#I should cross-post to DW

[luxraydyne]

pop quiz what breed of childhood trauma borne neuroticism is it called when being condescended to on just the most neutral, limpid, nothing thoughts you express like you’re a little silly child, or “out of your depth”, or woefully misinformed, or just speaking on something you shouldn’t cause fuckin hell you’re doing it *wrong*, and with the most plainly obvious remark too, makes you want to chew on your own arm until you reach bone marrow

[ilostyou]

no actually one more thing then i’m done being complainy on the dash lol.

[thetrueressii]

after arti naturally, hunter was next tho i don't have as much lore for them this time around compared to arti

i think next would be either gourmand + monk + survivor + nightcat or spearmaster, anyways lore belong cut

despite nsh already having established colonies near his facility grounds, he created hunter to assert some control over the delivery of the green neuron fly rather than entrusting it with a regular slugcat or scavenger

due to an array of possible reasons, hunter was afflicted with rot from birth but resources were low so they would have to do and was introduced to the nearest colony to help socialize and train them for the delivery

though they were an outcast due to their artificial birth and affliction and over time their rot only grew worse and worse, but despite this, they always went on hunts/expeditions, whether it be in a group or alone, to train themself and acceptance

amputations, surgeries, and prosthetics could only slow its growth and eventually nsh had decided it was time for hunter to go as any later might've been too late

hunter crossed path with spearmaster and even gourmand's colony (at least when it was much smaller) along their journey and eventually makes it to five pebbles to receive possible treatment, remembering that five pebbles was afflicted with a similar disease

they were met with the unfortunate news that not even five pebbles could cure them, but five pebbles requested a task on top of their delivery task, which was to kill arti, or at least make her leave

taking pity or empathizing with the only other person afflicted, they accepted and well, yknow how that goes if you read the arti post

afterward, they make their delivery to moon and, after she adjusts from being well dead for so long and inquiring about hunter's journey, she suggests that hunter should spend what little time they have left with the closest colony, gourmand's

and thats about it for what i have rn for hunter really, if i were to do a comic or something like that for this au, it would take place either gourmand's colony has moved into metropolis/five pebbles facility grounds or right before

i have more plans for hunter so dw they arent doomed (yet), but for now they just chill in gourmands colony as a hunter/expeditioner i guess lol

[residenthughes]

persuasion - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x fem reader

word count: 5.7k

tags/warnings: college/university au, fluff, slight angst?, fratboy! jack (he's sweet in this, dw), mentions of alcohol/drinking, no mention of y/n

summary: you get a bit more than you bargained for when paired up with all-american hockey star, jack hughes.

notes: hi. it's been a (long) while since i've posted on here. not to mention, i'm back writing about someone a bit different 😭 but i've recently gotten into the nhl and this fic is the result of me drunkenly coming across this photo a few days ago. despite the changes on this blog, i hope this post finds you well and that you enjoy this (poor) attempt of me getting back into writing. much love <3

The end of the semester couldn’t have come sooner. Swapped with what was possibly the busiest you’ve ever been, the sweet relief after submitting your last assignment was unparalleled and lulled you to a much deserved slumber, only to be awoken by a barrage of messages pinging from your bedside table. Disgruntled, your arm extends in search of your phone, groaning into your damp pillow as you blink away the tired film coating your eyes and read the messages from your best friend.

frat house party tonight, presence is mandatory! 

all the girlies are onboard, your sexy ass better be ready by 9!

Another groan emits from you, exhaustion seeping through your bones at the mere mention of doing something else besides rotting in bed. You’re about to type some incoherent excuse, but your best friend beats you to it.

apparently, z and his guys are going. 

chances are jack’s there too.

There’s a messy stutter in your chest upon reading the message and suddenly, you’re more awake than before as you gingerly sit yourself up in your bed. Of course, she’d mention he was going just to convince you further. You weren’t even aware she knew of your crush. Considering you hadn’t mentioned him much besides when asked, his name being referenced feels more intrusive than it should be. Then again, as perceptive as she is, there was no denying the fact.

Jack and yourself had worked on a group project earlier in the semester, which is how the two of you had crossed paths. Upon hearing of the task at hand, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh because you were never a fan of working with others you didn’t know, but considering none of your friends took your class, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to get to know others and build your social circle. When your assigned group had got together towards the end of the lecture to discuss formalities and such, you hadn’t expected the whirlwind that was to come in the presence of a sandy brunette haired boy. 

Jack is as easy-going as he is charming. Cracks a couple jokes and suddenly, all the ice isolating your group dissolves to water and there are constant hums of conversation bouncing off every member of your group. He’s nice too, considerate of everyone’s schedule and what tasks they felt confident in completing, never uttering a word of complaint unless warranted. It’s interesting, he’s interesting, you think to yourself. Perhaps due to the fact that since he’d revealed himself to be in a frat, you had some preconceived notions as to what his personality would be like and maybe at times, he’d fit that stereotype to a tee, there were other times he’d stray away from it completely and leave you curious as ever.

Peculiar is what you’d describe those few weeks to be, your interest gravitating towards any relation to Jack. Heart beating as you walked past your university’s ice arena, knowing he practically lived on the ice beyond his time in class. Eyes lighting up when he texted in the group chat, mental fuzziness plaguing you every time you sat across from one another as you completed your portion of work in the university’s library. You’d be a fool to dismiss the budding attraction you felt towards him, spinning your world round but also leaving you feeling so unsure of everything, yourself included. There’s no scarcity of girls who like him, it proved to be difficult resisting the All-American hockey star with looks to match. However, taking into account the sheer volume of attention directed his way everyday, your lingering glances didn’t seem to be much more significant. So, one-sided this crush remains to you, storing away the quiet memories of shared laughs and time spent together in a place close to your heart. 

That was until he invited you to his game, shortly after your project had been submitted for assessment. You wanted to go, you wanted to go so badly that you agonised over the decision for longer than necessary, but ultimately, as you laid awake that night, eyes blazing red with fatigue, doom scrolling to further delay your dreams, the evidence for your answer surfaced. It was nothing but a silly Instagram post from one of his friends, Trevor Zegras, the boyfriend to one of your friends. A collection of typical photos: the boys, hockey and more of the antics they got to. It’s in the last slide where in the background of a recent football game is none other than Jack, in all his handsome glory, grinning ear to ear as a girl envelopes him in a hug that feels too intimate to be seen. Embarrassment runs your skin hot and jealousy leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, the thought of you entertaining anything more than platonic with Jack a pipedream at best. Naturally, there can be so many explanations for the photo, but what rings true is that you’ve made yourself vulnerable to heartbreak, which is nowhere to be found on your agenda. So, you call it a night, turning off your phone and hoping to put the crush behind you come tomorrow.

And, it works for a bit. Jack doesn’t text you further and you don’t run into him on campus. Summer soon approaches and the last few days before your break have you buzzing with excitement for all the plans you have lined up. Your world doesn’t hinge on every interaction you have with Jack and your mind is freed from the shackles of mulling over every detail in said interaction. It’s liberating and you’d like to keep it that way. A fleeting crush, you reason, all said and done with. A mantra you repeat to yourself as you respond back to your best friend, gleaming as you and your group chat discuss outfits options and pinterest inspired makeup looks. 

-

There’s nothing better than being with your girls, you’re reminded, as the buzzing excitement never fizzles as the night stretches on. Controlled chaos dominates the night as you pack into one friend’s rooms to get ready together, helping each other with eyelash extensions and annoying back zippers. Someone makes the suggestion to drop by the campus bar for a drink or two, just to ease the nerves, and it turns out to be a great idea because by the time you stumble out of the bar and towards the frat house, the party’s in full swing. 

Trashed lawn and red cup galore, the music somehow manages to reach outside the house with hoards of people dotted around and inside the house. With the merry buzz you’ve got from the bar, confidence details your movements as you lead your friends with clasped hands into the packed house, mumbling a thousand ‘sorry’s as you trample on through the crowded hallways to find yourselves in one (?) of the living rooms. 

Hands suddenly grasp at yours and you’re thrown into a fit of giggles as your friends tangle themselves up in a messy but fun dance. You follow suit, fully relishing in the euphoria of the night and the found family you have in these girls as you dance and chatter until you have no choice to venture into the kitchen for a refreshment. 

Surprisingly, the kitchen is vacant as you push through towards its door you were directed to, scanning the room amongst belongings to find some mixer for your helping of vodka stashed away in your purse. Despite your better judgement, you resort to apprehensively searching through cupboards on your tippy toes in search for mixer and as you’re about to open the last cupboard, the kitchen door opens. 

“Looking for something?”

Goosebumps arise and your heart stills. You know that voice like the back of your hand, the same voice that echoes in the back of your mind and whispers sweet nothings in your ear when you dream. The fact that he’s so ingrained in your memory makes you curse at yourself, teeth gnawing on the plumpiness of your bottom lip as you attempt to recollect your racing thoughts. With a quiet breath, you sink back from your elevated posture and turn towards the source of the voice, blinking like a deer caught in the headlights. 

It’s comical how such a simple sight renders you a loss for words. In the doorway of the large kitchen stands Jack, shoulder and head leaning against the doorframe as he looks at you with an expectant look and a cheeky grin to match. His legs are crossed at the ankles and he’s holding a beer, but he’s got this pearl white long sleeved polo on with washed out jeans and a black snapback to top it all off. The outfit in itself is so simple and yet, here you are, heart being sent into overdrive as the effortless combo drives you wild. Sets your skin alight and conjures up electricity that pulses through you like wildfire.

“Lemonade,” you gracefully croak out, gesturing towards your empty red cup. “I didn’t bring much to mix my drink with.”

“Here, I’ll help you with that,” he reassures you, bouncing off the door frame as he draws closer to you, your feet absently shifting a few steps backwards. “No need to back up. I don’t bite, you know?”

You huff at the comment, realising how foolish his mere presence makes you and will yourself to relax, shoulders easing down from your ears as you watch Jack search through the cupboards. It doesn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for, pulling out a large bottle of lemonade that coasts against the marble of the countertop. 

“Feel free to use as much as you like, I never usually have this myself anyways.” insists Jack, turning himself around with his back against the countertop, arms crossed his chest with a peering eye directed to you. 

“How thoughtful of you.” you jester as a brief chuckle is shared between the two of you, the loud thumps of heavy bass music sounding from beyond the kitchen door as silence settles between the two of you. 

“It’s been a while, how’ve you been?” he asks, undivided attention focused on you as you pour the last of the lemonade. If not for the embarrassment of spilling your drink in front of him, the unsolicited awareness he’s currently given you would have resulted in exactly that, so you stop yourself and give him a convincing smile.

“I’ve been good, thanks. It’s the end of the academic year, I have no more complaints,” you muse, bringing the cup to your lips as you peer over the rim to look at Jack, his long lashes fluttering as his focus remains you. Your heartbeat picks up its pace. “What about you? Frozen four’s a big deal, but winning the championship is even bigger.”

Jack gives a lighthearted laugh, smugness adjusting his posture as his shoulders move back and his chest puffs out. Meanwhile, he gives this half shrug and grin that has heat gravitating towards the apples of your cheeks. It’s one of the things you like about Jack, how confident and sure of himself he is without it being overbearing and unappealing. It feels assuring, not having to dim your own light for the sake of his own comfort. 

“Yeah, that was nuts, I can’t lie. We had a really good run and I think our efforts really showed for themselves in that case,” Jack responds, taking a swig of his beer. “Christ, I sound like I’m talking to the media or something.”

“Well, consider this practice for when you join Jersey in the future,” you simper, snickering as you take a sip of your own drink. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of fun speaking to the media.”

He gives an eyeroll, amusement prominent in the way his eyes twinkle and you can't help but laugh more. “So you say. How did you even know about Jersey?”

Your laugh is cut short, ice cold realisation washing over you like a bad hangover as his words hang in the air like a gauntlet waiting for its descent. Of course, this was nothing to be caught off-guard by considering how much your university boasts about how Jack, amongst other talented players, were drafted before committing to your university. However, the painful memory of you awake one late night doesn’t escape you, said night spent hesitantly typing his name into Google to come across all the info you knew to confirm how great of a hockey player he was. You feel shameful even looking him in the eyes right now.

So, your eyes stray from him, the somewhat sticky floor being the source of all your interest. “Who doesn’t know? Our uni does a good job of reminding us of everyone that’s been drafted.” 

You decide to spare a glance at Jack, taking in how a pinkish hue decorates the surface of his cheeks as his lone hand goes to scratch the back of his neck. The timidity that clouds his movement evokes a simper out of you, one that you direct into your cup, its contents rapidly draining under the weight of your continued conversation.

“Oh, man. Maybe, I shouldn’t have asked that,” he jokes, smile all pearly white and heart fluttering. “Can’t blame a guy for being nervous, no?”

“Nerv-”

Suddenly, the kitchen door bursts open and a flood of drunken students come barrelling in, hollering as their drinks splash to the floor and chaos ensues. You’re just as confused at their unexpected appearance as you are at the comment Jack made, but before you have a chance to ponder further, a warm hand settles against the small of your back followed by the gentle waft of Jack’s aftershave, a mixture sea salt with a hint of lavender and spicy nutmeg. It takes everything in you for your knees not to buckle.

“Let’s head out back.” he whispers, breath fanning over your neck as his fingertips ignite fire against your skin. 

Abruptly, you clear your throat, mindlessly nodding along as you blindly follow him out back, Jack’s larger build serving as a shield of sorts as he seamlessly navigates his way through the hordes of students. He does so with your hand in his and as much as your internal monologue unleashes panicked squeals at the contact, you revel in his touch - calloused hands that hold yours like porcelain, warm hands that match together like the universe and all its stars. 

A cool breeze blankets your skin and your focus shifts from your inner thoughts, taking in the generous and lush green outdoor space with sparse camping chairs circling a bonfire and a large tree further up ahead draped in fairy lights. There’s some people here too, but the atmosphere is a 180 from the mayhem inside, hushed light-hearted conversations exchanged beside the lit bonfire with the faint smell of weed filtering through the crisp air. The dazzling fairy lights blind you into bumping into Jack’s back, apologising with a laugh before he collapses onto the daisy white hammock before you. 

You follow suit with the carefree attitude Jack gives you, but you miscalculate horrendously because you don’t fall into the place beside your crush, but into his lap. Shock runs through your veins like ice as your bewilderment freezes you in place, mouth gaping open as you turn to face Jack in absolute horror. He seems to fare better with the unexpected contact, enlarged azure eyes showing his awe and yet his hands are in all the right places - supporting your waist as your weightless body struggles to hold its own. 

“I’m-“ the hairs on your neck are standing and you’re close to crying, the heat of your mortification burning your body hot like a furnace. “-so sorry. I didn’t-I didn’t even-“

“Relax, you’re good,” the chill of his beer against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, the feeling intensifying by the thousands as Jack’s thumb gives your exposed skin the smallest caress. You’re sure you’re the personification of shock at how every inch of your features displays pure alarm. “Unless this was your plan?”

You’re shoving him before your brain is able to comprehend its commands, your flustered state leaping out of his lap and collapsing back alongside him this time, hands clasped over your eyes as you take the time to maybe calm down. “What frat house even has a hammock anyways?”

“Rachel - Z’s girl - thought it’d be a nice touch for the garden,” you hear Jack mumble, but you’re too busy nursing your ego to fully immerse in conversation. “You’re friends with her, right? You guys came in together.” 

“Keeping an eye out for me, Hughes?” 

Apparently, your ego isn’t as bruised to make such a comment, a smirk finding itself onto the surface of your face as you’ve yet to remove your hand from your vision.

“It’s hard to keep my eyes off you.” 

You freeze in place, the heaviness in your stomach incomparable with the hammering of your heart against your chest as your brain picks apart Jack’s comment at the speed of light. None of the comments Jack has made throughout your entire conversation have gone over your head, the flirty undertones as clear as day. He wasn’t as up front with his compliments when you two first started working together, the furthest compliment he’d given denoting how nice you looked despite rolling out of bed twenty minutes beforehand. His directness makes your eyebrows furrow, or rather his intentions have you looking around as if you could find some answers. Perhaps this is how Jack is at parties - all pleasant with a careful flirtation that gradually pulls you inwards. Or maybe, this simply is the case of him showing his interest in you. The concept is not lost on you, but there is still apprehension that manifests within you, for reasons you are yet to discover.

You’re about to say something, your parted lips issuing a single incoherent syllable that dissolves on your tongue when the faint murmur of country music from a group of guys up ahead takes your notice, Jack’s nose scrunching with delight as he exclaims, “Ah, what a banger.”

Your eyebrow quirks upwards, merriment spreading against your features. “I never pegged you as the country type.” 

“Well, I’m not a Drake guy, I’ll tell you that much.” Jack shifts in his seat, extending his arm out behind your back. 

“So, a belieber then?” you jester, taunting eyebrows raised as you can’t keep your snicker to yourself when you watch Jack roll his eyes with the same grin.

“If that makes you happy, then yeah,” Jack reasons nonchalantly, whereas you make a pathetic attempt at stopping the stammer in your chest. “But no, that’s pretty much all that plays when my brothers and I wakesurf in the summer, unless Z is on the aux. Then, he and Quinn have a go at each other for it.”

Chuckles emit from your lips as you picture the image of a sunny summer day out on a boat, Jack’s older brother, Quinn, and Trevor becoming enemies of silence as they bicker over music choices. A warm fuzziness embraces you, the image placing you right beside Jack as laughter bubbles between the two of you whilst Luke wakesurfs in the background. It’s a honeyed depiction, all rose-tinted and for you to hold close to your heart along with other fantasies you allow yourself to entertain.

“We’re planning on going back to our summer house upstate where we do loads of other stuff,” Jack trails off, his fingers tapping against the glass of his bottle as you two share a look between each other. His eyes flicker downwards almost immediately, the top of his ears crimsoning. “You should stop by sometime. It’d be good to see you over the summer.”

For someone as confident as Jack, these rare glimpses of timidity demonstrate themselves as a pure anomaly. So, you can imagine your surprise at not only his incredibly generous offer but also his sheepish demeanour; gaze never aligning with yours as you feel his fingers fiddle with the material of the hammock behind your back. The sight enamours you, a rush of endearment washing over you as you lean into the feeling, not bothering to hide the wide smile growing across the expanse of your face. 

If this is what awaits you at their summer house, you’re already packed and ready to go.

“I could be persuaded.” Jack’s already rolling his eyes and against his better judgement, he finds himself chuckling with you too. 

When your amusement blends into the night sky, Jack's eyelids fall halfway, gaze steady as he mirrors your prior smirk that’s all but gone with the quiet wind. “And, what would that involve?” 

A moment is shared between the two of you. Burning bright like a star and erupting fireworks in your fingertips as your eyes linger on one another longer than explanatory. The landscape of his dotted moles capture your attention first, your sight leading itself to the galaxy-like twinkle dazzling in the ocean blue of his eyes. It’s so precious, this point in time - so delicate and intimate that it feels like a secret, whispers of infatuation pulling you together by their invisible strings as Jack’s extended arm circles your shoulders. You lean in, the temptation of his lips calling your name. Earlier restlessness ceases to exist as your movements read as second nature, the bruising of your chest accompanying the fuzziness that dances in your stomach as Jack leans into too.

“Yo, Jack!”

The moment is all but gone, burst like a bubble as both your heads turn in the direction of the voice, spying one of Jack’s friends, Cole, standing on the porch with a hand clasped around his mouth.

“Get your ass in here, we’re playing Jenga!”

A string of unpleasantries filter through Jack’s mouth in the form of a murmur, remnants of your interrupted kiss lingering as Jack gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze and gives you the most apologetic look you’ve ever seen. Puppy eyes and pouty lips, an image you lock away in your heart forever. 

“Did you wanna head in?” He gives you the choice, head tilted to the side as he studies your expression whilst you ponder the inquiry.

The almost kiss is something to behold and if this has occurred weeks prior amidst the intensity of your crush, you would have begged and pleaded to stay, hinging on the hopes of whatever this is being fabricated once again to fulfil your fondness dreams. But, this feels different. It feels sold, as opposed to balancing upon shaky possibilities. This is undeniable, a point in time that is infinite and kissed upon by destiny. A junction you can return to time and time again.

