausing halfway. “Stop.”

“How can it—I don’t—just—just tell me this one thing, okay? Before you go,” he pleaded, following you out of the cubicle and watching you toss your medical kit into your carry-on.

There was a hint of sadness in your eyes when you looked up. “What?”

“If there was no bet, wou—would you have agreed to be with me again?”

Your pulse reverberated in your mind, shrieking and piercing, as you shook your head and turned away.

“If there was no bet,” you said, “you wouldn’t have even wanted to be with me again.”

For a minute, you both watched the floor in thick, pain-coated silence. It consumed you, this otherworldly quietness—your thoughts stilled, even your bodies seemed to pause and wait.

That wasn’t true, Jungkook wanted to say—and should have said. But he was so tired of saying things and having to defend them, to prove he meant them.

He wondered if there was anything he could say to you from this point on that you would believe. He loved you so much—he’s never loved anyone else, the very idea of it did not seem possible—yet he made you think he wasn’t serious.

He watched you leave—again—and felt his chest shrink to accommodate the slowing of his heartbeat—again, again—as he struggled to inhale, let alone open his mouth—again, again, again—realising, slowly, that there might not be enough words in existence to fix this.

“I love you,” he still tried, but the restroom door had already closed and he wasn’t sure if you’d heard him. Or if it made a difference if you did.

There was something very ironic about the plans you had for the rest of the day once the plane landed in Manchester.

The concert was originally scheduled for tomorrow, but the venue had suffered a flood from a broken pipe a few nights ago, causing everything that the organisers had promised you to be ruined. They tried to fix it, but they needed some more time. You found out on the plane that the concert would have to be postponed until the day after tomorrow.

To make matters worse, Ren, the bassist of Poison Tongue—Rated Riot’s opening act—had broken his foot at the airport (you were afraid to ask how) and was hospitalised, rendering the band incapable of performing. You needed to find a replacement on extremely short notice.

This was a crisis, but only another one of many. You hadn’t slept at all on the plane, but despite your pounding headache, you were grateful for a chance to keep busy, and you had a precise plan of action.

You would find the venue staff and direct them to Seokjin—after checking if Seokjin was even here.

Next, you would make sure the equipment arrived safely and unpacking it at the damaged venue did not pose any risk to your team.

After that, you would seek Maggie’s help with an online ad for a new opening act.

Then, you would call the label and sweet-talk them before the inevitable black-eye pictures.

You would also devise a plan to handle the aforementioned black eye, which, hopefully, will have improved by the time of the concert.

And, most importantly, you would avoid Jungkook.

Really, the plan was almost foolproof. You figured your to-do list would continue to expand, even after you completed certain tasks, so you essentially had no chance of being left alone with your thoughts or accidentally running into him.

But then, on your way out of the band’s dressing room, you noticed that your surroundings were spinning more than usual. It happened occasionally, this abrupt lightheadedness after you stood up too quickly. But this time, it persisted even after you crossed the corridor.

You tried to tell yourself that this wasn’t anything new, you were just overwhelmed. This had to be the stress—you hadn’t slept and you had so much to do that it was normal to feel dizzy.

You kept walking. Until you had to trace your hand along the patterns of the wallpaper on the wall to stay steady. Until the edges of your vision blurred. Until the wet floorboards beneath your feet wobbled. Until the room grew dark.

You thought you could feel yourself leaning against the wall and slowly lowering your body to the floor. You thought you could feel the damp floor under your fingertips. You thought you could hear someone’s voice in the distance.

For a split moment before you collapsed, it occurred to you that you were really very tired. And that Jungkook had warned you about having another fainting spell if you weren’t careful.

But then your heart rate restricted the flow of blood to your brain, and there was not a single conscious thought left in your vacant mind.

As it happened sometimes—coincidences, unless you treated them as signs—Jungkook was the one who found you.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “blood sport”

prev ○ next

410 notes · View notes

kalki-tarot · 7 months

Text

Your Future spouse's First Impression of you

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Pick a pile <3

1 - 2 - 3

4 - 5 - 6

Disclaimer — The images I used to select a pile were sourced from Pinterest, I hope the reading will resonate with you. I'm not responsible for any decisions you make in your life from my readings. I'm just a beginner and these readings are just for fun.

Check masterlist for more !

Pile 1

Wheel of fortune, 9 of cups, two of cups, king of wands, ace of swords, king of pentacles, the emperor, bottom of deck 3 of swords.

When this person sees you for the first time, they'll feel an instant connection with you.

This person sees you as their wish come true. They might feel that you are someone who's in a stable position in life. Your calm face and demeanour stands out the most to them.

You are a balanced person in their eyes. They might want to partner up with you.

I'm sensing masculine energy within you, regardless of gender. You seem confident and firm to them.

They see you have a lot of clarity in life. You are someone who has fresh ideas and perspectives about things in life.

They might also see you as someone financially independent, who stands on their own feet.

They can sense your dominating aura. They may also see you as a family oriented person. The provider in the family.

Regardless of what you show outside, you also have a side of you which dwells in pain and longs for understanding. They do notice that. And will be very understanding and patient with you.

Pile 2

10 of cups, 8 of wands, death, 10 of swords rx, two of swords, the hermit, 7 of swords, the lovers

They wanna start a family with you instantly the moment they see you because you provide them emotional fulfillment in some way.

They might be struggling with some betrayal or ex cheated on them or something painful like that. But they are moving on / have move on from that situation or thing in their life. They are recovering from their wounds.

They might be indecisive whether to move forward with your or not. They might second guess things with you due to their past heartbreaks.

They need some deep, introspective time for themselves to reflect within.

They are still hurt from what went wrong in their past so they have trust issues and might not even trust you in the beginning.

They will act strategically with you. They don't wanna hurt themselves again.

Don't worry the lovers came out right now as I clarified things. They would want a romantic relationship with you. They would like to offer you things. They do see you as a marriage material.

They are walking away from the things that don't serve them anymore.

Pile 3

Temperance, the magician, 9 of pentacles, king of pentacles, the hanged man, 10 of swords, 3 of swords, 2 of pentacles

They will think that you are so balanced. A perfect balance of everything. Like you can be the cutest and the sexiest both.

They would be tempted by you, of course, and they will surely start manifesting you after you meet.

The 9 and king of pentacles tells me that either they are very rich and abundant or they'll find you rich and abundant in your lives.

Maybe they noticed your branded purse or something.

They'd be stuck by your beauty like they won't be able to take their eyes off you. Whoever chose this pile is very gorgeous for sure!

They might be stuck at some past heartbreak or betrayal the time they meet you.

They might be in a painful situation that's getting on their nerves constantly. Maybe it's due to finances?

They would see you someone who manages a lot of things or has a lot of responsibilities at a time.

They notice you juggling between things but still not losing your balance.

Pile 4

They'd see you as a powerful combination of ambition and practicality. They'd think you are a successful yet peacful person. Quite occupied in your own business, not really involved in other's drama.

They would also see you someone who is very creative and spontaneous. Very passionate to create new things.

They themselves would feel inspired or intimidated by you and your bold and direct personality.

They'd think that you are someone who was wronged in the past which led to you being all broken and shattered. But you got yourself up on your feet and now you are reaping the benefits of your own hardwork and patience. You are a self made queen / king in their eyes.

They'd be shy or hesitant to approach you first but the divine will do justice to you both.

The divine timing and play is at action and you two will eventually get dating or in a relationship.

They see you as someone they can spend their whole life with.

Pile 5

You both are divinely connected to eachother, on a deeper soul level.

They'll notice your need of balance in life. It feels as if they can see right through you. They give me psychic vibes or you are one.

I can sense a feeling of being trapped and limiting thoughts and actions. Both of you were heartbroken in the past. There were some situations out of you both's hands.

But you need to face pain to undergo some realizations about yourself, your divine purpose and connection.

It feels as if they can sense your heartbreak. They feel as if you've gone through a big transformation in life.

They feel you know a lot about life, you've gone through a lot of things in life.

They see you as someone brave who's fought through life's circumstances and has become what you are now!

They see you as a wife/husband material but also someone they can start a business with.

You have that business and logical mind as well as your intuition with you.

They dont want to load you up with a lot of responsibility as you already have much though.

975 notes · View notes

leathfaic · 1 year

Text

Ghost's and Soap's courting behaviour must've been a fucking trip to witness from an outside perspective. Like yeah they are flirting over comms without abandon, but in person it probably took them a while to get that comfortable (emotionally repressed as they both are in their own ways.) We get a glimpse during the Prison Break where Ghost is definitely showing off and Soap is absolutely smitten.

But it probably continues like that for a while. Ghost sniping, knifing, just continuously showing off extremely controlled violence to Soap's praise. Stunned and flustered that he found someone he can impress with all the ways he knows to kill a person. Wipes his bloody knife with a stupid little grin on his face that almost hurts because he's not used to it.

All the while he's absolutely fawning over Soap's demolition skills. Soap who will level a fucking building with nearly superhuman precision just to get Ghost to compliment him for it. Beaming like he just won a competition every time Simon has a nice word or two to spare for him, ash and dust still settling in the background.

Johnny who pushes himself in the gym when Simon is there: perfect form, keeping repetitions going only to nearly collapse on Gaz when Ghost leaves the room.

Ghost who gets extra gruff and showy in his authority over other soldiers when Soap is around, unconsciously wanting the other to know what a good CO he is. That he's great at being a soldier all around. And who fucking smiles under the mask when Soap shoots him an adoring look.

It's like two very confused and violent teenagers dancing around each other, both are intimated by their feelings for each other, but not enough to let it rest. Both desperately want to leave a good impression. Both too manly and gruff to do something about it at first, too afraid to be rejected to risk a confession.

The general sentiment on base once they get it sorted and finally get together is a huge "Thank fuck, took them long enough!" because it was getting annoying, but its not like anyone was about to call the fucking Ghost out on his antics. And while Soap might have been called out it certainly didn't stop him from acting a fool the moment Simon Riley enters a room.

Now there's some peace and quiet on base, we'll mostly, unless you have to room next to either of them...

#they are both absolute pros at flirting until they have to look at each other #if they do they are just helpless idiots #they get better tho #still helplessly in love but at least learn to communicate it #probably prices work in the background because he's sick of the peacocking #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #soapghost #cod mwii #johnny soap mactavish #cod #cod hc #captain john price #cod mw2

1K notes · View notes

wilbursoot-updates · 8 months

Text

Lovejoy are your new indie-punk obsession

Lovejoy is in this article!

