#and being able to leave the room for everyone’s safety instead of making everything a confrontation

[aftermathing]

.

[disappointment-comics]

something to be said about bakugou getting the Troubled Teen Industry redemption treatment. like of course he deserved to be corrected for his early series behaviour but. some of y’all just wanna see “bad” kids get their “comeuppance”

[laurfilijames]

Wish You Were Here

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x reader

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of death and brief descriptions of war. Intimate flashbacks.

Summary: Sleep deprivation begins to take its toll on Will, leaving him distressed and emotional as he thinks about being back home with you.

A/N: This is sad and it hurt my heart to write but I needed to do it so I can go back to writing fluffy filth!

---

The numbers usually calmed him, gave him something sturdy and finite to focus on, but tonight they taunted him.

Each second that turned into a minute was a cruel reminder of all the ones he had spent awake, and no matter how exhausted he was and how physically ill he felt from the sleep he was being starved of, his mind and body refused it.

It had been days without more than a few minutes of rest at a time, only accumulating to a small number of hours that wasn’t enough to sustain anybody, and another wave of nausea set in as the effects of it all started to become too much.

It was moments like this that he missed you even more. The hurt in his heart turned physical, a relentless ache for you that the pains in his body couldn’t compare to.

Will sighed heavily, trying everything he could to cope with the insanity he felt over it, but it was growing to be unbearable, his limits tested like the few times they had before. He wondered as he took another deep inhale - his empty stomach filling with air - if he was waking anyone up in his distress, constantly shifting where he sat on the cold ground to try to feel even an ounce of comfort, his breathing louder than the wind howling around them, but it was stupid to think anyone else was able to slip into the solace of sleep at this point. No one was snoring and everyone was still, lacking the relaxed twitches that came when rest took control of your body, and he thought how the only members of their company who were resting peacefully were the ones going home to their families accompanied by a folded flag.

Home.

He blew out another shaky breath, closing his burning eyes so he was able to picture it in his tormented mind.

Your alarm would be about to go off, the early dawn still covering your bedroom in darkness right before the sun appeared to kiss your skin with its orange glow instead of his lips, your side of the bed cold as your body favoured his spot to be the one that was kept warm. You would no doubt have one of his t-shirts on and your head would be on his pillow, gripping it tightly as if it was him, trying to capture a bit of him that was left behind from the last time he was there with you.

Will found a little relief in these thoughts, knowing you were safe and out of harm's way, although he wasn’t naive enough to think you weren’t spending each moment worried and anxious for his safety.

Another inhale, slower this time, eyes still screwed shut as if the tighter he closed them the further he would be from this brutal reality.

He can hear the hum of the fan that sits on your dresser and is aimed at your bed, the sound ingrained in his mind from keeping both of you cool in the humidity night after night, and he can almost smell the scent of your heated skin, the familiarity of it making his mouth water, the desperation he feels to be able to hold you making him want to smile and scream all at once.

Fuck, he wished you were here.

Will flashed open his eyes. No. He couldn’t dream of placing you in this hell and exposing you to all the evil he had witnessed.

He shifted his legs, closing his eyes again as tears sprung up in them, the wet boots on his feet feeling more intolerable than usual.

Another inhale, then exhale.

He sighed again, imagining he’s back in your room, crawling into fresh sheets after showering, tangling his naked limbs with yours, your fingertips dancing up and down along his arm and back and softly over his face until his breathing continues to happen without him thinking about it and his mind is temporarily void of all he holds onto.

In the distance, the boom of an air raid sounds, rumbling and shaking the ground with a trembling force, bringing him out of his dream.

His muscles felt incredibly heavy, beyond tired and depleted of any strength, and he replaced the reasons why they were with how wonderful his body always felt after pouring every bit of energy he had into loving you, the satisfaction in expending all of his power into your pleasure comparable to nothing else.

A stray tear rolled down his cheek as his breathing grew quicker, thinking how he would do just about anything to be with you right now, even for the briefest of moments. Everything was more tolerable when he was with you, no demons too big to face, the strength you had admirable and extended over to him by simply being in your proximity. Sleep was something that never came easy to him, but at least when he was with you he was engulfed in a comforting embrace that gave him some rest and repose.

He brushed the wet away with his thumb, his heart clenching in his chest while his throat restricted, knowing if you were here you would kiss each tear away and sit quietly with him until his mind gave him some reprieve.

Will sunk his chin down into the collar of his jacket, rubbing his mouth back and forth on the material, the smell of sweat, rain and stale blood that he didn’t know was his or not filling his nostrils with a pungency he struggled to get used to.