“Yeah, I’m sure my friends are looking for me anyways,” you unravel yourself from Jack’s loose grip, hoisting yourself up before you turn to face him with a soft beam. His expression reads unsure, gaze scattered before he looks upwards before your sneakers knock against his impossibly white Air Forces. You nod towards the house, the giddiness building within you exceptional as your hand extends out to meet his. “Let’s head in together?”

It comes out more of a question than a statement, but you could care less when Jack gives you that soft smile that’s only reserved for you, grabbing a hold of your hand after he brings himself off the hammock before you proceed to return back to the party.

The bustling atmosphere appears to have maintained itself in your absence, hundreds of conversations mixing in with the booming sounds of some bass heavy hip hop song. You nod your head to the beat, grinning when you see familiar faces in the crowd as you trail behind Jack yet again, following him in promise of your friends who Cole had mentioned joined their group’s game of Jenga. You make do with getting down the stairs of the basement without tumbling due to their frigid nature, face instantly lighting up as you catch sight of your friends, collapsing into a fit of excited hugs and shared giggles as you all catch up on the events of the party.

Amidst all the dialogue, some of which you’re assuming Jack’s sorority brothers and friends make quick work of getting the bare room ready, arranging beers for everyone as the box of Jenga is brought out. The weight of concentrated eyes seers into your goosebump-riddled skin and by the time you volunteer to assemble the Jenga tower, you’re more than aware of Jack’s attention on you. Even with how overflowing the confidence you possessed was as you left the back garden, the heat of his gaze reduces you to a sheepish mess, antsy hands uncertain of their movements as you attempt to achieve some standard of normalcy, your eyes avoiding his. It’s when your hands accidentally touch that you cannot avoid it much longer, peering through clumpy eyelashes with a flush that feels as vivid as painted glass. 

A lone corner of his lips inclines, his look of allurement tangled with blatant attraction enough to make you knock over some of the Jenga pieces. A deep chorus of disapproving sounds holler at your actions, your sheepishness fended off by the laughter amongst you and Jack as you continue to assemble the tower again, this serving as the last of your communication before the Jenga game commences.

Every Jenga piece taken out of the tower involves a dare that has laughter erupting from the pits of your stomach or mouth gaping open at the gull others possess whilst intoxicated. With the muffled sounds of the music upstairs and endless talk in the room, merriment captures your heart in a gentle squeeze as the dares carry on, the harmless fun quickly becoming one of your favourite memories in recent times.

It’s your turn to go and the frat guys are already teasing you with endearing nicknames, putting a smile on your face as your hands steady to pull out a tricky Jenga piece with ease. Wooden block in hand, your line of vision skims the chicken scratch of a dare with an effortless glee that’s swiftly replaced with plentiful surprise.

“What does it say?!’ exclaims Trevor, the anticipation in his voice evident as he squeals his words.

You’re reducing to your meek self again, not daring to look upwards as you enunciate your words to aid your own comprehension. “Spend seven minutes in heaven with the player across from you.”

You’re unsure whether the universe has some really good jokes up their sleeve or this is just fate to begin with because when you lift your head up, already knowing, Jack’s amused facial expression speaks for itself.  

Hollers and cheers fill the room, enough pandemonium to make you crimson as you stumble to your feet, casting a peek at your best friend with a cross between disbelief and delight. Your best friend, the same one that texted you about Jack’s presence at the party tonight, bawls her hand into a tight fist, bringing it to her chest as a sign of victory with mischief painted all over her. The ridiculousness of this farce eliminates you from ruminating about what awaits you in the closet a mere metres away. The guy most pleased with the situation opens the closet door, a few brooms pushed back into the compact space that is surprisingly clean with no cobwebs or dust in sight.

“All clean and ready for you two lovebirds,” Trevor grins with the keenness of a kid in a candy store, pushing back his long locks of hair as he sends a wink your way. “Don’t get too carried away in there, you’ve only got seven minutes.”

Jack says something in reply to Trevor’s cheeky comment but you’re too preoccupied by your own thoughts, feet carrying you to the fate of your Jenga dare as the door closes and darkness shrouds you. 

It’s silent for a minute, nothing but soft breaths and dulled whispers from outside the closet door. The closet is dangerously compact, your back up against the wall not sparing you from establishing your own personal space, the slightest shift of your shoes inevitably going to knock against Jack’s. Outside in the back garden feels so far away now, slipping through your hands as if sand with the daunting weight of unsaid expectations folding your arms and clearing a stubborn croak in your throat.

As the seconds tick on and no communication is shared, the everlasting laps you round around your mind exhaust you for the last time and you decide to face whatever this is head on, a start being making eye contact with the man that makes it the hardest thing in the world. However, with the tiniest sliver of dimmed light peaking through underneath the closet door, you can see him. Jack, in all his glory - soft and boyish, all charming in nature. The round pool blue of his eyes and the moles that dot his skin like constellations. It’s a rush of emotions, all raw and bare, to overwhelm and comfort you, with the easiness of his smile that directs your way and warms your heart like no other.

“We don’t have to do anything in here, I’d never do anything to make you uncomfortable,” Jack explains, his hand reaching to drag down one side of his face as his eyes cast away. “I hope you know that.”

This - you feel resolute in - establishing some sense of security in this room as you smile up at Jack. “The thought didn’t even cross my mind.” 

There’s a double meaning in your words and you don’t bother to correct yourself, reading in between the lines cementing itself as your favourite pastime. But, Jack knows and so do you. Perhaps you knew all along that every nook and cranny in your heart was specially reserved for Jack and no other could do. Maybe, you spent so much time in your head because this unexplored territory felt like the birth of the universe, so big and beautiful that it had more questions than answers. A forbidden fruit of sorts - a sweet mirage that the more you pulled away, gravity pulled you right back. A place where you belonged - with him in this moment forever sealed between the two of you.

Jack offers a smile in the wake of your thoughts, timid yet teasing in nature and you can’t resist, in the almost dark of the closet, grin too because this was sealed from the very beginning. Alone with infamous fratboy Jack Hughes, under some sort of awkward pretence bringing you together because you let your fears get the best of you, a stark contrast to what they are now - engulfed in thoughts, feelings of your lips against his and how this charade will come to a close, the building tension boiling till it overflows

“Hey-” you both say at the same time, silencing as you chuckle at the unison you unite in.

“Ladies first.”

“I’m more interested in what you have to say.” 

Because there’s no doubt in your mind he’ll steal the words right out of your mouth, the mere thought of those words escaping his lips the centre of all your desires.

He pauses, eyes searching yours for confirmation which presents itself in the toothy grin he struggles not to reflect, canine sinking into the corner of his lips before he responds, “If you insist.”

Jack doesn’t miss a beat as he reaches for your hand, absently tracing patterns into the skin with a thoughtful hum that proceeds his words. 

“I think I’ve been a lot more straightforward with how I feel about you, but I’d like to chance to tell you right here that I’m interested in you, in being with you. To the point that the boys get sick of me yapping about it,” you chuckle at his comment, the humour of the joke distracting you from the flood of emotions that submerges you indefinitely. “I felt this way from the time we got assigned to work together. And, if maybe you had any reservations about us, I’d do whatever it takes so that they don’t exist because you’re what matters most and that will never change.”

No feeling can compare to this. It’s almost as if you’re experiencing the full spectrum of emotions for the first time, rejoicing in the sunshine Jack basks upon you in the wake of his confession. A mirage turned reality, the colours are bright and blinding and you’re so elated within yourself that you physically cannot do more than bring Jack’s hand to your cheek to kiss his palm. A confirmation that needs no words. 

The warmth of his hand against your cheek melts you into his skin, eyelids falling shut as you revel in the tender caresses of his thumb, of his love and the unspoken words between you. A graze against your throat has your eyes fluttering open, lips parted as Jack secures his hand gently against the nape of your neck. A soft inhale escapes you as his thumb traces the corner of your mouth, dilated pupils flickering between your own and your lips.

“Can I-”

“Yes, please.” 

A star is born at the centre of your lips as they fold over one another, blending seamlessly together as you move together in synchronised harmony. You taste the remnants of beer, inhale his musky cologne and send yourself flying into another universe as Jack holds you close for impact. All your brain knows to do is convey your sentiment tenfold, kissing him as if touch starved as your fingers thread through the curls of his hair. You commit this to memory - the slowness of the kiss, the scent of his apple shampoo and his curls around your fingers, the feathery feeling of your fluttering heart and the tenderness of your hearts beating as one. So sickeningly besotted with another that everything pales in comparison.

Reluctantly, you pull away from his soft lips when the shared oxygen between you two vanishes, eyes slow to open but ultimately capturing the part of Jack’s rouge lips that quiver in your wake, his gaze meeting yours moments later. 

You kiss him again for good measure.

“Alright, horny bastards. Time’s up!” Cole’s voice thunders from beyond the door.

Lips still pressed against Jack’s, you both smile into one last kiss, just as sweet as the last. Jack savours it for what it’s worth, forehead pressed against yours as you two stand together, bruised chests aching with all the yearning that can fit into your palms.

“Consider me persuaded.” 

[aangelkeii]

❝ 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔 ❞ | A Warm Welcome Home ❀

A/N: first posted fic! this was originally a bot for a girlfriend of mine but i really wanted to expand on it a little more. it's not my greatest piece of work but i feel like i need to post something to give my readers a feel for my work :// enjoy!

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ wc: 1.1k | warnings: none! mostly fluff, a little bit of self-doubt from katsu (but only at the beginning dw), gn!reader. let me know if i forgot anything!

When Katsuki was younger, the future that he created in his mind was.. selfish. He wanted to be the only one on the metaphorical podium, receiving his praise and recognition for his hard work. He never imagined having ‘friends’ at his side, or any person for that matter, and he was fine with that. He wanted it all for himself.

Time changes, though, as Katsuki found himself altering that image of his future. There was no longer a podium, he was no longer alone, and he didn’t fight just for the praise, but because he wanted to. He shared the rewards, the recognition, he even somewhat took accountability for his wrong-doings. But the one thing that he never thought he would imagine, and something he was truthfully scared of, was love. He knew he was a bully, a bastard, a down-right cruel human being that didn’t deserve to have that warm feeling in his chest. He pushed away anyone who tried getting too close, keeping them within a distance just so he could breathe. He went from a self-centered prick to a guy who never felt secure with himself.

You changed that. You forced yourself through those walls he put up and tore them down without a second thought. Even when he tried to keep you away, tried to spare you from the forever-burning fire that raged inside of him, you jumped head first into the blaze like it was nothing. There was no podium, no grand celebration. It was just you.

After many gruelling months of non-stop hero work, he finally earned his time off. The two of you haven’t properly spent your time with each other, but Katsuki planned to use his time off to shower you with everything you deserved. On his way home, he thought about all of the places he should take you; that new theatre you were interested in attending, that bakery down the road that you practically salivated over, a new restaurant-. Plan after plan was building in his head, filling his schedule with days of you and him, and he hadn’t realized just how deep he was in his mind, finding himself unlocking the door to your shared home. He didn’t know if you’d be home or if you’re still working, so he just walked in and set his things down by the door.

Thinking of cooking dinner for the two of you, idly walking to the kitchen, but not before his feet guided him near the bedroom. His head perked up at the sound of muffled voices. Had you left your laptop open before you left this morning? Hand twisting the knob, pushing the door open to find you lying on your stomach on the bed, fully immersed in the screen of your laptop. Your arms were crossed in front of you and cushioning your head, the light from the laptop just barely illuminating you. The smallest hint of a smile grew on his face as he walked towards you, bracing a knee on the bed beside you, effectively smothering you between the blankets and him as he lowered himself on top of you without a word. 

You yelp in surprise, too engrossed with the screen to even realize that he had come home. Despite his roughness and usual loudness, he was exceptionally quiet on his feet when he wanted to be. The added weight on your body smooshes you deeper into the mattress, the smell of something smokey yet sweet meets your nose when you twist your head. You could try and move your arms, which are now pinned beneath your squished face, but you know that you’re basically helpless. Katsuki breathes into your nape with a heavy sigh. He’s deflated on top of you.

“You’re heavy,” he huffs in response. “I didn’t hear you come home. Have you eaten?”

He shakes his head slightly, only pressing his face further into your skin. His arms wrap and rest over yours, mimicking the way you’re laying down, his fingers curling in between yours. “Not hungry.”

You kiss his knuckles, gentle sweeps of your lips on his scarred skin. He lets out another sound and shifts above you, sliding to the space beside you, still pressed as tightly as possible. One of his arms moves to rest a hand on your lower back. He felt a growing pressure in his chest that only grew more when he littered kisses along your jaw, pressing even closer to force your face towards his. Eyes closed, hands warm, soft lips that slot between your own and leave you giggling. He’s not the kind of lover to show affection through his words, and he’s not typically known to show it through touch or acts of service, but he becomes a different person around you. Whatever magic you performed on his brain all those years ago must’ve done something good if he’s acting so lovey-dovey.

“Was work okay?” You try to mumble against his lips, but he just shushes you and flips you onto your back. His hand reaches up and shuts the laptop, pushing it onto whatever free space there is on the nightstand. He cages you in between his forearms, settling between your legs, chest-to-chest. His weight always seems to ground you, keep you from floating too far away. 

His lips are soft. He takes pride in himself, always stays hydrated and takes care of himself (more now that you’re around, but he won’t tell you that). His kiss is soft, too, which only further proves that he is completely exhausted. He’s in no rush. It sends your mind reeling everytime he loves you, sends everyone reeling, because Katsuki Bakugou is not the kind of guy to be slow and thoughtful. At least he’s staying true to himself just slightly, lying on top of you like he’s trying to mould your bodies together. 

He gets a little too ahead of himself and finds his head growing fuzzy, breaking away from you to catch his breath. Your hands that have moved to cup his face, brushing underneath his bottom lashes, circle tiny shapes into his cheekbones as you stare up at him. His body has grown tired now that he’s safe at home, safe in your arms, so he can’t hold himself up much longer until he flops back down on top of you with a grunt, smiling into your clavicle when he hears your breathy laugh.

“Missed you,” he mumbles. His lips feather gently on your skin when he speaks, tickling you. You run your fingers through his hair in response, humming in content when his lashes flutter and his eyes close, circling his arms underneath you.

© aangelkeii - do not repost, translate, plagarize, or claim any of my works as your own.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

wha if the greasers gf got their inital on their nails??

Summary: The Outsiders react to you getting their initials on your nails

Warnings: none

Author's Note: sorry I've been posting slow, I have around 26 asks and I'm trying 😭😭😭

PONYBOY CURTIS

Pony's the type of guy to freak the fuck out when he sees your nails because he's excited

He's not going to tell you to get his initials on your nails but he definitely thought about it

He always knows when you get your nails done so he always comes to see them

He finds them so pretty and the fancy lettering of the PC has him on his kneeeess

JOHNNY CADE

Johnny really likes when you get your nails done because you give the head massages

You've definitely gotten his favorite color on your nails and he loves when you get personalized stuff

the thought of idea of his initials on your nails never crossed his mind until he saw it on you

Hes so excited that you would openly wear his initials and asks you to do it every time if possible

SODAPOP CURTIS

Soda really likes your nails when you get them done because they look so elegant and ties your look together

He often tries to pay for them when he has the money because he loves to spoil you.

Because of this you often ask him what you should get for your nails and he jokingly says his initials

Hes surprised you did it because he thought you might be embarrassed about it or something but he's so grateful for you

STEVE RANDLE

Like Sodapop, he finds your nails to be extremely attractive and loves when you get them done.

Likes them simple and long with rounded tips because he doesn't want them to “take away from the beauty of your face”

Is absolutely stunned when you get his initials and he thinks it's an amazing display of affection

Tells you that if he had known you were getting his initials on your nails he would've stepped up and paid for it

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Two loves when you express your creativity through your nails, he adores the big y2k nails and the gyaru nails

Like when you draw shapes into his skin with your nails because it makes him feel tingly

Immediately noticed when you put the initials on because he likes to go to your appointments with you

hes so happy, clapping with excitement and paying for it even if you tell him not to

DARRY CURTIS

Darry likes your nails being done because you like them being done, he also thinks it makes you look sophisticated

He never really cared for it and never makes a scene if you get a new color or something

However when he sees the small DC on your new set he's beaming with excitement

Gives you tons of forehead kisses and totally grossed out Pony and Soda by telling you that he loves you so much.

DALLAS WINSTON

Dallas likes when you get your nails done because he thinks it makes you look sexy, especially when it's a deep red

Like Darry, he won't make a scene about it but he'll definitely notice when you get a new set

Dallas noticed when you got your nails done but he couldn't read the fine lettering so he sat down next to you and grabbed your hand to examine it

He smiled and teasingly asked you who DW is and if he'd have to fight him for getting with his girl.

[anghraine]

I always glance at my morning kudos digest from AO3 as part of drinking tea or eating breakfast—I've written and/or updated a lot of fics (over 200) over a pretty long time (certainly longer than AO3 has existed), so the fics individually don't have to be all that popular for there to always be new kudos on something every morning.

So this morning when I didn't see a kudos digest in my inbox, for a moment I was like ":( my soothing morning ritual will never be the same..." even though I have literally not updated or posted anything on AO3 in over a year. In fact, I think the only fics I've posted anywhere in that time are cleaned-up revisions/cross-posts or the rough ME/P&P prologue on DW. So I was lecturing myself on how I hadn't posted anything and couldn't coast on the past indefinitely and I'm not entitled to a kudos digest, maybe I should write/update one of the dozens of ideas floating around my head or chill—

And then I realized I was looking at the wrong email account, the one attached to original fiction stuff. I switched to my old email and the kudos digest was there with kudos on some old SW and P&P fics along with a LOK one. :D

The point of all this ... uh, I guess that there's a lot about the decline of commenting in favor of silent kudos, private Discord recs the author never sees, etc, and there is certainly a trend that way, but sometimes people talk as if kudos mean nothing for the authors, and that's not true for all of us! Personally, I look at them all.

[pearlsoceanworld]

If your requests are still open can I pls request nsfw aalto hcs with a female reader?🙏🙏 I love the way you wrote him in those hcs you posted!!

I am not good at writing nsfw butt I will write for aalto cuz he is my silly little princess<333

I didn't know if u wanted a sub reader or a Dom reader, so I did for both. I hope you like it, Anon

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Warnings: sub and Dom dynamics for both aalto and reader, vibrator(for aalto), spanking(for both), oral(for both), light bandage? I think(for aalto), begging(for both), peging/dildo(for aalto), I think that's all sorry if I missed something 😅

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Nicknames: princess, sir/daddy, slut, good boy

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Minors don't interact ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Firstly, this guy will tease you. it doesn't matter if you're in public, be it in some fancy restaurant or at the comfort of your home. This man will not stop teasing you. it's like his life mission to rile you up and make you beg for his cock or my personal favorite (peg him) fuck the daylights out of him but we will get to that later.

It's definitely a switch. I don't think he has a preference as long as it feels good, but if you are shy, he doesn't mind taking the lead. Will treat you like the best pillow princess. You don't even have to lift a finger he will take care of you, but in only one condition (what? you thought this guy would be a soft Dom without anything for him? Smh) you would have to beg him for it call him Sir (or daddy I personally prefer sir) tell him his cock is the best and no fucks you better than him and he will go down on you like no other. But if you're being a brat and not giving him what he wants, he is going to edge you until you cry and give in.

Will eat you out like it's the last meal on earth, definitely the type to rub your clit while eating you out. Has you screaming his name with how deep his toung is going inside you. By the time he is done with you, you're trembling from your 4th or 5th orgasm you don't even remember at this point.

His favorite position would be either be doggy style because he loves to spank your ass or missionary because he wants to see your face as you orgasm for nth time(bud definitely gets of your face, almost cums when you're eyes cross and drool slips out your face)

I think he likes cum either on your stomach or your back there is just something about him seed painting that makes him want to fuck you more (rip that pussy ig). Would call his princess or his slut there is no in-between with this man.

Will run you a bath for you with rubber ducks and bubbles for you to relax. He would give you the best massage and kisses, and after the bath, he would cuddle with you. He is clingy and would not let you go the entire night.

