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taexual · 5 months

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sleepwalking ● 14 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

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

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

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

words: 12.3k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Jungkook was firm: “You don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Five days until what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And Camp Nou?” you teased.

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

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

You smiled. “I can see that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The two boys next to you exchanged a look.

“And… he wants you?” Namjoon asked.

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

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

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

“No?” Yoongi asked. “Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lowered your eyes. “Yeah.”

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

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

You met his gaze. “For what?”

“For believing in us enough to stay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except Taehyung for some reason.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had to go straight to the source.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?” you asked in return.

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

What if he’d told you?

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

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

Jungkook disliked this question even more.

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

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

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

Jungkook did not pursue the topic further.

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

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

“Ah.” Jungkook nodded. “Makes sense.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You inhaled. “What is it?”

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

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

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

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

“I know, but we’re going to Cologne—”

“That’s only in the evening.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not exactly what I meant—”

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

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

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

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

You had to find out what was going on.

He had to tell you what was going on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You waited alone, with only your confusion for company.

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

So, what was it that worried Taehyung so much?

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

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

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

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

“I need to borrow it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked back at the helmet in his hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tough.”

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

“My God!” you groaned. “Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Several points, actually,” you said.

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

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

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

“Did he love her back?” he asked.

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

And now you had to pause.

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

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

You were right, of course.

Someone who loved you should have never hurt you.

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

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

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

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

“Hmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breathlessly, he asked, “what about me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt your heart skip over a beat.

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

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

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

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

“W-why?” he asked.

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

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

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

Jungkook looked away.

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

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

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

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

“Not really,” you admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he really wished he wasn’t.

“I know,” he said.

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

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

He felt terrified.

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

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

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

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

“Go ahead,” Jungkook mumbled.

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

And whatever happened next would—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you said, “you need to rest.”

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

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

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

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

“If I come, then—”

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

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

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

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

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

Tomorrow was very far away.

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

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

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

Alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have to tell her, son.”

He did have to tell you. He knew that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t wrong, of course.

“After we got some sleep,” you clarified.

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

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

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

“Okay,” you said. “Well, what is it?”

Jungkook straightened as much as he could.

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

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

Silence came next.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t know what to do.

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

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

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

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

He hung his head and took a deep breath.

None of this mattered.

It was over.

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

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

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

“Go to sleep, Jungkook.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you left him tonight.

And even drunk, he knew what it meant.

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

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

But he should have known this would happen.

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

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

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

He didn’t know what was happening to him.

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

It was over.

It was—

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

He ruined everything. It was over.

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

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

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

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

Then he remembered the bar.

He had already drunk half of it.

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

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

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madebycloud · 10 months

Text

Streets

street racer!jenna ortega x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you had no idea your girlfriend was a daredevil on the streets. warnings/themes: street racing (motorcycle), kissing, smoking, and some talkie-talkie at the end cause idk what's the term??? words: 0.9k

The wind howls around you, carrying the scent of burning rubber and the screams of revving engines. You glance down at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time, searching for some explanation as to why your girlfriend wanted to meet here.

Dozens of people stood shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk, their gaze locked on the road ahead. You wonder what could possibly captivate so many strangers.

And then you spot it—a row of motorcycles, ready to rumble for pride, for money, or for the sheer thrill of it all.

A street race.

“Hey baby.”

You turn to face her and are immediately struck by her look: her black leather jacket matches her stylishly messy hair. You blink a few times, trying to gather your thoughts.

Before you can say anything, she starts walking towards you, her eyes locked on yours. “You okay?”

You clear your throat and stammer out an attempt at a response, your heart pounding in your chest. “Uh, yeah, I'm fine. And you?”

Jenna's smirk grows wider as she takes in your awkward reaction, her finger tracing along the lip you're biting. “What?”

You shake your head, trying to focus on something—anything—other than her. “Nothing. You just look...” You trail off, not quite able to find the right words.

Jenna's smirk turns into a full-on grin, and she shrugs lightly before leaning in to kiss you. Your knees go weak as she leans into you, her lips soft and inviting. You lose yourself in the moment, pulling her close as you kiss her back, your hands running through her hair.

When you finally break apart, you ask, “What are we doing here again? Watching the street racers?” You point at the line of bikes waiting to take off.

“You watch me.”

“Wait what? Are you seriously going to-”

“You're going to watch me beat those losers,” Jenna says as she saunters away from you and towards the street racers. You follow her closely, watching her hips sway with each step.

When you catch up, she's already putting on her helmet and gloves.

“Who's that?” you hear a man shout, pointing at Jenna as she stands next to her motorcycle. He raises an eyebrow, curious about the beautiful woman who's about to blow them all away. The light reflecting off his bald head.

You turn to them with a cocky grin on your face. “That's my girl,” you say, pointing to Jenna.

Jenna looks over at you, her eyes smoldering as she gives you one last wink before straddling her bike and revving the engine, which roars to life like a majestic beast.

The man raises his eyebrows, “You're dating her? Nice.” With that, he takes a sip from his drink and turns his attention towards the racing.

She takes off with a burst of speed, shooting forward into the distance like a bullet. The man looks stunned for a moment, and then he lets out a loud cheer, holding his beer bottle in the air.

You hold your breath as she passes each obstacle, each turn, each straightaway, until she reaches the finish line and comes to a slow stop.

“My girl!” you shout, raising your fist in the air.

Meanwhile, the announcer on the mic is listing down the results of the race, with Jenna's name taking the top spot. “And here we have the winner, Jenna Ortega, with a time of 45 seconds in this street race!” The crowd goes wild, cheering for her.

The man beside you looks impressed too. “Looks like you got yourself a real racer there, buddy.”

“Yeah,” you reply, “She's the best.” Jenna is the best of the best, and she's shown it over and over again.

You walk over to Jenna. “That was amazing!" you exclaim, feeling the energy from the race still coursing through your veins. “Are you okay? You were really flying out there!”

Jenna just chuckles and gives you a mischievous smirk. “Of course, I'm fine. I've done this a million times.” She brushes off a few pieces of dirt from her leather jacket and holds out her hand, inviting you to help her off her motorcycle.

You grab her hand and swing her off the motorcycle. “I had no idea you were such an amazing racer.”

“I've been racing since I was a kid. It's no big deal.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “It is a big deal. You're the best racer I've ever seen.”

Jenna just chuckles again and shrugs, but you can tell she's pleased with your compliment. She grabs her helmet and gloves and sets them on the hood of the motorcycle.

She takes a step closer to you, her eyes locked on yours. She leans in closer, her breath soft on your lips. “Let's celebrate.”

“Obviously,” you answer, enjoying the playful banter between you two. “What do you want?" you ask, curiosity written all over your face.

She bites her lip, her eyes locked with yours, and then, to your surprise, she just smiles. Oh, you know that look all too well. She's not just planning something, she's planning everything. You can't help but chuckle as she leans in even closer.

“You choose,” she whispers, running a finger along your chest.

You look over to the motorcycle and then back to her, your eyes locked with hers. “I don't mind riding both.”

Jenna just laughs and rolls her eyes at you. “Oh, you're such a rascal.”

Notes: now i wanna write street racing au

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x you #wednesday #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader

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jaidens · 8 months

Note

imagine bradley falling in love w mavs daughter 🤭🤭🤭 or like them growing up together and js being like hs sweethearts and stuff idk but like JUST IMAGINE 🤭🤭🤭🤭

I was seven and you were nine looked at you like the stars that shine

pairing [s] : bradley bradshaw x mitchell!reader

warning [s] : mentions of : goose

a/n [s] : requests are open! dal loves herself a bradshaw

Bradley Bradshaw had known the Mitchells since he was still wobbling when he walked. Pete was practically a father figure after Goose passed away. His daughter was like a sister to him, which led to him taking comfort within her. Bradley was known for being her sidekick in elementary school, middle school, and highschool.

In elementary school, it was all fun and games. Bradley and you had a willow tree together that Bradley would hang from the branches while you did your homework. That was always the difference between him and you. The sporty, athleticism in Bradley while you chose the approach to reading and staying quiet.

Bradley brought out a different side in you. He made your head fuzzy and the butterflies fluttered in your stomach. He was your first crush when you were seven-years old. On the playground, he punched the hell out of Lucas Dillinger after he pushed you off of the swing set.

Then, in middle school, filled with hormones and acne you still had a major crush on Bradley Bradshaw, the lead player of the San Diego Middle School baseball team. Most girls in your middle school had a crush on him, and it ended up in him distancing himself from you. It made sense in your head. Bradley was popular and you were on the opposite spectrum of popularity. The longing stares across tables didn't make sense however, as Bradley pushes the wet broccoli on his plate while staring at you.

Highschool is where it started. When Bradley leaped up enough courage to ask you to the Homecoming dance with a poster board and your favorite flowers. The dumb smile he had on his face pulled you away from the embarrassment you had in the math hallway that day.

He picked you up in his suit and tie, and went silent whenever you walked down the stairs. His hair was pushed back slightly and he walked over to you, handing you the bouquet to you and hugging you tightly. “You look... amazing.”

Bradley Bradshaw was in love with Maverick’s daughter. That's what he knows when he sees you in his bomber jacket, a helmet, and some pretty boots as you rev up Mav’s motorcycle. You were both 18; dumb and in love as you start driving down the flight ramp on your dad's bike.

Bradley didn't have the heart to tell you he was leaving the next week.

That night you and him laid on the cold concrete and stared at the open sky. The light pollution was almost barely there, exposing all of the constellations and stars that twinkled. Bradley knew you as the quiet girl who read Junie B. Jones while everyone else played free tag. Now, you were the girl who was out of braces with pretty teeth and pretty everything.

He says your name quietly. You turn your head and see those soft hazel eyes looking into yours, as he swallows the anxious feeling in his throat. “Can I ask you something?” You nod towards him and he shakes his head and says,

“Can I kiss you?”

Those dumb feelings you had arise fuller in your head. A hand on his chest, a turn of your hips, and you connect your lips with his. The soft feeling of him apologizes for anything he had ever done to you in the distant past.

“Yes. Anytime you can kiss me.” You laugh and Bradley runs his hand across your cheek and smooths his thumb against it.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“What look? It's the only one I got?”

—

“Mommy! Momma! Did Daddy really ask you out with a poster?!” Your girls blabber questions and you quiet them down with a laugh.

“Sh. Shh.. you can ask Daddy about that tomorrow. Get to bed girls.” You tell them when you walk out and then the light off. Bradley stands in the hallway with a smile.

“That story always gets you baby.” Bradley says before you pull him into a deep kiss with a tug of his collar. “Shut up.”

#☆ — dal!!#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x gn!reader #bradley bradshaw x wife!reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x mitchell!reader #top gun x reader #rooster top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick

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princessbrunette · 4 months

Note

thinking about jj or john b with a kook reader who DOES have full access to her parents money already, but they’re not regular kooks. Maybe they’re from out of town, maybe they used to be pogues, maybe they’re psychologists or something, but they don’t even mind their daughter spending a ton of money renovating the chateau or buying jj a truck. thinking abt them being around reader’s house so on edge but her parents are so nice and welcoming it’d be like a sanctuary for them

-♎️

this is truly the dream idk i would love to give them a good life !!