A huff that bordered on being a laugh came from him, thinking how ironic it was that the night before he deployed he hadn’t slept either, choosing instead to spend every second he had making love to you over and over while the time was available to him, each time never enough, and he thought how he would sacrifice sleep for the rest of his life if it meant he could share nights like that with you again.

He licked his lips, trying to get some moisture onto them and rid them of the stinging, chapped feeling and then pressed them together, recalling how it felt to have them hydrated and wet from yours, imagining the sensation of your skin under them as he peppered countless kisses on your body, something he could only describe as being the closest he could ever get to heaven while he sat in the threshold of hell.

Will had vowed when he left that morning that he would never leave you again after this mission, and he would stay true to that promise, deeming it completely impossible to carry on like this while knowing everything he needed to live and survive was half the world away.

Until then, he would tick off every minute, hour and day, counting them down until he was holding you in his wearied arms again, and hoped he could at least pass some of them with sleep, the gravity of needing to be alert and focused in order to make it back to you sitting heavily on his shoulders.

He untucked his arms from across his chest, tugging up the sleeve on his left one to check his watch, feeling a little more hopeful that he was one hour closer to that goal.

---

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Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls

@littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90

@paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989

[bloogers-boogers]

Exorcist Lucifer Au

Lucifer doesn't get banished from heaven. But does in Eden.

Adam is banished from Eden but still ascended to heaven.

Both Lucifer and Adam got their heart broken by Lilith who firstly rejected Adam to be her husband and seduced Lucifer to fall in love with her, abandoning Adam and getting Lucifer banished from the garden, eventually she leaves him for Eve who Lucifer caught together making love before trying to offer the apple to Eve. Lucifer in a fit of jealousy and betrayal tricked Adam to eat the apple instead to get even with Eve for stealing his first love. But Adam was pardon for being tricked by a angel (being someone Adam had no choice but to trust, a 'superior'), Lilith and Eve got tossed to hell for disobeying and rejecting their roles and obligations. Lucifer got pardon but was punished with a curse to never experience true love, having no one be able to fall in love with him to prevent further incidents like this to happen again; he was allowed to fall in love but would live knowing it would never be reciprocated which was his punishment.

The exception was Adam who they had not yet know why he is ineffective with the curse, they found no need to worry as they assume the first man would never develop romantic feeling for Lucifer. With time though Lucifer does develop an interest in Adam, not romantically at first, it was more of the need to protect the one thing that could love him freely. Heaven took notice of that.

This gave heaven power over Lucifer: God's perfect and favored angel.

Lucifer did everything to make sure Adam ascended to Heaven, preventing him from sinning too much on earth and giving discreet guidance in form of bird messages to guide Adam to the right path. It was hard work but Lucifer's efforts weren't in vain.

Adam ascended and Lucifer was the first to greet him.

Somehow Lucifer manage to befriend Adam even after everything that happened in Eden. They hangout and talked a lot only when Lucifer wasn't busy with all the amount of duties he had, which was a lot. Normally every a hundred years. He'd do anything to keep in touch with the first man at least through messages, letters or calls and every second with him was worth the wait, Adam genuine love for him gave him hope that someday he will be worthy to get his curse broken and be able to experience what love truly is.

Things take a huge turn though when Sera and the archangels were now forced to take notice of the growing percentage of sinners in hell. They feared the possibility of hell creating a army and become a threat to heaven.

In an act of desperation a seraphim suggested exterminations, Lucifer, who was also in the meeting rejected the idea immediately knowingly Adam would never approve of such thing and would most likely be upset if angels started killing human souls. But he was shut down by all of those who started agreeing it was the best solution for their growing issue. Lucifer sat their speechless and shocked that they would have to resort to this.

He threatened them he would go speak to God if they refused to consider other possible and more peaceful solutions, this of course caused worries to everyone in the room, but they knew God wouldn't believe Lucifer for everything after the Eden incident. So Sera and the archangels pulled a card making Lucifer sit down and take it. They used Adam's safety as a threat to keep Lucifer to back down and simply obey. Which worked.

Out of all angels Lucifer ended up being put in charge of the exorcists. The only two rules they had was that no one was allowed to tell Adam or the winners about the exterminations.

The more work Lucifer was given the more time apart he was from Adam. But every time they did reunite it was magnificent and worthwhile. With each extermination Lucifer became detached from heaven and it's winners, the only thing that kept him away from falling was Adam. Lucifer didn't like sinners but with each time he visited hell during exterminations he became fascinated with the environment and places it had, he liked the hellborns but from a distance. It was all entertainment in his eyes and he loves a good show.