Now, as for readers who are more on the dominant side (dw I didn't forget about you guys), this guy (read slut) will rile you up to the point that you have to punish him. Will act like a brat no matter what!! Bend him over the counter and spank him hard and put some vibrator on his cock and he will cum in minutes but if your feeling extra cruel tie him up and put the vib at low settings and don't touch him or speed it up no matter how many times he whines and when he is about to cum after who knows how long turn it off and watch him cry and call you cruel for ruining his orgasm but one glare is enough for him stop whining and cry out sorrys that he would not tease you again(we all know its a lie) and to please let him cum.

If you feel nice enough, give him a hand job or blow job, and he will start moaning and whining like a pornstar you almost wanted to record him(maybe I should write about aalto & reader being a cam couple🤔?) But right now, you were focusing on making him cum oh and don't stop after one keep going milk him dry after cumming for the third time his 'please stops' would turn to 'more please... more' and who are you to deny him.

And if he is being extra braty, peg him use the biggest dildo and fuck his ass till he forgets his own name and is smiling and blabbering nonsense. Ride him till he is milked dry, and there are absolutely no thoughts behind his barley open eyes.

Make sure to untie and give him a glass of water and run a warm bath for him, and don't forget the rubber duckies cuddle him and pepper him with kisses and tell him that he was a good boy for you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Pearl's notes: I hope you guys liked this it was my writing smut for aalto. If it was ooc feel free to tell me

In aalto we thurst:33

[humblefryingpan]

Au where Bruce doesn't adopt Jason (because it never crosses his mind) but, after getting away with stealing Batman's tires and hitting him with a tire iron, Jason comes to the conclusion that B ain't shit and he can absolutely do more petty theft and mild inconveniences.

Batmobile is left unattended? The tires are gone. Batman drops a batarang/grapple gun? That's Jason's now. Batman tries to talk Jason into giving his stuff back? He clearly doesn't have them, you're crazy Bruce (the collection is visibly right behind him, he is literally holding a batarang as he says this).

Bruce tried to complain about it to Dick but he laughed so hard, he gave up. Dick thinks Jason is hilarious and after making sure he isn't dangerous helps him get into the manor. (Alfred won't say it out loud but he also clearly finds the kid funny so he let it happen)

Bruce eventually has a thought of "oh He's just looking for a family! I should adopt him!" And asks Jason if he wants to be officially adopted. Jay laughs in his face and throws a pillow at him. Bruce realises he was wrong.

He doesn't die, just goes out of town for a month or two to visit a friend and B immediately goes "all of my stuff is here wtf where'd Jay go?" and after looking around gotham he comes to the conclusion that he's dead. He tells Dick and Alfred that Jason died in an 'I'm absolutely certain' way so they assumed he double checked and didn't just overreact to a few weeks of absence.

Everyone was shocked next time he came to the manor (including Jason because he didn't think they'd care that much and didn't realize that B would assume he was dead) and it's just

"Jason?!? I thought you died!?"

"I was literally just at Roy's house?? Did you not think to check before assuming I died???"

Everyone is incredibly happy, Jason is just confused (and kind of flattered)

The other kids still show up, Tim came over to be B's fill in for Jason like a week before he came back and became a hero a few months after Jay came back. (They don't fight in this au because Jay didn't consider himself Bruce's son and neither of them were robin)

Damian is very concerned about the random dude that drops in and out of the manor (stealing random shit every time, from mugs and snacks to an entire TV) but B and Dick just go "nah he's basically family dw" like no that's our random theif.

Do you see my vision? I've been thinking about it for like an hour and finally decided to just post it. If this is a thing or if someone writes a fanfic or smth pls show me

[thehusbandoden]

Burnt -Dabi x Reader

A/n: felt angsty lol. I'll write an alternative ending or maybe a second part soon~! <3

General info:

Genre: pure angst \\ wc: 1,224 \\ posted: 01/03/2024

Summary: you gave the love of your life too many chances already. But this time? He crossed a line.. a line that should have never been crossed.

Warnings!: pure angst, no happy ending, spoilers of Dabi's backstory, Dabi's real name, arguing, toxicity, crying, mention of blood, suggested abusive childhood, trauma, gaslighting, manipulating, being badly insulted, being unable to apologize, flinching, being physically harmed, break up, shame, guilt, annd I think that's it! Pls let me know if I miss anything! <33

Alternative Ending- More Than Life Itself (Dw he doesn't get away with it, but it's fluff/comfort!)

Hurt coursed through your being as you glared at your beloved, biting your lip in pent up anger. “Why can’t you just trust me?! I’m not going to hurt you Touya!”  

“Do not call me Touya.” He growled, his hands clenching into fists. “You’ve done nothing but use me. All you ever care about is yourself, you’re a lazy, selfish, manipulative, and flat-out disgusting woman.”  

You open your mouth to retort, but quickly close it, shocked at his words. You only want him to be happy. All you do is provide love, support, shelter, and safety for him. You haven’t left him no matter how many times he’s insulted, manipulated, or gaslit you.  

You gave him shelter in your own home, no matter the risks of police, heroes, or other villains. You sat there as he yelled at you, insulted you, and belittled you.  

But... this? 

This was too far.  

“Do you mean all that?” You murmur, your eyes lowering to the floor. Your lip started to tremble.  

Dabi sneered. “Yes. Every single bit of it.” His turquoise eyes were filled with pure hatred.  

“Then just leave me.” You murmur, your hands shaking.  

“What did you say?” Dabi scoffed.  

“If I’m such a terrible person, just leave me and find someone better.” You spit, your e/c orbs filling with tears.  

“Are you really crying? Pathetic. Maybe I will... I’ll find someone who’s a lot better. She’ll be gorgeous, loving, selfless, and best of all- completely opposite of you.” Dabi snickered, pulling his black combat boots on.  

You don’t say anything. A few tears strayed down your face. Dabi scoffed. “Good.” You whisper. 

Rolling his eyes, Dabi pulls on his long leather jacket and his large backpack stored with all his belongings. He came home only a few hours ago... you tried to tell yourself to stay quiet, but you couldn’t help it... 

“Did you ever even love me?” You whisper, a few more tears joining the first.  

Dabi paused, his turquoise orbs moving to the floor. He doesn’t say anything, hardly even breathing. Silence envelops the two of you for a few moments before he speaks. “I... don’t love anything. Or anyone.”  

More tears fell.  

“So what? I was just- a- a game?” Your voice shook. Your control began to tremble.  

“You were something to pass time.” He muttered, running a large hand through his black hair. “Nothing more.”  

A choked sob broke through your lips. “Nothing? Nothing else at all?”  

“Yes. You were nothing but a stress relief.”  

A second sob followed the first. You could have sworn you saw Dabi’s sneer falter for a mere second.  

“What? Did you really think I could love someone like you?!”  

“Just go. I would wish you misery-” your voice cracks, “-but you’re already cursed. You break whomever and whatever is around you. You destroyed us and you destroyed your fam-" -a loud smack echoed across the room. Everything but you and Dabi’s heavy breathing were heard.  

You stared at the floor, your cheek burning. You couldn’t believe that the man you once loved and trusted could ever do something like this... he was not only cursed- but a liar at that.   

Biting your lip, your tearful eyes meet Dabi’s cold ones. No one other than you wouldn’t be able to tell how he was truly feeling. But you knew that his eyes were full of regret, guilt, and shame. But he wouldn’t apologize. He never would.  

“Get out.” You whisper, clenching your hands into fists. Dabi’s mouth opened ever so slightly.  

“What did you say?” He asked softly.  

“I said get out.” You demand. Tears fell down your face, making your cheek sting further. You silently cursed at your vulnerability.  

“Oh, come on y/n- it wasn’t that big of a deal.” Dabi protested, reaching out to hold you. He was gaslighting you. Again.  

“No! It was that bad! You didn’t only slap me Dabi, you burned me.” Dabi froze, your words finally pulling himself out of his delusional state. His eyes widened as he eyed your bruising cheek- it was not only bruising but burned.  

His face fell in horror. He subconsciously reached his hand to your cheek. You flinch, and he slowly falls apart.  

“Y-y/n- I-I...”  

“Get out. Now.” Your gorgeous e/c orbs hardened in rage, and he finally realized how serious you were.  

“O-okay... I’ll go.” He murmured, moving his heartbroken orbs to the floor. “I don’t want to see you again. Ever.” You murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.  

“E-ever?”  

“Ever. You crossed a line, Dabi.”  

Dabi froze as he heard you call him his villain's name... you always called him Touya... you were serious. He yearned to apologize, to hold you in his arms as he coos at you, to fix everything he ruined.  

His body jerked forward, but he didn’t budge. Opening his mouth, he inwardly screamed at himself to just- do it. The words were at the tip of his tongue. 

Memories of his childhood flashed before his eyes- the screaming, the insults, the endless apologies left ignored, or even punished. Something inside him snapped and he just- broke.  

“Good. I’m glad. I’ll be much better without your pathetic self weighing me down.” He sneered, pushing you aside, sending you scrawling to the floor. “You’re pathetic. Did you think that I loved you?!”  

Another sob broke from your lips. “Out.” 

“Y’know what? Why should I? You get out. I’m staying.”  

“I pay for this apartment Dabi! I buy the groceries, pay the bills, buy the furniture, pay for the repairs- this is my place!”  

“And I’m going to stay. Now either shut up and deal or leave.” Dabi growled. You glared at the man, your fingernails digging into your palms.  

“Dabi- leave. You’ve overstayed your welcome. Not only have you physically harmed me- whom you swore to protect, but you’ve insulted, belittled, and totally disrespected me. I want you out of my apartment by-” you were interrupted by Dabi tightly grabbing your arms, his flames burning into your flesh. Hissing in pain, you push Dabi to the ground. He lets out a loud curse before shooting back up to his feet, glaring at you. His hardened eyes involuntarily softened as he met your teary eyes. His heart stung as he watched you fall into yourself, sobbing.  

Dabi kneeled to the floor, trying to make eye contact with you. “Listen y/n... I-”  

“Leave! Go! I don’t want you or your apology! Leave or I will!” You sob, gripping onto your shirt tightly.  

Dabi’s cold, broken, and at most times invisible heart- shattered.  

He did this to you. He was a monster... he was just like Endeavor.  

Nodding, Dabi stood up. He turned away, walking towards the door. He glanced at you once more before walking out. He could hear your sobs as he closed your front door. He clenched his hands into fists. After a few moments of listening to your wails of betrayal, lost, and hurt, he couldn’t take it anymore.  

He threw a punch to his cheek, cursing himself out as he walked away. Blood streamed from his eyes; his burnt tear ducts burning in agony as his body attempted to cry. 

He insulted you.  

He lied to you.  

He broke you.  

He burnt you.  

And the worst part? 

There was nothing he could do to fix it. 

~~~~~

Dabi's masterlist | Masterlist | Navigation | You can tip me here <;3

~~~~~

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <33

Alternative Ending- More Than Life Itself (Dw he doesn't get away with it, but it's fluff/comfort!)

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

[tinyidle]

Can You Please - JWY

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: based some thoughts of perv!wooyoung wanting a favor out of you, and he needs is your body and words of affirmation...

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴/𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: wooyoung x fem!reader

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: comedy (if you squint), slice of life, smut

𝘈𝘜/𝘛𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰: established relationship, perv!wooyoung who's horny amd knows you're available

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1.13k words

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: consenual perversion, slight mention of menstruation (nothing happens dw), praise, fondling(f!self-administered), descriptive masturbation (m!self-administered/f!joi), slight manhandling (literally one smack), small brattiness/brattaming, switch!wooyoung, switch!reader, fiction ofc ofc

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: M for mature, mdni ofc

𝘈/𝘕: FIRST ATEEZ FIC POST OF 2024🎉 i made this in an hour, so please bear with me. 3rd submission to @wonderlandnet

i imagine wooyoung being so infatuated with you and your body that, even in his horniest days, all he needs to do is think of you and he nuts his shorts (lol). today, you're here and available for him to get off to. however, you're on your cycle, preventing him from getting his way fully as you get too tired and moody on your first few days to even hug him.

he was at his wits end, unfortunately. he just needed to wait one more day before he can at least ask you to suck him off, but your ass is perched up on the bed so perfectly. just looking at it gets him hard and vulnerable to cum. but it's not enough. his hand will have to do, but it's still not enough. he needs you.

"uhh, babe?" he quietly calls out for you as you look up from your phone and pause the show you were watching to peer over your shoulder. wooyoung makes himself looks small and pliant, meaning he wants something from you. you know him so well.

"what do you want, woo?" you ask in an annoyed tone. he clearly should have left you alone, but if not now then he'd die from blue balls, he swears by it.

swallowing his dignity and chance of life, he carefully asks, "can you hike your ass some more so i an jerk off to it?"

your eyes widen before turning completely around, sitting cross-legged with an almost comical shock expression on your face. "wooyoung!"

"what?"

you shake your head in disbelief. "you can wait a few more hours when im in the mood to suck you off."

that made wooyoung's own orbs widen as he was told to wait. he frantically rushed towards your smaller frame and held your waist like a child would their mother's leg! "pleaseeee, noooo! i can't wait any longer! im so hard it hurts, and if i don't get off now ill possibly die."

you tut and suck your teeth at his whining. "you won't die. your dick will just soften and make you uncomfortable."

"that'll still hurt!" he protests.

"no it won't," you quip back.

the frustrated man sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose while trying to find the proper analogy to explain his problem to you. "look, it's like when your clit throbs during the horny days of your period, but i can't touch you there. do you not get needy then?"

sighing in return, you slowly nodded, understanding his struggle a bit too well. "okay, what do you want me to do?"

mentally thanking the heavens, he carefully pulls his painful erection out and instructs you, "lay back on your stomach."

you nodded and did as told. the quick image of your boyfriend's cock was a sight to behold, and if you took a closer and longer look on the way his vein were jutting out from the girth of him, you would have opted to suck him off.

"good girl," wooyoung praises, his hand starting to gather up the copious amounts of precum that was already forming at the tip. he was extremely needy, and you fulfilling his needs like this was getting him a bit too excited.

[jiminrings]

fifth wish

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 18k

glimpse: jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead?

alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you.

[ angst, unrequited love (at first), emotional constipation, jk is Very Frustrating to be with, so much pining, the constant repetition of the notion that one must amount to something to be deserving of love, rlly wholesome fluff, mentions of blood n injuries, whole 360 redemption arc dw i am not evil ]

notes: i’m back :) this belongs to the take five universe (take five feat. yoongi, nine to five feat. jimin) n although it’s a completely different jungkook, it’s still on the same vein!! thank u for waiting for me <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)

Jungkook reminds you that love is unfair.

He reminds you that love is unfair in the same way you remember that you don’t belong to his world. He’s the walking proof that it’s possible to have everything without suffering, and as much as it isn’t his fault that he was born to it, it irks you.

You don’t hate Jungkook, no. It’s much more complex than that, something to do with the bitterness in your mind and heart from doing everything only to barely equate to what Jungkook– people like Jungkook — get for doing nothing.

You don’t hate Jungkook, he’s tolerable. He’s loving to the people dear to him; stuck-up most of the time but won’t go out of his way just to be an asshole. He can hold conversations with you, sometimes steering outside the parameters of you being his bodyguard and him being your boss. He’s rude at times but he’s tolerable — it’s the best of what you could get from people like him.

What you hate about him is that he probably hasn’t had a bad day ever in his life. 

You don’t know him to an intimate degree but you know, you know that Jungkook has not worked extremely hard for anything ever in his life. He hasn’t fought for anything because he didn’t have to.

Maybe it’s just a bad day for you today, accidentally scrolling past an article that detailed about your abrupt exit from the fighting scene. It makes your throat constrict when you skim through it for a second and register the exact words that have once crossed your mind before in a fit of insecurity; you were cowardly and cheap for leaving the octagon to become a glorified babysitter for Jeon Jungkook.

Perhaps it’s such a bad day for you today that even when you think about how your job as a bodyguard pays so much more than your occupation as a fighter, it does nothing. The lack of fatigue from guarding a nepotism baby outweighs your body more than the injuries you’ve gotten throughout your career. 

Despite being stagnant in the water instead of flailing around, you have never been more afloat than now. You’re financially and physically stable more than ever and it’s because you protect, not fight.

Even if you hate him sometimes, you protect Jungkook with your whole life. You guard him like your life depended on it because for so long, it’s been ingrained in your head that it was either do or die. That if you don’t work hard enough, there won’t be food on the table. That if you don’t fight desperately and harshly enough, no one would be able to take care of the people you’ll leave in your wake.

You do your best when you follow Jungkook to bars and assess everyone in there in the process, prioritizing your regard for his safety more than his remarks of you being a cockblock. You adhere to instinct and hold him by the waist in crowded places, even if he grumbles that you’re spoiling his game.

You pour your all when you accompany Jungkook to a private fitting and wait for him outside of the dressing room, patiently anticipating what he’d look like in a suit meant to accept an award for being one of the most influential individuals in this generation. You don’t know exactly what constitutes to him being influential besides being himself, but perhaps his existence itself is what’s most outstanding about him.

You pour so much of yourself that when Jungkook steps out of the dressing room, you smile at him fondly, sincerely. 

You give so much of yourself that protecting Jungkook has become synonymous to falling for him.

You think love is unfair because it’s biased. It’s cruel and it chooses because love is simply not for everyone. Love is not for the weak.

Love is unfair because it finds its way to you in the form of him. You are what makes love weak, and Jungkook is what makes it cruel.

Jungkook’s parents aren’t too bad.

They’re filthy rich to start off, but they do have the grasp of when and when not to let the smell of money block their sinuses. They’re even kinder and more self-aware (surprisingly) than their son and for as low as the bar can go when it comes to people in the one percent, they exceed your expectations and more.

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon listen to whatever you have to say. They give you and the staff gift baskets for no reason, each one different from the other and handpicked by themselves because even their personal assistants are surprised with their own. They’re attentive and have no qualms in giving paid leaves whenever someone’s involved in personal difficulties.

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon value your opinion too much that they’ve become casual to the point that they could have uncoded conversations in front of you, no matter how concerning the context could be.

“Jungkook badly needs an intervention.”

Mrs. Jeon says it casually like she’s just pointing out that the clouds look like sloths driving a pickup truck and whatnot (her husband calls them ‘my wife’s silly sloth thoughts’), shallow wrinkles present between her eyebrows.

“That boy seriously needs to get his act together,” she adds, sighing as she slouches further to the couch. Mrs. Jeon tuts, crossing her arms and turning her head to Mr. Jeon, you presume. “Our son really needs intervention, don’t you think? Right, Y/N?”

The thing with Mrs. Jeon is that she has a penchant of talking to herself, obvious to where Jungkook got it from. She still looks so dignified and obscenely rich to you as she’s sprawled messily on the couch and in her sweats with ice cream stains on it, but with the sudden mention of your name, you realize that you’re not so intimidated anymore.

You look back at Mr. Jeon (in matching pajamas) who’s just nodding at you to agree, because regardless or not if he baited you to agree with his wife, you would’ve coincided with the head of the house nonetheless.

Jungkook, in simple terms, has been out of control lately.

“Yes, Mrs. Jeon.”

It’s no surprise that Jungkook’s a little hard to reign in, but what shocks you the most is that his parents even gave him a fighting chance to prove to them that he’d do fine by himself without any security detail. Even before you came into the picture, Jungkook’s been complaining for years that he can’t move outside without being shadowed. And he was listened to, of course he was listened to, but the past week is testament to how he can’t do well by himself.

A week, just one week of Jungkook proving that he can fend for himself without bringing any unnecessary drama to himself and his family name.

Night after night for the whole week he ends up on the news. Last night it was him being recorded singing his lungs out on top of a table while being piss-drunk, found relatable by most people because it humanizes the Jeon Jungkook, but repulsive by everyone else. The night before that, it was him gate-crashing a wedding reception with a suit that trumps even the groom himself. He wasn’t drunk, no – he simply felt like it. He wanted to play evening golf despite hating the sport, heard that the place was booked by a couple who worked half a decade to secure the place for their future wedding, and decided point-blank to buy a suit and show up unannounced.

He was being harder to reign in, even harder to do so in the process because he’s such a public figure.

“He needs someone to repair his image,” Mrs. Jeon sighs with resignment, knowing that her son might take change from someone other than family for a change. “Someone strong enough to handle him, both publicly and privately.”

“Like a bodyguard, you mean?” Mr. Jeon chuckles, throwing his head back in laughter. “Dear, we already have Y/N for Jungkook.”