There’s an undeniable link between Lovejoy and the internet, not only because the band’s reputation and success were built digitally, but due to the platform that frontman Will Gold had built from his streaming days. There, Gold developed a devoted fanbase and gained the trust and admiration of people who enjoyed who he was as a person. Gold then started premiering his original solo work on his Twitch channel, dipping his toes into the music scene while remaining afloat in his streaming career. Eventually, he founded Lovejoy.

But Lovejoy are so much more than Gold and his Twitch platform — it’s a combination of people and different tastes in music, perspectives, and understandings. Each member plays a pivotal role in the band, outside of playing instruments. “We’re all pooling different batches of influences. None of us like the same music,” bassist Ash Kabosu explains. The hardcore influence comes from Kabosu and drummer Mark Boardman and their desire for ��more moshing” at their shows, whereas the love of funk-pop stems from Gold and lead guitarist Joe Goldsmith, mixed with Gold’s mutual adoration for Arctic Monkeys from an early age. The band’s fun, friendly relationship with each other bleeds into the one they have with their fanbase.

It was the middle of the pandemic, and while the streets were empty, and the news played distantly in the background, something big was brewing in the U.K. During those quiet days, Lovejoy, a Brighton-based outfit, would emerge. With an intoxicating sound that channels alt-rockers Arctic Monkeys and the Killers, Lovejoy also incorporate elements of hardcore music throughout their tracks. In the band’s words, they “find the sounds that we like and then elevate those ideas.”

Playing under pseudonyms in undisclosed venues and working furiously in studios, they became Lovejoy. Gold and Goldsmith founded the band after meeting in another folk group. Kabosu was later recruited in a Smashburger, and Boardman was hired on Fiverr, before being asked to officially join. The chemistry was immediate, Kabosu explains, “The very first day all four of us were in one place was when we were recording [debut EP] Are You Alright?” Their sense of humor was identical, and they were on the same wavelength. With Gold’s memorable past as a streamer and an already dedicated legion of fans, Lovejoy quickly rose from the chaos of the pandemic.

After their experimentation with different pseudonyms, this year showcased their first shows as Lovejoy. With a U.K. tour during March and an impressive festival run from all over Europe to the US, totaling over 15 individual festivals, earlier this year, the band are gearing up to finish the year off with an EU/U.K. tour featuring Good Kid, an indie-rock band from Toronto. The tour has already sold out — and Lovejoy haven’t even released an album yet. “Hold your breath. It’ll be worth the wait,” Gold insists.

The excitement over this quartet is palpable, as their addictive rock blend consists of double-kick drums, chugging basslines, and smooth melodies. While Lovejoy are neither technically hardcore nor punk, they tap into heavier techniques due to Kabosu and Boardman’s interests in bands like Linkin Park and Bring Me The Horizon. Kabous found Linkin Park as a kid and was “mindblown,” “My friend Jamie had just gone on holiday to the States, and he came back, and he was losing his mind over this CD that he and his dad had bought. It was Linkin Park’s Hybrid Theory.” And has been influenced ever since.

Their latest EP, Wake Up & It’s Over, showcases a blend of upbeat, angsty emo and emotional indie-rock tracks. “It’s not intentional, and it’s not specific,” Kabosu remarks about the blend of genres. The first track on the record, “Portrait of a Blank Slate,” was originally written by Gold as a way to distract people from COVID-19 and other recent disasters. “I tend to write about what I’m feeling, and what I know. I think life is just poetry happening. All around, I see it more as a reflection,” he says. The moody, dark bass introduction to the song sets up for the four-to-the-floor kick drum, riding the high hats, and intense cymbal thrashing in their chorus. “Call Me What You Like” discusses the eggshells in the beginning stages of a relationship, where both are unsure of their emotional commitment. With Gold’s poetic songwriting, painting pictures and imagery to allude to the true meaning of his words, the tracks show that Lovejoy have an ear for good melodies. “I think it’s just stuff that’s innate in us,” Kabosu elaborates. “Because it’s all that some of us listen to on a day-by-day basis.”

Yet, only two months before the release of Wake Up & It’s Over, Lovejoy released a record under the alias Anvil Cat. The EP, which featured rerecordings of songs off 2021’s Are You Alright?, was a forewarning, juxtaposing, the quiet, delicate nature of Anvil Cat’s EP and the crash and bang of their upcoming project. “At the time, we were about to release our third EP,” Kabosu explains. “We were building anticipation for that and getting people excited, teasing bits here and there. I felt like it would be a weird step to drop an acoustic EP.” But it was beyond just that acoustic EP — it’s for the future. “It’s nice for us to have this additional moniker, which is a separate entity, where if we wanted to try something a little bit different or make acoustic songs, we can put it over there,” he adds.

The relationship the band held with their fans was once considered unheard of. Consistently reaching out and engaging with their fanbase, realizing the power of their fanbase’s “clever” and “quick” intelligence and passion, and rewarding them with puzzles and QR codes — it’s all there if the fans choose. Anvil Cat’s acoustic EP is just an extension of that. “It’s for the people who are die-hard fans and really want to hear everything we do. It’s there for them,” Kabosu says. In modern times, that kind of friendly, open relationship between artists and their fans is common — something that was unachievable 20 years ago.

With a dedicated legion of fans already stacked in Lovejoy’s corner, developing during the midst of the pandemic, they’re barreling toward a future full of investigative fan interactions and shows around the world. COVID tested the band, and now, the positive outcome is touring the world.

#wilbur soot #lovejoy #ash kabosu #mark boardman #joe goldsmith #articles

412 notes · View notes

aphpuffinchild · 3 months

Text

since it's out i can finally post my piece for @hws-anthology as well as the timelapse for it. as is arguably all my hetalia work, it's a love letter to my friend @pyrrhocorax 's fic Sendlingur og Sandlóa - i'll ramble a bit about how much it means to me, as well as the symbolism i wormed into this piece below the read more :)

i originally had two pages planned for this piece, potentially more - the fic is a good 74k words long and certainly not light on scenes i could and wanted to pull from, but various things led into other various things and one page was all i could manage, so i tried to cram in what i could, so here's that (in a rough, somewhat arbitrary order of focal points)

the opening chapter! the car is a framing device for the piece as much as it is for the journey the characters will take following that first chapter, so i wanted to use the car window/shapes as a literal framing device in my drawing

joi, shaky at best in his sense of self, sees no reflection in the window, instead there's a silhouetted raven to signify the search he must go on to find it

while not perfectly transcribed by virtue of wonky (plus an extra) line(s), the notes coming from joi's headphones are the opening to the song sendlingur og sandlóa, the fic's namesake, which a loved one kindly transposed by ear for me for the purpose of this piece

in a similar vein, the stickers on joi's suitcase are of a purple sandpiper and a ringed plover, the birds after which the song is named - here they are as transparents and in their original colours

i wanted to create a sliiight impression that joi is the one knocking over the chessboard, representing his repeated rejections of it (both physically, and the things it represents)

the chess pieces were also chosen specifically! originally i was going to use a black rook and a white pawn to match chapter 41, but for the sake of having alternating colours and the rest of my metaphors working (iirc) i swapped those colours around. that, and i wanted to match chapter 13's white king and black pawn - the black pawn stuck, the white king was colour swapped for colour cohesion reasons like the other's. (visual contrast was important to me, but the white queen blending slightly into the sky was okay for symbolism reasons) (there was also black king, white rook from chapter 3, so it all worked out anyway - there's a lot of chess in this story and i only had space for so many pieces and colours, basically)

speaking of which, the black pawn is for joi (chapter 13), the white queen is for halle (someone who, from joi's perspective, can go anywhere, vs joi's pawn, someone to be used -> see chapter 35 and perspective).

the king piece is falling (but hasn't quite fallen) between halle and henrik (chapter 3, 7, 13, though i most clearly thought of 19)

the person in the top right corner is eduard! i desperately wanted to include him because i think he's deserved it, and i considered a lot of ways of working him in, but i think an ambiguous silhouette that isn't Quite part of the main picture works better narratively

note also that he's separated from the other's through a red curtain, to represent the iron curtain (naturally) i wanted it to match ber + tino's part in some way, to sorta emphasise their similar foundations despite being split apart across places

the flowers at eduard's window are placed and chosen purposefully as well! orange/red zinnia's outside (for familial ties, steadfastness, friendship and remembrance) for what eduard puts out in to the world, then lily-of-the-valley for tino and cornflower for him inside to show what he wants to hold close :)

halle and joi are the only characters with their eyes open - halle looks towards the viewer/author/reader/joi, while joi looks away all together. if you've read the fic (which i assume you have because i can't imagine this is interested to read otherwise) you probably don't need me to explain why that reflects their roles in the story

similarly, every character apart from the brothers is turned towards another in some way (eduard does not count when his flowers do, and his role in the story is based around that disconnect partially anyway) tino towards ber and eduard (and hana, i guess), ber towards tino, henrik to halle, halle to henrik (though he looks away - his values are elsewhere even when they are together). joi, at best, looks at his own reflection in the window

the colour scheme, while arbitrarily picked from gradient maps based on what i felt "fit" has been approved by the author as being very "SoS core"

finally, the poem on the note, chapter 46

all that being said, i can and will now talk about my personal relationship with SoS, so unless that interests you i imagine the post is done now! thank you for reading :)

the first comment i posted on SoS is dated 2nd November 2016 - logging into my old account i can see i bookmarked it on the 31st August that same year, so i can safely assume i first read or at least found it then. a month after my first comment, i posted another on a different account, pouring a few bits of my heart out and the author responded! we went back and forth a bit and eventually talked (i think) via tumblr for a little, but the majority of our conversations were via skype for whatever reason (we didn't call, just texted). it was a lot of me looking for writing advice, insight to their work/process/skill, talking about The Brothers and talking about psychology/the brain on a general and personal level. i think if i read our conversations back now i'd cringe, given that i was an awkward, fumbling 16 year old, but i dont think anything else wouldve been fitting given the subject matter. eventually our conversations fizzled out and we stopped talking for years, but i'd go back to SoS routinely and cry.