He also was not able to realized that he was repressing deep feelings for the first man. The feeling of guilt, fear, shame and unworthiness of Adam stopped him from ever opening to that possibility. However Adam was very opened in how much he loved Lucifer never verbally affirming it, maybe even clueless about it but with his actions spoke volumes. They both love each other a lot.

But Lucifer knew Adam would be disappointed and heartbroken if the truth reveals about what he did every once a year. He was also pushed into doing a lot of the ugly and dirty shit heaven refuses to do now that the council had him on a leash so he couldn't fight back. Lucifer cannot count how many souls he has taken out, he only knew he was completely bathed in blood, stained forever. And he would still take out if that meant protecting Adam but also keeping his dirty secret from coming out to light.

The years keep going and Lucifer starts giving zero f*cks about killing; murder became fun and a stress reliever, his anger was lashed on the not so 'innocent'. So he kept refusing to feel guilt over it. No one cared of what he felt, no one loved him except one, no one values his work so why care back?

At that point all the angels feared Lucifer's wrath. No longer the cheerful dreamful angel he once was (he was broken, he was different, he no longer belonged), they now knew him as someone very dangerous and cold blooded. The only times you could genuinely see him being his angel self is with Adam. And that was becoming a rarity to see, them together was becoming impossible to happen when Lucifer was overwhelmed with work.

It worsen when Lucifer was stuck having to deal with the knew issue in hand and it was Lilith and Eve's spawn: Charlie First. And the beginning of a new chapter.

[gotham-daydreams]

Hi! I love your gothan platonic batfam series, but every time I read it I can't help but wonder what Duke's reaction to all this would be. He's one of my fave batfam characters, do you have any plans to add him in later chapters?

Just curious, no pressure. Hopefully I didn't come off as pushy. (sorry if i did)

Have a good day! <3

Hello! And you didn't come off as pushy, no worries :]

I'll be honest and admit that I have thought of adding Duke to the series- but if I was going to do that in a more organic manner, and just generally in a way that makes sense- that would've been in Chapter 2 or 3. Though trust me I am still debating... and the only reason I'm hesitating is because I don't think I'd be able to capture his personality, or really just him as a person very well.

Granted, I do inherently view yandere versions of characters as OOC for... various reasons (some of which are obvious, especially when it comes to the Batfam and DC characters in general), but I do try to keep very close to the character (or my general understanding and interpretation of them for things like DC, who have multiple canons and such) and write them in a way that does still compliment or adhere to parts of their personality or overall mindset... if only generally. Like Bruce and his closeness to those around them yet the distance he so desperately tries to keep - not for himself, but rather those around him. His strive for justice and to do good to make up for a sin, a fault that isn't his to forgive or one he hardly had anything to do with and so on. How that makes him inherently protective if only at a distance and in silence. How he tries to keep himself away from others, if only to protect them, and yet finds himself surrounded anyway. Etcetera etcetera.

Case and point- I don't have a really good graps of Duke's general character and aren't confident enough to write him into the Not Series at the moment- and by the time I do, it may feel shoehorned in and just not as great as it could be (even if a line I wrote in Chapter 1 was meant to be him..). Though I am learning more about him! And if anyone would like to share what they know and their interpretations of his character they have and such while I still have asks open, I'd love to read and see them :]

In future series', oneshots, and just general things I plan to post and share on this blog, Duke will very much make an appearance and we'll reach 10 yanderes for the Batfam instead of just 9. (Some series' which will definitely be longer than the Not Series.)

On that note, I have thought of how Duke would feel (and some others earlier on have asked a bit as well), and from the little I know of him, this is how I think at the moment he would generally react/feel (though it may be inaccurate and such because of what I mentioned previously 😅):

I think he would start out as one of the many others that actually live in the manor or just so happened to be there at the time — and that being he feels guilt first (unlike the only person in that house who doesn't/didn't) and just... wouldn't know what to do. The time passed and everything the reader has done sort of leaves him stumped, and just stuck processing until everyone's rushing out and around to find you and before he knows it- he's following out with them to do the exact same thing.

I think he leaves before everyone else, and considering that he does daytime patrol, it isn't as odd to see him out and about anyway. Though the frantic-ness of his movements and actions are weird, and for once, more outwardly, Duke panics.