The two of them giggle at the realization that they just had a long-winded conversation in describing a bodyguard, to whom Jungkook already has in the form of you. 

It was just like yesterday when you were the esteemed MMA fighter, barely realizing that it’s already been half a year since you left the octagon. Six months ago you were bruised and bloodied yet you were winning like you usually do, the night being every other high-stakes fight night except the only difference was that Jungkook was sitting in front row.

You were the talk of the night as much as he was because despite already winning the fight against your opponent, another fight broke out just minutes after. The fighter from the undercard match stuck around in the venue until your main event finished, then angrily charged at Jungkook because he apparently slept with said fighter’s girlfriend. (Read: Jungkook did sleep with the girl but in his defense, he didn’t know she had a boyfriend — much less a professional fighter for one!)

Before you knew it, you were already jumping the fence to cut your interview short and to get Jungkook away from the commotion, instead taking the hit for him yet before you could retaliate, the impromptu fight was already called off — the fighter who attacked you was suspended, and you became the subject of praise.

Do you know Jungkook from the news? Yes. He’s the one and only nepotism baby. Do you know Jeon Jungkook personally? No.

The clip of you jumping in to defend Jungkook has garnered so much attention that it became the talk even outside of the MMA scene, your following ridiculously growing overnight. Jungkook’s parents, from sheer and excessive gratitude and remorse, offered (more on insisted) to give you a monetary award privately, but also a job. 

A job that would pay you more than professional fighting ever could, and a job that even extended to Seokjin, your handler who’d go with you until the ends of the world — who’s now the head of security for the whole detail of the Jeon family.

It’s a little complex; just a slightly funny, extremely-worrying turn of events from the past six months that flipped your life and pushed you where you are now. Not bruised and bloodied while wearing a uniform, listening to Mr. and Mrs. Jeon casually talk with you and in front of you.

“I mean a girlfriend, dummy. Maybe love could change Jungkook,” Mrs. Jeon shrugs, racking her head for any possible candidates.

“A fake girlfriend for the cameras? Or do you wanna actually marry him off to someone?” Mr. Jeon seems hesitant, making you realize that he cares more for his son than he lets out to be because he isn’t as affectionate as his wife.

“No, not that far of course,” she remedies instantly, sitting straight on the couch. “Just a fake girlfriend.”

“It should be someone we can trust though,” Mr. Jeon hums, literally looking up at the ceiling as if there’s a word bubble to physically show that he really is thinking, yet another quirk that Jungkook also has. “Someone unproblematic and lovable by the media too.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Mrs. Jeon agrees instantly. “Jungkook needs someone humble. Someone kind.”

“Jungkook needs someone stronger than him.”

You’ve been so engrossed in their conversation that you notice the moment the atmosphere changed, two heads turning to look in your direction with wide eyes. 

“This is private, I’m sorry. Excuse-…” you blurt because you realize you’ve just been caught eavesdropping, their lightbulb moment yet to shine on you.

“No, no. It’s not private,” Mrs. Jeon placates you, a breathless chuckle leaving her. It makes sense — it makes absolute sense. A fake girlfriend for the cameras: someone already bearing aforementioned qualities standing just five feet away from them.

“Sit down, dearie,” they coo with the same wide, excited eyes, practically pulling you down to sit between the two of them. “Hear us out.”

.

.

.

It’s surprising to know that at the prospect of a perfect candidate for a fake girlfriend, Jungkook’s parents’ first choice is you.

Some of the parameters of the contract were already brainstormed on the spot, including the obvious non-disclosure nature of it, your even higher pay, and the duration of it only lasting for six months. Your personal information besides the bits that the public already knew of from your fighting career (and the bits you aren’t comfortable in sharing) would be safeguarded. The living situation didn’t need much clarifications, considering you already resided in Jungkook’s residence anyway, in the main house and right on the floor below his bedroom (instead of the employees’ quarters) given the nature of your job.

Dropping the honorifics isn’t that big of a shock either, you already talk shit about Jungkook to Seokjin anyway whenever he was especially difficult.

What’s more surprising is that you agreed.

In the same way that you don’t know what possessed you when you took a hit for Jungkook six months ago, you agreed. You’re still Jungkook’s bodyguard, technically, working two jobs at this point. You can’t decipher if it’s greed or genuine eagerness that compelled you to be this invested, but you let it happen anyway.

What’s most surprising is that Jungkook seemingly has no qualms with the whole thing.

In an effort to acquaint with him better, you knock on his door to call him down for dinner instead of texting him, his eyebrows raised when he sees you waiting for him outside his door. He just knew of the contract his morning and signed it at the same time, the fake dating contracting being agreed upon as quick as the idea of it was pitched.

“Are you gonna put me on a headlock when I run away from you or something?” Jungkook narrows his eyes at you, his irritation as transparent as his face now that it’s evident he was fresh from a shower, seemingly the reason why he took so long to answer and not because he hated you — you hope.

“No, it’s stated in the contract. Even if it wasn’t, I won’t use force on you, y’know?” you laugh, feeling lighter now that you know Jungkook isn’t in a prissy mood today. You’re amused until your eyes wander, sinking in that Jungkook’s wearing clothes that aren’t pajamas, his watch that he only wears outdoors adorning his wrist. Now that you think about it, Jungkook’s hair is glistening not because he took a shower, but because he’s spent minutes styling it with gel. 

It takes two seconds for you to put things together, and it takes Jungkook three to realize that you already caught onto him. 

You know he’s planning to make a run for it so you pull him back with your hands snug on his waist, Jungkook barely making it two steps away from you before being trapped. “Except for this though. This one’s in the contract.”

He groans and tries to wriggle free but to no avail, staying rooted with the grip you have around him. If he uses his brain just a second more and thinks of you as a girlfriend instead of a bodyguard, technically, you are hugging him from behind.

“Your parents personally told me to hold you back from partying.”

“What a filial bodyguard,” he sighs, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “You’re not exactly making your boyfriend happy at the moment.”

“Sorry,” you squeak, feeling Jungkook budge against you. “I’ll let you go if you promise not to make a run for it.”

“I’m not promising shit to you,” he huffs, giving up on making you let go of him and crossing his arms instead.

Maybe Jungkook does have qualms.

“Do you want to get out of the house?” you ask to test the waters, getting the sentiment that Jungkook’s tired of his own walls and going out is his way to keep himself sane.

“Bodyguard, girlfriend, and detective? Wow, look at you go,” he mutters, the warmth creeping up to his throat little by little because you don’t seem to notice that you’re still holding him.

“Dinner with me in a restaurant outside, or dinner by yourself at home?”

“A knife so I could stab myself in the pancreas.”

You sigh at your silly thought that Jungkook would even give you a decent response, about to apologize when he utilizes your split second of distraction to break away from you, only for you to tug him back to your embrace even tighter to the point your chest touches his back.

“You don’t have to hold me so tight,” Jungkook snickers, putting your hands away from his waist as he waves you away to get his dinner so he could eat it in his room, finally getting free. “Barely the first day and you’re already in love with me.”

( ♡ )

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” 

Wrong. Absolutely incorrect, wrong, and falsified. When you’re in Rome, do as what Jungkook does.

Jet lag, despite being in a private one without the stress of sharing the same cabin air as screaming toddlers and feet-on-the-armrest passengers, is still jet lag. However, if you are a nepo baby named Jeon Jungkook who acts as if your throat would close up if you do not wander as soon as you land after a 19-hour flight with two transfers, your bodyguard who’s also your (fake) girlfriend’s jet lag doesn’t mean shit. 

You would be more inclined to look at your surroundings and let yourself get swayed into buying trinkets if only Jungkook doesn’t get antsy if he stands in one spot for more than two minutes. Your head’s pounding from the fatigue more than it would pound in a headlock, getting blisters even if your shoes have been worn-in already. Seokjin was back in the hotel, probably having the time of his life knowing that he didn’t have to escort the brat.

“What business do you have here? In Rome, of all places?” you ask curiously, knowing that he had no official matters to attend to.

“None of yours,” Jungkook quips playfully, finishing with a scoff and throwing a look behind his shoulder.

Oh. You look absolutely spent.

Jungkook relents when you completely stop behind him with a dead look in your gaze, no longer following him even if he tells you repeatedly that he’s going to walk without you. He would push through with it, if only he didn’t feel unsafe without you shadowing him. He beckons you over, sighing heavily to give you an answer that wasn’t snarky. “One of my exes is the daughter of this guy who owns this brand. There’s a show.”

“A little more specific, please?” you hum, regaining the energy to walk side by side with him. The streets are noisy tonight, lively and warm and cold at the same time but you will yourself to only focus on Jungkook, your (fake) boyfriend who’s only getting more ticked by the minute. In fact, you don’t even know where and why you’re walking, you’re just following Jungkook because it’s obvious that this isn’t his first time here. “You’re this excited over a show? Didn’t you say couture was another term for fugly?”

“I’m getting laid tonight with my heiress ex. Yay!” Jungkook finally bursts, sounding ultimately sarcastic with his delivery but by the way he screws his eyes shut and sighs, you know it’s only truth underneath it.

“Jungkook,” you mumble, steps faltering that even he notices your sudden shift of mood. “We’re supposed to be dating.”

You don’t say it with anger but you say it with resoluteness. If only you could hear yourself right now, you would hear just how upset you sound, physique devoid of your usual playfulness. You are upset, you just don’t know if you have the actual right to be.

“Fake dating,” Jungkook corrects, subduing his tone to match your somberness. “There’s nothing in the contract that says we have to do it for real, obviously.”

“But it also says there that we shouldn’t jeopardize our relationship in public even if it’s for the cameras,” you counter, sounding more sure of yourself because you’ve spent days analyzing the contract, knowing each in and out of it by heart.

“Well it’s not like I’m gonna fuck Sumi in a park bench outside,” he snorts, tucking his hands into the coat of his pocket with a hint of anger. Jungkook clenches his jaw as if you were the one who insulted him, pointing upwards right beside him. “We’re fucking here.”

You look up to see your hotel, realizing that the two of you just walked around the whole four blocks for him to do what he pleased. “Here? In the same hotel we’re already at?”

“In my room, duh. I’m not stupid enough to get another room under my name.”

“But Jungkook I’m in our room! I’m the supposed girlfriend!” you exclaim much louder than you intended to, earning his hand over your mask for you to pipe down. Neither of you are making any move to enter the hotel just yet, instead in the middle of the plaza where you feel like one of your veins is going to pop.

“Seokjin’s room is just right down the hall. Just stay with him for the night,” he says it like it’s the most obvious alternative and the plan from the start.

“But-“

“Sumi already knows about the whole ordeal! She keeps secrets, she’s safe, we’re safe. No one knows anything,” Jungkook rants, his eyes speaking for his giddiness despite being disguised underneath a cap and a mask. 

You stare at Jungkook for a good minute. There’s no telling whether it was a minute or an hour but for the time you have Jungkook now, until he kicks you out of your shared suite to accommodate his ex, you try to think how the next six months of your life would go.

Jungkook feels bare and vulnerable underneath your gaze, his hand covering his nape as he clears his throat, remembering why he’s in the middle of the plaza. “Speaking of safe, I need to buy condoms.”

“Just get Seokjin to do that for you,” you quietly reply, certain that seeing your (fake) boyfriend buying condoms not meant for you right in front of your face is just gonna add more insult to the injury. 

“Nah. Don’t want to disturb the guy.”

“But you want me to crash in his room suddenly?”

There’s a knot in your throat you don’t bother clearing, choosing to look away when Jungkook buffers in his movements from looking at you to marching to the convenience store. You feel small in your uniform, maybe even a little helpless. Your heart shouldn’t ache this much, it’s probably just all of the jet lag crashing down on you.

Jungkook returns to your side without a fuss, holding a plastic bag that you don’t even want to take a peek at. You don’t move until he does and well, Jungkook doesn’t even know how he’s gonna take the short walk to the hotel without all your usual chattering.

He walks tentatively, trying to take a peek at you from any reflective surface. You only walk behind him when he’s three steps in and in his haste to look at you again, he becomes instantly distracted, halting the both of you again erratically like he did with all the shops earlier.

“Wait, wait! Wishing well!” he almost shrieks, forgetting that you’re not in the fuzz to rush him in the first place. You jog behind him, his steps jittery because it’s been awhile since he’s seen the Trevi Fountain. 

Jungkook dodges past the tourists (it’s his tenth time here, he feels like he’s a better tourist than everyone) and gets right in front of the fountain, digging for the spare change he had in his pocket. He clasps his hands together tightly, screwing his eyes shut as he mumbled under his breath, finally throwing his coin.

In this light, Jungkook looks the most human you’ve ever seen him. He looks the most relatable and tangible version of himself that you’ve ever seen; his hands clasped praying his wish upon a coin, trusting whatever it is to luck. 

Wishing, when it comes from Jungkook and people like him, is trivial. Wishing, when it comes to people to the likes of you, is hopeless. 

Maybe you’ve long stopped wishing when your birthdays didn’t even have cakes and candles to wish upon, or when your pockets had no change at all to begin with. Wishes didn’t get you where you are now — your pain did. You don’t know what Jungkook could ever wish for with everything in his grasp, and perhaps that’s what makes you curious the most.

“What’d you wish for?”

Jungkook smiles faintly, a strength behind it that you can’t discern.

“To break up with you.”

.

.

.

Seokjin likes having you around — that much you can tell because when you left the fighting scene, so did he.

He does love having you around but it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t question your presence, especially when he thought all this time that he’d get this deluxe room all to himself but here you are, starfished in the middle of his bed that he just sprayed his sleeping mist on.

“By the way, why are you here?” he finally addresses you thirty minutes after you knocked on his room, hugged him, took bites of his dinner, showered, and passed out on his bed. 

“Jungkook’s fucking his ex in our room.”

Seokjin hums in acknowledgement, not exactly surprised. He repeats your words in his head but halfway into it he backtracks, titling his head in confusion. “Our?” he laughs, perplexed by how you worded it. “It’s a suite alright, but the two of you sleep in separate bedrooms.”

“It still counts. That’s our room,” you huff, your frown visible even if you’re still face down on his sheets. “My boyfriend’s dicking down his ex right now.”

“Don’t get too carried away, Y/N,” Seokjin sing-songs, knowing by now that your wording isn’t just a fluke. “You still have that crush on him?”

“I do, fuck!” you enunciate in a sudden burst of frustration, hammering your legs down on the bed that makes Seokjin laugh because it looks you’re doing a half-assed worm. “Something must be very wrong with me.”

Seokjin hasn’t seen you this unsure and vulnerable for a long time.

Your friend chuckles, oblivious to how he’s worried for you because you genuinely think you’re going to sleep in this position.

“Mhmm. You’re right,” he jokingly agrees, using his surreal strength as your coach to flip you so you wouldn’t suffocate, flicking your forehead afterwards. “Something must be very wrong with you.”

Jungkook’s perfume irks you.

It’s too floral and too sweet and clearly does not belong to him, making you hold your breath for the brief second that he walks past you. It doesn’t smell like him and what’s worse is that you can practically taste the proof of Sumi in your mouth, reminding you that Jungkook did kick you out of your shared suite two nights ago and it wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. 

“Jungkook, your engagements are all up,” Mrs. Jeon exclaims, tilting her head every now and then at her phone.

“Aren’t they always?” he chuckles dryly, awkwardly pinching his ear out of habit because he felt that you were too quiet.

“Well I mean yes, but all for the wrong reasons as you can tell lately,” she counters, a slight bite to her tone before she gets distracted again by yet another positive comment about her son. “But lately it’s good,” Mrs. Jeon hums. “All great, really. People love now that Y/N’s in the picture.”

“I don’t care what people say about me,” he murmurs, conveniently defending himself as soon as your name was mentioned. His mother raises an eyebrow, the both of them knowing that it’s the furthest thing from the truth.

“Okay maybe I do care a little.”

“What did they say?” you pipe up shyly, Jungkook jolting in his seat and gaining the sense to move a little so you could take a peek at his mother’s screen. Mrs. Jeon becomes even more energetic at your participation because she did notice that you’re uncharacteristically stiff, huddling closer to Jungkook so he’s squished between the two of you.

“That you’re perfect together,” she lists, putting her phone farther so you could read. “Wow, I never knew that MMA champion Y/N Y/L/N would end up with Jeon Jungkook of all people, but if they break up, I will be lining up at her door.”

Jungkook scoffs under his breath, unknown to himself if he’s scoffing because he isn’t the only one at the center of attention, or because people think that he’s just that disposable to you.

“An odd match at first really, but I bet Jungkook fell in love first! If you had Y/N as your bodyguard, who wouldn’t?” 

“Next,” Jungkook grumbles.

“I hope Y/N knocks out Jungkook into next week-“

“Okay, okay, I get it! These people want you to stomp on me so badly,” he frowns, sparing a glance at you who has an amused smile on your face. This isn’t the first conversation you’ve had since his night with Sumi, but it’s the first interaction you had where you aren’t irked when he’s looking at you.

“I won’t do that,” you assure him, politely fetching the device Mrs. Jeon hands you, Jungkook perching over your shoulder this time. He still smells like her and unlike himself but you’ve learned to tune it out, pushing yourself to be indifferent.

“They’re sweet about it,” you mumble to no one in particular. “Do we look sweet to them?”

“Somehow we look sweet,” Jungkook answers, unconsciously scooting over to invade your space more to the point that his head’s almost bumping yours. “They’re freaking out about your hand on my back. Isn’t that what all bodyguards do?”

“I’m not only your bodyguard though,” you remind, voice lowering towards the end but quickly put it up before you get upset again. “But yeah, a little over the top. They’re screaming about us bumping shoulders but you don’t even hold my hand.”

Mrs. Jeon gets her reaction out even before her son could defend himself, eyes widening. “You don’t even hold Y/N’s hand?” “Hold it! Try it right now.”

She snatches Jungkook’s hand quickly, beckoning you for yours and entangles them together like you’re preschoolers being forced to make up after a fight, the whole abruptness of the situation making you choke silently.

There’s an awkward bout of silence between the two of you (three if you count Mrs. Jeon but she’s trying her best not to breathe so she’d blend into the background) that you can’t grasp, only being broken as soon as Jungkook says the first thing in his mind.

“Your hands are rough, ew,” his eyebrows furrow, late to register the look in your face that is so heartbreaking, it makes you recoil. “Get a manicure or something.”

You tug your hand away roughly as if you’re physically burnt to the touch, balling both of them into a fist and keeping them at your sides as small as you could, away from sight. Jungkook’s right, they are rough. You don’t have to open them to know that there’s callouses and faint marks of cuts and bruises on them. 

They’re hard and beaten from work, not needing to look down on them again to know that perhaps in Jungkook’s life, your hand is the roughest he’s held. They’re not like Sumi’s and most certainly not like the hands of the people in his life — manicured, flawless, and graceful.

“Jungkook,” his mother hisses to scold him, belatedly realizing that you’re back to being quiet again from the single comment that left his lips.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Mrs. Jeon apologizes, throwing a venomous look to her own son at the side. “Did Jungkook give you a hard time in Rome? Any incidents?” she asks with kind eyes, lips enveloped because she can’t move past Jungkook’s dumb comment about your hands. “You can tell me whether it’s from a girlfriend perspective or a bodyguard perspective.” 

Jungkook looks at you, eyes slightly ashamed, waiting to see if you’d tell his mother about him. If you’d rat him out for kicking you out of your shared suite so he could get laid by his ex-girlfriend; if you’d tell her about how he brought you along to buy condoms for the exact occasion.

But the thing is, you don’t. Just as rough as your hands are, you answer quickly and as sincerely as you could, excusing yourself right after.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Jeon. Jungkook didn’t give me any worries.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook knows to himself that he’s insufferable.

And for some odd reason unknown to him, you still stay with him despite being insufferable.

He knows when a job is a job with the way his previous bodyguards would hold him with an iron grip to weave through crowds that weren’t big in the first place. He knows when a task is a task with how as soon as his schedule for the day is finished, there won’t be a single inquiry or care allotted for his wellbeing.

He knows when people care for him just because they do.

Nobody forced you to jump in to ultimately defend him from getting knocked out on live television. Nobody forced you to take his parents’ offer of working for him, and most importantly, nobody forced you to stay.