in may of 2021, i posted another comment during what in hindsight was definitely another relatively minor mental health episode - i think it was half trying to emphasise how important the work was to me on the off chance pyrr saw it, and half a bid for connection since i had no idea if they even remembered us talking. i assumed nothing would come of it, and for about a year that was true - until pyrr responded after all in february of 2022 - i'm happy to say we've been talking consistently on discord since then. i feel a little weird speaking too intimately about our friendship as it is now since it's not just my story to tell (though pyrr, if you're reading this) (i'm sure you are at some point) (you're welcome to talk about it however, i just didn't want to without consulting you) but i can say with some certainty that it's at least a little bit my fault that we have a sequel now - cementing my place as official number #1 fan and validating the me from almost 8 years ago in a way i don't think either of us processes well.

it's here that i feel the need to talk about my other dear friend, @hws-lceland , who i'm grateful to have met through the zine's discord server. i'm sure they're reading this too, and a lot of what our relationship means to me is stuff that's probably a bit too vulnerable for either of us to speak publicly, but i *can* say that i love them very much, and i'm really grateful to have someone else to understand, and that he read SoS for me. i thought he needed it, and i hope i was right

sendlingur is...endlessly important to me. i'm aiming to not write an essay here (a goal i think i've already sorta shot in the foot) but i think it's important for me to talk about some of this a little loudly, all the same. my writing has changed because of the series - remeeting with pyrr and showing them some of my more recent work was interesting since it was apparent even to them the influences i'd taken (to be fair, in one section i explicitly asked and did borrow a format of theirs, but this goes beyond that). when i was 16 i asked my mum to read the fic in a desperate bid to be understood. i've cried reading the fic many, many times. i've signed off letters and poems with my switched around version of i'm sorry / thank you / i love you (i swap the first two around) many, many, many times, including in a close friend's wedding gift. SoS has very sincerely changed my definition of love. the name halle is a part of my abstract mindscape. id already considered changing my name to johannes anyway and this fic certainly didnt help. i've gained a friendship of 7 and a half years through it. i've gained another newer one now, too. i am not well. i wasn't well then, reading it, and it hasn't fixed me (i am worse, now, arguably), but it healed something, or at least made me feel understood. i could go on, and maybe sometime i will (there were so many things i wanted to include in my piece and pay homage to!), but for now i will thank anyone who took the time to read all this (again), and say that i look forward to experiencing the sequel

as always, i'm sorry, thank you, i love you

#hetalia #hetalia nordics #hws iceland #hws norway #hetalia iceland #hetalia norway #hetalia denmark #hetalia sweden #hws sweden #hws estonia #hetalia estonia #hetalia finland #hws finland

217 notes · View notes

the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 9 months

Text

Rain-Soaked Kisses

Ship: Steve Harrington x fem!Mayfield!reader

Summary: Steve hates storms but loves the rain—just another oxymoron of his life, like the secret the kids are trying so very hard to dig up.

Word Count: 6,582 words

Warnings: fluff!!!, sappy & romantic Steve, scheming Dustin & Max, healthy Mayfield sibling relationship, Billy mention, lumax sprinkles, secret relationship, friends to lovers, byler sprinkles, jancy sprinkles

Note: Told in part from the perspective of the kids! Written because it's storming where I am, and I love this weather so much.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

"Who could he possibly be dating? There's not a girl in Hawkins that wants to go out with him!"

"Well, clearly one of them does!"

Dustin sighed, taking in Max's exclamation. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. Steve had stopped complaining about bad dates and girls who left quickly; Robin reported he'd completely stopped talking about Leah and Heidi and Helen and the five other girls he'd been on-and-off again with; he walked around with a dopey, happy smile on his face all the time; and he was less and less reliable for rides, instead going on dates with a girl who's name he always pretended to forget.

As impossible as the idea seemed, Dustin had to admit it was a logical conclusion.

But who?

"Robin?" Max suggested.

Dustin shook his head. "Impossible. Steve steadfastedly refuses to date her. It's not Nancy again, is it?"

"Nope—saw her with Jonathan yesterday." Max huffed a sigh. "Maybe we have to...think outside the box more?"

"Who's outside the box? Who hasn't he already tried to date and failed miserably at dating?" Dustin demanded.

Max was silent for a moment too long. Then she said, "Alright, I don't know. I can't think of anyone who would actually go out with him."

"Exactly, neither can I," Dustin said. "We've got to watch him. We need to know who this is."

~❊~

But tracking Steve and his mystery girl down was much, much harder than either Dustin or Max had anticipated.

Without Steve driving them around, getting around town took twice as long as it needed, either in the attempts to find someone to drive them or in walking themselves everywhere. Nancy was either busy or with Jonathan most of the time, which ruled out Jonathan as well, and Robin still didn't have her license.

During yet another slow afternoon of trying and failing to put together the pieces of where Steve was going and with who, the phone rang. Dustin and Max both looked up quickly, scrambling over furniture and Dustin's new cat to beat each other to the phone.

Dustin got to it first. "Hello?"

"Hey, Dustin? It's Robin."

"Yeah, I know it's you, Robin, I can recognize your voice."

"Now's your chance."

"What?"

"Steve just left work—he said he's going on a date. Now's your chance to go find out who he's going out with!"

"Oh, shit!" Dustin turned to Max. "Steve's going on a—"

"I heard," she said. "Does she know where he's going?"

"Where's he going, Robin, did he say?"

"A restaurant, and he changed into a really nice outfit before he left here. And by nice, I mean really nice. Like fanciest restaurant in town kind of nice. Whoever this girl is, he really wants to impress her. And he's obsessed with her, too, he's been smiling all day from excitement."

Dustin scoffed. "And you didn't call us before he left?! Now we have to find out where he's going and how to get there!"

"Well, it's not like I could call you talk about him in front of him! Besides, we do know where he's going. What's the fanciest restaurant in town?"

"Enzo's," Dustin realized. "That's where he's taking her."

"I can guarantee it. If you go to Enzo's, he's going to be there. I'd go myself, but Steve and I'll both get fired if at least one of us isn't at the store right now."

"Thanks, Robin!"

"Good luck, guys!"

Dustin turned around to give Max the details, but she cut him off. "I heard. Enzo's."

"All we have to do is catch them in the middle of their date, and we know exactly who Steve's dating," Dustin said with a grin. "Easy!"

"Yeah, easy," Max snarked. "How are we supposed to get there?"

Dustin paused before he sighed. "Start calling everyone we know with a car, I guess."

Max rolled her eyes. "Like that'll ever work. Nobody's been willing to drive us around so far!"

"Can't hurt to try," Dustin insisted.

"No, Dustin, we'll be wasting time! We should just start walking now!"

But Dustin was already dialing the number to the Wheelers' house. It was answered by Mrs. Wheeler.

"Hello, Karen Wheeler speaking!"

"Hi, Mrs. Wheeler, could I talk to—"

"MIKE!" Dustin flinched at the volume from the other end. Max cringed, hearing the shout from where she stood. "Dustin's on the phone!"

A few seconds later, Dustin heard Mike's voice. "Yeah?"

"Is Nancy there?"

Dustin could see Mike's frown. "What do you want Nancy for?"

"Mike, I don't have time for this—"

"What. For? If this is Keith trying to get a date with her again, I swear that I'll—"

"Oh my God, Mike, no! Steve's going on a date and we need to catch him to figure out who he's going out with! We need Nancy to drive us there."

"Dustin, do you realize how idiotic that sounds? Nancy's not gonna drive you to go spy on her ex and his new girlfriend!" Mike hung up without another word.

Groaning, Dustin tried to call again, but he was met only with the dial tone.

Max rolled her eyes. "I told you it wouldn't work."

"I'm calling the Byers," Dustin grumbled. He dialed the number, but when Joyce picked up, she was talking to someone else in the house and by the time Dustin had gotten out "Is Jonathan there?" he heard the click of the receiver being put back.

"Try my sister," Max said.

Dustin dialed the number to Max's trailer, but no one answered. He shook his head.

"She's probably out running," Max sighed.

"Another run? Isn't that all she does now?" Dustin asked with a frown.

Max shrugged. "She says it helps her...deal with things."

Dustin sensed a can of worms—the kind that most people would avoid, the kind that Max clearly wanted to talk about anyway. So he asked it, when most people wouldn't. "Things?"

Max nodded slowly. "Yeah. You know...the Upside Down, Eddie..." She hesitated. "Billy."

Dustin glanced down at his feet. There was blood associated with all of those memories. He knew they plagued all of them, those who'd survived Vecna and his creatures, and he knew that they all had different ways of coping. Dustin's was research, Max's was music, yours was running.

"She's more like him than she wants to admit," Max said. "At least, she is with the running. Billy, he...he used to exercise to distract himself. She runs."

"Is that a bad thing?" Dustin asked.

"No, it's just... She needs someone in her corner is all. And I don't...I don't think that person is me anymore."

Dustin's heart squeezed in his chest. "Max..."

She shook off his concern. "Come on—we'd better start walking, or we're never going to make it to Enzo's on time!"

~❊~

It started to rain halfway through their walk to Enzo's.

The storm didn't start gently. There was no warning before it started to pour, no flash of lightning or boom of thunder. Just a steady downpour, hard and fast and painful against the skin.

Dustin and Max hid from the weather as much as they could, ducking under store awnings and hiding under outdoor umbrellas as they came across them.

After getting turned around at least twice, they spotted the restaurant's glowing sign. They ran toward it, stopping at the bay windows peering in. They scanned the tables inside. From the parking lot behind them, there was laughter and the slamming of car doors.

"Do you see them?" Dustin hissed. He looked at every face he saw, overanalyzing the back of every head that looked like it might be Steve.

"Are we sure they're still there?" Max said. "It's been, what, almost an hour and a half? Who eats for that long?"

Dustin shrugged. "Enzo's is a fancy place, they've got designated courses and shit. They could still be there."

A car engine revved. "Are you sure?" Max took Dustin by the shoulders and spun him around. "Is it just me, or does that look like—"

"Steve's car!" Dustin hissed. "Shit!"

They raced after it in the rain, Dustin catching sight of Steve through the driver's side window, his hair perfect and a huge grin on his face.

"Is he wearing a suit jacket?" Max asked.

"Did you see who was in the passenger's seat?" Dustin demanded.

Max didn't answer, still staring after the car, her face fixed into confusion.

"Max?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I...I couldn't tell who it was."

Dustin groaned. "Shit! That was our one chance!"