He feels bad, of course he does, and more similarly to Cass- he can only wish that he could do things with out. That he wants to be in the room when you got your awards or had been there through the hardships he knows you undoubtedly faced without even having to see the medkit like Bruce does in Chapter 2. So he goes out to look for you, but not so much for your safety and more so to just... apologize. To say every little thing he can in hopes to make things better, to lessen the damage.

And of course, just to see you.

More than anything Duke wants to make it up to you right away, but has half a mind to know he'll have to take things slow. He's still sensible to some degree, if not only partially of half-insane just like the rest of the fam (minus a certain blonde and red head who are only a sliver of the way there), he knows it'll take time, that you probably won't forgive him right away. But that's okay! He can live with that, he understands that, but he just needs to see you. Just once- if only to see who you are now and the person you've become. If only to say an apology that might fall too flat or feel too empty considering the little he knows about you.

Just once. No matter how awkward it is or how much he regrets it later. Just once.

Though, despite that he is divided on bringing you home. It would be nice, sure, but by the time that discussion comes up he isn't sure that's the best idea. Even less so with how those that do want you home seem to want to go about it, and just generally the kind of people they are. Impulsive. Strong. Threatening- they'll scare you and do more damage then help ease tensions, and he doesn't want that to happen. You don't deserve that- even if he barely knows you. Duke can feel it, you don't. Even then, they help people out, not hurt them, not like they did with you.

Duke wants to spend time with you, but he's willing to do that outside of the manor if it means making you more comfortable and warm up to him a little more. As long as he sees you he can't complain...

So when Dick messes up, he's upset. Like everyone else besides Cassandra he doesn't know what happened but knows that something absolutely went wrong. Dick usually wasn't so obvious about things like that either, but with how hurt and just... broken he looks, they could all tell. Duke could tell.

Granted, he's not upset enough to change his mind, and if anything it definitely makes him more adamant about not bringing you home yet, but he can’t find it in himself to be fully against the idea, even then.

The one thing he wants to do after that, if anything, is more determined to make things right.

If Dick of all people couldn't make it up to you, then hell, maybe Duke can.

[allmyhomieshatelawns]

Hiiiiii everyone I’ve become obsessed w Trolls, and by extension, several of the AUs here. In particular, @djmurphy ‘s Hypno Pop AU has had me in its clutches. I couldn’t stop myself so I wrote a lil somethin’ in between working on my Feral!Branch AU.

Bit of a warning, it’s def unreliable narrator, and yes, it’s supposed to be kinda creepy. I hope y’all like, please do not copy or post to another site. Lmk what y’all think!

"Hee, hee, hee, hee, heh, heh, eheh…" It wouldn't stop, no matter what I tried, nothing would make it stop. My face hurt, my entire body hurt if I was being honest. It was getting harder to do that. My voice wasn't my own, instead spewing false, toxic positivity that made me want to scream. It was hard to be honest even inside my own head when the compulsions wouldn't leave me alone either.

Keep Smiling. The compulsions hurt, but it hurt worse to try and resist. Like my nerves were being burnt. The compulsions made it easier to go about my day-to-day. I always knew what I was supposed to be doing, and how to be a good troll like everybody else. It was comforting to have a safety net.

Keep Singing. This one was harder to obey, but somehow even more painful to try and ignore. Whether I obeyed or not, it felt like liquid fire in my veins. I watched it happen over and over and over again. Every time I opened my mouth to sing, I saw her push me out of the way instead. It was painful fighting to go grey. My vocal cords always felt shredded, and they had lost a lot of their angelic body, sounding raspy, damaged.

Go To King Peppy. My numb feet carried me to the King's pod that he shared with his youngest daughter. I wasn't supposed to talk about Viva either, which was wrong. Poppy should know about her older sister, even if she never got to meet her. I knew a little about my parents, even if they had been taken before my egg hatched. At least I knew my parents existed. I wonder what my brothers are up to…

Part of me yearned to have them home still, that same part I was scared was getting dependent on the string. I would feel my feet quickening as the power of the string would begin to fade, heading to King Peppy's door, knowing I wouldn't skip. It was horrifying to think part of myself actually liked being like this. I still remembered resisting, or trying to, hating every moment of this prison. I remembered trying to scream, trying to get anyone to help me and I couldn't make myself do anything. Oh after the first close calls King Peppy had made sure to put in the compulsions to 'never alarm anyone'. Now people didn't panic when they saw me, and it was all thanks to King Peppy!