You were dutiful to say the least, but for odd reasons unknown to him, you’re passionate even for the things that seemingly are just passing things in your life. 

He’s pretty sure you caught onto him zoning out and staring at the side of your face, feeling your inquiring gaze turn to him to see if he needed you or not.

“Oh,” Jungkook snaps out of it, redirecting to make it seem that he’s thinking of something else entirely. “You’re not dressed up?”

“Do you want me to?” you return the question, looking outside the limousine to see if you’re close to the venue and if you had time to change in case Jungkook wanted you to.

“Nah, do what you want. I don’t really care about it,” Jungkook says a half-truth, realizing that his “save” gave him even more reason to think about you. “I was just curious about what you looked like when you aren’t wearing that.”

There were only three uniform options available — one’s a black polo shirt with tactical pants for when it was a casual outing (but Jungkook’s outings were barely casual), the other’s a button-up with trousers for when media’s expected, and the last is what you and Seokjin were wearing now; a well-fitted suit for high-class events wherein you had to accompany Jungkook and need to escort him closely regardless of the audience.

“Why are you dressed like a bodyguard anyways? Aren’t we making an appearance together?”

You resist the urge to smile, an odd reversal of roles because it’s Jungkook who recognizes now that you’re his (fake) girlfriend and not only his bodyguard.

“I still need to show that I’m serious about my job.”

“When are you not ever serious about your job?” he questions seriously, brows furrowed because he genuinely can’t recall any instance where you didn’t put him first.

“Your safety’s still my number one priority,” you answer truthfully, hearing the emerging chatter now that you were getting close to the drop-off. Your eyes inconveniently follow one of Jungkook’s numerous exes who wears an elegant designer dress, one that you wish you could wear in your lifetime. You snap out of it soon enough. “My holster would be visible if I wear a dress.”

“That’s kinda hot,” he snorts, “Do you still want to dress up? Regardless if people cared about your holster showing?”

“Maybe,” you hum. “If I dressed up though, that means I’d walk beside you.” 

It’s a nice vision to think of, something you don’t even know would come to actuality if the time comes.

“Do you want that? Me walking beside you?”

“You always walk beside me,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, a giggle leaving him heartily.

“Have you ever learned how to read between the lines?” you return the playful attitude, clearing your throat. “I mean, do you want me to walk beside you as your girlfriend in a pretty dress?”

“Honestly?” he repeats, fixing his suit. “No. I don’t think so.” (Read: even if the circumstances were different, I don’t think it’s worth having you around me.)

You’ve only ever walked beside Jungkook in your uniform, as a bodyguard. Not a girlfriend.

You’re too busy and you still haven’t gotten a manicure. They’re still riddled with callouses from sparring with Seokjin to keep both of your skills and physique in check.

All you know is how to fight and to protect. You know how to love, that much you know, but you don’t know if Jungkook knows how to accept love if it’s coming from you.

“Come on, having me as your girlfriend isn’t that bad, right?”

You ask thickly, head tilting as if it would help gauging the answer out of Jungkook better. You don’t have to adjust your head though; with the way he gives you a pitiful half-smile, you already know.

You wince inwardly, masking the lump in your throat as a laugh.

“It is?”

“A little,” Jungkook relents, finding the will in him to joke around with you. “Don’t get angry with me. Don’t headlock me like you did with Son at that 2019 fight.”

“You know that fight?” you answer with a chuckle, the random detail catching you off-guard.

“Duh. Everyone and their mother knows about that fight. A knockout on the second round? Jeez.”

Jungkook sounds the most attainable right now despite being worlds apart, the physical boundary between the two of you apparent. He sounds warm, just as domestic as a boyfriend in a car ride who knows random things about you.

“Having me as your girlfriend isn’t that bad if you know these things about me.”

“Your fights are public knowledge.”

“Then what’s so bad about me being your girlfriend?” you question, tucking your lips together to not let out any whimper in case he knocks you off-guard again.

“You’re too strong but you’re just so sensitive, if that makes sense. Too committed. You don’t have an off switch. You’re just so you,” Jungkook blurts out, careful of his words but at the same time frantic to say them outloud because he never thought you’d ask him this. “You just don’t know when to give up.” 

It’s like Jungkook knows every insecurity you’ve ever had from the way he said it.

“Okay,” you meekly answer, the resignment in your voice lying underneath but the tiny bit of hope sinks it further. “If I wasn’t your bodyguard, would you still date me?”

“Fake date,” Jungkook corrects, chuckling because you always seem to forget the word that defines your status. “No. I don’t think I’d date you.”

Jungkook moves far on too quickly with his words that you’re unable to process the momentary heartbreak that comes along with his admission, blinking away the inevitable shock.

“How about me? If you weren’t my bodyguard, would you agree to fake date me?”

“Yeah,” you answer without a doubt, the careless shrug that tops it just cementing that there’s no thought needed. You answer just when the car nears to a stop, making Jungkook halt before the driver even hits the brakes. “I’d date you.”

The numbness starts from your hands, moving into autopilot as you meet Seokjin and the rest when Jungkook comes down. The impromptu intimate conversation should be the last thing in your mind — it shouldn’t matter to you when it doesn’t to Jungkook.

Everyone’s lively as you tail him until he gets to his assigned seat, stopping instantly when he sees the giant centerpiece of a fountain in the garden.

“Coins! Give me coins, please,” Jungkook urges you, either oblivious or uncaring to the sudden weight in your steps from his words.

“Don’t you have your wallet with you?” 

“I do, but I don’t carry coins.”

You sigh in defeat, fishing out your wallet from your pocket where you keep some loose change.

In the same manner of his first wish, Jungkook screws his eyes shut and clenches his fists together, whispering to his hands before he gracefully throws the coin to the illuminated water.

“What was your wish?” you silently ask just like the first time, either oblivious or uncaring to how his answer would sting like it did in Rome.

“For my parents to dissolve this stupid contract with you.”

.

.

.

The party’s over and you take it upon yourself to voluntarily get out of your shared suite with Jungkook and crash in Seokjin’s room instead.

Seokjin can’t find it in himself to be annoyed at you, admitting to himself that he misses you especially with the knowledge that the two of you might have drifted a little since taking up your new jobs because of conflicting schedules. 

The two of you no longer suffer together, already at a place in life where you don’t need to scramble in literally looking for a fight. He’s a mirror of you, if not more confrontational. He would’ve already asked you why you’re lingering around him more and less around Jungkook nowadays if only you didn’t look like a kicked puppy most of the time.

Seokjin shuts his mouth this time, letting you start the conversation this time around. It comes soon enough when the movie you were so engrossed in didn’t make sense in your mind anymore, a pressing question filling it instead.

“Do you regret being my handler?”

“Don’t ask me stupid questions,” Seokjin snaps instantly at the absurdity of you even asking him that, mumbling an apology later. “Of course not.”

He’s in disbelief with the way his eyebrows knit in the middle, a tension placed on his shoulders that even you can’t joke your way out of. He mutes the TV then and there, Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde no longer interesting him.

“Why did you follow me into this?” you ask in a small voice, wanting to sink to the floor because with the volume muted, Seokjin’s entire attention is on you.

“You liked the fighting scene. You loved coaching me,” you list down, going through all of your fond memories of practically growing up with him. “And now here we are. Bodyguards to a nepo baby.”

“We’re being paid higher here,” Seokjin shrugs carelessly, a giggle following his answer at the thought that he’s in the position to say that now. “I followed you here because we’re just as close as family,” he says it so easily that you have a hard time grasping it, an utter truth to it so he doesn’t stutter. “Where you go, I go.”

“Do you think I had a disgraceful exit?” you ask again, oblivious how your questions are snowballing more and more. “Saved Jungkook just one time out of instinct and I felt like that whole ordeal made more noise for me than my whole career did.”

Your voice trembles and you find it stupid why you’re suddenly getting emotional now, the weight of everything changing quickly in your life starting to hit. “Is it embarrassing? What I did and where I am now — is it embarrassing?”

“No. What you did and where you are now is just you,” he offers, sincerely. Even he doesn’t know why you jumped in to protect Jungkook either, but what he does know is that you would’ve done it for anyone else. “Do you wish you never left?”

“I don’t know either,” you sniffle, a cough leaving you pathetically and it makes you snuggle into Jin’s arm more. “I miss fighting now that I left it,” you admit. If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could imagine how much adrenaline you felt throughout your career.

“But my whole career of it, my whole life revolving around it,” you stress, admitting a truth that’s only been mere assumptions in your head for the longest time. “It’s been doing my head in even before Jungkook’s parents made me the offer.” 

Seokjin listens — he always does. He does it in the way you want him to. You’ve confessed to him years ago that you think of him as a brother and that you wouldn’t fight if not for him, and he listened to you while wearing full gear during sparring because you didn’t want to be embarrassed. Months ago, you told him that you have a crush on Jungkook and you told him that through the bathroom door while he was showering so the water would drown your voice out. Some things are more stupid than the others but Seokjin does it and listens anyway — simply because you ask him to.

This time, Seokjin listens to you while he plays with your hair.

“I wasn’t a hundred percent sure about taking the offer, but I wasn’t fully sure either that I wanted to keep fighting. That’s why I accepted,” you murmur. “I said that I would leave fighting the moment it felt like a chore.”

“I remember you saying that,” he seconds, a brief chuckle leaving his lips. “How about Jungkook? Does he feel like a chore?”

“He doesn’t,” you admit whole-heartedly. “But he hates me, I think.”

“You still have that crush on him?”

“Still have the same, stupid, pathetic crush on Jungkook, unfortunately.”

You and Seokjin share a laugh, one that sounded like squeaking and choking at the same time when harmonized together. You’ve had a shit day and he’s already taken it upon himself to share the fatigue of it with you, unable to have it any other way.

Your happiness is cut short when there’s urgent knocks rapping on the door, too frantic that your heart would’ve leapt out of your ass if you didn’t hear the accompanying voice. “Jin! It’s me!”

Seokjin sighs in relief, clutching at his chest to hear that it’s only Jungkook. You sink to his sheets when he asks with his gaze if you want to be the one who answers the door, but he’s met with your head shaking no insistently.

“Did you see Y/N?” Jungkook asks as soon as Seokjin answers him, dripping wet after his bath and even in his bathrobe still. You told him you were just going to check out the snacks downstairs but an hour later after his bath (he managed to finish a documentary about cats), you still weren’t back.

“Why?” Seokjin feigns cluelessness, tilting his head at Jungkook’s nature of looking for you.

“She’s not in our suite. Is she there?” he sputters because he’s starting to think that maybe even Seokjin doesn’t know, meaning that nobody at all knows where you went.

Seokjin stands still for a minute, making Jungkook think that this is just a glitch in his brain and he’s still watching the documentary awhile ago where Seokjin’s the cat butler in this elite pet hotel.

“Uhm, no — wait, yeah,” Seokjin giggles breathlessly, snapping out of his trance. “She’s crashing here.”

“Oh,” Jungkook zones out. That explains it.

He’s unsure if you’ve ever gotten the snacks downstairs because if you did, you would’ve got some for him like you always did. He knows when a job is a job and he knows when people care for him — a bodyguard and a (fake) girlfriend like you wouldn’t have forgotten to get him snacks, right?

He tries to snap out of it too, trying not to think why you couldn’t have just told him that you didn’t want to sleep in the same suite; he didn’t even have anyone over. Jungkook swallows the disappointment, both for you and himself.

“Good. I thought she was kidnapped or something. Tell her to leave a note next time.“

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s soft.

He’s soft, maybe even despicable. Despite the hard-shelled and slightly bratty exterior, Jungkook’s more vulnerable than he paints himself out to be. 

He’s soft in the sense that he would’ve taken a rose from a random woman’s hand in the street if not for you telling him that it’s 100% a scam, that he’d be hounded for money as soon as he accepts the flower. Jungkook was in shock at that when you explained the scheme to him, simply in the belief that love was just all around and people would randomly give out roses in the name of it.

Jungkook’s soft in the sense that when walking, he switches the two of you so he could be the one closest to the road instead of you. It’s warm and sweet for a second, until you remind him that you’re his bodyguard and you’re supposed to be there in the first place, and for him to never do that again.

He’s soft, from the way he scrolls through fundraisers to generously donate to and all the way down to silently and “accidentally” putting his snacks in your pockets when you aren’t looking.

Sometimes though, Jungkook’s definition of soft is weakness.

He’s weak to the point that Jungkook can’t even think straight because just a few words of flattery and he’s already weak in the knees. Jungkook’s weak as much as he’s emotional and irrational. He’s impulsive and ditzy and selfish, especially selfish with the way you’re prompted to intervene.

For the two minutes you’ve left his side, you come back to Jungkook kissing the daughter of his father’s rival, in a gala no less where literally everyone is watching. It’s stupid, beyond idiotic even for words that you drag Jungkook out into the garden where there’s no one watching, cutting his appearance in the function much earlier than intended.

Jungkook’s so weak. He’s laughable because it’s the one thing that’s unspoken yet beyond obvious — to never fraternize with rivals especially those of his parents’. It’s so, so stupid that you’re trembling with anger, just one stupid question away from speaking your mind.

“The fuck was that for?” he seethes, looking at you up and down with disgust in his face. Never did you use such great of a force on him, but for you to pry him by the arm in front of everyone embarrasses him to his core.

“Do you fucking know who you’re kissing?” you snap without missing a beat, just as irritated as he is but the difference is that he doesn’t have the right to be. “That’s Choi Haeri! Choi as in Choi Group Of Companies, your dad’s rival company!”

Jungkook scoffs, narrowing his eyes. He keeps dusting away the sleeve that you held onto as if you’ve contaminated it, rolling his eyes with disdain. “Okay? And I knew that, what the hell are you so pressed for?”

“I’m pressed because anybody could’ve seen you and you will be done for,” you grit, an accusing finger pointed at him. “You’re my boyfriend in public, Jungkook! Stop kissing other people!”

“You have a stick up your ass!” Jungkook spits, straying further and further away from reason. “No one in this room buys our act because they know I wouldn’t date you!”

Jungkook doesn’t immediately get a response back.

You only stand in front of him, unmoving and silent. The longer you look at him, the more his anger simmers and the more his regret seeps in. He doesn’t even know why he’s angry at you.

His throat tightens because this was the part where you say something equally as vulgar if not more demeaning, but it wasn’t happening. That part hasn’t even happened before. No, this was the part where you’re angry at him for good reason because you’re doing your job, and Jungkook responds to your reaction by telling you to go fuck yourself.

“I’m-…” he doesn’t even get to finish his sentence because you’re already interrupting him, pulling your phone out to dial the driver.

“We’re going home.”

“I don’t-…”

“That wasn’t a question,” you cut him off. “You’ve had enough to drink, you’re causing a scene, you’re endangering yourself. You’re leaving now.”

You pull Jungkook by the arm yet again with a force that’s not up for debate, trying to fight it with no avail until he lets himself be dragged along. It’s a long walk to where the pickup point is but you endure it, even when you’re still filled with so much anger and dismay.

He doesn’t make it better because as much as he lets himself be dragged along, he uses his other hand to fish out a coin from his pocket because he’s been carrying them lately, throwing it to the fountain that he sees on the way out. Jungkook proves yet again that he is weak, because he doesn’t even know why he does that.

You don’t even ask but Jungkook already explains with a sharp glint to his gaze, either to spite you or cowardly defend himself from your anger. But either way, the satisfaction after he explains his wish doesn’t ever come.

“For you to unclench.”

( ♡ )

It’s another trip outside the country when you find yourself in Seokjin’s room again.

“Confession time,” you hiccup, dehydrated after a full day of accompanying Jungkook with his shopping. “I don’t think it’s worth it liking Jungkook anymore.”

Even if you’ve said it out in the open, the concept itself sounds shaky. It’s either an impulsive lie or a hesitant truth, but either way, you know that you don’t like Jungkook as much as you did before.

“He told me to unclench.”

“You don’t seem like a butt clencher to me,” Seokjin furrows his brows, looking up from his phone now that you got his attention fully. “Stand up for me,” and you comply, turning around to indulge his playfulness. “Nope. Not a butt clencher at all.”

An attempt has been made to lighten up your mood and it’s working surprisingly, making you snort because somehow, Seokjin knows just how much you could take in the times you feel low. 

You feel particularly clingy today, the proof of it being you trying to squeeze yourself in to the one-person chair that your friend’s occupying.

“This is fruitless,” you exasperatedly sigh, making Seokjin eagerly agree because the two of you are gonna break the chair until he realizes your minds are at two different places. “Liking rich, unattainable, disconnected-from-reality people is fruitless.”

“Hey, you’re rich. We’re also rich.”

“We got rich because we worked for it,” you correct him, acknowledging that although not Jeon family level of rich, you’ve come a long way. “Blood, sweat, tears, fractures, stitches-…“

“MRI scans. Don’t forget MRI scans.”

“Yes, thank you, MRI scans too. Jungkook’s old money and even though I’m slightly above average and closer to him, it means nothing!” you whine, finally giving up on fighting dominance for the chair and instead sitting on the carpet.

“Well is Jungkook’s social status the only thing stopping him from liking you back?” Seokjin inquires, the aforementioned surely one of the reasons but not the core of it.

“Oh no, far from it,” you snort, looking up at the pendant light above you and listing the numerous times you felt that you’re Jungkook’s actual girlfriend, and the other times you felt that you’re just a bodyguard that’s a thorn on his side. “I could also count the fact that Jungkook hates me to the core.”

“Does he feel like a job?” Seokjin hums, getting you to look at him. “Is it starting to feel like a chore being around him?”

Truth be told, you’ll rue the day that Jungkook feels like a chore to you. Whether it’s an impulsive lie or a hesitant truth, you believe Jungkook when he said that you just don’t know when to give up; both your greatest feature and flaw.

“A little.”

“Ah, that’s it then,” Seokjin somberly smiles, uttering the words he thinks you need. “You’re outgrowing him. You’ll forget that you even liked him soon enough.”

You don’t even know if you want to outgrow Jungkook.

“Spar?” you pipe in after a loaded silence to take the weight off of it, dying to have your mind somewhere else other than him.

“M’kay,” Seokjin agrees because he doesn’t have anything better to do either,  standing up to fetch your gloves in his duffel.

“No, not in this room nor the gym,” you whine, a frown making its way to your lips. “In an actual ring, please? Don’t you have a buddy here that owns one?”

You look too soft, too fragile to even deny. It’s just a little thing to call around his friend in the area so Seokjin will do just that, as long as it means he can have the seemingly-permanent fatigue in your heart lighten.

“Okay, we can do that.”

Seokjin sees the way that you hang out with him more often, conveniently in the times that you’re upset with Jungkook. Each time you see him, the impromptu bonding ends with you begging him to train you.

The last time, it was you and him rewatching your old plays. Today, it’s sparring. Soon enough, you’ll ask more and more from Seokjin until it’s the actual fighting that you crave for.

It’s ironic that it was your fighting that landed you with Jungkook — and maybe, just maybe, it’s also the fighting that’ll take you away from him.

“There’s a pattern happening here though,” he calls you out for it, making you pause in your tracks. Seokjin sees right through you; on how you’re so frustrated with yourself as a product of being involved with Jungkook, that you’re slowly reverting back to the person you were before him. “Don’t think that I don’t see it.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s grandmother has a farm.

It’s massive, sprawling for hectares and even if the first few of the hundred are utilized for housing and hosting, it already tells you that Jungkook was ready for retirement the moment he was born.

You and Seokjin, along with the entirety of the staff, were invited by Mr. and Mrs. Jeon for a get-together. There’s no particular occasion but it already accounts catering and decoration into the details. There’s no grand gesture for it all, just the Jeon family and their employees in their bosses’ massive farm to celebrate togetherness for the sake of it.

None of you are in your uniforms, all free to dress. Everyone looks different to say the least, most of you seeing each other in your clothes of choice for the first time given your nature of work.

Jungkook’s eyes flit to you. He’s only seen you a couple of times in your pajamas, but this was different. A tank top that showed more skin compared to your uniforms (where practicality was the number one priority), and on top of it, a bright, bubbly cardigan that was the exact opposite of your black attires. It’s different. A lot more different than what he’s used to seeing. He doesn’t know how to explain it but you look more like yourself than he’s ever seen you, despite barely knowing you deeper in a superficial sense.