˙✧˖° 🫧 ˙✧˖

having humanitarian parents who make a lot of money and really don’t give a shit for the whole obx kooks versus pogues politics. “its classist, and outdated.” — their words, not yours. they’re right though, and you’re grateful when they have no problem with you making friends with a bunch of fun loving and otherwise mischievous pogues.

want a home cooked dinner? somewhere warm to sleep for the night? some money for groceries? its hand out central at your house. as much as he hates asking for help, jj is over there the most. at first, it was this whole ‘gotta love taking advantage of stuck up kooks’ thing that had him guilt free, strolling in through your iron gates and onto your doorstep— but he quickly realised how removed your family was from everything, helping him out of the kindness of their hearts. you became his second family, which is how your relationship ended up blossoming.

he’s still shocked when he comes outside one day to see you infront of the truck he was eyeing up by the beach, swinging a pair of keys round your finger.

“i don’t have my license, you do. figured we needed a new way of getting around that wasn’t your bike, my parents don’t need any more heart attacks. catch.” you toss him the keys and he’s lost for words, watching you skip over to the passenger side. “are you waiting for a formal invitation? get over here jayj, it’s yours.”

he’s cried a few times over your generosity, he won’t lie.

in your eyes, his presence is payback enough — and yet he’s always swearing to your father over the dinner table that when he finally hits the jackpot with the gold the pogues are after, going full kook— everyone will get their payback and more.

you really don’t mind though, the payback you accept from him is that good dick, and you don’t really want anything else.

˙✧˖° 🫧 ˙✧˖

#♎️ anon #jj maybank prompt

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 2 years

Text

Yandere Best Friend

Tw: childhood abuse, divorced parents, bullying, violence, angstt, parental neglect

ageless blogs n minors DNI blease tq <3

my masterlist

hi guys after a long hiatus i come back , coping mechanism time

i wrote this like from 11pm to 3am in a frenzy so dont exepct much , ridden wih typos, contradiction,grandma misrake and idk if the reader here is fully gender neutral or i accidentally sprinkled some afab in there

thersras like a part 2 to this so eyah stayetuned

enjoys

He was there from the very beginning, that quiet boy from elementary that you shared your sandwich with when no one bats an eye at him.

He was quiet, you were considered uninteresting. Both of you are somewhat outcasts and the other children held no interest towards you and him. Perfect match for each other, instant best buddies, bonded by mutual loneliness.

Well, maybe, not instant. He was weary and so were you, it took a while before you gained his trust. He made sure you didn't stuff nasty, gritty bugs in that sandwich like how all the other kids would do. You made sure he didn't accept it just to throw it in your face.

Once it was established that you didn't add an extra ingredient and he isn't going to play bread frisbee, the door to a long and strong friendship was established. He doesn't have much to say, but he's never short on kind gestures when it comes to you. Are your bags heavy? Let him carry them, he's a strong boy; he drinks his milk and gets his healthy amount of sleep. You forgot to do your 5th grade long division homework? He is going to swap his completed homework sheets with your empty ones, he's okay with being scolded. He has some stupidly thick skin from what goes on at home.

Your yoyo is really cool, you said. You own that yoyo now. No, really, it's okay. He doesn't really need it and it made you happy when you had it in your small hands. Yes, it took him months of begging his busy, overworked, broken, divorced, struggling, knee-deep in debt dad and a couple of missed lunches to get that shiny yoyo, but he loves seeing your surprised expression and dazzling smile.

Oops, you spilled your drink all over another classmate's book, or you broke a window, or you dented a teacher's car. It doesn't matter how many people witness it, it doesn't matter what you say, he's responsible and will gracefully accept all repercussions and punishments even if that means receiving a couple more ugly bruises on his body that night.

Who doesn't like candy? He sure loves them. That's why, he uses up all his already scarce pocket money to buy you some. You protest, he's confused, don't you like candy? Yes, he knows he won't be eating a lot these few weeks because he can't afford it, but don't you like candy?

Are your hands dirty from eating all that chocolate? Here, use his white shirt as a napkin. No, really, it's okay! He's your friend, he would do anything for you... are your shoes muddy too?

Happy birthday! It's a very special day for you and him too, that's why, he saved up enough to buy you a tasty cake and a pair of beautiful promise rings made up of gold! Isn't that cool? Don't worry about how he got the money and please ignore the giant, bloodied cotton gauze on his head, please ignore his black eye, please ignore the strange burn marks on his limbs. His extra injuries are due to... him falling off a bike. You know that's not true. That's not how he got them. He is going to be really sad if you don't accept his gifts, better just shut up, smile, say thank you, kiss the boo-boos away, stuff your face with delicious cake and wear the damn ring.

Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, good night, goodbye, I love you and all the other greetings are something you hear everyday from him. Hm, the teachers are complaining that he isn't that polite to them or to the other children, all they get are silent blank stares at best, a scowl and a spitting hiss at worst.

Halloween's here, you're dressed up as a generic bedsheet ghost because its the cheapest to do. While he's dressed up as a horror movie survivor. Wow, the cuts, tattered clothes, blood, abuse marks and limping walks really sold the costume. But you and him both know very well that these aren't done using makeup or prosthetics.

You and him went on trick and treating quietly.

Aww, you both are so adorable. Candies for days. Your pumpkin buckets filled up quick, that's because your friend keeps piling his candy into yours.

Aren't chocolate bars his favorite? Yes, of course. They're so expensive, delicious and very unafforable. But why does he keep giving them to you and leaving none for himself? Because they're everyone's favorite, including yours, duh!

Such a young gentleman, he is the type to lay his coat over a puddle of water for you to cross over it.

Middle school is where children usually begin to explore the concept of romance. Maybe you saw him as a brother, maybe you weren't attracted to him at the time, maybe you wanted to put his devotion for you to the test. Whatever the reason was, you consistently friendzone him whenever he tried to court you.

But it's okay, he is willing to wait. He is willing to have his eyes sting with tears, heart broken over and over again. He is willing to grit his teeth and clench his fists while forcing a smile, watching you experiment with the idea of having a boyfriend or girlfriend with other people. He is willing to be the third wheel to every single one of your dates with other kids. Your friend is always going to be there for you no matter what, he is your unyielding safety net, he is your second choice, he is always the best alternative or default when the puppy love didn't work out. And, he found solace in that. Others come and go, he is the fucking constant.

Then, he is going to try his luck. He will do it over and over again. You're going to accept it one day.

Your friend loves flowers. He speaks the language and gives you bouquets of red roses and pink Camellias. You usually chuck it in a vase filled with water and let it wilt, they're going to be replaced anyways.

He found that the food in the cafeteria can be awful, with goopy expired milk, to half frozen pizzas, they're bound to cause some poor kid to puke their guts out later in the day. He is making sure you're not that kid, so, he dedicated what precious free time he had to hone his cooking skills. He is a busy boy, working god knows how many jobs a 12 year old can work in a day, just to fund this essential skill of his.

Middle schoolers can be so cruel, your friend may not look the most feminine, but it's the actions he does out of love that makes the children pick on him for being different. Ew! He likes flowers and cooking! Gross! Evil! Unnatural! Independent! So not Alpha!

It starts off rocky at first, bullies will sabotage him whenever they can, kick him while he's down. Ruin his stocks, call him names and vandalize his belongings, but he gets the last laugh when he makes fucking bank by selling warm, hearty, tasty meals. They're a big hit among the staff who have no time to cook for themselves and have half a brain to know eating from the cafeteria is a bad idea.

Of course, his beloved sweetheart gets to eat for free. And has the privilege to go for seconds, thirds, fourths, however much your stomach desires. Yours are always personalized to fit your palate and presented in the most appetizing way.

Soon, other children began buying his meals too. As it turns out, they fucking slap.

He began expanding, selling resold candies at a ridiculously marked up prices, but the way he marketed and packaged them, gave an illusion that he's selling a premium product. They sold out like hotcakes, while you ate wrapper after wrapper without needing to pay a single cent.

Hey, he really has a knack for business! He is raking in profits, bringing you out to eat, spoiling you with riches a self made, young entrepreneur would have, excelling in Business studies, Accounting, Mathematics and Psychology.

He began testing the limits of his trading empire, he began dabbling in service based business such as delivery, doing homework for a price, obtaining blackmail material... that is how he knew your homeroom teacher had an extramarital affair with the principal. Hmm... the principal seems to kiss his ass a lot and you get a bunch of privileges. You wonder why that happened.

His reputation grew as his shrewdness grew. Your friend was too intimidating to be bullied, as one of his business ventures includes hiring others to do some dirty work for him. You don't know the full extent of his giant conglomerate enterprise, and you don't want to know.

You remember seeing a female teacher handing him a wad of cash, her hair tousled, her clothes were messy, her lipstick smeared and weird stains were all over her body. For sure, she didn't just find it laying around in the boys' bathroom... and, there were a lot more boys requesting a bathroom break that day.

Your friend bought you the latest smartphone model on the same day too. You were disturbed with what you saw and the implications, so you asked if she even got anything out of working under him and... if she even agreed to work as... whatever she was. He just smiled, cup your cheek and told you to never, ever, ever, cheat in a relationship. Especially not with him.

He then followed up with his probably hundredth love confession for you. Which you promptly friendzone him again. Your friend would simply sigh and change the subject. Do you like your phone? He asked as you began unboxing it, the loud chatter from the mall's food court drowned the voice of doubt in your head.

His wallet is growing wider, he is growing taller, posture disciplined, voice deeper and he lost the majority of his baby fat. Giving him a sharper, meaner, leaner look, his physique is nothing to scoff at either. All those pastry batter mixing, soup stirring, skull bashing hustling and bustling sculpted those perfect abs and ass. His hair now has a healthy sheen to it since he can afford better things, his skin had no flaw and the protruding ribs on his chest is now covered up with muscular pecs.

Being pretty does have its' privileges, he observed a sale boost in his balance sheets.

Time waits for no man. Before you know it, the both of you are in Graduation togas. Smiling for the camera, you gave your friend bunny ears.

Your friend started worthless in everyone's eyes, something to poke fun at, a punching bag, forgettable and nothing serious. He transformed into this feared, revered, worshipped yet hated entity. Your friend no doubt made as many enemies as allies, that's just how it is in the business industry. Cold blooded, ruthless and absolutely bizarre to you.

He has obviously put some of the staff and students in horrible situations for his benefit and sometimes for your entertainment. They seem to genuinely see him as some sort of god, someone to cleanse them from all their sins. They... loved him. What a manipulative motherfucker.

As for you... your situation is pretty strange too. You are clearly the only person he cared about, the only person he truly ever loved and cherish. No one seem to conjure up the idea to use you against him. You seem... invisible, for the most part. And you are so grateful for that.

At least, that's what your friend wants you to think. You have no idea how many strings he has to pull to keep you safe and oblivious and innocent. You have no idea how much he had to spend to keep you pure and untainted. But, yeah. Keep believing its' due to some sort of cosmic karma system where you didn't incur any karmic debt.

It was the first time seeing his parents at this graduation ceremony, he never liked having you over at his house. They looked like how you imagined them; miserable, horrible, unhealthy and volatile. They really should not be seated next to each other, his parents looked like they're about to strangle each other and your friend at a moments' notice.

His father was smoking, plumes of grey wafted up in the open air. Ashes crumbled and dropped down to his lap. His necktie was undone and his office shirt was disheveled, much like his belt and scuffed shoes. It was a wonder how he's not escorted out of the venue yet.