"We'll get another one," Max snapped. "He's been going on dates a lot, right? Robin said so, and he's always gone because he's been on a date. He'll go on another one with her soon."

Dustin sighed. "Good point. Now we just have to wait. Come on—we should call Robin."

~❊~

Max walked home in the rain by herself, hearing her mother fuss that she would get a cold if she kept walking around in the rain without a jacket, but not caring. Louder than her mother's voice was El's: friends don't lie.

Should Max have told Dustin what—who—she saw in Steve's car? Or the fact that she'd seen them going into Steve's burgundy BMW in the parking lot while he'd been focused on the store?

No.

Yes?

It was too late now. Besides, was she absolutely sure of who she'd seen?

Well, yes, she knew you better than anyone. You'd been by her side her entire life. There were pictures hanging in the trailer of Mom in the hospital bed after she'd given birth to Max, but it was you who was holding her, sitting in the plastic chair next to the bed.

The lights of the trailer were on when Max reached it, but only your car was in the driveway.

She pushed the door open. "Hey, I'm home!"

You poked your head out of the door to your bedroom. Your hair was just as drenched and stringy as her own. "Max! There you are, I was worried— Why are you soaking wet?"

"I walked home," she said, shrugging.

You hurried out of your room. "Come on, we need to get you out of those clothes. Mom will kill us both if she finds out we've both been out in the rain in the wrong kind of clothes."

"Where were you?" Max asked as you brought her into the bathroom.

You glanced up at her but didn't meet her eyes. "You couldn't get a ride home?" You left her in the bathroom, running into her room to grab her some dry clothes.

"No—Steve's the only one who will drive us anywhere, and he's unavailable most of the time."

Guilt flashed over your face. Max narrowed her eyes, watching you closely. You didn't seem to notice. "We'll tell Mom we took showers if she gets back before our hair dries." You paused. "You could have called me, you know."

"I did," she said. "You didn't answer."

Your face fell. "Max, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"Are you dating Steve?"

The question stopped you in your tracks. "Max, I..."

"Are you?"

You sighed, wiping a a hand over your face. You sighed. "Yeah."

Max sighed. "Hand me a towel, please." You did so silently, taking one of your own to towel-dry your hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You shrugged. "At first, I wasn't sure if it was a good idea. I mean... I knew I liked Steve, but his track record with girls hasn't been good lately, and I..." You sighed. "I wanted reassurance he wouldn't be gone after a week."

"And after that?"

You groaned, putting your head in your hands. "This is...gonna sound stupid, but... Steve has been everything for you guys. For you, for Dustin, for El, everybody. He's saved you countless times, I watched him stand up to our brother to protect us, even though Billy beat him bloody for it. I didn't...I didn't want to feel like I was taking him away from you all, but I also...kind of wanted him to myself sometimes. And he seemed to want time alone for the two of us, too, so..." You looked up at Max. "And I didn't...want you to feel like I was taking away from you. After Billy..." Your voice caught in your throat.

There it was again. The silence that surrounded death.

"Died," Max whispered. "After he died."

You nodded. "After he died, I know Steve kind of...stepped up for you. I didn't want you to feel like he cared less about you just because I was in the picture now." You laughed shakily. "I know that kind of, uh, backfired. I'm sorry to keep him away from you guys for so long."

Max shook her head. "Stop apologizing for wanting someone that's yours." She breathed out a laugh. "I was just telling Dustin that you needed someone in your corner. I should have known it would be Steve. I mean, he's always been there for the rest of us, why wouldn't he be there for you?"

You looked over at Max. "Just how mad is Dustin that I'm dating Steve?"

"He doesn't know," Max said. "We've been trying to figure out who Steve's mystery girl is for months. He won't tell anybody, so Dustin wanted to try and see if we could figure it out ourselves." She glanced at you. "We saw you guys last night. At Enzo's. Or rather, I saw you. Dustin was too busy trying to peer inside the restaurant to even notice Steve's car."

You made a face. "How can you not notice Steve's car? It's a burgundy BMW for Christ's sake."

"I know!" Max giggled.

You laughed with her for a minute. The lightness in her voice—it had been a while since you'd heard her laugh like that.

After a moment, you said, "So...nobody else knows that it's me Steve is dating?"

Max shook her head. "Not even Robin."

You whistled. "I'm surprised Steve's capable of keeping a secret from her. It's gotta be killing him, I just know it." You giggled. "However...we could have some fun with this."

Max raised her eyebrows.

"If Dustin wants to know who's Steve's dating, he can keep digging as much as he wants." You grinned. "That's gotta be amusing, surely?"

~❊~

The storm that had swept in over a week ago had lasted the whole week, turning Hawkins into a mud patch and its roads into rivers. It let up briefly, leaving behind perfect spring days, only to return with a vengeance the next week—randomly on a Thursday afternoon.

Thursdays had become movie nights at Steve's house, and Dustin had concocted a plan to trick Steve into telling him who he was dating.

Max knew it wasn't gonna work. She had been present when you told Steve about Dustin's snooping and the both of you had decided to continue yanking Dustin's chain. Steve had seemed more excited about it than even you had.

While Steve set up his house for the group of rambunctious teenagers for movie night, Dustin explained his plan to Max in whispers.

"So, I'm going to try talking about Suzie for the first few hours," Dustin started, watching Steve like a hawk while he moved about in the kitchen, making popcorn for the group. "Get him thinking about his own relationship, you know? And then you know how he gets—" He cut himself off abruptly when Steve came into the living room with bowls of popcorn, setting them on the coffee table.

"Any idea when your sister's supposed to be here, Max?" Steve asked. "I thought she was driving you."

Max shook her head. "She said she'd come after she got out of work, but I don't remember when her shift ended."

Steve nodded. He disappeared up the stairs in the next moment.

"You know how he gets when it gets late into the movie and its dark and he's focused?" Dustin continued, picking up immediately.

Max frowned. "Like when he's so focused on something you can ask him a question and he'll either go 'huh?' and make you repeat it or he'll just answer without thinking?"

"Exactly like that," Dustin said. "That's when I'm—"

Steve returned with a stack of blankets. "How many of us are there, again? Twelve?"

"Thirteen," Dustin and Max both said.

Steve tossed the blankets onto the couch. "Go grab five more. Up the stairs, closet on the left."

They went up the stairs, Dustin whispering again before they'd even reached the landing. "I'm gonna ask him who he's going out with when he's like that."

Max rolled her eyes. "You don't know that'll work. He could say 'huh?' and make you repeat the question, like I just said."

Dustin shrugged. "Then I'll ask him something different, wait a little bit longer, and then ask again. He can't do that the whole night. Can he?"

"How should I know?" Max picked up the blankets and started back downstairs. Steve was whistling in the kitchen. "This whole plan is so stupid, Dustin. It's hardly a plan!"

"Do you have a better idea?" he hissed.

Max stayed silent. Of course she had better ideas, but those might make Steve actually tell Dustin.

"That's what I thought," Dustin said, clearly on the wrong path. "We'll stick with my plan." He glanced at Steve's back in the kitchen. "Unless your sister knows who he's dating? They're pretty much best friends now, right?"

Max nodded. "Blame Robin for that," she said, praying her poker face held. "I don't think she knows. I can't see Steve telling her if he hasn't told Robin."

"Fair point," Dustin decided. "Even more reason to rely on my plan."

She rolled her eyes. "Your plan is just going to annoy him until he kicks you out of his house."

"He likes me too much," Dustin said, with confidence Max wasn't sure he should possess—not about this, at least.

When they reached the first floor again, Steve was pacing around the living room, double checking he had everything set up. Max had to admit she liked the set up he had for movie night: the coffee table was set up with bowls of popcorn and a drink tray, there was a cooler next to filled with water bottles and soda cans, he had dragged every pillow in the house to the couch and floor, a fluffy winter comforter spread out on the carpet to make the floor more comfortable, and an egregious number of bagged snacks in a wicker basket.

"I think we're all set, guys," Steve said, surveying the room with his hands on his hips.

As if cued by Steve's motherly behavior, the rain outside grew louder, falling fast against the AC unit in the window. Steve winced.

"Looks like we're going to have to have the volume up high to hear the movie over the storm," he said.

"What are we watching?" Dustin asked.

Steve shrugged. "I dunno. We've got a couple choices in that cabinet over there, plus the stuff Robin's bringing. I think Nance had a movie she wanted to suggest, too, but I can't remember what it was..." His eye caught on the stack of blankets, leaning down to count them.

Dustin dug through the movie cabinet. "Come on, Steve, what are these movies? Why are they all romantic comedies?"

"Because they're my mom's favorite, dipshit," Steve said with an affectionate roll of his eyes.

"There's nothing of value here!"

"Well, I'm not watching Star Wars again, so—"

"It was Star Trek last week!"

"Even worse." Steve looked up at Max and waved her over. She glanced at Dustin, but he was too busy judging Mrs. Harrington's taste in rom-coms to notice her get up.

"Would it be too obvious if I gave your sister my blanket? I miscounted and we're short one."

Max bit back a laugh. "I think Nancy might notice, Robin would definitely notice, but Dustin's still a little too oblivious for that."

Steve huffed a sigh. "Can't have one of them letting it slip. Alright, fine, I'll use mine and give her a different one." He glanced at his watch. "Her shift ended almost an hour ago, she should be here any minute."

Max frowned. "Why do you know her work schedule better than I do?"

He shrugged. "In case she needs a ride to or from work. Can't leave her stranded if her car breaks down again."

A knock sounded at the door. Steve grinned at Max, both of them knowing you had arrived. He rushed to the door, slowing down only when he was within Dustin's sightline again.

You were hugging your arms when he opened the door, your hair wet and stringy, your clothes soaked through. "What took you so long, Stevie?!" you demanded, hurrying through the door. Max pointed to Dustin before you could kiss Steve's cheek.

"Jesus, you're soaked," Steve said, taking in your more than damp appearance. "Did you walk here?"

"No," you said, pointing out the still-open door to your car. "It's just raining hard enough that I got drenched on the run from my car to your door."

Steve slammed the door shut before more water could get inside. "Uh, okay, come on, I think I've got something for you to change into."

You blinked at him, gaze flicking briefly to Dustin. "Oh, no, that's alright, I'll just—"

"I'm not letting you stay uncomfortable and catch a cold in these clothes," Steve insisted. You nodded, all too ready to curl up in one of Steve's sweaters. "Come on—you two, we'll only be a minute. Answer the door if anyone else comes while we're gone."