It’s been peaceful between you and Jungkook since his kiss with Haeri. You unclenched as per his wish, still fulfilling both of your jobs but without the strictness he was used to. You still cared, that much Jungkook knew and was grateful for, making a conscious effort to stop being irrational and pissing you off in the process.

It’s peaceful in the definition that there hasn’t been conflicts between the two of you, or there has been yet neither of you wanted to dwell on it in an effort to adjust for each other.

It’s peaceful but it was different; something changed between the two of you and Jungkook can’t discern what it is. He’s used his brain the most he ever did in his life yet he thinks understanding the shift in your dynamic doesn’t need logic — perhaps it’s heart.

Jungkook may be a little stupid, but he is stupidly committed when his mind’s set to it.

“Where’s the dirtbikes again, grandma? I wanna go to the creek,” he asks all of a sudden with a pitchy voice, praying inwardly that it’s not obvious that he planned a script for this to go about. It was a random thing to say, especially when you, his mom, and his grandmother were just talking about sheep in a secluded area. 

For him to march all the way to where you are, asking about a dirtbike he most certainly knew where it was kept, makes his mother’s eyebrows raise.

“Just behind the stables, Kook. Also, you don’t know how to ride a bike,” his grandma answers, narrowing her eyes at her grandson who wants to ride all of a sudden.

It’s like he wanted you to hear (read: he wanted and needed you to), predicted by his mom who knows that not once has he ever shown interest in riding all the way to the creek by himself, much more on a dirtbike he can’t even operate.

“You don’t know how to ride a bike?” your eyes bulge, the question slipping past your lips in amusement. It’s too late for you to retract it, unintentionally making his mom and grandma laugh.

“Nope. Not at all. His parents tried teaching him, his grandpa and I took turns trying to teach him, his maids tried, everyone tried. Jungkook does not know how to ride a bike at all.”

“Okay, grandma. Thank you. I think everyone in the country has heard you now,” Jungkook mutters, knowing he signed himself up for a snide comment or two when he planned this, but he didn’t know he would feel this embarrassed.

His grandmother is all the more clueless but his mom quickly catches on, something at the back of her neck telling her that Jungkook needed you now.

“Y/N can take you there! Right, dearie? Seokjin told me you could drive anything,” Mrs. Jeon asks you sweetly, your eyes slightly widening at the sudden suggestion.

Jungkook’s mother looks at him with that look and he didn’t know how she caught on so quickly but he thanks her silently with the same gaze, trying to look indifferent for your impending answer.

“No problem, Mrs. Jeon,” you politely answer, wonder overtaking you because you don’t know what compelled you to agree. (Read: it’s because Jungkook indirectly asked you and if it’s him, you’d drop everything for him 7 out of 10 times.)

“You’re not on the clock,” Jungkook offers weakly, not having expected for you to agree in the first place. In fact, he didn’t even expect you to be civil with him at all since telling you that you have a stick up your ass — god, he really was the worst.

“I know,” you shrug, a gentle smile on your face. You lift your head for him to lift the way and he does, springing into action by walking beside you with his hands tucked in his pocket. “I just want to take you there.”

This is the first time you’ve ever been with Jungkook outside the context of work and he’s different. Not different in the physical sense because he still bears the visage and the aura of someone obscenely rich, definitely not that. He’s different in the sense that he’s more reserved; as if he’s walking with his feet for the first time and he has to take everything in around him in silence.

Additionally, this is the first time you don’t know which version of Jungkook you like the most now that you’ve seen him like this. 

You like the prissy, talkative, slightly ditzy Jungkook of yesterday, one that apologized to you with words and talked your ear off with his own stories out of guilt. But now that you see him, you also like the quiet, subdued, and observant Jungkook of today, one that apologizes to you with his eyes and indirectly asks you to be alone with him.

You get on the dirtbike first, gathering your bearings before asking Jungkook to climb his seat.

He should be scared shitless right now because despite being an enthusiast for racing and vehicles in general, anything on two wheels feel like death traps to him. Jungkook should be scared and yet he isn’t, not when you’re in front of him; not when he’s so close to you that he can smell your hair and practically feel how soft your cardigan is.

“You can hold my waist,” you offer as you help him secure his helmet on, earning a playful scoff you haven’t heard in a while.

“Don’t want to.”

“I hope you fall off then.”

“What?” he asks with confusion in his tone but it later transitions into a shriek when you just up and rev, the playfulness of your response not really reaching his brain because he’s too busy holding onto your waist in a hurry. 

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna make me fall off on purpose,” he mutters as soon as he adjusts, taking his hands off your waist.

“I’m not doing shit,” you quip, threatening to increase the speed but it falls on deaf ears because once again, Jungkook got distracted by your change of attitude.

“Why are you being short with me?” he frowns in confusion, finally figuring out that hopefully it’s just the safety issue. “Will this make you less snappy with me?” Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist again, gently bumping his helmet with yours intentionally.

You and Jungkook were complicated, but atleast when he wraps his arms around you and head bumps you with his helmet, things don’t feel as difficult.

“No comment?” Jungkook provokes harmlessly, making you nod hastily because you didn’t know that mere arms around your waist, Jungkook’s specifically, would make you want to light yourself up on a good note.

It stays like that for awhile. For the few minutes you have with Jungkook while the sun starts to set, you and Jungkook can act like you’ve always been this way; happy, warm, and committed.

“It’s right there. You could stop here,” Jungkook squeezes you by the sides, pointing to the creek he’s been talking about all this time.

“Hmm. Still pretty,” he comments to no one in particular besides the actual creek itself but it still makes you look up, taking off your helmet and turning off the engine. The creek doesn’t look anything special. Simply put, it’s just a creek. It’s strikingly mundane but for some reason, Jungkook speaks of it like it’s heaven on earth.

That’s the thing about Jungkook — through and through, you can’t read him and neither can he.

Jungkook digs into his pocket, throwing a coin to the shallow water that looks majestically clear. He closes his eyes and clasps his hands together, whispering to his entwined digits. “For you to stop following me around like a dog.”

The thing about Jungkook is that he’s a little empty; a little empty to not accurately predict when the perfect time is for a joke, a little empty to have never gauged the concept of being sensitive at all times for anyone’s sake that wasn’t his. A little empty that to make up for what he lacks, he’s extremely selfish.

“You don’t mean that,” you laugh humorlessly in disbelief, shaking your head because of course, as soon as you think Jungkook is completely fine the way he is, he goes ahead and make a wish that pushes you away.

“Do you really hate me that much? Be honest,” you add, the edge to your voice being something you find hard to control. “Because if you do hate me, then just say that.” 

Jungkook blinks rapidly, proving to you that he’s slower than usual and is only now realizing that he’s said the wrong thing. Again.

“If you hate me, then don’t look for me when I’m not in our suite. If you hate me so much, stop walking behind me even if you’re with dozens of bodyguards in events,” you grit despite the lump in your throat. “Do you hate me so, so much that you can’t just say it to my face? Because I can say it to your face right now that I like you.”

And Jungkook freezes. He feels the dumbest he’s ever felt in his life.

“I like you but right now I fucking hate you,” you seethe, closing the gap between you and Jungkook to point at him. “I’m a dog? I follow you like a dog? Well guess what, I need to follow you like one because of this stupid-“

If it’s any proof that Jungkook can become even more empty, there’s barely any words from you that register in his head besides you liking him.

“You don’t hate me.”

Jungkook declares with certainty and it makes you quiver — because as much as you can’t read Jungkook, he can read you.

Your anger dissipates but there’s still tension in there, eyes locked with Jungkook in either a fit of stupidity or dumb courage.

“What do your lips taste like?”

Jungkook wonders out loud and there’s not one inch of a filter left in him, looking at you intensely to the point that he’s almost getting cross-eyed. You’re close, so close that Jungkook could inhale and you’d get attached to him. So he does it — he does what he’s an expert at and it’s to do without thinking; to act while empty.

Jungkook kisses you.

Jungkook kisses you as if he loves you, like it’s his first time hearing what it means and it’s his eager attempt to prove himself. He kisses you deeper with his hands holding you in place, as if you even thought about fleeing in his profession of love.

You and Jungkook were complicated, but atleast when he kisses you like he means it and tastes you so desperately that he wants to pass out, things don’t feel as difficult. Happy, warm, and committed.

But through and through, Jungkook is himself. It lasts like that for awhile until he comes to his senses, a little panicked that he really is kissing you, putting his hands on your shoulders to gently push you away. 

You try to regain your breath and make sense of what happened while he walks away from you, sitting by the creek as he avoids your eyes.

You feel embarrassed, carrying way more shame than you ever felt is possible to bear. You don’t look at Jungkook either, preoccupying yourself by trying to focus on everything but him.

You get your phone out to call for Seokjin to accompany Jungkook instead when he chooses to go back because you don’t see yourself surviving the ride back with him, waiting for his reply so you can ride back alone with the excuse that you wanted to go to the bathroom.

The two of you neither look nor talk to each other but you could hear the sound of a light dip and splash. Jungkook’s empty, too selfish and too stupid, making his fifth wish in the creek with a mumble underneath his breath; oblivious to how you’re still within earshot.

“For us to never see each other again.”

( ♡ )

You know you have Seokjin — you just don’t know if you’ll still have him despite this.

He never liked riddles but the silence you give him already gave him his answers, your stay in his room tonight feeling different than every visit before.

“Seokjin?” you pipe from your corner of the room, sticking yourself to his chair you never even occupied. You occupy it now because maybe it’s the last time you’ll see it, a far too large bean bag that resembled a dog bed and didn’t fit the aesthetic of the room at all; maybe even miss it despite being the one item in his room that was misplaced and lacked attention.

“Hm?” he looks up from his phone he scrolled up and down for the past twenty minutes you’ve been here, far too tense to actually be absorbed in anything but what you’re about to stay.

“I get it,” you clear your throat, avoiding eye contact for the things that matter because it’s what you do best. “I’d get it if you want to stay.” 

In your haste of listlessness for the past year, from your exit from the octagon to being a spontaneous bodyguard and then a contract girlfriend, you realize that Seokjin’s been with you through it all. That in your pursuit of what you think is best for you, you’ve been selfish not to think about what he wants to do separate from you.

“Less work, more pay. The environment’s not that toxic,” you chuckle, knowing that a few out-of-touch remarks here and there are lightyears away from the actual dirt you’d get thrown to your face in the fighting scene. “I just want to let you know, okay? I don’t want to leave you in the dark.” 

Seokjin’s the most stable figure you’ve ever had in your life — you shouldn’t be selfish to drag him along if this is your new low. “I already have my letter of resignation. I’m handing it tomorrow.”

“I’m not trying anything with you by saying this,” you hurriedly explain, not wanting to make him think that this was a ploy to get his pity and do the opposite of what you’re saying. “Just wanted to say goodbye if this is the last time.”

Seokjin saw this coming.

The thing about you is that much like Jungkook, you’re oblivious to how there are people who would follow you to the ends of the earth to support you. You’re no old money baby, you don’t have millions of supporters ready to fight for you at your disposal.

But you have him. You’re so selfless, you don’t even know that Seokjin would be willing to orbit you until forever.

“Open the laptop.”

“What?”

Seokjin snorts humorlessly when you squint to his answer at you practically spilling your guts out, rolling off his bed to push the laptop at the desk beside you. 

“Just open the laptop. You already know the password,” he waves you off, sitting at the carpet beside you. You’re not drunk yet you’ve sobered instantly, eyes already watering for reasons you don’t even know.

“Jin?”

“Open.”

The thing about Seokjin is that he knew when to protect you and knew when to let you take a hit, his compass never failing either of you since. He would literally carry you on his back when you fall but he’d throw you back into the ring when it comes to it, all to prove a point to you that nobody stands without crawling.

And this time, Seokjin knows to protect you.

You open his laptop and the first thing you see is a finished word file, one that was eerily similar to yours and even carried the same date.

“See? Already finished my letter too. Just need to print it,” he smiles like usual, skimming his resignation letter when he noticed your eyes darting around.

“But why?” you whisper. “Why are you leaving too?”

“There’s no point in staying,” Seokjin shrugs, the most honest truth he’s ever said. “Wherever there’s you, Y/N. I’ll follow.”

Through and through, you’ll have Seokjin no matter what. It’s an overwhelming feeling of warmth that fills you, patching up the massive gaps in your life you almost forget even existed. 

It’s a burst of pride that fills Seokjin because he’s able to say that now, the realization that he had the opportunity to grow with his platonic soulmate and land somewhere and not just anywhere making him more emotional than necessary. “You’re family now.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so selfish,” you mumble over and over again when you embrace him, face buried to his chest. It’s a cry you’ve suppressed for so long that even you can’t believe the sounds that come out of you endlessly, weakly fisting his shirt to ground yourself.

You feel small; so, so incredibly small and pathetic. You’re perhaps the stupidest person you know because you’ve ran for so long only to stop disgracefully, suddenly being displaced. What you do with all your hurt is compress it into a tight box, stacking and stacking until you realize your pain’s never been compressed in the first place — you’ve just been building a puzzle out of it for the sake of calling yourself resilient.

“You’re not selfish,” Seokjin mutters, repeating it again and again until you hear him through your cries. “You’re the most selfless person I know. Besides myself of course,” he jokes, but it’s you who would know that he isn’t lying at all.

“Besides, I also want to leave too. I miss coaching. I miss the fighting,” he assures you, trying to get it through your head that there’s purpose to his intent. “The most action I get is pushing people out of the way when there’s crowds.” 

“Jungkook and I kissed,” you admit as you’re still hugging him, not wanting to break away yet because that would mean you have to make eye contact. “When we were at the creek, he asked me what my lips tasted like so I kissed him-“

“TMI.”

Seokjin groans but still listens anyway.

“Then he just pushed me away. I-I don’t know why, when you drove him back and he saw me, he told me to pretend it never happened.”

“We went to the farm a week ago,” Seokjin reminds you the passage of time, shocking you for a moment because it meant that you’ve been moping for a week straight.

“Mhmm.”

“Have the two of you been talking?”

“No,” you chuckle genuinely this time, either out of doom or gratefulness, you can’t tell. “Not at all.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook feels every bit of the one-dimensional and empty person that he’s argued out to be. He’s royally fucked up so to speak, the guilt of pushing you away after being the one to kiss in you in the first place keeping him up at night.

It consumes him excruciatingly slow, as if fate wanted it that way because it’s preparing him for a pain that’s heavier than the one he has now.

Worst part is that he hasn’t apologized to you yet.

His urge to apologize is bigger than life itself but the problem was that he can’t think of one that you deserve, only a mindless string of words coming into mind because he’s said them to you numerous times before. He wants to show you just how sorry he is but he can’t either, too consumed by the possibility that nothing would ever suffice.

You haven’t been walking beside him lately and he can’t even blame you. For every appearance he does nowadays, you’ve asked another bodyguard to tag along to be his main one, with you remaining only in the sidelines to keep appearances yet maintain your distance away from him.

Jungkook feels uneasy.

He’s no stranger to your silence and distance yet this bout in time speaks for itself, something about your outright refusal to be even an arm’s reach away from him making him think that it’s a prelude to something far more painful.

He loathes himself for driving you away; for wanting you and always backing out at the last minute because you don’t deserve him — you deserve much better.

Jungkook cares, of course he fucking cares. He takes everything to heart and in that same vein, he wouldn’t know who nor what he is without his family name. With or without his affluence, he’s just painfully him. Jeon Jungkook who does not know who or what to be in life.

He’s stupid, he’s a hundred percent sure of that. Even if his latin honor in a degree he doesn’t even care about nor remember says otherwise, Jungkook thinks he still is. He’s listless and so devoid of what he cares for in life, he can’t even discern shit not unless it’s handed to him.

Until you.

Jungkook doesn’t think he’s built for love. He does not think that he’s built to care for anyone outside of himself and his family and the very few in his closest circle. He has a good life, so much of a good life that the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks that he’s not deserving of the love he’s readily handed with.

Love is for parents to their children and care is for children to their friends. Love and care are exclusive to only the people you know and would trade your lives for because you’re bound by the same and same circumstances you were predetermined for.

Love and care shouldn’t be easily handed out; it shouldn’t be as easy as you taking a hit in behalf of Jungkook because you wanted to protect him despite not knowing him at all.

If only things were different, Jungkook would’ve been decked on live television for a reason that even he understands. But things weren’t different — fate put you in the way, literally in the way.

Jungkook used to believe that love is for the weak. Love is for the weak because it’s based on a faulty premise of caring for others despite the presence and threats of fallacies.

In the middle of the mall he begged you to go with him without another bodyguard present, there lies a huge water fountain. He only stands from a distance yet he knows the familiar stance, seeing you throw a coin with the most dejected look in your face.

“What’s that for?” Jungkook asks, eyes desperately looking for yours.

“For all your wishes to come true.”

When you say it like that — when you put him above yourself again to wish for all his desires to come true, he realizes that he is what makes love weak.

Jungkook doesn’t even know if he’s deserving of your love.

( ♡ )

It wasn’t easy tendering Mr. and Mrs. Jeon your letter of resignation.

Mr. Jeon was in utter shock, not only losing an exemplary employee but also a dear friend he could consider as a daughter figure. You would indulge him in his rants about flowers and random facts, actually conversing with him instead of giving half-hearted hums and answers.

Mrs. Jeon was in denial, breathlessly chuckling as she rereads your letter again a few more times. She bestowed her trust and gratefulness for you the moment she saw you, and seeing you hand this in now, she can’t help but think it’s her fault for everything.

Truth be told, you didn’t even expect for the two of them to feel this way towards your resignation. You thought the default expression was for employers to be disappointed and acknowledge your letter, not so much hesitating in kicking you out after the two-week notice ends. But this was different — Mr. and Mrs. Jeon do care.

After a few tears and conversations, you’ve pleaded to them to not let Jungkook know about your resignation nor Seokjin’s. It wasn’t too much to ask for (you think) yet Mr. and Mrs. Jeon agree despite their uneasy smiles, now under the assumption that your resignation has everything to do with their son who caused you trouble and more.

Jungkook feels the same pain of unease, feeling like there’s been a shift of the way people move around him lately. He doesn’t see much of you nor Seokjin anywhere in the residence or even at his parents’.

For some reason, you’ve been coming home dead late into the night, not coming home at one instance until 2 in the morning. He knows because he keeps track, unconsciously having trained himself to know your footsteps from the time you’ve been with him.

It’s foreboding guilt that bites him first and loathing that chews him later on. He feels restless sitting by his door waiting for you to come home and at times when it’s just too late in the evening, Jungkook situates himself on the couch to watch the door open the second the lock turns.

“Where the hell have you been?”

The abrupt voice that questions you gives you the fright of your life, making you think it was about to trigger another nosebleed that’s just barely dried up. You freeze by the door, cussing and clutching at your heart and only realizing that it’s Jungkook-

Why would Jungkook wait for you to come home?

He’s cozy in his sweats but his physique is the furthest thing from it, the tension on his posture and the stress on his face clearly visible. It’s four in the morning, no reason for him at all to be awake.

There should be no reason for him to worry for you, wait for you to come home and yet here he is, looking distressed and relieved at the same time at your presence.

When Jungkook asks this time, it’s your turn not to answer. You won’t tell him you’ve just come from an underground fight and won, making it your practice before you make your comeback on the octagon once again.

The longer you freeze, the longer Jungkook tenses. His eyebrows are furrowed, hands on his waist. “Excuse me, I’m asking here. It’s morning! Why did you only come home now?”

“Why are you concerned?” you quip harsher than intended, the dim lighting making you seem angrier than you actually are.

“Uhm, why exactly am I concerned?! Because I thought you were mugged or kidnapped or like I don’t know, in an accident or something?!”

“I can protect myself,” your answer falls on deaf ears, overpowered by Jungkook trying (this is his attempt) not to freak out completely.

“Why didn’t you tell me where you were going? Is it so hard to send a text?”

“Fuck, why are you even awake?” you mumble in annoyance under your breath, this sudden concern for you being cloying, yet to your surprise, he hears you loud and clear.

“Because I couldn’t sleep from worrying over you, that’s why!” his eyes widen because it was the most obvious answer — everyone else would know if they were in his position.

“Jungkook,” you grit, exhaling shakily. “Shut the fuck up. Don’t give me a headache.”