His mother... she aged horribly. She looks irritated yet distant, she doesn't want to be here. Or does she not want to be with her ex husband? Maybe if they were separated by an opaque wall, the mood would be much more lifted. His mom wasn't mentioned a lot during conversations, you knew close to nothing except the fact that she gets him on the weekends.

Perhaps his mother is simply neglectful and not active, he did mention that its easier to prepare his sellable inventory during the weekends.

You're nervous to meet them, they're really unfriendly and they don't seem to care that much about their son's accomplishments.

Your friend gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rubbed his hand up and down your arm. As if to soothe you from the sight of his less than ideal parents.

To you surprise, he just shot them an indifferent look before leading you away. Their relationships must be unsalvageable.

The event comes to an end, your friend mingled with everyone who, the majority, had clenched fists behind their back. He then went to socialize with your parents, he knew them well and they also knew them well. Their opinions on him are lovely.

He continued his endeavors, trying out many different ventures. It was extremely dizzying with the sheer amount of businesses he had. Your friend moved out of his parents' house(s) and struggled with finding a place for a while. So he stayed over at your parents' house with you for the time being. You get to wake up to the smell of deliciousness every morning, the plants would be watered, furniture dusted, home sparkling clean. Though, he was rarely around.

Eventually, he found his footing and lived in his own place. It's a little cramped and it could qualify as a weapon of psychological warfare, but that was all he could afford at the time.

He fought tooth and nail to obtain a massive bank loan for his main business plan, he was stressing over opening his first restaurant. The logistics of it all, the raw materials, the hired help, the equipment, the advertising-- the pressure of it all was enough to break the average person, but not him. Oh, he thrived on this. He was calculating, he knew the costs, the risks and he saved up enough for a rainy day.

It took him many months, many trips to the bank, many meetings, many phone calls, emails, uncountable hours working 3 jobs a day, an eternity in the kitchen, in the sweltering heat of lit stoves heating up pots and pans, many times where he would lose his voice from aggressive marketing, persuasion, severe sleep deprivation, starvation, networking, tears, blood and sweat. There were more times than you can count with your hands that he was almost driven to insanity if it wasn't for you.

The thought of you alone was more than enough to ground him and keep his eyes on the prize, he is going to make so much money that, you and he wouldn't ever have to work ever again. You both would live happily ever after as a married couple, comfortable and never needing to worry if he could afford the next meal or keep the lights on.

That's nice. You wouldn't need to know what he went through, he doesn't want you to go through a life of hardship like how he did. You wouldn't ever need to work a day in your life.

Your friend rubbed his aching, calloused hands, ridden with cuts and scars. The golden promise ring sits around his finger, it wasn't his to begin with, he stole them from his parents when you both were kids. He found solitude knowing that your hands will never be like his, your back will not ache from overexertion, your muscles will be relaxed and your mind will be quiet, at peace. But only if he kept going. Only if he does not give up.

Everything he does, he does it for you. He thought to himself, as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes staring at the screen of his phone. It's showing that 5 more customers placed an order for his famous party platter through a popular social media app. Your friend sighed as he tucks his phone away before opening the door to his mini fridge containing all the ingredients needed for the orders. It's 11pm, he has to be at one of his workplaces at 6am tomorrow.

The day finally came where he would open the doors to his very own restaurant. There was a crowd waiting in front of the shiny, polished glass doors.

His team of service crews, cooks and baristas anxiously watched on as your friend glanced at his old, marred and cracked wristwatch. His hand was tightly gripping on the door handles as he watched the minute hand twitched. His eyes and mouth were dry, probably due to the dehydration he endured for a while now.

As soon as his accessory shows that it's time for the grand opening, he opened the floodgates.

Customers come rushing in like a torrent of water in a river. Some new, some old, some here to do their jobs as a journalist, some are his other associates, some are his estranged relatives, some are his rivals. It was an assortment of people, a mixed bag.

The Chefs are cooking up a storm in the kitchen, the wait staff are serving customers left and right, bringing them to their tables. Baristas are whipping up as much drinks as they can, as perfectly as they can. Not a single foam bubble out of place, or else all those training would have gone to waste.

It was loud, busy and fiery. Chaos yet it was controlled, Disorder but it was ordered.

Your friend was leading the flow, the rhythm. The pulse of the restaurant depended on him. He made sure everything is in line, satisfaction at an all time high and disappointment non existent. He barked commands, firm and domineering, he controls the scene with an iron hand.

Waitstaff were trained to strike up friendly conversations with customers whose orders will take a longer time, to give the illusion of speed. Cheery faces, toothy smiles, giggles and laughter filled the establishment's air, alluring aroma of cooked goods filled everyone's nostrils, making many stomachs growl. It was colourful, it was tumultuously harmonic, expression of glee would made its way to the patrons' face when their dishes gets served. All the meals go beyond their expectations, in terms of smell, texture, taste and plating.

Your friend made sure that the cooling system was working perfectly, as he works in a kitchen, the easiest way to get snappy and grumpy is to be hungry in an oven. Calming music that's faintly playing in the background also helps, but its' mostly for him and the other staff. Everyone else is too occupied with their own matters to notice.

Today should be a day of accomplishment, happiness and gratitude. Why shouldn't it be? Revenue is projected to be high, profits are guaranteed and expected to go through the roof. Logically, this restaurant will be sustainable for many decades to come.

But your friend... he is getting antsy, upset, distressed, unhappy. His staff is noticing that he isn't all there, he's getting crabbier by the second. They were baffled, everything is going well, he is handling it wonderfully and the pressure is actually slightly dying down.

Where are you? He had scanned the dining area many many times now. No sign of you... but your parents were there. That somewhat calmed him down a bit, if they're there, you should be there too... right? You're probably at the salad counter or the bathroom. He anxiously massaged his hands, where are you?

He trusts his staff to handle everything on their own. He decided to take big strides towards your parents. Your friend greeted them with a warm smile, an animated Hello. Your parents mirrored him and returned the affability.

He was desperate to see you again... oh god, how long has it been since he last saw you? Hear your voice? It must have been months. As this realization dawned on him, he felt the coldest chill run down his spine.

Did he... unintentionally neglected you in the process of building the perfect life? No, that can't be. He sent you texts everyday.

He clenched his jaw and pushed his gnawing thought away momentarily. He made small talk with your parents. It was fine until he abruptly cut them off and got to the point; Where are you?

Your parents glanced at each other and a look of discomfort washed over them. Your friend was using the table to support his weight as he leaned forward. His knuckles turning white from gripping the edge of the furniture too tightly.

They're studying abroad. They said. Your friend froze in place and widened his eyes.

What? Why didn't you tell him? Why didn't he know? Why--

He hastily whipped his phone out and frantically tapped on his cracked screen.

He trembled as he realized you never received his texts, let alone read it.

Your parents explained to him that you changed phone numbers two years ago when you left to continue your studies abroad.

Two years...? Its been two fucking years?!

Your friend began hyperventilating, his face was flushed and he was gagging and gasping. No, no, no this can't be. He is nothing like his parents! You meant everything to him, he had never intend to ignore you, he had never meant to neglect you! Your friend is losing grip on himself, he is shaking like a leaf. No one paid any attention to him, as he is simply insignificant at the moment.

Please... I-I need to call them, please let me call them! He was choking on his tears that were streaming down his face, dripping onto the pristine floors below.

Your father handed him his phone, your new number already dialed.

They're probably having an exam today. Your father tried to warn your friend, but he didn't hear a word. All he could think was you.

Your friend snatched it out from his hand and made a dash past all the staff, customers, chefs...

Until he reached the back door, upon which, he exited through it.

He sobbed, pressing the device against his ear, listening to it beep indefinitely.

The call eventually dropped because it wasn't picked up. His face was scrunched and his sniffles were bouncing off the walls and green dumpster nearby.

He tried again. The call dropped. He tried again. The call dropped.

He tried again,

Your friend crouched down to the ground and pulled his knees to his chest. His cries unheard by anyone, everyone else is in the restaurant. He is the only one at the back.

The call dropped.

I'm sorry. He mumbled repeatedly to himself.

He tried again.

I'm so sorry. He sobbed much harder this time, he cradled his face in his hand.

The call dropped.

Please forgive me. He squeezed his arm, his fingernails digging into his flesh.

He tried again.

You're always my number one. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have neglected you. He drew blood from piercing his skin with his nails.

The call dropped.

I'm sorry, I was only trying to build a better life for us. He took much shallower breaths.

He tried again

I would give up everything just to hear from you again, it means nothing to me if you're not here... with me. Please, I'm sorry. He was growing despondent, desolate. He was clutching his head, a ball of quivering mess.

The call dropped.

I love you. He whispered as he broke down completely. Angry at himself, angry at the world, angry at everything. Life isn't fair. He has done everything he needed to do and yet he the only reward he ever wanted isn't granted; you. He ruined everything, all of it, all his hard work, all of it was worthless. He felt worthless. The guilt and remorse and anguish of being a neglectful friend and partner was crushing him to death.

He wasn't there at the very end.

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sw33tsuccubus · 4 months

Text

𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jason todd x gn!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the power goes out, and reader gets a visitor.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 883

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: not really. reader has a job, reader leaves a door unlocked.

𝐀/𝐍: idk how/why i wrote this but here it is

Your phone pressed between your shoulder and your tilted head, you type away at your computer. If this assignment isn’t finished by tomorrow, your boss is going to be at your throat.

“Did you hear me, Y/n?”

You blink. Had Jason said anything? You tear your eyes from your screen, looking outside the window. The rain is still pouring, a flash of lightning appearing every few minutes. You turn your attention back to your computer.

“No, sorry. Can you repeat what you said?”

“I said that you should probably take a break. I’m about to go to bed, and we both know that it’s not normal for me to sleep before you.”

You nibble at your bottom lip. You still have plenty of work to do. No way you can stop now.

“I don’t know, Jay. There’s still so much I need to cover.”

“Just take a break. You need to refresh your mind and breathe a little.”

Your eyes ghosted over what you have down, silently checking for typos and grammar mistakes. Seeing none, you check what else you need. Honestly, not much. Roughly two paragraphs of work, you should be finished in less than twenty minutes, with the editing and stuff you’ll need to do.

“I’ll almost finish soon anyways, no point.”

You could hear rustling on his end, like he was getting into bed. He sighs.

“Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I’m not going to. Besides-“

You’re cut off as the entire room goes dark. You gasp, tapping different buttons on the computer. You then stand and peak outside the window. The apartment complex across from yours also seems to have gone out of power.

“What happened?”

Your boyfriend’s voice comes through the phone. You hope up and try the light switch, groaning when it doesn’t work.

“The storm cut the power. Same with the people across the road.”

He hums in acknowledgement on the other line. You make quick work of finding your candle cabinet, placing them around the apartment before looking for your lighter. You stumble over your own feet on your way to the kitchen, thumping on your side.

“What was that?”

Jason’s voice cuts through, laced with concern. He always worried about you. Props of being a Wayne, you guessed.

“I can’t see, tripped on my own feet. I’m fine.”

You stand, getting back to the kitchen and searching the drawers.

“I’m coming over.”

You can hear more rustling on his end. You smile. Of course he is, you could’ve lost your favorite movie DVD and he’d be on his way. You hear a zipper. Probably his leather jacket.

“Alright. I’m just looking for my lighter so that I can light my candles and have light sources.”

Once you find your lighter, you make a small noise of triumph. As your neck starts to cramp, you grab your phone to put the call on speaker. Nothing happens when you tap the screen or when you press the power button. Oh, it died.