I reached King Peppy's office, knocking politely and entering the room as he bid me. King Peppy helped me when no one else could. He was the only one able to help me get rid of my greyness, the only one willing to do what it took to make me normal. I owed him everything. My smile was blindingly painful.

"Ah, Branch, perfect timing as always." King Peppy smiled broadly, opening his arms for a hug.

I leapt into his arms, the contact feeling like licking flames.

King Peppy held me for a moment, before setting me back down. He reached into his hair, pulling out a nearly-empty lyre, with one glittering pink string on it.

My heartbeat quickened seeing it, eyes tunneling to focus on the horribly beautiful string. It glowed with its own light, drawing me in and re-thickening the haze over everything I saw. I felt my shoulders begin to relax as the haze crept further, like a wild animal with its eyes hooded.

A few plucks of the string, and I felt my mind wash away in a comfortable haze. All of the anxiety and negativity bleeding away to the innermost recesses of myself. It was such a relief to not have to deal with all of those pesky emotions! Now I could just be happy and sing and dance and have fun like everyone else!

I smiled, my face comfortably numb from the fresh effects of the string. "Thank you, King Peppy! I feel much better now!" I chirped, hardly able to see him at all through the haze.

"I'm so glad to hear that, Branch! Now, I've still got some work to finish up, why don't you run along and find someone to play with until you're called for dinner?" King Peppy chuckled as he suggested it, placing the sacred string back in its spot, safely in his hair.

The village was still bustling even at this hour, people skipping about and holding hands and singing and dancing. It was amazing.

My whole body felt like it was floating, like I was only connected to it by a tiny string. I waved and smiled at everyone who greeted me, even if I couldn't tell who had spoken to me. It unnerved me not being able to see more than a couple of troll-lengths away at best. No shadows to see a hand reaching down for–

"Hey, Branch! There you are! I was just looking for you!" Princess Poppy's cheerful voice broke in before a compulsion could correct my thought.

My head whipped around to her voice, my smile still painful, but a little more genuine. Princess Poppy was a sweet girl, even if she was annoying. She was perfect and would make an excellent queen one day.

"Princess! What can I do for you today?" I asked, kneeling down in front of her. She wasn't that much shorter than me, but I would take any excuse to get off of them. I had to stay fresh for more dancing, after all!

She beamed at me, somehow making it look effortless and completely sincere.

"One of the performers for my party tonight had to backout last minute. Would you be able to fill in? I don't need a full set or anything, just a couple of songs." Her voice was pleading, eyes big and pouty. She should know by now I can't say no to her.

"Of course, what's the theme for the party?" My grinning kept up, my lips not allowed to turn down in her presence.

"Thank you so much Branch you have no idea how much this means to me!" Poppy rushed out in one breath, leaping at me and hugging me tightly. I responded automatically, not having to think about hugging back. That was the nice thing about being a puppet in your own body at least.

[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.”

[1d1195]

Traditional Extra IV

Read Traditional here

A little on the shorter side.

I love to make Harry whiny.

Warnings: angst, fluff, nothing particularly special about this one.

~2k words

"Baby, come on. You’re scaring me,” she said gently. He wanted to throw something. Everything was making him mad; he felt the ache all the way to his bones.

“Y’can’t fix this,” he muttered bitterly.

It was quarter past one. Which meant that she was set to walk into Harry’s office with his cup of tea in her hand. Even though it had been more than a year since her hot beverage accident, she was extremely mindful of turning corners with something that could scald her in her hands. The idea that Harry might fire someone because she was accidentally injured was too much for her to bear. She had her phone pressed between her shoulder and ear. Her cold coffee was in the crook of her arm as she reached for his door.

But instead, all sound stopped at the noise behind it. People paused in their path to the breakroom, the conference room, or back to their offices. The sound of Harry screaming nearly echoed as she looked at the wooden door separating her and her very obvious, very angry boyfriend.

“God bless her,” someone murmured.

“Don’t think I could do it. No matter how cute he is,” she heard another voice whisper. She wondered if she knew they were loud enough for her to hear. Or maybe with the phone pressed to her ear, they didn’t think she was paying attention.

“I’m sorry, I will call you back in half an hour,” she said softly to the phone. There was a response, but she didn’t hear it as she hung up. Niall was back in their office. Probably already looking to solve whatever issue had Harry breaking the sound barrier. Or maybe he was lucky and in another meeting. Maybe this wouldn’t be his problem. But it was definitely going to be part of her problem.