He doesn’t seem deterred by you or your irritation towards him at all, cementing himself deeper to the ground. 

“Where. Were. You.”

“None of your business,” you enunciate. “Also, sending you a text? Really? Why would I, your bodyguard, update you of my whereabouts? Do you know how goofy that sounds?”

“You’re not answering me,” he follows you, pausing when you look back at him in the threshold of your room. “Can you please just tell me what was it that you did for you to come home this late?”

You narrow your eyes at him.

Jungkook knows that look, the same one he would give you when you were trying to communicate him outside his room.

“Don’t shut that-…“ 

…door.

( ♡ )

Jungkook can’t handle it.

He can’t placate himself anymore, no longer able to delude himself that his gut is wrong and there really must be something much more painful for him, for both of you, in store.

He acts upon every impulse and applies every unnecessary skill of blending himself into the crowd, tailing Seokjin first because he knew you must be taking extra steps for him to get off your back.

And he’s right — Jungkook’s right about his feared, drawn-out assumption that you were fighting again. He thought he was just seeing things last night, that the bruise near your eyebrow was just a shadow cast to your face from coming home late.

He wants so badly to be wrong this time. He hates that the only time he’s right, it would be at guessing that you were putting yourself in harm’s way intentionally.

Everything makes him want to churn, the moment he sees Seokjin and then your figure shortly join him to the entrance of an underground club so sketchy and rancid from the outside, it gives him vertigo. You can’t be doing this, there’s no way you’re doing this again so willingly.

He follows the both of you, already gaining weird glances when he was barely into the entrance. He’s made sure to look as unnoticeable as possible, wearing the sweats that everybody wears with even a mask on. Something about him was so distinct that it makes everyone think that oh, that guy looks eerily like Jeon Jungkook. He throws everyone into a loop because wait, there is simply no reason at all for Jeon Jungkook to be in an underground club, at a fight night no less.

Jungkook tries to stomach it; weaving through the crowd and trying to ignore the low ceiling, the lookouts at every exit, and the mentions of your name and the bets attached to it.

He holds his breath until then, until he forces himself into the backrooms while everybody’s too preoccupied and he’s right again — so right with his assumption yet beyond wrong with everything else, chest tightening when he sees you donning the familiar gear.

“What the actual fuck?”

Jungkook’s breathless, shrill voice immediately makes you freeze. Seokjin reacts quickly and evidently, head snapping to meet his figure. “Jungkook-…“

Neither of you pay attention to Seokjin, locked in a delirious gaze with each other that you still can’t believe he’s here of all places. Of all times.

“You’re fighting again?” he whispers, knowing that it’s a question that answers itself. You don’t answer, still frozen in your stance. The noise outside dulls in your ears yet it amplifies in Jungkook’s, a yelp getting caught in his throat. “Why are you fighting again?!”

“Please tell me this is not about the pay. My parents pay you even higher than when you were fighting in the league. I made sure of it,” he gritted, knowing that he pushed for them to pay you even higher.

He can’t rack his head for any reason for you to be here. You were fine — you were fine with him. You don’t have to fight for money and he made sure of it above all things — why would you fight?

You can’t rack any reason in your head for Jungkook to be here. He made it clear to you that he didn’t care for you and yet he’s here, in a place where he clearly doesn’t belong — why should he be concerned?

“Why the fuck did you follow me?” you grit, your tone reading more concerned than angry. “Go home, Jungkook. Right now.”

Seokjin leaves the two of you alone because he’s called by the organizer, taking it as your cue to try and get Jungkook out of here before the fight starts.

“They’re gonna recognize you here. Now’s not the time.”

“No, now is the time! You’re my bodyguard, why are you out here getting beaten up?” he stands his ground, bending and bracing his knees to make it harder for you to pull him away.

“I’m not getting beaten up out there, trust me,” you huff cockily, momentarily distracted by his insinuation to realize that Jungkook has more pressing matters in mind.

“That’s not the point,” he whines, turning the tables on you and holding you by the wrists at the brief second you bragged to him. “I know — you already know you’re good, you don’t have to prove anything. You have a new job. Your job is me. You have me. Why are you still going back to this?”

Jungkook doesn’t get why you want to revert to the old version of you so badly. He doesn’t get why you want to run into the face of hurt and to become the poster child of fighting again despite leaving that scene for him.

“Jungkook,” you swallow at the reminder that protecting him is no longer your job. “Now is not the time.”

He remains stubborn, letting go of your wrists yet he’s still not budging to leave.

“If you want to know why, please go home right now. I’ll explain it to you when I get there.”

“No,” Jungkook swallows thickly, feeling his heart twist because he feels it. He feels the impending doom — he doesn’t know what exactly is it, but he knows it exists. “Whatever it is that you have to say to me, you can say it now.”

“I go out there in two minutes!” 

Seokjin hovers by the door, curiously looking and wanting to intervene so badly.

“Well then say it to me now!” Jungkook just about bursts, prompting you to do the same.

“The dating contract’s already been dissolved since last week. We don’t have to pretend we’re dating anymore so you can stop caring about me,” you rush, taking a deep breath before you continue. “I already terminated my contract too. I’m not your bodyguard. I’m training someone else to take over my position. I’ll be out of your hair by the end of the week, and the new hire will be in by Monday.”

Jungkook hasn’t fought anyone physically yet his ears ring.

His ears ring and his stomach hurts, his chest feeling like it’s collapsing.

“That’s everything. Now leave, Jungkook. Go home now.”

Jungkook’s frozen even when Seokjin pulls you out to enter the ring. He’s not numb because he can hear the roar of cheers and he can drag himself feet first to the main area to watch you hurt and get hurt.

You’re still fluid in the ring, your signature fighting style highlighting the sloppiness and volatility of your opponent.

Your fighting has always been this way and yet it looks different to Jungkook compared to the first time he’s seen you in the flesh. He isn’t queasy when it comes to watching fights, never — yet now, he feels sick. 

Your moves are still quick, calculated, and powerful yet none of it registers to Jungkook because you’re not alone on the ring. He can’t see how good you are — he can only see how you could be hurt.

And you do get hurt. You’re graceful regardless if you deliver blow after blow or receive a few hits every now and then, but what Jungkook could only see is you being hurt. Of how you’re experiencing pain even if what you receive is barely half of the pain you deliver.

Jungkook watches you in a different perspective. Just about a year ago when he first saw you in action, he was cheering for you. Yelling with the crowd when you were overpowering and chanting when you were on the verge of finishing your opponent. 

But now, despite you overpowering and finishing your opponent, he can’t find it in him to cheer. All he could see is you hurting and it brings tears to his eyes, unable to control his emotions even more because he feels like hurling.

You win. You win like always and as soon as your hand is raised and the bell is rung, it’s not Seokjin who gets to you first — it’s Jungkook.

You’re elated and running on pure adrenaline but you feel like crashing as soon as you feel Jungkook’s trembling hands on your face assessing you. You’re thankful that you’re able to grasp some sense, prioritizing in dashing to the backroom quickly so everyone collectively skips over the fact that Jeon Jungkook is here and just happens to be fussing over you.

Jungkook doesn’t stop even in a different setting, making you sit immediately while he examines the cut on your brow and the bust on your lip, either cussing or praying underneath his breath.

“I told you to go home.”

You try to breath stably, your high on adrenaline being a big jump to seeing Jungkook, the last person you expect to be worrying about you, examine you from head to toe.

“Are your ribs okay?” he presses on them, putting the back of his hand on your forehead. “Are you dizzy?”

He continues to ignore you. If only you didn’t consider yourself unworthy of his love and concern, you would realize that Jungkook isn’t ignoring you — he’s just running on autopilot. He’s not a medical professional and neither is Seokjin (the latter atleast knows how to properly do first aid). He doesn’t know how to care for you but he’s trying to, looking at you every which way.

“Jungkook.”

“How about your ankle? Could you still flex it?” he sighs, holding the warming skin on it. “That’s gonna bruise so badly.”

“Jungkook, stop.”

Your voice trembles but he just won’t listen. He just won’t quit fussing over you.

“Jungkook I said-…”

“How am I supposed to stop?” Jungkook bursts at the seams, your voice overlapping repeatedly in his brain belatedly. “How am I supposed to stop when you drop all of this on me at the same time?! How am I supposed to stop worrying when all I can see is that you’re hurt?” 

“You should look at the other guy. I’m not-…”

He ignores you because there you are again. There you are with your pride talking and it irks Jungkook because it’s the only thing you’ve picked up from everything he’s spilled. He’s worried insane over you and the only thing you respond to was what you assume is a dig at the hits you’ve received. 

“You haven’t been talking to me. You’ve been sneaking out. You’re back to fighting and all of a sudden you’re fighting again?”

“All on you?” your ears burn. “Has it ever hit you that I’m doing all this for my sake and not for yours?”

There goes Jungkook again with his self-centeredness, his insinuation that you’re doing this for him sounding deeply insulting to you.

“That’s on me? I haven’t been talking to you because after we kissed, you literally wished that we should never see each other again!” you repeat, in disbelief that Jungkook has the gall to bring up his sake.

“You heard that?” he pauses, frustration simmering instantaneously. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how do you mean it?” 

“I don’t-“ he swallows. “I meant it at the time, okay? I didn’t know why I kissed you but I don’t regret it.”

“Then why didn’t you talk to me after that?” you exasperate, head tilting back.

“I don’t know, that’s the thing.” 

Jungkook’s frustrating.

Too frustrating that now you can’t filter anything that comes out of your mouth with the adrenaline still in your system, your eyes rolling so hard that Jungkook thought you were gonna black out for a second.

“That’s always the thing with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” his voice gentle, not wanting to know what you mean by it if it’s to hurt him. 

Thinking about it, Jungkook thinks that he may not deserve your love, but he does deserve your hurt.

“That you’re selfish,” you spit. “You’re the most selfish person I know, Jungkook. The worst.”

“I’m the worst person I know too.”

He agrees with you. After all, it’s not the first time things like these have been said to him. But now that it’s coming from you, Jungkook could confirm to himself that it’s the truth.

“Please let me be the worst one more time,” Jungkook breathlessly pleads, the tightness in his chest only wounding. “Please stop fighting.”

“I’m not begging you to be my bodyguard again. I’m not begging you to be my fake girlfriend. I’m not begging for my sake this time,” the tears fall freely from his eyes, trying not to shut his eyes because when he does, he’ll see you wincing again. “Stop fighting.”

You’re caught off-guard, the beating in your chest confused because at this point, Jungkook should be contradicting you to hell and back that he’s not the worst person you know.

“It’ll all catch up to you someday,” he warns gently. “You’re hurting now. It’ll hurt even more when you go back to the league,” 

That’s it.

“Oh.”

The actual moment of realization that hits you doesn’t relieve you, instead, it makes you dizzy. You’re chuckling but it’s devoid of actual humor. Nothing’s funny about it.

“You’re begging me to stop fighting,” you smile, the same adrenaline that flows through your chest starting to tighten around your heart. “I thought you were begging me to come back to you because you love me.”

“And you don’t, right?” you ask with tears building on your eyes, tilting your head to gauge Jungkook. “You don’t love me, do you?”

Jungkook’s breathless. That’s not true. That’s the shittiest assumption he’s ever heard about himself. Before he can even explain himself, you’ve already made up your mind.

“You don’t want me,” you mumble. “You only want me around.”

You’re trying to get up and Jungkook’s trying to sit you back down, even going so far as to kneel in front of you to weigh you down but you tug him back up harshly, pointing him right at the door.

“Get out, Jungkook.”

“No,” he shakes his head no earnestly even if you’re stepping towards him with anger you can’t even explain.

“I want to become just like you,” you chuckle, pacing around with an accusing finger pointed to him. “I want to be the worst, most selfish person I know. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

“So leave, Jungkook,” you say as sternly as you could, the crack in your voice giving away that perhaps it’s not only anger that you feel. You fish for a coin in your duffel bag with trembling hands, throwing it patronizingly to the floor, spinning and turning to land right at his feet.

“I wish you’d leave me.”

Jungkook doesn’t.

He shows up on your next fight.

He shows up for the third, the fourth, the fifth fight, and the fights after that.

Jungkook could be committed just as he is stupid, that much he knows. He let you become the worst, most selfish person you know (read: him) that night and left just as you wished — but only for that night does he grant it.

There was no other word to describe Jungkook besides desperate. It dripped off him the second you woke up the next day and you almost tripped the moment you got out of your room because Jungkook’s sleeping right outside it, true to his word that he would leave you alone for the night; and factually enough, it’s morning.

He’s so desperate to the point that it’s pitiful, equivalent to a dog sleeping at your feet and you having to work around in removing your shoe underneath the snout. 

You don’t hate Jungkook, no, maybe not anymore. It’s much more complex than that. It has everything to do with how perhaps the two of you are emotionally constipated, one more than the other, and how the two of you think in your own twisted ways that you’re undeserving of love.

You don’t hate Jungkook, he’s tolerable. You attempt to tolerate him even if he literally pushes Seokjin out of the way to assess your injuries, his knowledge growing more and more for each fight that you get yourself into. He fusses over you more than you ever did for him.

You try to tolerate him and swallow the secondhand embarrassment you get from Jungkook sticking out like a sore thumb in the places you belonged to but he didn’t. Jungkook knows how just out-of-place he looks but he can’t bring it in himself to focus on the timidness he feels, only able to focus on your sake and on your hurt only.

He fits himself in places he doesn’t belong to in the hopes that he’d find you there; in the hopes you’d take him under your wing again and put a hand on his waist just like past times, a quiet understanding between the two of you that you’ve got him.

Just like now, Jungkook forces himself into the small couch of the backroom waiting for yet another fight, squeezing himself to lie down on your lap, gauging your reaction.

You smile.

Ah, you don’t look like you hate him.

“I did something by myself today,” he clears his throat, making you look up from your phone and back down on your lap because you almost forgot he’s invaded your space. Again. “I enrolled myself in a course.”

“Don’t you already have your degree?” you ask perplexed, distinctly recalling his diploma displayed in his parents’ living room.

“Yeah, in business. It’s a useless degree,” Jungkook smiles sheepishly, admitting it outloud. “After all, I’m a nepo baby, right?”

You tense at the random addition, feeling a little sorry because you know you’ve left quite the sting on Jungkook since your fight months ago. “Jungkook, I didn’t-…”

“It’s okay. I’m starting to become more self-aware these days,” he grins without malice, eyes crinkling and dimples appearing that you momentarily stop your explanation to just observe. 

When you look at him like that, Jungkook knows when people care (and love) for him just because they do.

“Speaking of being self-aware, against popular misconception, I know how to love,” he makes a show of clearing his throat, delivering his line with utmost sincerity that it turns him meek. “I just don’t know when to stop.”

When Jungkook professes to you like this, he sounds the most attainable. He sounds soft; the most vulnerable of the vulnerable.

“Are you stopping?” you ask just as gently.

“You tell me.” (Read: no. Jungkook doesn’t ever want to stop loving you.)

It’s silence, always dwindles to it between the two of you but it isn’t the type that weighs the both of you down. Simply put it was just peace, a quiet understanding that love isn’t weak as either of you painted it out to be.

“Anyway, I enrolled myself because I want to study again. It’s something I wanna be an expert on,” Jungkook’s heart thrums in his ears, looking up at you who looks just as nervous and excited as he is. “I’m studying to become a paramedic.”

You smile warmly, head tilting in wonder.

“Why?”

“So I can help you. You protected me before, and it’s my turn to aid you now,” he chews on his bottom lip. “I can save you myself if worse comes to worst.”

Jungkook gets a pinch to his thigh for even thinking such a thing and it makes him giggle a little, a welcome break to the somber and serious thoughts he has regarding you career.

“I know you want to continue fighting. I don’t know when you’ll stop and if I could convince you to stop,” he pauses, looking down on your hands that are hovering just above his. “But for as long as you’ll fight, I’ll try to heal you.”

Against your belief, perhaps love is for the weak. Because as much as it’s cruel and it chooses, love is based on a faulty premise of caring for others despite the presence and threats of fallacies — and if loving Jungkook means to be weak, then so be it.

“Jungkook.”

“You don’t have to cry,” Jungkook weakly reprimands you and yet he cries himself, reaching up to wipe at your eyes. “You took care of me. You’ve been taking care of everyone and everything but yourself your whole life.”

Against Jungkook’s belief, perhaps love isn’t for the weak. Because as much it’s based on a faulty premise of caring for others despite the presence and threats of fallacies, love found its way to him in the form of you — and if loving you means subjecting himself to such cruelness, Jungkook would strive not to be weak.

“I can take care of you,” Jungkook whispers, more than willing to spend the rest of his wishes in giving everything you deserve. “Let me take care of you.” 

You don’t have to amount to something to be considered deserving of love — the moment you love, you amount to everything.

“I wish you’ll let me love you the way you love me.”

[beeseverywhen]

icons

so i’ve noticed a few ppl following me on here still have default icons and i’m not gonna block you so dw, if you are reblogging stuff/interacting or have a description or whatever, i can see you are a real person!

however, i always see overly negative posts about this and never any actually offering any advice so i’ve decided to make a post collecting together ideas for icons, in case you guys just dont know where to start (i’ve been there)

so:

i think one of these bottle caps would make a cool icon

these pies from animal crossing are also pretty cool

this (@oldwindowsicons) a blog full of old windows icons which is pretty cool. They have old style pixel ones and also newer ones from vista ect. And they collect ones from other software and games, you might find one from your childhood!!!

if you are particularly attatched to your default icon, this person (@anonymous-leemur ) makes edits of them! so they are still the same little guys but different (and very cool imo)

there are loads of other blogs dedicated to collecting icons for ppls use so see if you can find any others!

other options:

there is an icon tag! where ppl post icons theyve made for people to use

is there an artist you really like on here? send them a message and ask if you can use a piece of their art as a header/icon (many artists are completely fine with this, tho in the case of art you should always ask)

if they do commissions you can even commission a custom icon from them!

are you an artist? share some of your art with us! draw yourself an icon

particularly like a certain character? take a screenshot from a show/published comic and use that

take a photo of something you like or find a stock image/ clipart on search and use that. your icon could be your favourite fruit, an animal,  a tool you need for your job/hobby, a landscape, any other object (picture of an orange??? a fish? a paintbrush)

pretty much, the world is your oyster. there are loads of options, the general etiquette is just that if an image isnt in the public domain already (by being in a show/published comic/stock image) you check with the artist that they are cool with you using their art. if someone is posting stuff tagged as icons, they want you to use them and you dont need to ask! some artists will ask that you credit them, you can do this by making a post saying thanks to @[artist] for the icon/header

[me-elo1111]

Unfortunate Circumstances (Keith x GN reader)

A/N: judging by how well this post does I’ll try and write more, if you have requests send them in I’ll write for all characters 🤍 and ships (klance nation I see you dw please give me something to write with those two) my friend asked for an x reader so this is what we’re doing first. reader is gender neutral in this one because everyone should feel included ofc!

__________________

Needless to say… you were stuck. Not even just stuck you were trapped with someone you could never in a million years be compatible with.

Keith Kogane, paladin of the red lion.

And a deranged smartass who ALWAYS had to be right about something… no matter what situation, if you were with Keith, it was his word against yours. And being the leader of Voltron it was almost always his word. Funny thing about it though he’d never act so rude and stand off ish to anybody else in the group… it was just you…

On a normal day you could definitely conquer this man’s attitude but this was in fact not a normal day. You were supposed to be relaxing after weeks of fighting and working against the galra but the universe had different plans. Very different plans..

“It’s just a small mission, just gather some samples for Coran and then you’ll be out in a few moments.” You remember Allura reassured you, patting your shoulder.

You gave a very hesitant smile, and continued to stride forward to the red lions hanger. Better to get this done and over with.

How silly you were to have hope for once…

“It was one simple task! How did you mess up THAT bad!?” You yelled into Keith’s ear.

You were both sitting in the red lions cockpit, Keith in the main seat and you leaning against the inner console next to him.

“In my defense I didn’t SEE that ship there!” He groaned, head in his hands.

He felt embarrassed. Not about the fact that he messed up on a mission, but about the fact that he messed up on a mission in front of you. And looking at your tense figure with your arms crossed and a sour look on your face just made it so much worse.