You sigh, exasperated. Such a night. You can’t finish your project for work, your phone dies so you can’t communicate with the world, you can feel your apartment grow more cold since the heaters off, and all of your candles are about to be used up. You hope Jason shows up soon, so that you don’t wait for long. Also so that he doesn’t get pneumonia, since he prefers riding his bike over his car.

Once all the candles are lighted, you make your way to your bedroom. You slip into a sweater and crawl under the duvet. You had unlocked your door, knowing you wouldn’t want to get up to open it for Jason. Hopefully it’ll actually be your boyfriend opening the door, rather than some random person.

He didn’t take long. You hear the door open, and soon footsteps tread through your apartment. They stop behind your bedroom door, which slowly opens to reveal a familiar face. You smile at him, and he smiles back.

“You shouldn’t leave the door unlocked.”

“I knew you were coming, and I didn’t feel like getting back up into the cold to open the door.”

He shakes his head, kicking off his shoes and taking off his jacket.

“It’s still dangerous, Y/n. What if it hadn’t been me?”

“I knew you would’ve beaten whoever came in, since you were on the way.”

He climbs into bed beside you, pulling you against his chest. He sighs, wishing you’d be more careful. You cuddle up to him, wanting to sap up his warmth.

“At least you can sleep now. You wouldn’t have if you still had access to your computer.”

You frown.

“My boss is gonna be so mad.”

“Well, it wasn’t your fault. Tell him the truth, your power went out.”

One of Jason’s hands curl into your hair, gently massaging your head. You sigh, melting against him.

“Fine.”

He smiles, pleased.

“Now sleep. I can tell you’re tired.”

You swallow, pressing your cheek against his chest. He was warmth in the cold. Your own little heater. Your eyes close, and he lets out a content sigh as he closes his eyes as well. He makes sure you fall asleep before he does, so that you don’t try getting up to do the work while he’s out cold. Hypocrite.

#jason todd x reader #gn reader #jason todd

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batsplat · 10 days

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hiiii <3 i just saw your casey race recs post and i was wondering if you had one with dovi or marc races too! i'm relative new to motogp and i don't know where to start watching!

thankk youuuu, i love your blog, i'm learning so much thanks to you 😭😭 also you're really funny 🫶

right, this one admittedly was trickier than the casey list. marc in particular has accumulated one hell of a body of work... not easy to do justice to. marc's won a lot, but his most enjoyable races aren't the ones where he gaps the field by about two minutes at cota. it's the ones where he's scrapping and brawling his way through and the whole thing is a bit of a mess. and there's a lot of races to choose from in that regard, against a whole host of different rivals

which is very nice for him, but that makes it impossible to do anything comparably comprehensive for marc without getting to a slightly ridiculous length. luckily, that's never stopped me before, and long is what you're getting. you asked about dovi so I'm gonna go with him first, because that's a somewhat easier to tackle body of work - and limit myself to a mere ten twenty five seven eight recs. then I'll get to marc, where I've limited myself to an extremely reasonable thirty three five races, not including any I already covered in the dovi section. if you're looking for something a little more specific, like idk wet weather or feuding or whatnot, lemme know

same warning as before: plenty of race results will be spoiled in the description. in honour of how worryingly long this list is, I've escalated to a three asterisk system: * means 'go check it out', ** means 'personal favourite', *** means 'classic race'

dovi

spoiler free top ten list: welkom 2004, turkey 2007, sepang 2008, silverstone 2010, mugello 2012, mugello 2017, austria 2017, sepang 2017, brno 2018, qatar 2019

*welkom 2004: dovi's first grand prix win. most of this race consists of a three-way battle between locatelli, dovi and casey (who eventually drops away a bit) at the circuit that kicks off dovi's 125cc title-winning season. the second half of this race is more exciting than the first, and you'll never guess how dovi wins a grand prix for the very first time. let's just say he wasn't leading going into the last corner and leave it at that

**turkey 2007: andrea dovizioso once again getting himself involved in a last lap battle? SURELY not. this race is so so much fun, though after the start it settles down for a bit - stick with it, because when it gets going, it really gets going. these kids are vicious with each other! half the joy of watching these old 250cc/125cc (or equivalent) races is hearing the stuff the commentators chat about, basically getting all the good gossip of the time... like say jorge telling the spanish press they shouldn't believe half the things he says about his rivals... or how he'd already been visibly pissed off after qualifying because he was starting from p2 rather than pole... also the kind of podium both me and the commies always massively enjoy, aka one where two people on it basically refuse to acknowledge each other. the vibes between jorge and dovi are NOT good here and it's a lot of fun to watch these children being so pissy with each other

^one of his favourite career victories against his main rival in 250cc, the defending champion jorge lorenzo, who was sporting the number one plate on a superior bike to dovi's honda machinery. more often than not over the course of their time in the sport, these two have not gotten on well at all. it remains one of the sport's defining tragedies that chupa chups did not sponsor jorge throughout his career

qatar 2008: his debut in motogp and a strong race. pleasingly he gets involved in a last lap fight, and does pick off one of the aliens

*sepang 2008: dovi's first premier class podium and an extremely deserving one that really showcased his abilities as a defensive rider, the latest of late brakers etc etc. fought with valentino, then led a train of four/five riders at one point, then was involved in a great late scuffle for third place that lasted until the very end

donington park 2009: first motogp win! has to be said the aliens... uh. none of them delivered their most dignified performances. but ignore those clowns - dovi's of course cemented his reputation as a highly skilled wet weather racer over the years, but this was his first time in the spotlight in the premier class. it would take him seven more years to acquire his next victory

*qatar 2010: a somewhat stronger season than his disappointing 2009 campaign, and the first race was certainly promising. dovi scraps with vale, scraps with nicky hayden, scraps with lorenzo... the racing is pretty decent too. includes the strange sight of seeing the ducati out-powered in a straight line down the lusail straight and I'm sorry but at that point ducati might as well have called it a season, like that was their ONE thing. anyway, dovi still rode well to take advantage of it

*silverstone 2010: once jorge hits the front following some initial resistance from dani, the fight for the win is basically over - but what's going on behind him is good enough to make up for it. bunch of different duels going on in the top seven, whether it's dovi and de puniet, hayden and pedrosa, spies and sic, and eventually casey shows up to join in on the fun too. another one where a bunch of riders are pleasingly close together and there's some real suspense about the final order late on (though the most dramatic action in the last lap is happening right behind dovi - not that you see most of it given the classic tv direction sin of instead giving us a nice prolonged shot of jorge doing a wheelie over the line and his crew celebrating. cheers guys). nice comeback ride for casey-enjoyers too (he wasn't enjoying it)

**sepang 2010: lot going on in this race. three-way fight for the win. valentino is eleventh after a few corners. he does not end the race in eleventh place. this is a good race both for dovi enjoyers and for enjoyers of the... uh. complicated vale/jorge dynamic (this race immediately followed motegi, a notable low point of their relationship). lovely little spite ride, for people who like that kind of thing. love the way it gradually builds up as valentino closes and closes and dovi is just sitting on jorge's rear wheel, and then it just nicely lights up around half distance. me and the commentators are once again having a great time. it is here that jorge seals the title, so it's all post-race smiles with just a hint of posturing

silverstone 2011: casey won this by several light years, but dovi demonstrated his pedigree as a wet racer once again. his race involved intense skirmishes first with jorge and then with sic, and it's fair to say he got the better of both of them

^two excellent wet weather racers and teammates for a single year in a three person repsol honda squad. when dovi was informed he would be let go by the factory team, he decided against accepting a demotion within honda and instead made the jump to yamaha's tech 3 satellite outfit for one year. this was the first time he raced outside of honda in his grand prix racing career. then, in 2013, valentino's return to yamaha made space within ducati. he was always going to have to be vale's replacement rather than his teammate - in 2011 while searching for a ride he said "I would never accept to be teamed up with valentino rossi. it would be pure masochism. there is no room for anybody at his side, he takes it from you and he takes it all. when rossi is ready to share the limelight it will be the end of his racing days". fittingly, dovi was valentino's last ever teammate in motogp

mugello 2011: this feels like one of those classic alien era races where the winner of the race is determined after about a lap. but... it's not! makes for an unexpectedly exciting race and also *ding* last lap overtake

*valencia 2011: this one should have gone on the casey list too, knew I'd missed some. anyhow, on dovi - a lot of dovi's best races during those years came in the wet. but this time he was already engaged in a nice little scrap with dani and ben spies before the rain came. the clash also had real stakes for dovi and dani's final championship positions, a point of personal pride given that dovi had been let go by honda and pedrosa had been retained. a race that accidentally gets exciting again at the end, quite the dramatic finish. this was an emotional podium at the first race after sic's death. dovi and sic had grown up racing each other - and while he stressed that they had never been friends, dovi went to sic's house two days after the crash to see his family and share his grief with them

assen 2012: another one that probably could have gone on my casey list too, actually, with the fight for the win between dani and casey lasting pretty far into the race. behind them, it's dovi putting pressure on spies, lying in wait to make the attack... and, thrilled to say, we do in fact have some last lap overtaking. we don't really get to see how this contest is resolved because the audience needs to see the race winner coast for half a lap, but nevertheless! this one also has extra significance because spies was a factory yamaha rider and dovi was with the satellite team. always a good idea to get your market value up during contract negotiation season

*mugello 2012: would put this on my casey list if I'd included some disaster rides, which this is for him. that bit of the season where he made some high profile errors and controversial passing attempts of his own (and there was an overtake he did apologise for post-race) (this is the last casey mention I promise). anyway, never mind him. this is another one of those alien era races where the winner pretty quickly checks out by a margin of around ninety nine years, and indeed is already waving to the crowd on the last lap. the racing behind him is not too bad though, dovi is involved in a long duel with bradl that hayden eventually joins, and casey isn't the only guy executing controversial passes

assen 2014: ducati was in a pretty sorry state in 2013 and it's still in a pretty sorry state in 2014. another wet race podium, very strong race from dovi where he does manage to stick with marc for a while there. lower down the order, valentino is executing a rather nifty comeback ride after making an erroneous tyre choice

**qatar 2015: a great race and one that nicely sets the tone for what some consider a fairly interesting season. marc goes wide in the first turn and jorge has some kind of visor issues, so we end up with the two ducatis and valentino having it out for the win

^valentino after qatar 2015 about the current era of racing. at the start of the season, it looked like the ducatis would be right in the mix - surely one of the two factory riders would be able to snag a victory sooner or later. it was not to be that year and the results for the rest of the season were largely disappointing, but ducati had clearly made a step forward

sepang 2016: dovi's 2015-16 must have been maddening. three consecutive p2's to start 2015 but drops off from there. rumours at the start of 2016 that jorge's sick of yamaha and speculation is ripe about who in ducati might be sent packing for him. it looks like dovi might well be headed for the door, except iannone did something extremely damaging to his case early that season - dovi was the safe pair of hands, not the guy ducati put their hopes in. they're handing out wins to anyone who rocks up that year and indeed dovi's soon-to-be-former teammate gets ducati's first victory in about a million miserable post-casey years. plenty of talk about who'll win next and marc and vale both point to dovi, but it's just not happening. sepang is the penultimate round of the season and by this point, at least a little order has been restored again - which is when dovi finally gets his win in the wet. still bonkers to think he had two premier class wins pre-2017 both in the wet and then he's runner-up three consecutive years, very gibernau of him. he earned it too, a long scrap in the race with valentino until vale's tyres went kaput