Steve ushered you upstairs. Max waited a few minutes before telling Dustin she'd be right back, using the bathroom as her excuse, wanting to keep an eye on the two of you and stop you from any funny business. She followed the damp footprints you'd left behind, slipping into the bathroom across from Steve's room and peering around the door. She smiled at what she saw.

You had ditched your wet pants and shirt and were pulling on a pair of Steve's jeans. Steve had his back turned as he dug through his dresser.

"Um...do you need a different bra? I'm pretty sure you left one here last time..." Steve glanced back at you and smiled. "God, you look cute."

You looked up at him, cheeks pink. "You're just saying that because I'm half-naked in your bedroom and the clothes I'm wearing are yours."

Steve shook his head, still smiling. "I'm sayin' it 'cause you're cute." He walked over to you, sweater in hand, and kissed your nose. "You are beautiful, Miss Mayfield." He brushed your wet hair out of your face. "Arms up, honey."

You lifted your arms for him and he tugged his sweater over your head. He pulled you to his chest as soon as it was on, holding you like it was the last time he ever would. Max watched your hand go into his hair, pulling a soft sigh from him.

"Kiss me, Stevie," you whispered, coaxing his head toward your own with your hand.

Eyes closed, Steve obeyed, kissing you softly, chastely. Max heard the movie-perfect sound of your lips parting before you tugged him back down for a second kiss, deeper than the first.

"I love you," he whispered.

"And I love you," you said back. The two of you smiled at each other, sickeningly sweet, and Max wondered if the look on your face was the same one on hers whenever she was with Lucas.

Steve adjusted his sweater on your body one more time. "We should get back downstairs," he said. "Dustin might get suspicious."

You fell back into his arms for another hug. "Okay."

Steve took your hand and slowly lead you out of his bedroom, though he seemed just as reluctant as you to have to let go and pretend to just be friends. "Your sister thought it would be too much to give you my blanket during the movie, but I think I like having you in my clothes more."

You smiled. "If it's anything scary, I'll jump a lot and cling to you and we can blame it on the movie."

Steve grinned. "Let's hope Robin brings a good scary movie, and that Eddie wins the vote tonight, then."

Max shut the door before you could see it was open, making sure it closed quietly, quickly flushed the toilet, and turned on the sink and made a show of opening the door to see the two of you. She glanced pointedly at your hands.

"I thought we were still making Dustin guess," she said.

Steve sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He brought your joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of your hand before letting you go. "Alright, I'm done now."

The three of you headed back downstairs, Max at the lead and you just behind. Max knew Steve had let you go down the stairs first just so he could watch you prance around in his clothes and run his gaze over you again, but she'd give him a pass, just this once. You did look rather at home in his clothes.

Max watched you while you made yourself at home in your usual spot, in the middle cushion on the Harringtons' couch. In fact, she realized, you looked more like yourself, the happiest you'd been, since Billy had died—maybe even since you'd left California.

Credit where credit was due, Max would have to thank Steve somehow (without it seeming like she was thanking him for bringing you back).

"You want anything?" Steve asked you, tossing you one of the blankets. He set his down on the cushion next to you, then the blanket Robin had claimed on your other side.

"I'm all set," you promised. "Anyone else here yet, Dusty?"

Dustin rolled over onto his back from the place on the floor he'd claimed as his several months back, which he said was the best place to watch the movie from, but Max knew was his spot because it was still close enough to Steve, too. The middle, which was hers, was definitely a better view than Dustin's righthand side.

"Not yet," he said. "Hi."

You smiled. "Hi. Find a good movie?"

"No," Dustin said. "Steve's taste sucks."

Steve narrowed his eyes, picking up a piece of popcorn and throwing it at him. "For the last time, it's my mom's rom-com collection!"

~❊~

Max lay in her spot between Lucas and Dustin, Erica on the other side of Lucas, only half-paying attention to the movie while she braided El's hair, Will and Mike snuggling on the opposite side of Dustin. Max was sure Dustin felt singled out, being boarded by two couples, plus Nancy and Jonathan sharing a blanket and a lounge chair just behind him. Eddie had curled himself up on the chair on Steve's opposite side, covering himself in his blanket to protect himself from the blow of the AC unit.

Robin had managed to snag a new release that had just arrived at Family Video—Tim Burton's Beetlejuice, a movie that had only been out for a few months in the theaters. The kids on the floor had propped themselves up on their elbows, drinks and half-eaten bowls of popcorn in front of them.

Every so often, Max faked a yawn to duck her head back to glance at her sister and Steve. Robin was stretched out across both your laps, and the two of you had leaned together to share both of your blankets after Steve had muttered something about the AC being too cold, only for the others to shout for him not to touch it.

And judging from the way you and Steve occasionally exchanged a look, Max guessed you were holding hands beneath the blanket.

Max turned her attention back to the movie, lifting a small handful of popcorn to her mouth. Not so subtly, Lucas fake-stretched and laid his arm over her shoulders. Giggling quietly, Max snuggled into his side. She heard your amused hum behind from behind her, followed by a small chuckle of Steve's.

As it had the entire movie, thunder crashed outside. While the rain had lightened up enough not to be distracting, the flash of lightning visible through the curtains and the boom of thunder had been frequent and often made the room's occupants jump in fear.

Another boom of thunder announced the power flickering.

Dustin looked back at Steve. "Uh, Steve?"

"We've got a generator," Steve said, but he had sat up straighter and had pulled away from you, his face uneasy.

With the next flicker of lightning and crash of thunder, the power went out.

The group of thirteen sat in the pitch-black room in silence. Lightning illuminated faces briefly, showing Max that Robin had sat up, and that you, Steve, and Eddie were all on your feet.

"There are candles in the study," Steve said, breaking the silence. His voice was wavering, and Max remembered you saying something about cutting a date short due to the storm earlier that week. Was Steve...afraid of storms?

"I'll get them," you said.

"Matches in the drawer next to the sink and lanterns in the sunroom storage cabinet," he continued. "Eds, come on, let's go see if we can get the power back to the fridge and a few lights, yeah?"

"After you," Eddie said and followed Steve out the front door. The pattering rain grew louder as the door opened, revealing a world in grey scale, but still lighter than the inside of the house.

Dustin sat up. "Candles? Why not just use flashlights?"

"Steve only has two flashlights," Robin said. "Working ones, at least. But candles? The Harringtons have plenty of those."

Max followed you around the house, lighting the lanterns as you found them and helping you carry the candles back to the living room.

With the room now illuminated by flickering flame, it was easy to see the worry on people's faces.

"Do you think the whole town's out?" Mike asked.

"No, it can't be," Nancy said, but she didn't sound sure.

Will wriggled out from under his blanket. The look he exchanged with Jonathan was concerned.

"Everybody keep calm," you said, setting a lantern down on the floor at the center of the group. "Steve and Eddie will get the generator running in no time."

Silence fell, still and eerie. You sat beside Max and Lucas, and Max laid her head in your lap, trying to smile up at you. It only took a look for her to know you were lost in your head, in memories of the night Billy went AWOL and had been controlled by the Mind Flayer.

Max took your hand in hers. "It's okay," she promised.

"Mmm," you hummed, but your gaze was fixed on the door; you wouldn't relax until you saw Steve walk back in, unscathed.

The AC kicked back on. A few lights flickered to life and the low hum of the refrigerator filled the room.

Relief filled the room with the sound of an audible sigh. Moments later, the door opened and a waterlogged Steve and Eddie stepped back in.

"Did it work?" Steve asked. Then he heard the AC. "Alright, good." He looked around. "Turn the lights back off—the candles will do until power really comes back."

"Steve, you're drenched," Nancy said, "you're going to catch—"

"A cold, I know," he sighed, glancing over at you. You fought a smile. "Sorry about movie night, guys."

Dustin shrugged. "It was only a matter of time before we lost power. The size of the storm—"

"Oh, shut up, nerd," Erica said, rolling her eyes.

Dustin leaned around Lucas. "Do I need to remind you of the vents?" he hissed.

Erica narrowed her eyes at him.

"Children, children," Eddie admonished with a shit-eating grin that said he knew his chiding was only going to rile them up more.

"Eds," Steve warned, opening the curtains to look outside.

Eleven craned her neck to peer outside. In a small voice, she asked, "Can...can we dance in the rain?"

Nancy hesitated, then said, "I'm not sure that's the best idea, the weather isn't exactly kind at the moment."

Steve looked back outside again. "It's not raining too heavily right now."

El wrung her hands. "Joyce says it's...fun and romantic to dance in the rain."

Robin leaned forward, gasping. "You've never danced in the rain before?"

El shook her head. "Only biked in it."

"We have to go dance in the rain!" Robin insisted, jumping to her feet and pulling Eleven up with her. "It's a...a...a cognitive milestone!"

"I don't think that's the right phrase, Robin," you laughed, but you were also getting up. "Still, I think it's a good idea. Good way to pass the time until the power comes back."

"Come on, Nancy," Jonathan said softly. "Let her have fun. Mom's right. It's fun in the rain."

You took one of Robin's hands and one of Steve's and dragged them into the rain. Robin created a chain by grabbing El, who grabbed Max, who grabbed Lucas. The small group raced out into the street, running through puddles and spinning through the falling rain.

Dustin appeared at Max's side, his hair matted to his face. "It's like the time they were drugged by the Russians," he said, staring at Steve and Robin, the latter of whom was trying to taste the rain.

Max did a doubletake. "When they were what?"

"Don't ask," Erica suggested.

Laughter filled the air as the group danced around each other, twirling each other and splashing through the current of water at the side of the road. Steve tripped through puddles with Robin; Jonathan convinced Nancy to dance in the driveway; Will and Mike splashed each other in the puddles.

"May I have this dance?" Lucas asked, holding his hand out to Max and trying his best to look gentlemanly, which was ruined by the water running into his eyes and making him squint.

"You dork," Max laughed, but she took his hand anyway and let him pull her close, guiding her in a slow dance through the rain. She rested her head on his shoulder and watched as you went over to Steve and Robin.

Steve stopped his fooling around, watching you approach with a dopey, lovesick smile. He held out his hands to you and you took them; he twirled you in the rain, catching you and pulling you close before you could fall in the wet road.

"Careful there," he laughed. Even with his hair plastered to his head, his clothes heavy and hanging off him, you were still looking at him like he was the most beautiful creature you'd ever seen.