You wouldn’t ever know in advance, but he held you in way high regards. So much so that he found himself not being able to even have a normal conversation with you. Not like communication was his strong suit anyways. But it was a lot more worse with someone like yourself. He never could key in on the moment he started having romantic feelings for you. Sure the thought would creep up into his brain but he would just shove it away to be unheard of again. Because why would someone like you like someone like him? It never made sense in his brain. So he made it his mission to drive you away so you wouldn’t notice how much of a mess he is… But in doing so it wounded you guys here. Red was down trying to charge itself, and here you were yelling at him while he wallowed in his own pity.

“Well Keith where do we go from here?” You asked the pilot, who looked at you with something similar to… shame? Embarrassment? Yeah, something like that…

“the team knows where we are, it’s only a matter of time before they come for us. But until then, I guess we just sit tight and wait..” he trailed off, trying his best to avoid unnecessary eye contact with you.

“Whatever. At least it was you messing up this time instead of me.” You shrugged.

“Now I won’t have to get yelled at more than I have to.”

He straightened in his seat. And looked over.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” You muttered.

“No what did you mean by that? Who yells at you?” You sat in disbelief before giving him a slight look.

He seemed to get the message pretty fast and quickly looked away from you.

“Look- I’m sorry.”

You looked at him… “go on.”

“I don’t mean to take it out on you I just uh.. I just worry about you… is all.” You could see his face turn slightly red as he shielded it from your vision while you stared at him.

KEITH worries about YOU.

Well this surely was not on your bingo card this year. In a way it makes you feel sort of light inside, since now you can push all those intrusive thoughts about him hating you away… but also- KEITH WORRIES ABOUT YOU- and you’re being a dick by yelling at him for getting you two into this mess. You sighed as you started to walk out of the cockpit to exit the lion. Seeing this Keith scrambled out of his chair, running after you with a slight bit of worry.

“Wait where are you going?” He asked as he caught up to you.

The hanger door opened and you both exited the lion, you paused for a moment as your nose inhaled a new scent. One that you were definitely not used to.

You looked at him as you both stepped out, the coolness in the wind hitting you like ice as it blows through your hair.

“We need to talk Keith…”

_______________________

A/N: I got mixed feelings about this. But I just wanted to Drabble before I got serious about writing this into a whole parted story💀 anyways let me know babes JEN JEN OUT 🫡

[datingjaeminfr]

+ ONLY ME + LEE FELIX

PAIRING: Lee Felix x Male Reader

GENRE: Smut, Angst (maybe? idk I'm not smart)

WARNINGS: Influence of alcohol (Felix x Reader are only tipsy dw), Degrading, Cum play, Dirty talk, Mentioning of exhibiting (idk what word to put instead), Hickeys, Rough sex, (uhm probably smth else that idk so apologies if I missed smth.)

Summary: Maybe you should flirt with other people more often.

Note: I was struggling to write the Renjun fic but I'll be posting the PT.1 of it soon.

Felix sat at the bar, sipping on a glass of soju, when a very drunk Han stumbled over to him. Felix raised a brow, momentarily wondering if he was alright, only to remember he was a lightweight. Placing the empty glass down, he turned towards the older, opening his mouth to speak only to get interrupted. "Hey dude, isn't that your boyfriend, [name], over there?" Han slurred out pointing towards you. Felix glanced over only to do double take upon seeing an unknown guy with you. You were chatting and laughing with a dark haired man that had started talking to you a bit earlier. Even from a distance Felix could easily tell that he was flirting with you. Anger built up inside of him as he watched. "Yes Han. That is indeed [name]." His tone held light anger, an oppose as to how he was feeling.

Han hummed, "I swear I saw him flirting with that guy a bit earlier." His words were jumbled together, "Not sure. Can't remember." He mumbled drunkenly. "Oh really?" Felix questioned, a tight smile apparent on his face. "Mhm," the other responded before whining aloud, "Where's Binnie? I want to see if he wants to prank Chan with me." Felix couldn't help but giggle at his hyung's childishness. "Sorry Hannie, I haven't seen him in a while." Han pouted at his dongsaeng's response. Quickly forgetting what he was upset about he suddenly perked up, parting ways from Felix he raced off energetically to bother Hyunjin.

Once he was gone Felix turned back to see what the situation between you and the stranger was. Rage coursed through him upon seeing that you were, like Han had said, flirting with the taller man. Glaring at him, Felix stood up, stretching. He walked calmly towards the two of you, a blank expression replacing his previous one. Weaving through the crowd, he called out to you as he neared, "[name]!" You turned at the familiar voice, face paling as you spotted your boyfriend. "O-oh Felix, hi." You stuttered out awkwardly due to the fact that you most definitely got caught.

The unknown interrupted, "C'mon babe, this guy isn't important. Lets go do something." A suggestive smirk crossed his sharp features. Felix smirked, an eyebrow raising as he looked between the two of you, "Babe? Not important?" His tone held disbelief that was doused in sarcasm. "Lix please. It's not like that, I promise baby." You cut in, desperation clear in your voice. "Baby?" The other questioned in confusion, tilting his head. "Doesn't seem like it love. To me it looked like you were ready to leave with this... Thing." Felix looked at the man as though he had just found a dead rat in the walls. "Fel-" He cut you off. "No [name]. You made your choice." He turned on his heel, beginning to stalk away. You looked after him with teary eyes. Glancing at the stranger for a split second, you ran after your boyfriend.

"Felix, please." You clung to his arm in an attempt to get him to let you explain yourself. He didn't respond, shrugging you off of him as he kept walking. He headed through the back, stalking into the private room you two had hired. You followed him, tears running down your face, still trying to get him to listen. You had barely shut the door behind you when he slammed you into it, eyes meeting yours. They were full of anger and disappointment, breaking your heart even further. "Why [name]? Why? Am I not good enough? I know I didn't do anything wrong so that must be it." He demanded an answer from you. "N-no you are good enough-" You started. "Then why!?" He yelled.

You couldn't come up with an answer, Felix punching the wall next to your head in anger. Roughly grabbing you, he threw you onto the bed, climbing on top of you. Your eyes widened in fear, you knew how he could get when in a mood, but this was the worst you had seen. "You know what? If he wants you I'll paint you with my marks. And when you go running back to him, he won't want you. Not with this ugly reminder that you belong to someone else. You'll be forced to come back to me to feel even a little bit wanted." He pinned your body down with his, holding your wrists and stopping you from escaping. Leaning down, he sucked harshly on your neck, bruises already forming as he marked you in every place he could reach. You cried out in pain at how rough he was being.

Ignoring your pleas he ripped your shirt off, the buttons popping as the clothing was tugged from your being. The same happened to your trousers and boxers, the articles of clothing disappearing as though it was simply air. Wrapping a hand around your dick, he suddenly pumped it at an extremely fast pace. Felix kissed you forcefully, shoving his tongue into your mouth, dominating you but without the usual passion he had. A broken moan left your lips, the man swallowing it up hungrily. He squeezed your shaft, tightening his grip without a care about how you felt. A small screech left you at the sudden pain. The salty liquid was running down your face heavier than before, throat sore from sobbing so hard. Your cheeks were flushed, eyes swollen and red, hair already messy and sticking out in different directions. You looked like a complete mess and he had barely even started.

"Stop crying whore, it's annoying. You don't deserve to cry after you were the one that tried to leave." Felix growled out. Your body spasmed rapidly, the muscles contracting and relaxing as he forced you into an orgasm. White strings of hotness covered yours and Felix's chests and stomachs, or in Felix’s case, abs. "Already cumming like the slut you are, huh? Did I tell you to cum?" He demanded, slapping you. "N-no!" You sobbed out. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to master! Please master, I promise I didn't!" You cried hysterically, fear causing you to shake uncontrollably. Felix shook his head in dismay and anger, "You just can't do anything right, can you?" He undressed himself, hitting the tip of his cock against your hole teasingly.

Lining up with your entrance, he rested the tip against you. "No! Please no! Felix don't!" You screamed out. "Wrong name." He slapped you again before slamming his hard into you. You screeched in pure pain, "Master! Slow down, it hurts!" He fucked into you at a ruthless pace, almost too fast to be considered human. "Who are you to order me around, slut? You're underneath me, making me the boss of you." He snarled. "Learn your place whore. You're just a bitch for his masters cock. And I'll make sure that's the only thing you're seen as from now on." You were so fucked out by now that you immediately believed him, yet begged him not to tell anyone.

"Why would I need to tell anyone? With how loud you are they probably already know. I bet everyone in the club can hear you." He shamed you carelessly, his lips lifting up into a taunting smirk, "You'd like that wouldn't you? You fucking exhibitionist. You'd love everyone to hear me fucking you senseless on my dick. You want everyone to cover you in their juices until there’s not even a visible patch of skin left to see. You want them to jerk off over you." The tightening feeling in your stomach grew into a massive knot. "I'm gonna cum! Please! Let me cum, I can't hold it." Felix grunted, his dick twitching inside of you. He was close. "You better not cum before I do, cumslut." He spat, his voice was hoarse as he neared the beginning of his orgasm.

"Gonna fill your little hole up. You'll be walking around with my cum in your anus forever. A constant reminder of me. Tell me. Would that rat of yours have ever been able to fuck you like me?" He taunted you, challenging you to so much as try to orgasm before him. The pain you felt made you see bright white. "No! Nobody can fuck me like you can! No one! Only you! Think of you all the time, all day, everyday. Only you. It's always only you." Your confession sent Felix over the edge, releasing endlessly into your abused hole. You clenched around him as you also came hard.

Breathing heavily, you watched as Felix pulled out. He dragged a finger over your swollen hole. You whined at the overstimulation as he gathered the cum that spilt out of you. He mixed it in with the cum on your abs, shoving it back into you. Wiping the rest of it, he sucked it off his fingers, passing it into your mouth with a kiss and forcing you to swallow. He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lips. Twirling it around his fingers, he put them in your mouth, watching as you naturally swirled your tongue around his digits.

"You're mine, you hear me? Nobody else can have you. Only me."

[saralovesyouu]

“Disaster.”

Miya x Reader songfic

Summary: Your Miya’s first love, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it, you, or his feelings.

Warnings/things to know: Slight implication of female reader, minor cursing, parts that aren’t on plot of sk8, some angst? You get a happy ending though dw dw.

(A/N) : Didn’t really get to post till now busy with school but since it’s summer already I’ve got loads of time but not enough motivation so I’ll probably post writings of different characters slowly cause yeah, but I hope you like it. English isn’t really my first language but I love writing, so if there’s any grammar errors or spelling mistakes lmk!! If there’s anything you want me to write, I can try!

Let me just set the scene!

Miya had invited you to watch him at one of his S matches, he was going against this ‘new Canadian kid’ as he put it. And you agreed. “Good luck.” You encouraged with a smile, he felt himself smiling too but he shoved it down. He scoffed, turning his head away “won’t need luck.” He muttered confidently, heading to the start so they could begin. As soon as the buzzer rang, the two sped off. You watched in awe at how gracefully Miya was losing skating, the blue haired teenager he was going against started to catch up to him, as if it were nothing.

.

.

Once the match ended Miya looked so bummed about having lost—to rookie too. You giggled at his pouting “what was that about not needing luck?” You teased. “Shut up.” He murmured. You smiled. “Relax,” you say putting a hand between his shoulder and back. “you did great either way.” Miya swore you looked absolutely stunning, despite the dim lighting of the lamp post and your clothes that got dirty from skating earlier. “Yeah..” he muttered, too mesmerized by your beauty to come up with some snarky remark.

Cause the potential of us was keeping me up all—night long.

You met up with him the following day for school, dressed in the uniform. “G’morning Miya.” You smiled, he looked at you and looked away. Even in the school’s uniform you looked pretty. “Morning.” He murmured in a trance. Your smirked. “Miya I know I’m pretty, admire me all you want, but we’re going to be late for class if you keep staring at me.” Said boy flushed red. “S.. Sorry. You’re right, let’s go.” He said shaking his head to clear his thoughts and began walking with you to class.

Like what if you freak out when we’re losing it all

At the critical chapter, where I say “I love you”, and you don’t say it after.

The two of you were in science class, passing notes back and forth. Miya made sure to listen partially to what the teacher was talking about, just in case she called on either or both of you. And so you wouldn’t get in trouble. ‘Skate park after school?’ You slid the piece of paper over to him. He looked down and got his pencil out to reply. ‘Sure, but we should probably finish our homework before skating.’ He slid it back over to you. You chuckled lightly, which made the cat-like boy raise an eyebrow. He wondered what you were thinking about. You smiled, pursing your lips in a tight line—or at least tried to, so you wouldn’t burst out laughing. ‘Are you inviting me on a study date?’ He blushed, and whipped his head quickly to see you snickering. Your lips were twitching as you covered your mouth, trying to keep yourself from laughing. “Ms. (Y/N)? What’s so funny?” The teacher asked. “Oh nothing, I’m sorry.” You said, clearing your throat. “Well then could you tell me which group the element xenon lands in?” She asked, crossing her arms. Everyone turned to you, waiting to laugh at you when you would supposedly get the wrong answer. You smiled. Miya was a bit worried, cause although he knew he was paying attention he didn’t know if you had. “Yeah no problem, group 18, it’s in the noble gases.” You say confidently. The students groaned, turning back in their seats, disappointed the wouldn’t have something someone to laugh at. The teacher just gave you a questioning look but just shook her head and continued on with her lesson. Miya was impressed. He found himself smiling when you smirked victoriously. “Guess studying for hours straight actually is good for something.” You joked, elbowing him. Just the simple touch made his heart race. “Yeah..” shit he really did like you.

Now I’m falling in faster, this could be a disaster.

School finally came to an end, and you stretched your arms over your head. “Tired?” Miya asked. “Yeah, can’t believe they made us run that much.” You sighed. All he did was chuckle as you got your stuff from your locker. “Oh right, can we stop by my house real quick? I don’t want to be skating in a skirt.” You said, shutting your locker. “Of ‘course, her majesty can’t be tripping over her large ball gown.” Miya teased. You scoffed and smacked his shoulder lightly. “Wow I’m hurt.” He teased, but he couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

Let me just—lose my mind.

The sun had started to set, your homework was long done and forgotten. Miya was teaching you some new trick that you hadn’t learned. Sure he laughed every time you would fall, but he always helped you back to your feet. “This is has got to be the millionth time you’ve fell.” Miya teased, reaching his hand out to help you up. “Yeah for you.” You muttered under your breath, thankfully he didn’t hear. “What was that?” He asked. Taking his hand to get back up, you shook your head to rid of your thoughts before smirking at him. “I said and if this is the millionth time I’ve fallen, then it’s the millionth time you’ve helped me up.” You chuckled, making him blush. Miya knew that wasn’t what you said, he thought he heard something else. But he figured he must’ve been hearing things. He couldn’t get his hopes up too soon.

But if I'm reading it wrong, man, it'd be better off if I died.

The sun was just about to sink completely in the dark blue horizon, you could see the stars twinkling up. You and Miya had finished up skating for the day, opting to just sit at the top of the ramp, and attempt to stargaze. But it was hard to see anything with all the city lights.

“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” You asked, clearing your throat. He looked into your eyes then back at the moon and smiled, “Yeah, it is.” he replied, not understanding what you were hinting at. You sighed, and let your head fall back onto the railings on the ramp. You winced with your head hit the metal bars a little too hard and he scoffed with a smile. “Idiot.” He muttered under his breath, turning to look at you as you glared at him and rubbed your head to try to soothe the pain. “Be careful,” he said, looking at you lovingly. But he immediately ‘coughed’ and added a “don’t want you to get even dumber than you already are.” Which made you shake your head and smile at his demeanor.

This could be a disaster, I’m pedaling backwards.

“Wanna watch my match tonight?” He asked. You tried to forget about last night, because you knew he was stupidly dense and wanted to save yourself from embarrassment. “Um. Sorry, gonna have to turn you down this one time. I gotta finish studying for that math exam.” You lied, or at least partially. You were just making up excuses. He raised an eyebrow at this, clearly knowing you were well prepared for the test, and even though he’d never admit it he felt hurt. “Ah. Okay. Well good luck with the studying!” He said awkward through gritted teeth, biting down on his tongue to avoid asking questions. You were probably busy, he thought. “Maybe next time.” You chuckled awkwardly. You both looked down at the floor. You wanted to go watch him, but you couldn’t. Every time he smiled or laughed, or even when he made his usual snide remarks he made your heart race. “Yeah.. next time.” He repeated. “Well I’ve got to go—“ you both said making you both chuckle. “Yeah, love you bye!” You accidentally blurted out. “What?” He asked shocked. You clasped a hand over your mouth. “I said you’re such a fly.” You lied. “Well uhh— I should probably go.” You said speeding off. And it would’ve been okay if it weren’t for the fact that Miya hadn’t said a word.

He fucking heard.

Maybe I'm mistaken

During his match, you were all he could think about. He tried to shake it off and concentrate on one goal, winning. But every time he tried, he thought of you again.

You're not mine for takin'

In your room you were panicking, rummaging around for anything to calm yourself down, but you found yourself empty handed.

.

.

After a while you finally calmed down, listening to music from your favorite artist. Recalling what you had said, and that he had heard you, you screamed into your pillow. You heard a soft thud, then another. You lifted your head up from the pillow, to see another stone was making the noise. You got up to see what it was, assuming it must’ve been one of the neighborhoods kids trying to pull some type of prank, but when you got up to look at the window, you saw no other than “Miya?” You called, though it almost sounded like a question. “Hey, can we talk?” He asked, kicking his feet into the grass anxiously. You pursed your lips, grabbing a sweater and exiting out your window.

Maybe I just made it up, messed it up.

You guys walked a bit, probably aimlessly till you somehow made your way to the skate park you guys would hang out at. He climbed up the ramp, then extending his hand to help you up. He wasn’t acting like himself. You took his hand anyways, sitting down awkwardly, nervously swinging your legs over the edge. “(Y/N), listen. About what you said—“ “If this is your way of rejecting me gently, save me the trouble and just say it.” You interrupted. He looked at you confused, his eyebrows furrowed, half annoyed that you would think that was what he was gonna say and a bit bewildered that you interrupted him. “Geez at least let me—“ but he stopped himself when he noticed you were tearing up. He cleared his throat, grabbing your hand. “That’s not what I’m doing here,” he started, you looked up to gaze into his green eyes. “Actually, what I was going to say before you so rudely interrupted me,” he continued making you laugh a bit. Though it cracked a bit, as you were on the verge of tears thinking he was going to reject you. “Is that I like you.” He mumbled. “What?” You asked, “Miya Chinen tell me this isn’t some sick joke.” You repeated, looking into his eyes for any signs that he could be lying. But he only smiled, and it looked so genuine that it made you believe a bit that he was telling the truth. “I like you, (Y/N). Like a whole lot.” He said, reaching to boldly cup your face in his hands. And that was all you needed to hear to break into tears and throw your arms around him. “God you don’t know how happy that makes me.” You cried, and he hugged you back hesitantly, not really use to the affection, but he welcomed it anyways. “Ive liked you for a while. Every time you smiled, or when I saw your eyes light up whenever you finally learned a new trick, I fell in love with you more.” He admitted, though flustered. You chuckled through wet tears, “that’s so corny..” you smiled. He just shook his head with a laugh. “So what does that make us now?” You asked, pulling away from his arms to look at him eye-to-eye. “Guess that makes us boyfriend and girlfriend.” He said with a smile. His cheeks were dusted pink, and with the dim lighting from the street lights, he looked almost ethereal. He coughed nervously, averting your gaze. “That’s if you want to I mean, if you don’t then that’s cool too.” He rambled. You shook your head with a chuckle, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, making him even more flustered. “Dude, I just indirectly told you I like you too and you’re asking if I want to? Yes of course I do!” You giggled. He swore right then and there that his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He shyly grabbed your hand, rubbing small circles on the back of it. “Hey (Y/N)?” He called. You hummed. “I love you.” He mumbled, looking up at you slightly. You smiled, “I love you too.” You sat in silence for a few seconds. “Wait but did you when the match?” You asked. He chuckled. “Hell yeah I won the match.”

You shook your head with a smile, leaning onto his shoulder. You knew you might get in trouble for being out late on a school night but right now you just wanted to enjoy this moment while it lasted.

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