*mugello 2017: dovi begins his transformation into a genuine title threat here. it looked like lorenzo would lead the ducati charge as he had been hired to do at ducati's home circuit in mugello, a circuit he had always been strong at. in the early stages of the race, jorge fought valentino (fresh from his first motocross accident of the season and expected to struggle late in the race) for the lead. dovi had missed warm-up as he was suffering from food poisoning, but, as would happen repeatedly that season, jorge quickly slipped back down the order - and in the end it was dovi who took the fight to the yamahas. a home victory, his first dry win, and all while not at his best physically... no wonder it was one of dovi's favourite career wins

^the moment dovi replaced maverick vinales as marc's biggest threat that season

catalunya 2017: it took dovi seven years to win two races and a week to win his next two. this was the moment when yamaha really started falling apart and confirmed the looming realignment of the competitive landscape. it all came back to the tyres - as it often did in those years, but it was particularly extreme in the sweltering heat. winning a race with your tyre preservation skills on a bike that allows you to preserve those tyres doesn't make for the most thrilling of races, but hey, job well done. his teammate finished fourth, almost ten seconds back after leading on the first lap

***austria 2017: one of the classic marc/dovi duels. the best races between the two of them (unsurprisingly) tended to be at tracks that quite heavily favoured ducati - and austria was already establishing itself as a prime ducati hunting ground. which meant that marc was pretty happy to even find himself that high up in the order and doing damage limitation in terms of the points swing in the championship fight. does that mean he plays it safe while trying to snatch the win from dovi? not even going to bother to answer that question

*motegi 2017: another in the marc/dovi collection and one that reaffirmed dovi's status as a worthy challenger to marc. a dramatic last lap in treacherous conditions that goes down right to the very last corner

**sepang 2017: such an impressive win. the title was on the line... or rather, dovi knew that he basically had to win to even still give himself a chance. he was not helped out one bit by his teammate in this regard, but rode a fantastic race in the wet to eventually force the title decider (left field choice but this dovi win is the one that most impressed me, fully thought the title would be wrapped up here especially after a poor race in phillip island)

valencia 2017: has to go on here as it's the one title decider dovi has gotten himself involved in. marc had a comfortable 21 point margin, which meant that for dovi to win the title marc would've had to finish... uh p12 or lower I believe, and dovi would've had to win the race. straightforward for marc, right? well, title deciders have a tendency to get a bit weird and nervy, just because of the stakes involved... and you can tell from how marc's riding. this race is also really dull until about ten laps to go... thing about valencia is that even when it's looking like an overtake is coming it's basically guaranteed that it won't be. the funniest part of the race is jorge ignoring team orders to a ridiculously blatant extent and ducati attempting to psychically murder him

^dovi always knew the odds were against him going into valencia. this is the moment his title bid ends, ironically just after he'd finally been freed of lorenzo

*qatar 2018: dovi would never come as close to the title again as he did in 2017, but at the start of 2018 at least it looked like he could be a serious challenger once again. this is a great race, another last lap battle... trying not to get repetitive so here, have some of my race notes to change things up:

**brno 2018: for a while, this looks like we're building up for a nice little four-way fray between dovi, vale, marc and jorge (feat. crutchlow). dovi does what he always does when he's leading and goes at the slowest possible pace, and everybody else does what they always did in those years and lies in wait, while occasionally reshuffling the order at the front in the name of whimsy. and then the yamaha does what it always does and somehow burns out its tyres anyway even though they're crawling around the circuit. anyhow, once valentino has done his scheduled backwards slide and jorge has rejoined the fray, it shapes up as a nice little three-way fray between dovi, marc and jorge. appreciating dovi races is all about getting really into the idea of tyre preservation and knowing the last laps will probably be fun. extra little spice because by this point the jorge/dovi dynamic is... not great :)) and we get an appropriately feisty duel between those two in particular

^after his win at the season opener in qatar, dovi had struggled to continue the momentum from the previous season. he went into the race fourth in the standings behind marc, vale and maverick, already 77 points down on marc - and his teammate had recently won back-to-back races. an important win and the rest of his season was a lot stronger. and of course, he had the joy of beating jorge, a relationship that managed to deteriorate even further over the course of that year

*thailand 2018: minus the yamahas providing an early and a late cameo, this one's all about another marc and dovi duel. a lot of stalking and lurking and then marc makes his move with four laps to go. excellent last few laps with overtakes galore, including of course at the very last corner

**qatar 2019: perhaps the archetypal dovi race. runs a very slow pace at the front to just carefully manage the pace, which leads to a nicely bunched up field that keeps sniping at each other. the top three for much of the race of marc, dovi and rinsy switch around plenty of times. there's one moment where dovi just like. ups the pace simply to test if he can drop everyone and then fully drops it by a second the next lap when he can't. pretty funny in how blatant it was. also, don't want to shock you here but we do indeed have another last lap battle. top five at the end covered by .6 seconds

*austria 2019: the first lap is WILD and actually manages to delay the inevitable marc/dovi duel. fabio leads for a bit, and then you are reminded of exactly why he hasn't been able to shut up about top speed for the past few years, like man after a while I'd be traumatised too. another fun duel between marc and dovi, which ends with... that's right. a last lap battle. that was kind of what their rivalry was about by 2019, given there wasn't really a title fight any more (certainly not after jorge played bowling in catalunya) - but the races themselves were thrillers, a welcome remedy when marc's dominance was at its most stifling

austria 2020: just as a heads-up - this race includes a terrifying crash when the bikes of zarco and franky morbidelli almost fly straight into valentino and maverick. nobody was seriously injured but they were inches away from a life-threatening accident; it's by the grace of god stuff. the race was stopped and then restarted, which... bit tough to say whether that helped or hurt dovi. probably helped (though I reckon he was always winning this) - in part two mr tyre whisperer is chasing jack miller on soft tyres. what happens next will shock you. deeply odd race... a lot of 2020 races had a surreal vibe - you just have to kinda experience it for yourself. at one point there's a graphic on screen telling you dovi, zarco and stefan bradl are competing for the win. this is not the case

^once more with feeling: dovi's third win at the redbull ring and only win in 2020, just after he'd announced his decision to leave ducati. between injuries, being unable to make the new rear tyre work for him and the growing alienation from ducati, 2020 was not an easy season for dovi. in the end, he was not the one to take advantage of marc's absence, and his time as a top-level rider ended when him and ducati parted ways

marc

spoiler free top ten list: cota 2013, assen 2015, phillip island 2015, mugello 2016, misano 2017, phillip island 2017, argentina 2018, assen 2018, silverstone 2019, sachsenring 2021

mugello 2010: first grand prix win! once marc has worked his way through the field this develops into a tight four-way scuffle that continues until the very end, with marc winning by .039s

estoril 2010: absolute chaos race and also the penultimate race of the season with a tight and tense championship situation. marc does well to move up the order until the rain comes and the race is paused... and then my man bins it on the sighting lap. anyway who needs more than half a bike to win a race. one hell of a comeback ride with a nicely dramatic ending

phillip island 2011: marc had to start this race from the back of the grid as a result of a one minute time penalty. early in one of the practise sessions that weekend, he had crashed and had been forced to wait in the pits while the bike was repaired, but was then sent out with only a minute to go. he tried to get in a hot lap after the chequered flag was out, and barrelled into the back of another rider who was slowing down after a practise start. the other rider went to the hospital, though was not seriously injured, and marc ended up with only a cut - but both parties were very lucky to escape relatively unscathed and he was heavily criticised for it. he himself did not agree with the penalty, and his team lodged an unsuccessful appeal. this was also a big race in that year's championship fight (that marc eventually could not see out after his crash in sepang), presenting a huge opportunity for title rival bradl to gain a decisive points advantage. a very impressive comeback ride, as well as a good contest for the win

**qatar 2012: love a race that's a mess. the season opener, and also marc's first race back after the horror crash in sepang the previous year that had given him career-threatening diplopia. marc spends a fair portion of the race battling with iannone, one of his main rivals that year, and if I personally had to fight both baby marc and baby iannone I would simply leave. another bloke is so furious at marc he slaps his arm on the cooldown lap, which was in response to a very controversial pass down the straight where marc kinda ran him off track. both were reprimanded by race direction. the finish is ridiculously close. go watch it

^the cooldown lap slap - marc was involved in several controversies that year. at the end of the year, the fim updated its rulebook, widely seen as a response to marquez-related incidents and the controversial handling of them, and introduced the penalty point system. ironically, it was that system that resulted in valentino's back-of-the-grid penalty in valencia 2015. in early 2017, the penalty points were once again scrapped

motegi 2012: another comeback ride - this time, marc stalls at the start. does his thing and eventually has a late scrap with his main title rival pol espargaro for the win. good fun

valencia 2012: 'oh you can't overtake at valencia' 'oh all the races are boring' 'oh could they please kick it off the calendar come on we deserve a better race to end the season' is what only an idiot would say. marc's last moto2 race starts from p33 after being penalised for a practise collision. spectacular comeback rides are a funny calling card to have for the statistically strongest qualifier in motorcycling grand prix history, but reflects how much of a trouble magnet he was - especially in those days. he might not have a great reputation in the premier class, but he did calm down in 2013, relatively speaking. or, well, he certainly did things it was harder to penalise him for

*qatar 2013: marc's first premier class race. jorge basically fucks off at the front from the word go, but it's an exciting battle behind him - that of course eventually involves valentino, who as ever had worked his way through the pack from further down the grid. first race first podium simple as

*cota 2013: this was always going to go on the list given that it's marc's first premier class win. the race itself is fine, not the most exciting entry on this list, but still! obviously worth a watch

**jerez 2013: icl I feel like this race really benefits from watching jerez 2005 first. not only because 2005 is the better race, but because I think you need to picture twelve year old marc marquez watching this race and thinking it was just like. the coolest shit ever. the patriotism left his body that day. I will not talk about the 2005 race here, but to be clear I am with twelve year old marc marquez on this one. anyway, back to 2013: the race is decent, the infamous copycat overtake is great but arguably the parc fermé and podium vibes are even better. not only was he shameless, but he was shameless in a way he knew echoed his hero beat for beat. baby's first premier class controversy

^the infamous finger wag. marc tries to approach him again during the podium celebrations, but seems unbothered when he is rebuffed. jorge made clear throughout that season he thought marc should be penalised, repeatedly bringing up when jorge himself was given a one race ban and how it had taught him a lesson about responsible riding (some of his rivals in 250cc and premier class rookie season might have some thoughts on that). his criticisms continued well into the season, with tensions rising again after marc's overtake on dani in aragon led to dani crashing

**laguna seca 2013: can't leave this out. important to stress moto2/125cc never went there, so it was his first time at just this notoriously tricky track that was known to be incredibly hard to conquer (here is a clip of vale and marc talking about this in the sachsenring presser). I wouldn't say the race itself is all that great once marc does his thing at the corkscrew, but laguna's quite high up there on tracks you can mostly just enjoy watching bikes go around. big moment in the championship fight because it's when marc is racking up the points at the expense of the injured lorenzo/pedrosa

^2008: valentino stops during his victory lap to kiss the corkscrew where he overtook casey // 2013: marc gets his photo taken at the corkscrew a few days before he will overtake valentino there