Max watched the time slow around the pair of you. She knew you were both completely oblivious, cut off from the company around you, even from Robin's stare as she took in the way the two of you gazed at each other.

Steve swayed you, getting himself lost in your eyes. He cupped your face with one hand, running his thumb over your cheekbone.

Lost in your bubble, neither of you noticed that the others had all stopped to watch, unable to speak and break the spell—not even Dustin, whose mouth hung agape.

You were lost in Steve, Max could tell. Close enough to the pair of you now, she could see you drinking in every detail: the water droplets hanging off Steve's hair and eyelashes, the amazed curve of his open mouth, the gentle swipe of his thumb, the lovestruck look in his eyes, his rosy cheeks so stark against his otherwise pale, cold, and wet skin, the reassuring hold of his arm around your waist.

Max knew what Steve was going to do before it happened, before even you had caught up. He bent his head, slotting your lips together.

Like some magic, divine will, the rain fell a little faster, distant thunder boomed, and lightning splintered through the sky, lighting up the clouds above you and Steve, a dramatic backdrop to a kiss so similar to a first kiss.

Robin whooped first. You and Steve smiled into each other, but neither pulled away, and Max realized you had been aware of your audience the entire time; but keeping it a secret hadn't been worth skipping out on a spectacular rain-soaked kiss.

Mixed in with the cheering was Dustin's incredulous cries of "What?! Max, did you know?!" that she pointedly ignored.

Steve swayed you while the kiss continued, embarrassingly long but adorably sweet. When it finally broke, Steve pressed his forehead against yours.

"I love you," he said, loud enough to be heard over the storm. (Robin shrieked.)

"I love you, too," you giggled. (Robin shrieked louder.)

Steve pushed your wet hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead, then shoved his hand through his own hair to get it out of his face.

"Not what you were expecting, huh, Henderson?" he said with a cheeky grin.

Dustin looked flabbergasted. "How did you know I was— MAX!"

You and Steve burst into a fit of giggles. You snuggled into his chest.

"How is that comfortable? I'm soaked!" Steve asked you.

"Yeah, but it's you," you said. A soft, sweet smile pulled at his lips, barely distracting you from his quiet moan of relief. He squeezed you tight.

"You're going to need to borrow more of my clothes," he said.

You grinned up at him. "I'll happily live in your clothes, Stevie."

A few feet away, Mike sneezed violently.

"Alright, back inside," Steve decided. "That's enough rain for today. I don't need you all getting sick and still needing me to drive you everywhere."

Dustin rolled his eyes. "Are you actually gonna drive us again?"

"If you give my girl the front seat and behave when she's in the car with us," Steve said. "Inside, come on. Go, shoo."

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, watching the others flee to the safety of his house, then following them in with you. You kissed his cheek as you walked. Max hung back with Lucas, wanting to know what you said about the sudden rain kiss.

"You are perfect, Steve Harrington," you whispered. His cheeks darkened.

"Says you," he said, nuzzling his nose into your hair. "Hey, um... You wanna stay the night?"

"Gotta take Max home," you said. "But...I can come back?"

"I...I'd like that," Steve said. Max wondered if he'd ever been this shy with a girl before.

"Me too," you whispered. Steve squeezed your hip.

Dustin rolled his eyes from the doorway. "Get a room," he groaned.

"Oh, shut up," Max teased. "You're just annoyed you couldn't figure it out!"

Dustin scowled. "You knew! You knew and you were hiding it from me!"

Max shrugged, fighting a giggle.

Steve passed out towels with a warning not to let them get close to an open flame. Halfway through his warning, the power flickered back on—and so did the movie.

The group cheered, but Max watched you and Steve sneak upstairs and come down a few minutes later in dry clothes, hand in hand. She smiled before shaking her head and turning back to the ending of the movie.

And if—no, when—Steve asked her for advice on how to propose to you, Max was going to tell him to do it in the rain.

☞ ❊ ☜

Stranger Things // Steve Harrington

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the S.H. taglist!} @ohatropa@nix-rose@live-the-fangirl-life

537 notes · View notes

ghxstmxchine · 10 months

Note

Haiii can u write Hobie x trad goth male reader? Reader makes Hobie listen to his music n shit

ʜᴏʙɪᴇ ᴡ/ ᴀ ᴛʀᴀᴅ ɢᴏᴛʜ ʙꜰ

☆ ᴀ/ɴ: anon I screamed when I got this ask, I don't dress up as much but I was such a die hard goth as a teen. was super super excited to write this!

☆ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟꜱ: SFW // includes: Hobie x male!reader // w.c: .2k

He absolutely loves your style, could've sworn it was his very own love at first sight when he first saw you in the crowd at one of his shows. He just knew he had to get your number

True to his word, he’s willing to switch things up whenever you ask him to listen to your music with you. He's open minded to almost every genre outside of the usual punk

Definitely takes a bit to get used to the "slower" vibe of most goth bands in comparison to the full throttle vibe behind punk but loves the artistic perspective behind each song

Loves the guitar riffs and the way they sing, similar to punk he likes how the genre has a such unique voice that comes with songs

Tries to learn some of the songs on his guitar to impress you, and if you know how to play anything he definitely asks you to teach him (he’s actually really good at learning songs by ear but would rather get some alone time with you)

Buys records/cds of your favorite bands whenever he's out to give you them as gifts and sometimes he buys ones from bands you both don't know so you can give something new a listen

There is no one more patient than Hobie when it comes to helping with and hair or makeup, he knows how long it can take personally and will lend a hand

Smudge proof lipstick is a must because he will make out with you and smudge it everywhere

Shares all of his jewelry with you and vice versa, he has a good collection but still takes anything he finds cool from yours. You'll often be looking for something only to find Hobie wearing it because he thought it looked cool

Loves how you're taller than him in platforms but won’t let it stop him from grabbing you by your shirt and dragging you down to his height to kiss you

He also loves talking about you to everyone because he just has to let them know how cool his boyfriend is

#hobie brown #hobie brown x male reader #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #atsv #Hobie brown x reader

406 notes · View notes

milliebobbyflay · 5 months

Text

Okay so I've spent a while thinking about how to word my actual problem with homestuck 2, and the works that make up post-canon homestuck more broadly. I think a lot of people resort to nitpicking bits of awkward writing or art in some attempt to pinpoint a source to an underlying sort of hollow uncanniness, which is funny because homestuck's supposed golden age of acts 1-5 are themselves FAR more of a tonally inconsistent mess of odd character beats, jokes that don't always land, and janky looking art.

Homestuck 2 has been written and drawn by very talented and passionate artists from the beginning, I think the actual issue comes down to a mix between the general pitfalls of hiring fans and the particulars of hussie's outsider background and unorthodox writing style.

First is the issue of hiring fans in general; while it can seem like an easy shortcut to finding talented writers already familiar with the voice and story of the original work, you have to be very aware of how fan culture operates. Beyond the obvious pitfalls that fans are unlikely to approach the story from a detached perspective, there is the larger issue that past a certain point fandom becomes essentially self sustaining. Once a fandom has existed for a long enough period, its most avid members have likely spent FAR more time engaging with other fan works than they have with the original art object. Fandom and the art it produces are, in this way, a sort of a folk tradition; artists are imitating and responding to other artists, characters become archetypes through which to explore certain ideas and dynamics, and the values and tastes of the most prolific and influential fan artists become as inseparable from a participants mental image of the character as the original work itself.

For an example, the affected theatrical mannerisms and cruelty Vriska adopts while in her Mindfang persona have become inseparable from the popular view of the character. Despite the fact that it's heavily signposted as a sort of role playing performance from the jump and she's more or less dropped it by the back half of the comic, it was nevertheless how she had acted in the bulk of her scenes around the time the ur-texts of homestuck fandom were being written, and as so an understandable misread of a character became inscribed into the fandom canon, and by extension her characterization in Homestuck 2.

All of this is extrapolated by the sort of unorthdox, building-the-plane-while-flying-it manner in which Hussie's writing style developed.

Based on his commentary, I get the sense that Andrew is an incredibly clever and thoughtful writer who lacks the theory and vocabulary to precisely describe his process. He tends to communicate in sort of abstract metaphors which aim to bridge the gap in explaining the actual conscious process he uses to plot his stories, but the way he talks about technical nuts and bolts writing craft stuff gives me the impression that his approach is largely intuitive, bordering on unconscious. He's a lot better at describing how he writes than what he writes or why.

You can of course piece a lot this together—his approach to art draws from the tradition of videogame spritework, where the visuals exist as a utilitarian vehicle for conveying information first and a work of illustration only inasmuch is needed to serve the greater story. His character writing draws more from a synthesis of literary fiction, sitcom writing, and "making up a guy" style posting humor, where characters are defined more by their life experiences and underlying psychology than by their goals and values, but also seem to have largely been constructed backwards from a starting point of a funny or interesting manner of speaking. Importantly though, I don't get the sense that these were conscious decisions, just that to Hussie they seemed like the logical way to approach these tasks, and I don't really think he could outline them in a way that would actually help a new team of creators grok how to draw and write in a way that feels like homestuck. I also don't think Hussie could actually explain the psychology that undergirds his character writing, I think he was mostly just drawing on his own life experience and imagining how this sort of character might logically speak and act.

As a novelist, and Hussie is one, both your thought processes and the sum total of your worldview and life experience are just as important to your work as the actual conscious decisions you're making, and I think that where there are gaps in understanding, the new writers are filling in the gaps with both a more conventional approach to the creative process and over a decade of accumulated fanon, and I think that's why homestuck 2 never really rises above feeling like a very well-made fanfic to me?

#homestuck #homestuck meta #homestuck 2 #hom3stuck #homestuck^2 #loooooooongpost #vriska #vriska serket

191 notes · View notes

thatmooncake · 1 year

Text

Obsessed with how Sun fits so much of himself into such a tiny space.

I mean first of all, literally.

He’s gonna have to surgically detach his rays from that slide.

And then we have his living space, the Superstar daycare. Big at first but when it’s the only place you can seem to access while others get free roam of half the building or even get to go outside of it? TINY. The outside world is unfathomably HUGE in comparison. And everyone he comes into contact with has basically seen so much more of it than he has. And that must feel so impressive to him but at the same time so strange and …maybe somewhat limiting? Like no matter how hard he tries to relate or understand from his little corner, others have experienced things firsthand that he probably never has. Things he’s read to kids in storybooks and sang songs about but never seen up close.

And we know that in some sense he likes things to be just so. The barrels are aligned. The lights stay on. That’s the only way he feels safe. So I imagine his own limited perspective when he comes face to face with people from the outside world feels kind of scary to him in a way.

And despite the daycare being his domain, people encroach upon his space without warning, and he plays along. All of a sudden there are people and he must deal with them accordingly and he must act in a certain way no matter how he feels about it and how much stress he’s put under (for example, continuing on with playtime despite the whole situation with Moon, perhaps because he has to, or he wants to, or he has nothing else - maybe all of the above).

^ Look at his little room! It makes me sad. I don’t know if Moon ripped up all the bots that are scattered over the floor or if Sun did or if someone else did but the fact is the place looks so depressing compared to most of the Glamrocks’ rooms it’s painful. Here we have two of the most neglected robots in the pizzaplex and they carry on like that doesn’t matter, but we know Sun knows that something is very wrong so even if this is the norm for him and even if he’s used to it, the more broken bits and pieces he encounters the more it must be killing him because every day when he’s done entertaining the kids or pretending someone’s going to show up that day (depending on if the daycare is closed or not) he goes back to a permanent reminder of just how messed up things have become.

And he seems SO HAPPY to see a stranger from outside of that little room. No matter how you look at that, it’s pretty sad. Is he faking his enthusiasm? What a frustrating and stressful situation that must be to be at the beck and call of someone you don’t genuinely want to be around and act like you’re their new best friend. Is he actually excited? What a stressful situation that must be too, only for any semblance of control you had to be abruptly torn from you as you’re forced to switch when the lights go out, clearly horrified by what’s going to happen all the while because you know it won’t be good for anyone.

Does it hurt when he switches? I’m fascinated by Sun’s relationship with Moon. It’s played in so many interesting ways by the fandom. Are they two separate people? Are they like roommates who share a body? Are they two aspects of the same AI? They’re so versatile and I love it. I love all the takes there are on their personalities. Sun? Silly, goofy, playful, ray of sunshine, bundle of nerves, parental, fiery, bossy, strict, the embodiment of anxiety, and so on. Moon? Prankster, gremlin, sleepy, calm, collected, grumpy, silly, catlike, etc. I love it when they get along and I love it when they don’t. I have so many feelings about them both and it’s less that I want to know the truth about them (if there is such a thing) and more I just like exploring every avenue because they’re just really fun and fascinating characters.

And THAT SYMBOLISM. Wow. The sun and moon themes give you so much to play around with. So many metaphors and so many things you can plaster the surfaces of your house or the background of your phone with that make you think of them. The moon’s phases. The way the sun sets earlier in the winter. Would Sun get tired more easily in the winter? Does Moon have a blue moon phase that makes him feel down at the drop of a hat? Because same, guys, same.

Not getting over these guys any time soon I guess.

#fablespeaks #sundrop #just a ramble #I really like them ok #fablethoughts

1K notes · View notes

mousical · 1 year

Text

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

wheel to wheel

pairing; f1 x female-driver! reader

warnings; car crash, mentions of alcohol, cursing

summary; alpha tauri’s first female driver has a day.

word count; 3.7k

a/n; part one of a multi chapter fic! will be an eventual driver x reader, just not sure which driver yet lololol. also i wrote the first half of this before the race, which is why a lot of the results don’t line up whoops

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

TURN 1 INCIDENT INVOLVING CARS 6 (LAT), 4 (NOR), 12 (Y/L/N) NOTED — CAUSING A COLLISION

"Are you okay, are you okay?"

The muffled voice of your engineer repeated over the radio.

"I'm fine." You mumbled back. Not waiting to hear a confirmation, you began maneuvering out of your seat, careful to avoid any scraps of metal torn off the body of the car.

A sigh escaped your chapped lips as you gave the car a once over. It certainly wasn't a pretty sight; the back half had taken the worst blow, rear wing nowhere in sight. It could've been a lot worse, though.

Thankfully, when your rear wheel had been touched, sending you off the track, you had managed to somewhat get control of the spin before getting thrown into the wall. If you weren't so pissed about DNFing, you would've been impressed with your reaction.

You lifted your gaze away from the car, just in time to see a limping Latifi rolling back onto the track before skidding away. Figures.

Now that you were out, you could check on the other victim of Latifi's most recent murder attempt. You winced at the soreness of your legs as you jogged to the McLaren.

You didn't quite catch the incident, but you assumed that it was probably the McLaren who had spun onto your wheel, only after being clipped himself by the Williams.

The other driver seemed to have had it a bit worse than you. His left sidepod was lodged into the barrier, the nose, at least what was left of it, angled into the wall. The back remained mostly untouched, save for a nasty hit on the rear wing. You clicked your tongue. Must've been a nasty impact.

You caught a glimpse of the driver’s helmet on your way to the car. Poor Lando.

The marshals had reached him first, standing around the car while he hopped out. Then began the work to get those cars off the track.

Meanwhile, you and Lando only had so much time to breathe before having to head back. Thankfully, the crash had occurred at the end of the main straight, which meant that the walk of shame back to the garages wouldn't be too long.

Once you had gotten off the track, you were able to slip the helmet off. Thank goodness, because between your headache from the crash and the Austin heat, you were just about ready to pass out under that suffocating helmet. You tried to keep your head down, not really in the mood for the crowd's pitying stares.

“Latifi." Lando groaned, catching up to you.

"Latifi." You repeated through a breath. The two of you walked along side of each other, helmets in hand.

"Did he clip your rear?" You asked, blowing a strand of hair out of your face.

"Tried moving to my outside to pass." Lando nodded, confirming your suspicions.

"Maybe he sneezed mid-overtake. You never know." You joked dryly. Lando scoffed.

"I think you're giving him too much credit." Lando rolled his eyes. Teasing the driver was an easy distraction from the fact that the two of you had lost out on possible points.

You made simple small talk during the walk back, giving each other your own perspectives of the race before ending up in the wall. And, of course, came the inevitable Latifi slights.

"I'll never understand how someone ends up 21st in a 20 driver championship." You laughed. Lando shrugged.

"I'll never understand how he gained 20th back." The two of you had finally reached the pit lane, a couple of team members from your respective garages coming up to meet you.

"How many laps left?" You asked one of the crew members. He told you 31, to which you groaned. Turning back to Lando, you waved a quick goodbye.

"Smashing race, Lando!" You mused. He shook his head with a smile before walking off to the McLaren garage.

The Alpha Tauri garage was fairly uneventful. Franz gave you a quick pat on the back on your way in. "Come over to the wall when you can." He yelled over the bustling pit lane.

You gave the principal a quick thumbs up before heading inside, the pit crew already waiting inside to give their condolences.

To be completely honest, you weren't feeling too upset about the unfortunate end to your race. Maybe it was because you knew it wasn't your fault, maybe it was the heat getting to you- either way, you felt content to slump down in a fold out chair in the back of the garage.

You knew that you eventually had to head back out to join Franz and the engineers on the pit wall, but you didn't see the harm in giving yourself a couple seconds to unwind after such a troubling crash.

Now that the adrenaline had all but dissipated from your system, the soreness in your legs was feeling a bit worse, and a new pain had formed in-between your shoulder blades.

"Y/N! Everything alright? That looked nasty." Your PR manager appeared, causing you to jump in surprise. "Oh, sorry." She laughed, bringing a hand up to her chest.

"All good, Nat." You responded with a smile, leaning back into your chair. "Sky come racing down yet?"

"Not yet. Think they're stopping at McLaren first. They'll be around soon though. If you get to the pit wall quick enough they might not bother you." She handed you your cell phone.

"Guess I better get out there then." You yawned, slowly stretching out of the seat. You winced at the soreness, eliciting a frown from Natalie.

"Want me to get the medic over here?" She asked, walking you across the garage. You shook your head.

"Just need a massage. I'll be fine." You assured her. She pursed her lips, not sure if you could be trusted. Ultimately, she gave in.

"Alright, whatever you say. Sorry about the race." She waved you off before turning on her heels to go back inside.

After waiting for a Mercedes to pass, you jogged across the pit lane, hopping up onto a pit wall stool with a grunt.

You slipped on a headset, quickly checking the screens in front of you to get a sense of how the race was running.

The Mercedes that had just crossed your path was Hamilton's. He had come back onto the track in 5th, just ahead of Perez.

Max was running in first, little surprise there, with Sainz in second and Leclerc in a comfortable third. A ways behind the Ferrari, Russel had gained some generous distance between him and P5, a gift from Lewis's first pit stop of the race.

The rest of the grid was nothing out of the ordinary, save for Yuki, who was fighting hard to maintain a surprising P9. You would make sure to congratulate your teammate after the race was over, whether or not he ended up keeping the position.

"Any update on a penalty for Latifi?" You spoke into the headset at 20 laps to go.

"It is being investigated. Should find out in a couple laps." Your engineer's thick French accent spoke.

With only so many laps left, and Latifi running on a set of fresh hards, you assumed it would be a post race penalty. A penalty, mind you, that would serve no purpose, as Latifi had been crawling through the track in last place since the collision.

Speaking of said collision, you decided to take your newfound free time to begin thinking about answers to predictable questions that were sure to come up in the media pen.

Can you explain to us what went down on track? Did you feel as though you had the potential to score crucial points before the collision? Could Lando Norris have avoided an impact with you?

'I'm sure Crofty explained it better than I could.'

'Maybe, sure.'

'Maybe, I don't know.'

All answers you wished you could give the media, but you knew better. Whatever you were going to feed them was going to have to be filled with a lot more bullshit than those perfectly fine answers.

The last laps of the race dragged on excruciatingly slow, until finally ending in a laughably predictable way. Max won, Ferrari bottled a potential win, and George Russell complained the entire time. Typical Sunday race day.

Natalie hunted you down right after the cars had been pulled in, quickly giving you a synopsis of what not to do in the pen. That's something you loved about having her as a PR manager; she never scripted your responses. More often than not, she just told you not to be an arse and sent you on your way. This time was no different.

The media pen was as bustling as ever when you strolled in, journalists pushing over each other to jot down quotes from the drivers. You slid into an empty space next to Lando, who was in the middle of an interview with F1 TV.

"It's disappointing, of course, not to score any points on such a promising weekend, but hopefully we'll back stronger for Mexico." He explained.