*silverstone 2013: a jorge/marc contest for the victory with a dramatic ending, one of the best races that year. marc had dislocated his left collarbone in that morning's warm up, so there was added tension in whether he could hold up physically across a race stint - at a time when jorge (and dani) desperately needed to make up points. interesting continuation of the lorenzo/marquez arc that season in that jorge was a little more willing to match marc's aggression, whatever the problems he had with it

valencia 2013: not bad as valencia races go, actually. which is literally only because it's a title decider and the points situation is exciting, but well credit where it's due. proper tussle between the top three - jorge was so aggressive as he attempted to back marc up into the pack that journalists in the presser afterwards were essentially inviting marc to call jorge a hypocrite. obviously has sentimental value as it's where marc's first premier class title was sealed (even if it should have been sealed earlier but hey ho)

*qatar 2014: I found it quite tricky to make a few picks for 2014, because I feel like a lot of the races this year are in the category of 'fun but not all time epics', and it's hard to really choose between a bunch of them in terms of either significance or entertainment value. the first race of a ten race win streak feels as good a place to start as any, and represents the moment when marc really began stamping his authority on the series. in many ways, this race echoed the race of the previous year: jorge leading from the start, valentino charging through the field, marc somewhere in between. except this time jorge crashes and the fight between marc and valentino is for the victory. it lasts until the penultimate lap, and this time it's marc who comes out on top

le mans 2014: marc did try occasionally to keep things interesting. yes he consistently qualified very well, but sometimes he threw in a bad start or an awful first lap for the vibes. in this one, he ran very wide during the first lap (partly helped along by jorge) and ended up back down in tenth. the pace differential is too extreme for good battles but still, some nice overtaking

**catalunya 2014: see above - there's not all that much to separate this from say mugello or silverstone, so the tiebreaker is personal preference. a good, fun scrap that involves all four of marc, vale, jorge and dani at different stages - even if the end result by this point feels almost inevitable. it is here that valentino rather understandably attempts to strangle marc in parc fermé

^still a close contest with seven laps to go. plenty of overtakes, plenty of confusion relating to a yellow flag, and last lap contact

indianapolis 2014: last of the win streak, at a track that was never particularly popular with riders and typically short on good racing. for a while there at the start it looks like this race would deserve to go on the dovi list until valentino just. um. bumps him aside. and lets marc and jorge past both of them. and then lorenzo also bumps dovi aside. sorry dovi, yamaha decided you were not to be involved in this. the next few laps are good fun too, like by this point you can TELL how much both yamaha riders want this. no manners in sight. icl it's mainly the fact that it's closing out the win streak that has made me include it and the first few laps, because once it settles down it... sure does settle down. ignore this list and just pick a win from the 2014 win streak at random - if you enjoy that one, you'd probably enjoy them all

***assen 2015: probably my favourite marquez/rossi battle. really all you can ask from with a race with two protagonists: lasts the whole race, tense, high stakes, two guys who are particularly motivated to beat each other, several overtakes plus a hell of a lot of stalking and studying each other, and last lap controversy. involves cunning, a little bit of ambiguity in the intentions of both parties, some unresolved questions. an appointment with race direction. an awfully tense post-race press conference that the relationship of the protagonists could never quite recover from. the ideal race

***phillip island 2015: one of the best races of all time etc etc, though it may make you feel like somebody is repeatedly stabbing you with the sword of damocles. still, that's entirely to do with what follows, and the race itself is a fantastic four-rider battle with a murdered seagull and a late twist

**sepang 2015: well, obviously! the actual confrontation between marc and valentino is deeply counterproductive in terms of 'guys you're letting lorenzo/pedrosa escape, stop divebombing each other' and well the whole thing is all kinds of tragic. but the racing itself nicely showcased the complete lack of respect between the pair of them and there is something kind of mesmerising about seeing two all time great wheel-to-wheel fighters go at it, no holds barred. plus it's a major part of marc's story. it is what it is

argentina 2016: this probably isn't making a lot of top thirty something lists, but hey, sometimes you just need to watch a kind of stupid race. this race was kind of stupid. it has the dubious honour of being the first in the marc/vale walk of shame 'hey remember when you guys fought here last year' tour, and they do actually get to scrap it out a bit on track again - though that confrontation is defanged from the moment they have to switch bikes. the last corner incident is dumb but also funny. the podium has truly rancid vibes. I had a good time

^nobody else on that podium as much as twitches when marc goes down. blank faces when he jokes about it in the presser. kind of impressive really. same weekend

***mugello 2016: there is a moment when you think this race will end up being an extremely tight contest until the end between the three protagonists of the 2015 fiasco. then something extremely infuriating happens, and it ends up not being that. on the one hand you leave that race feeling a little robbed, on the other hand it did still feature a veryyy dramatic finish between two of the protagonists. excellent race

**catalunya 2016: the first proper post-2015 marc/vale battle, and at valentino's favourite location for enjoyable race-long duels. it's not like... I don't think of that particular category, I'd call it my absolute favourite - but that's a very high bar. no surprise that they both really really wanted to beat each other, and hey interpersonal animosity always adds a fun nice note to the racing

sachsenring 2016: the problem with the sachsenring is that it used to produce banger after banger race until some diminutive bloke called 'marc marquez' fucking ruined it. 2003 2006 2009 2010 2011 are certified classics, as good as it gets really, tight dramatic fights for the victory and podium positions and integral to the narrative arc of their respective seasons. you used to be able to rely on this track to give you a SHOW. but then that twat showed up and... tbh I can't even remember many of his wins there having particularly memorable racing behind him (I did quite like 2018), so maybe it's not only his fault (to be clear it is in large part his fault). anyway the 2016 edition is in that stretch of 2016 where everything just kind of. goes to shit. like they start just letting anyone win. jack miller won in assen that year. anarchy in motogp. it's the michelin tyres, it's the rain, and it's this bit of the season where marc starts running away with the title. this is another very messy race, more rain, and it's one that has convinced me once and for all that marc has actual plot armour at this circuit. there is a moment where you will go 'how does he win this race' and it's the moment where he goes so far off the track he's halfway to austria. watch to find out how he somehow scams another win at the ring. damn him please do it again this year

^come on this is bullshit. if I'm the other guys I'm calling for a ban of the sachsenring until we figure out what the hell is going on. no wonder he was hopeful of winning on the murder honda

**assen 2017: brilliant race. initial four-way tussle between marquez, rossi, zarco and petrucci that includes some early aggression between the usual suspects and then some light rain to further spice things up. right on the very last lap, there are two great scraps going on - one for the win (with a controversial involvement of a backmarker), and the other for the last podium spot against cal crutchlow

**misano 2017: this is a race that very much had the shadow of valentino rossi looming over it, even though he was not in attendance. valentino had gotten himself involved in his second serious motocross crash of the season, both right before italian races, and had this time decided to take himself out of the title hunt rather definitively by breaking his leg. some time after this, marc posts a photo of himself doing motocross - which he has done a lot of over the years, but was interpreted as taunting valentino and got plenty of backlash online. whether this was a contributing factor or not, he received a frosty reception in misano. he crashed during the wet warm up session and was booed by fans as he rode past them on the scooter, prompting him to blow kisses at them. the race occurred at a tense moment during that title fight: marc had suffered a mechanical dnf in the previous race and in doing so had surrendered the championship lead to dovi. he could not afford another dnf at this late stage of the season. which perhaps made it a little surprising just how hard he fought for that win against petrucci in the treacherous wet conditions, the risk he took with his overtake on the very last lap. was it just to get an extra five points and the win, or was it (as the speculation went at the time) about getting revenge on the italian fans? who's to say - but in any case it was one of the defining performances of that year's championship and another example of marc's skill and confidence in the wet

***phillip island 2017: you know the drill - this circuit produces bangers, and this is another all-time great race. marc by this point had a weird and somewhat cursed record at phillip island in the premier class, where he'd a) been disqualified in 2013, b) crashed out of a comfortable lead in 2014, c) won in a dramatic last lap in 2015, and d) crashed out of a comfortable lead in 2016. so in his first four years, the only year he'd even finished the race, it set off a deeply unfortunate series of events involving marc and allegations of sabotage made by his childhood hero - which maybe goes to show the universe just wanted that particular relationship to be doomed. anyway, 2017!! apparently marc decided he could only finish at that circuit when it involved a dramatic battle between multiple riders. good on him! the racing is brutal, with plenty of contact between the riders, as perhaps you might expect looking at the list of protagonists: marquez, rossi, zarco, vinales, iannone, crutchlow. high stakes too - a decisive points swing in that year's title fight that could have easily gone disastrously wrong for marc. in 2018, marc once again did not finish the race

^a hard-fought race where all participants are more than happy to get physical. one of several races that season that prompts questions about aggressive riding, though this time all the riders are in agreement. after the handshake, marc gestures to the rubber that now stains valentino's leathers. in a year where team orders were a big topic of debate, valentino finished right in front of his teammate - who had still been in mathematical contention for the championship

**argentina 2018: for lovers of hubris and head loss. the full marc marquez experience. off his rocker the entire weekend. got whacked with a massive penalty at the end of the race that made the whole thing quite literally pointless and deserved every second of said penalty. jorge's long-standing mantra of 'just give him a race ban' became part of the discourse again. ended up p18 to valentino's p19, hand in unlovable hand. but apart from that, it was a really great performance!

^complaints at the time obviously centred around how marc was a repeat offender in the recklessness of his riding, and lacking in respect (see too the ever-lurking parallels drawn with the jerez 2011 apology - which was, it has to be said, issued for a considerably less egregious offence). publicly marc was mostly remorseless, accepting more blame in the aleix incident than the valentino one, and saying in an interview a few days later that he wasn't going to change his approach. it's the worst and the best of him - he had no need to barge aside other riders with the sheer raw pace he was able to access. on the phillip island 2003 comparison, see valentino's words about riding angry here. in 2012, marc was asked about whether there were races where he was determined to win at all cost, and he mentioned some examples from that year before adding, "there have been many times when I had to channel my inner rage to win a race"

***assen 2018: excellent race, as memorable as phillip island 2015 or 2017 if your favourite type of race is multi-rider dogfights. involves seven or eight riders in the lead group for large chunks of the race, with the order of those riders chopping and changing with incredible regularity. some pretty ridiculous saves (at least three riders right at the sharp end of the action where you feel that they really should have hit the deck) and a lot of contact, putting on full display just how aggressive riding had gotten during that time. most riders enjoyed the contest, though this time it was dovi's turn to be a dissenting voice. in any case, there were reportedly 99 passes within the lead group and it is rightly remembered as one of that era's finest gems

*austria 2018: marc vs the ducatis, as was tradition at the red bull ring. marc wanted to get payback for the last time they had been in austria, and determinedly got a good start to try and avoid history repeating itself - but he never quite managed to escape his pursuers. this is one of those races where there's a long stretch of it just... building, where it feels like either marc will make the break for it or there'll be a dramatic finale. which can make it ever so slightly annoying when there isn't a dramatic finale, but I am happy to assure you that this race delivers on that count. gets very good with ten laps to go

^plenty of close battles, but in those years nobody could match marc for week-to-week consistency. the closest by that metric in 2018 was valentino - but typically a few positions further down the order, hindered both by competitive decline and an increasingly horrendous yamaha. as for jorge, he found his form on the desmodici just as the ducati higher-ups lost their patience and kicked him out. he reached some impressive peaks and at last adapted well to the demands of the bike, but his season was eventually marred by injury