The interviewer thanked him before he was shuffled away by his own PR manager, and you were thrown into his spot.

"Yeah, I mean," You started after a basic enough question. "It really is unfortunate to have had our race ended like that, especially after such a successful first stint." You sighed, crossing your hands over your chest. "The team has been working so hard all weekend, and it is a shame to have no result to show for their efforts." The interviewer nodded at your response.

"Did you think that anything could have been done to prevent such an incident?"

You pursed your lips, trying to judge how much trouble you'd get in if you told the truth. Quickly glancing at Natalie, you found your PR manager staring daggers into you, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking.

“It's racing." You smiled at the interviewer with a shrug, catching Natalie nod out of the corner of your eye. "These incidents happen. The car has been brilliant all weekend, I felt like I’ve had a lot of good pace; real results were definitely reasonable and very much in reach. There’s a lot of crucial information we’ve learned from Austin that we can hopefully apply down to Mexico. I don’t know, I guess I’m trying my best to take away what few positives we got from this weekend— stay optimistic, you know? I mean that’s really all I can do.”

“Well, the fans were certainly sad to see your drive ended so soon.” She spoke, still committed to keeping the conversation on the incident.

"Yeah, you know, I really am so lucky to have such incredible fans. Austin has been so welcoming— it's really been great." That response wasn't a lie. This was only your second time racing COTA as an F1 driver, and the city had welcomed you in with open arms.

"Glad to hear it." She paused, biting her tongue for just a moment before speaking up again. "I do have to ask, on behalf of the loyal fans of the US, will we be seeing you racing again here at COTA next year?"

Oh boy. You wish you knew.

Your eyes flew to Natalie, who looked just as thrown as you.

"I'll let you know when I find out."

After a quick thanks and good bye, you were hurried to the next interviewer, and then the next, and the next. Eventually, it was over, Natalie saving you from having to answer the same questions thirty times over. On your way out, you quickly stopped by Yuki, who was talking to Sky Sports.

"Congrats on the points!" You exclaimed with a smile, patting the other driver on the back. Startled, he spun around, sighing when he realized it was just you.

The interviewer laughed, Yuki gave you a quick thumbs up, and then you were off to the paddock.

The paddock lane was busy with activity; teams running equipment to and from the garage, post-race paddock tours mingling through the buildings, the occasional driver making their way back to their own team's temporary HQ's.

You took your time getting back to the Alpha Tauri hospitality, enjoying the way the light Austin breeze ruffled through your hair. The sun was going down, which meant that, thankfully, the heat was less punishing. You unzipped the top of your overalls, tying the sleeves around your waist.

The drivers' rooms were hardly luxurious, just a small office space with a couch, a chair, and a coffee table. An air conditioning unit sat against the wall, keeping the room cool for your arrival. The chill air was a welcome shift to the dry heat you had been melting in all afternoon.

A change of clothes was waiting for you on the couch, and you couldn't have been more excited to get out of the sweaty fireproofs. Just as you began slipping on a fresh Alpha Tauri polo, you heard a soft knock at the door.

"Y/N? You decent?" Natalie's voice rang out.

"One sec." You called out, hurriedly putting on the rest of your clothes before opening up the door.

"Not sure if you feel like celebrating-" Before she could go on, you groaned, turning around to slump down onto the couch. "Max won, so Red Bull is putting together a thing."

"A thing?" You whined.

"Yuki is going. Obviously, Max and Sergio will be there." She alluded, arms folded over her chest.

"I don't have a choice." You finished her thought.

"See you there, then. I'll send you the address." And with that, she was gone.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

The club floor was a cacophonous maze of drunk dancers and party-goers, all shamelessly slamming their bodies together in a syncopated rhythm. The music was deafening, shaking the floor itself with its pounding bass.

You maneuvered your way through the hoard, scanning each guest with a profound curiosity. Professionals in the racing world, masters of their own crafts, all stumbling through the crowd in tipsy hazes.

The place was bursting at the seems with excitement and energy, all in celebration of the team’s latest victory.

You were entirely lost. For the first half an hour or so, you simply wandered through the club, hoping to find a familiar enough face to strike up a conversation with.

Max found you before you could find him.

“Y/N!” His accent slurred. “Tough luck today!” You turned to greet him with a small smile.

“Is what it is. Congratulations on the win! Didn’t think you had it in you.” You quipped, eliciting a laugh from the Dutchman.

“Of course, of course.” Max paused, taking a sip of his drink. “Hey, did Christian find you yet?”

“Christian?” You repeated, raising a brow. “Not yet, why?” Before he could respond, a new person cut in, bombarding the race winner with congratulatory words. You swallowed a laugh, amused at the ambush. “Just find him!” Max shouted, before being whisked away.

Being honest, you didn’t really want to speak to Christian; it seemed like every time you did, you ended up getting yelled at. If it could be helped, you would do your best to avoid your boss for as long as it could be helped.

The night continued on in a similar fashion, team members from both Alpha Tauri and Red Bull giving their condolences, only before asking if you’d seen the man of the hour.

Despite knowing almost everyone in the club, you couldn’t help shake the feeling that you were alone, left to stumble your way through the night all by yourself. This, coupled with your unfortunate sobriety, as you were responsible for driving yourself back to the hotel, was shaping your evening up to be more of a bore than a celebration.

It wasn’t that you weren’t excited for the team— quite the opposite in fact. You’ve always sort of seen Red Bull and Alpha Tauri as two sides of the same coin. You felt their wins as if they were your own, same with the losses. Even if Max winning was becoming a natural occurrence, each time felt just as special as the last.

Maybe the sting of your DNF was still poisoning your spirit. That must’ve been it, you decided.

The far away sight of a familiar set of curls coaxed you out of your concentration. Without another thought, you squeezed your way over.

“Lando!” You exclaimed, happy to see someone you knew enough to busy yourself with. He, just like you, looked incredibly lost. “What are you doing here? Thought this was a Red Bull party.”

“Not super sure, honestly.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, always glad to see you.” You grinned. “No party at McLaren tonight?” It was a bit of tease; a DNF and 17th weren’t anything to go clubbing about. He gave you a glare.

“Nothing to celebrate, really. Unlike you lot!” He gestured to the hoards of people around you two.

“Yeah, constructors. Pretty wild.” That fact had only just begun to sink in; the implications of Red Bull’s constructors win was a miraculous feat.

“You alright?” He quirked a brow at you, to which you swatted away.

“Perfectly fine! Maybe not as drunk as I’d like to be.” You scrunched your face, the craving for alcohol itching through your body.

“You drive here?” You nodded in response. “Well, I can always give you a ride if you need it.” He offered.

“Really?” You knew the two of you were friendly, but you didn’t think you were that close. He nodded.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve got nothing else to do tonight.” He shrugged. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth. The offer was very tempting.

“Alright, Norris. I’ll take you up on that.” You decided with a smile. Not wishing to waste any time, you began making your way to the bar, Lando following close behind.

You were painfully close to the counter before bumping into none other than Christian Horner. Just your luck.

“Y/N?” He shouted over the music. It took every ounce of will power you could muster not to run away right there and then. You felt Lando’s hand touch your arm, momentarily turning your attention away from your boss.

“I’ll meet you at the bar.” He nodded towards the one object of your desire, giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Y/N, I’ve been wanting to talk to you!” Christian regained your focus, his drunken speech accentuating his accent.

“It can’t wait until tomorrow?” You half joked, not even sure if he would remember this conversation tomorrow.

“I know your contract is up,” He continued right on. “And you’ve been very patient with negotiations.” You rolled your eyes, already annoyed with where this conversation was going.

You were tired of being patient, being a team player. You wanted a contract, the one you were promised months ago. You weren’t looking forward to being told to wait for the fifth time in two weeks.

“Well, there might just be an open seat with us next year.”

Your heart dropped out of your chest right then and there. Did you hear him right?

“At- At Red Bull?” You stumbled over your words, heart rate rising exponentially. Christian brought a finger up to his lips, indicating this breaking news was still top secret.

“Just hold tight, alright?” He slurred. You nodded fiercely, suddenly very okay with playing the patient game.

A seat. At Red Bull. You didn’t see that coming.

The walk to Lando was a blur. It was a miracle you managed to keep yourself straight up before tripping into a seat at the bar.

“You get fired yet?” He mused, taking a sip from his glass. Your mouth was dry, the words stuck in your throat. His brow furrowed. “You okay?” He put down his drink.

“Red Bull.” You spit out, unable to form any full sentences.

“Red Bull.” Lando repeated slowly, confused to say the least.

“Open seat. 23’.” That was all it took for the Mclaren driver to put everything together. He slapped a hand over his mouth, letting out an excited laugh.

“Oh my god!” He exclaimed. “Actually?”

“I think!” You replied, finally breaking out in a smile. An overwhelming wave of excitement, relief, and terror flooded your systems all at once.

“You think? Is that what he said?” He pressed further.

“I think?” Was all you could come up with, still not entirely sure what was going on yourself. At that moment, the specifics didn’t really matter, at least not to you.

“Wow.” You heard Lando whisper from beside you.

“I know.” You gaped, putting your head in your hands.

“Well go on, celebrate!” Lando cheered, waving the bartender over to where the two of you sat.

“No, no.” You shook your head, shooing him away. “I wanna remember this sober.” You decided out loud.

“Up to you.” There was something odd about the boy’s expression, something you didn’t really feel like deciphering at the time. “Any theories?” He broke the lull. You quirked your head.

“As to?” That made him laugh.

“I thought the Red Bull seats were pretty much set.” You hadn’t even given that a thought, but he was right. Where was this seat coming from?

“Surely not Max?” You thought aloud, and Lando shrugged.

“Guess not. That leaves Checo.”

As far as you knew, Checo wasn’t going anywhere. At the very least, Red Bull had no plans on letting him go. Did that mean he was leaving on his own accord? Retirement, maybe? No, not at the height of his career. What then?

“I’m stumped.” You sighed, resting your chin on your hand.

“Guess you’ll find out soon, huh?” He tried, not eliciting much of a reaction from you. “Hey, Y/N.” He grabbed your attention. You looked up at him through distant eyes. “This is good news!” He was right again- you knew that. So why did it still feel so strange?

You let out a long exhale.

“I sure hope so.”

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

#f1 x reader #Formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x you

2K notes · View notes