***silverstone 2019: quick warning - quite a scary crash on the first lap even by motogp standards. anyway, dramatic last lap battle with alex rins, who I think it's fair to say marc hasn't always had the best of relationships with. while things haven't exactly gone to plan for either rider since then, excluding fabio that was probably the rivalry that I was most excited to see develop post-2019. ah well. the race itself is fantastic though, one of those that just gradually ramps up the tension before the finale. the last two laps are crazyyyyy. top five closest finish in premier class history

^marc and rinsy (not at silverstone but earlier in the season at jerez). some long-standing bad blood here and I'm sure rinsy really would have liked to strangle marc from time to time

**misano 2019: another visit to valentino's home turf in the year time finally caught up with vale. before this race, marc and valentino tussled in qualifying. an odd and deeply unserious incident that had zero actual impact on their already doomed laps, it's notable in part due to how much marc visibly lost his cool over the whole thing. from p5 on the grid he ended up in an enjoyable duel with fabio quartararo for the victory that went down to the very last lap. as the commentators noted, he celebrated more than he has after sealing some of his championships. coming out best in a last lap battle, making sure to keep the edge over fabio, as well as 'winning in enemy territory'? the perfect weekend. as he says in the immediate post-race interview, "honestly speaking, yesterday was the extra motivation, the extra push for the race" and "really nice to win here in italy". you could tell

**thailand 2019: marc attempting to burnish his last lap battle record by breaking children's hearts? sad stuff. cruel and unusual. a lot of fun to watch. it's an understatement to say that fabio's rookie campaign exceeded expectations, and marc quickly identified him as his biggest threat going forwards. this was a match point race for marc and he needed to outscore dovi by two points to seal the title, but he had such an overwhelming lead that he could afford to take more risks than he might have other years - even if the race did follow a massive crash in friday practise that required a hospital check-up. another race that involves a lot of stalking and shadowing and plotting before the action really kicks off (with four laps to go). this race was part of marc's considerable efforts that year to put fabio in his place while he still could. poor fabio

jerez 2020: hurts to include but this list wouldn't really be complete without it. another race that very much encapsulates the full marc marquez experience. truly bonkers pace until it all went horribly wrong

^funniest moment of the race is when valentino does what is surely the closest you can get to a double take on a motorcycle when he sees marc go past. like he sees marc, then clocks who he's seeing and then visibly looks again in a sort of 'HOW is he here'

*sachsenring 2021: thing about marc at the sachsenring is that it undoubtedly got boring in terms of the victory fight for a few years there, but it's also just a fun, tricky track and he's a joy to watch on it. obviously this win is anything but boring, and the margin he pulls on the field never feels as comfortable as it should be. I don't really think I have much to say about this race that hasn't already been said. I cried

^make that eleven in a row at the ring. honorary mentions go to cota and emilia romagna '21, at time of writing his most recent wins. neither are classic races exactly - and indeed, if you're looking for races relevant to the current climate then aragon '21 is a good shout. at emilia romagna (the second race held at the misano circuit that year), pecco crashes out while being pursued by marc, which clinches the title for fabio. it is also the last race on home soil for valentino

**phillip island 2022: one more for good measure. somehow this is his first premier class ride at the circuit where he finished the race but did not win. late on in that year's tense title battle and gives you exactly what you want from a race at phillip island. it's not even a multi-rider dogfight as it is an every-rider dogfight that eventually becomes a multi-rider dogfight at the front of the pack... but if you looked at the run order after about three laps you would NOT be able to guess who the riders involved are, never mind who wins it. absolute chaos. one hell of a contest right until the very end involving one of that year's two primary title contenders - and some other foes old and new. marc's sole podium that year, and his 100th in motogp. second closest top ten in premier class history, not too bad

#marc marquez #andrea dovizioso #motogp #//#mm93 #ad4 #this was very sweet thank u anon #but also took me longer to answer lol and it's an era people here are more familiar with... so lads feel free to add/dissent #this is a complete escalation in length + detail but well. hope this isn't overwhelming #also anon you asked about marc/dovi so that's what i provided but if you are getting into the sport and are looking to watch old races #then i cannot recommend highly enough to also dip your toes in the pre 2007 years. 2004 is where it's all at i'm telling you #you've got banger after banger race you've got momentum shifts you've got narrative tension you've got interpersonal intrigue...#anyways #oh btw right after that horror austria crash marc tweeted three praying hands emojis (is that what you call them) so there's that

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 3 months

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A/N ♕ This is gaudy as shit and I don't care. Idk. There may be inconsistencies with the story, so, sorry. I've been working on this all day. 8 pages on Google Docs so you're in for a read. Good stuff starts at page 3 (mind you, this is from Google Docs perspective.) I read, reread, rereread, rerereread, rererereread .... until I couldn't. This is a little headcanon-y and a little fic-y. It's just what I was feeling. I know you know what to do if there's anything horribly wrong. For real, though. This is so fucking long I never want to see my laptop again.

C/W ♕ Unprotected P->V, F->M & M->F Oral, M->eating his cum (sorta) from F, kinda rough sex but they like it. I'm so brain dead right now that I can't remember everything. Soft broken Hanma eventually. I like you, no shit? I like you too. Kiss kiss. Snooze snooze. Happy happy.

Funsies ♕ A link of the playlist I made while I was writing this in case anyone wants to check it out. I don't think the read will exhaust the playlist so pick any song you want and it should, theoretically work at any point?

WC ♕ 3,915 (ISH - I change things once I get it here on Tumblr, but it's around that.

♕ You'll never forget the first time you rode on the back of Hanma's bike with him.

♕ He wasn't really keen on the idea of taking you home. You weren't even his responsibility.

♕ But it was a favor for one of his captains.

♕ Hanma put his helmet on you, tightening the strap under your chin carefully so he wouldn't pinch your delicate skin.

♕ He was so pissed when he noticed how pretty your eyes were, staring so intently back into his. He had to shake himself out of the distraction.

♕ "You're not wearing a helmet, Shuji?" You asked.

♕ "This's the only one I have, obviously. And you're going to wear it, got it?" He was so adamant about that.

♕ He got you settled in the helmet and threw his leg over his bike. Looking at you impatiently, waiting for you to get on, he put his hand out and you took it.

♕ You hopped on behind him and wrapped your arms around his straight waistline. And you're not sure if your heart skipped a beat because you were so nervous about being on the back of a motorcycle with him for the first time or if it was how you felt with your cheek pressed to his back

♕ He also noticed how nice your arms felt wrapped around him. He turned his head before he took off and told you you'd better hold on tighter, he doesn't drive like a 30 year old.

♕ Hanma thought he turned his head enough from your line of vision before he smiled. But you saw it.

♕ So you did what he asked and squeezed him tighter, pressing your chest harder against his back.

♕ He started the engine and the vibrations sent shockwaves throughout your cunt body like you've never experienced.

♕ Both you and Hanma thought it wasn't possible for you to get any closer to him, but you both somehow managed to impress the other.

♕ He was at a stoplight about 3 blocks from your house and he reached back to give your thigh a little pat.

♕ "Hold on to me, hana. I'm gonna go like hell when I see that light turn green."

♕ His hand stayed on your thigh even after he took off. Stayed there for so long, actually, that you were getting concerned about the upcoming turn in the road. But he pulled his hand forward just in time to take it with ease.

♕ The wind against your face that carried his scent - which you could NOT place, (Sandlewood? Cedar? It was DELICIOUS to say the least) was starting to make you feel drunk.

♕ You could just barely hear the music playing through the small (but strangely loud) speakers --- Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away), Deftones. You had heard the song before and liked it but now it held a certain heaviness over you. Everything about this moment felt right. The night was warm. The stars were out.

♕ How the fuck had you not realized this before?

♕ Hanma is ... he's fucking sexy.

♕ He pulled up to your place and he stopped the bike, letting it idle while sitting in your driveway.

♕ "Ok, you have arrived at your destination. You're welcome, for the ride of your life." He seemed a little more lighthearted now than when he first was roped into taking you home.

♕ "Yeah. Yeah, thanks. Um, thanks. Do you - maybe ... want some ..." you just couldn't fucking talk. He looked so handsome in the soft yellow lights that lined the street.

♕ "You got some food? I could eat, yeah." He kicked the bike stand out and turned it off and reached up to remove his helmet from your head.

♕ If he missed the blush that washed over your face he'd have to be a blind man. But you noticed a faint smile on him, too. So you think he caught it.

♕ "What do you feel like? I just went shopping and I'm fully stocked." You stood with your back to him, he was in the living room looking around at the shit you had all over your walls. Weird art that made him feel things. Stuff he's never thought himself capable of feeling - not bad things, either. But new things.

♕ And you felt comfortable with all of this. Knowing he was in another room than you. Except, he wasn't in the living room anymore. He was right fucking behind you. You stopped to look up into the cupboard you stood in front of to see what was there, if it was easy and quick to fix up.

♕ He reached out and traced the curve of your waist and leaned in, putting his face to the back of your head. "You going to feed me, y/n?"

♕ Your first thought was who's going to perform CPR on your right now because you're about to die. His breath was so hot on the back of your neck you were able to document the time that your heart actually stopped beating for a second.

♕ Hanma put his hands on your shoulders and ran them down your arms. When he got to your wrists, he pulled them behind your back more roughly than you've ever been touched by any man before.

♕ And he's so much taller than you, so he has to bend over so he can talk right into your ear.

♕ "I'm sure it's ready for me to eat right now. Not much prep is going to be required. I guess, in a way, you could almost call it fast food?" He yanked you so you were standing up straight and your back was flush with his front.

♕ You didn't know what to do with your hands so you just left them where he placed them. He had his free hand back on your waist, squeezing and exploring.

♕ "I don't think I've ever wanted something so bad as I do right now, hana." He said, letting his fingers dip lower and lower. You threw your head back and it fit into the dip between his neck and shoulder.

♕ You couldn't help but think he was such a fucking gentleman, waiting for your permission before he took anything. You leaned back against his chest and turned your head to kiss him. "Then take ... take it. Take what you want, Shuji. Take it all."

♕ Hanma's hand went back up to your throat and squeezed just enough to make you gasp.

♕ He leaned around and pressed his mouth to the corners of your lips, teasing you into giving yourself fully over to the kiss and sliding his tongue down your jawline to your neck. Ending up at your ear once more.

♕ "Good girl, hana. You're so wet for me right now, I can fucking smell it. Tell me what you want me to take. Hm? You want me to take you? You're going to be so good for me. Or maybe not? Maybe you're just going to be a nasty ... little ... bitch. I think I'd like to see that. This sweet girl act you put on. I've seen you walking around like you're just the best thing around here. Well? You going to prove that to me, hana? Huh?" He said, his voice dropping an octave as he ran his hand down your stomach and dipped his fingers into your panties.

♕ He moaned into your ear, "Oh fuck, hana. You're dripping for me. I'm going to fucking ruin you."

♕ He turned you around more roughly than he had to and hoisted you onto the counter, yanking your pants down and kneeling down before you, inhaling your scent. Deeply.

♕ Hanma looked up at you with such fire in his eyes, you couldn't help but feel a little intimidated. He traced his finger over your pussy, feeling your wetness before leaning forward and dragging his tongue over the same invisible line his finger forged on your trembling skin.

♕ You arched your back and gasped as he brushed his lips against your thighs. You could feel how heavy his breathing had gotten. He pushed one finger passed your folds, then two, and you could feel yourself tightening around him.

♕ "Shu, f-fuck. Please, I need ... I need ..."

♕ He looked up at you with his eyebrows raised. "What do you need, hana. Use your words."

♕ You reached down and grabbed him by the ears, pulling him up to your face. "I ... fuck me, Shuji." You kissed him, tasting yourself on him.

♕ Hanma didn't waste a second. He pulled you off the counter and dragged you into your bedroom. You turned around and yanked at his belt buckle, pulling it from the loops all at once and threw it across the room, unzipping his pants and pulling them down.

♕ He leaned you over the bed, spreading your legs and reaching up to squeeze your ass. You looked back at him, wanting him to fill you up.

♕ Hanma rubbed his tip up and down your slit, teasing you. "Shuji just ... just fuck me."

♕ You were so whiny and needy. It was making him so hard. He wanted to fuck you right then and there. To give you what you were so desperately and metaphorically, on your knees for.

♕ But the sadist in him, found it hard to acknowledge your pleas so soon. He didn't want you to work for this, per se. But he wanted to make good and damn sure you wanted him as much as he wanted you. So what if he had to deny himself instant gratification. The look on your sweet, flushed face was already worth having to drag this out.

♕ "You've been so good for me, hana. I'm going to give you exactly what you need. But I don't want you to come too soon." He said, smirking as he pulled you back to your feet and turned you around, pressing his hands into your shoulders until you were on your knees.

♕ Hanma reached down and pulled his cock out of his boxers and he patted your chin a few times. Urging your mouth to open so he could slap it on your tongue before pushing his tip into your mouth. You let him guide you as you took him down your throat. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you struggled to take him all the way in.

♕ "Fuck, y/n. Look at you. Taking me like a good little slut. I knew you were going to act like a little bitch in heat. Choking down my cock like that." He praised you through gritted teeth. Despite sounding so volatile, it made you feel so good to be used by him this way.

♕ He pulled out of your mouth and pushed you back onto the bed, flipping you over onto your stomach. He pulled your hips up and guided his tip into you, slowly pushing himself in until he was all the way inside you.

♕ Hanma held himself there for a minute, feeling you tighten around him. He started moving again, in and out of you.

♕ You felt like you were on the edge of an orgasm with every thrust. The disgusting way he used you for his own pleasure and the way he spoke to you was driving you mad.

♕ "Shuji, fuck ... I'm gonna cum."

♕ He pulled out and turned you onto your back. He spread your legs apart and leaned over you, pushing himself back inside you and pressing his lips to yours.

♕ "Yeah? How close? How close are you?" He dragged his teeth over your ear and on down to your visibly beating pulse point and left a purple mark in his wake. You clenched up around his cock so hard when he did this that he had to stop moving and pull himself together. "Fuck! Hana! Keep that shit up and this is over. I'm fucking finished."

♕ He thrust into you harder, his balls slapping against your ass wasn't helping you hold off cumming all over him. You felt your orgasm building up inside you. You reached down to rub your clit, but he saw where your fingers were aiming and he brushed your hand aside and started rubbing soft circles on it for you. It made you moan - the most whorish, slutty sound you have ever let out.

♕ It was out of your control at this point. His dick pounding inside of you, hitting all the right spots at all the right times was making you more cock-drunk than you have ever felt. If you could even consider yourself aware of anything other than his golden eyes burning holes into yours and the rise and fall of his hips against your spread legs.

♕ Your cunt swallowed his cock so perfectly. The thought crossed your mind that you were made for each other. But that's ridiculous. Hanma hates you. Right? He didn't even want to take you home. So why, then, is he balls deep inside of you right now. Don't fucking ask, you thought to yourself. Doing any and every little thing you could to stave off your imminent crash.

♕ He could see your eyes start to roll back and he knew what was happening. He pressed his thumb harder against your clit and started circling it faster.

♕ "Cum for me, hana. Show me how much you wanted this, how much you wanted my cock inside of you." He sucked on your nipple as he fucked you. Balancing over you on his left hand, his right hand still trifling with your pulsing clit. You tried to buck up against him for any extra stimulation but he only pulled back. "Aht! I make you cum. You ... you let me. Understand, hana? I ... make ... you ... cum." He growled through his clenched jaw directly into your ear. Punctuating each word with driving his hips harder and harder against you.

♕ You couldn't hold it in anymore. You came so hard and you didn't even care that he was watching you so closely. You let your body relax and gave in to the moment. You'd pretty much checked out mentally, but whatever connection remained between your brain and your body was otherworldly. You felt his cock sliding in and out of your soaked cunt. It was so thick and long. Nothing like you imagined it would be by just looking at his tall, thin frame. (But aren't those guys always the wildcard?) It was all you could focus on.

♕ Hanma was ready to cum, too. He pulled out of you and turned you over onto your stomach again. He slapped his wet cock against your ass before pushing back into your pussy, making you moan into the sheets.

♕ You were still twitching against him. As close as he was to blowing his sticky load of cum inside of you, as hard as his cock was twitching, he was so transfixed by how you felt around him. So fucking hot. So fucking soft. So fucking beautiful. Like a goddamn flower. Your pussy made him think of the most beautiful flower and nothing would ever change his mind about that. (And he would never figure out why - but he wondered if it had to do with the weird art in your living room).

♕ "Fuck, hana. Fuck!Fuck!Fuck! You want me to cum inside this pussy? Want me to cum in my pussy, huh? Yeah? Fuck, cumming so fuck- hard, holy shit. Fuck!" Hanma came with such force, you could feel his cum pouring into you. And soon after, seeping out of you from around his cock still inside of your stretched hole. He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily. He didn't want to move, not yet.

♕ And he felt like it should bother him that he was still here with you. Still, physically, a part of you, as much as you were a part of him. But he couldn't think of a single reason why he should leave. Let alone why he'd want to leave.

♕ "Shu, you ... I ... well," you tried to speak but couldn't form a coherent thought just yet. "Um," it was useless. You couldn't think. So you just laid there underneath him. Feeling more and more empty with each passing second as the sadness of this being over filled you instead feeling full from Hanma. It was not a good placeholder for him. It was not feeling nearly as good as he did. And you felt like crying.

♕ Whether because it was just too much for you or it was just nothing to him. What if it were both? Shit. You're starting to cry.

♕ He felt you tremble underneath him and he rolled off of you, turning you over to face him.

♕ "Hey, what's wrong? Hana? Look at me, now. Did I hurt you? Did I do something?" He looked more concerned that irritated. And that's probably what surprised you the most. You tried to hide your face, but he grabbed your chin and pulled you back.

♕ "No, it's ... it's nothing. I just ... it was too much. You were too good." You said, laughing hard through the tears, wholly embarrassed by your generous assessment.

♕ "Oh, what now?" Hanma smiled and kissed you on the forehead. He reached down and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it. "You say I was too good? Were you even here? I mean ... I guess it's impossible for you to feel yourself. But, I guess ... I guess I'm only as good as who I'm with? And, hana," he cupped your face in his rough, slightly grease stained and scarred hand, "you were good, too."

♕ You laughed again, shaking your head. "Don't ... don't be nice to me. I can't handle it. And that's not even ... you don't have to say that to me. I know you don't like me. You can't fucking stand me. I knew all of this when I asked your captain to make you give me a ride. How embarrassing is that. I fucking am so pathetic sometimes." You rubbed your eyes with the heel of your palm. "God. You can go. You don't have to stay. It's alright. I'm ... I'll be ... fine. I always am."

♕ Hanma sat up on his elbow, looking down at you with his brow furrowed. "Hana. I can't believe you're this stupid." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked out into the hallway.

♕ "Shuji! Who the fuck is Hana? And why do you keep calling me that? My name is-" great, now you look sad and insane.

♕ "Chill, crazy. Hana means blossom. And I think, ffffuck. Ithinkyou'reprettylikeaflowerplusyourpussyispretty." His words ran together but you heard every single separate syllable. You're pretty sure you fell in love with him a little bit, too. The fucker.

♕ He leaned over you again, pressing his lips to yours. You moaned against his mouth and reached to grab his cock, but he stopped you. "No. I wanna make you feel good. It's your turn." He kissed your neck and made his way down to your pussy, licking up his own cum that had dripped out of you. You bucked your hips up into his face, reaching down to grab a fistful of his hair.

♕ He looked up at you with wide eyes, smirking. "Hold on, hana. I got you." He sucked your clit between his lips, pressing his tongue against it and making you cry out in pleasure. He pushed two fingers into your pussy and started pumping them in and out of you, hitting your g-spot while he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue.

♕ "Fuck, Shu! Fuck me!" You screamed.

♕ He looked up at you with his eyelids still heavy. "That's what I'm trying to do, baby." He said, chuckling. "Just this time, it's with my mouth. Ok? So sit back and enjoy the ride." He leaned back down and continued sucking and licking and pumping you until you couldn't hold on anymore. You came for him, all over his face. And he didn't seem to mind one bit.

♕ He crawled up to you and laid beside you again. You looked over at him and smiled. "You're such an asshole. But I kind of like you."

♕ He leaned over and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on him. Again. "No shit? I've liked you for a while. But I ... hell, I don't know. I guess I thought you were too good for me or something." He put his head against your chest, subconsciously counting the heartbeats coming from your body. "That's usually what people tell me. The guys and stuff. They always give me shit about anyone I like. Except ... except for you. They respect you."

♕ You nodded slowly, spacing out on the chunk of blond hair above his forehead. "Yeah, it helps having a cousin who's a captain. But Shuji, I do. I really do like you. I just wanted you to know that."

♕ Hanma looked up at you with a softness in his eyes you had never seen before. "I know, hana. I know." He kissed you again, pulling the sheet over both of you. He didn't want you to see him get worked up. Not over you. Not emotionally. Not just yet. But he was pretty sure he was starting to fall in love with you. And that was just something he wasn't prepared for. Though he'd have to face up to it. Sooner, rather than later, he thought.

♕ He turned over onto his back and let you snuggle up next to him, throwing your arm over his chest. He closed his eyes, thinking about how much he'd like to do this again. Just like this. Just you.

♕ You reached over and turned off the lamp, laying your head against his chest and simply being in the darkened room with him. It was so easy, you thought. And you hoped it would always be that way, though you knew better than to believe that. Because Hanma was a very complicated man on the outside and inside. And you wanted to be the one who could be there to understand him. The one who could get to know him. The one who could make him laugh and cry and feel any and everything he ever wanted to feel. You wanted to be the one who'd be there to listen to anything he had to say. Softly spoken or screamed out.

♕ And that's all you wanted. To be there for him. And with him. And with him.

♕ "Good night, little hana." He said, pulling you tighter against him.

♕ "Good night, beautiful Shuji." You smiled in the darkness and drifted off to sleep.

♕ And you didn't care how much you'd regret saying it or how much you'd try to deny it. It was true. You were in love with him. And you knew it would be some time before he could admit he felt the same way. But you would give him whatever amount of time he needed.

♕ He hoped he would be worth it. Hanma wasn't necessarily a good man. He has never been called a good man. Never has he ever really felt like one.

♕ But he heard you talking to him in the morning before you got out of bed to fix the coffee. Telling him how you'd be there for him as best you could. No matter what.

♕ He thought to himself that he hoped he'd never disappoint you. No matter what.

Taglist ::: @katkitkats @darkstarlight82 @arlerts-angel @viburnt @kazutora-kurokawa

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