Harry didn’t scare her for the sake of her well-being. She never worried about her safety or whether Harry would harm her in a fit of whatever was causing him distress. The only alarm Harry caused her was the worry that he was going to have an untimely heart attack at such a young age due to his distress. More so, she worried one of these days she wouldn’t be able to fix his problems.

Or that he wouldn’t want her to. One day Harry was going to yell at her. Not purposefully. Not because he was mad at her. But he was going to take his frustration out on her. It was a matter of when not if. Maybe today would be the day.

Turning the knob, she heard everyone behind her collectively hold their breath. They knew she would fix it... probably. She entered slowly, like it was a lion’s den, and she didn’t want to be seen just yet. She closed the door quietly, with a soft click.

Harry was leaning over his empty desk. His computer, his phone, the picture frame with a picture of them from her graduation, all of it was laying shattered and broken to pieces on the floor across the room. His breath was practically panting. She watched him for a few moments: his shoulders rising and falling quickly and dramatically.

Whatever happened obviously made him mad. When Harry was mad, she felt the creeping sense of worry that he would work himself up to a point he couldn’t come back down from and again, worried about his health.

“Harry, baby?” She asked softly after a moment.

“Get. Out.” He seethed. She felt like a knife had been twisted into her heart and she felt like she would cry. Harry never told her to leave or accidentally yelled at her without a pet name attached to it.

He was definitely going to ruin their day. He was going to take out his frustration on her. Today was sure to be the day. She stood silently by the door. Afraid to take another step or make another noise. He still hadn’t turned around. She could see he was still shaking from across the room. Her heart felt so heavy for his worry and discomfort of whatever was hurting him.

In an instant, his cell phone was pressed to his ear. “What?” He snapped. Harry listened for all of twenty seconds before his phone was added to the pile of debris. He took three strides behind his desk and threw his chair toward the rest of his office supplies as well. A hole appeared in the drywall.

That was too much for her. She had to intervene. She was worried he was going to hurt himself at any moment. Swiftly and silently, she made her way to the couch, setting the drinks on the side table before she hurried to Harry’s side before he tried to tip his desk over or something. “Harry,” she whispered softly. He flinched at her touch, yanking from her so violently it almost looked like he smacked her hands away. She blinked in surprise and tried again anyway. “Baby,” her voice was firmer. She pressed her hands on his forearms. He looked at her, still seething with rage. She could see sweat forming at his hairline. Darkening his chocolate curls. His face was flushed red, his arms were clammy to the touch even through his shirt.

“I told you t’get out,” he snapped at her; it was like he wasn’t seeing that it was her.

She nodded understandingly. “I know,” she whispered in agreement. “I know,” she tugged him toward the couch. Despite how angry he was, he let her lead him. Harry stood in front of the sofa still shaking and she paid no mind to it. She pressed him back, so his legs touched the furniture and he had no choice but to sit. She crouched in front of him.

He was intimidating. Even to her, she couldn’t help but feel the adrenaline running through her blood, her heart fluttering nervously that she was going to make matters worse and just upset him more.

But his typically gentle, green eyes turned nearly black—his pupils dilating to fit nearly the entirety of his irises with how angry he felt. His breath was a bit raspy. His muscles were practically rippling as his hands and arms shook. Even just sitting there.

“Baby, come on. You’re scaring me,” she said gently. He wanted to throw something. Everything was making him mad; he felt the ache all the way to his bones. “Put your head between your knees please.”

“Y’can’t fix this,” he muttered bitterly.

“Harry, please just let me try,” she whispered softly. “Just five minutes and then I’ll leave, and you can set the office on fire,” she promised. Harry grunted in response, and she guided his hands behind his head, his elbows rested on his thighs. She rubbed his back soothingly. “Deep breath,” she whispered. He placated her and took a deep breath, but it sounded shallow. “What happened?” She asked softly.

He shook his head. He could feel tears pricking his eyes.

“Harry, baby,” she murmured. “Talk to me, please. Should I get Niall?”

He took another breath. “I lost a client. A huge one. S’going to...” his breath was shaky as he exhaled. “Kitten, s’bad,” he mumbled.

She frowned. “Oh, love,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

He picked his head up and looked at her. “M’sorry I yelled at you,” he muttered. “I’m...”

She shook her head. “It’s okay, I know it’s not about me.”

“I shouldn’t yell at you. Ever. You only try t’help. Always,” he looked so dejected. “I...I have t’find a new client or I’ll have t’make cuts next quarter.”

“Okay, so we’ll find one,” she whispered.

He wanted to snap but it was his angel touching him so gently. Trying to comfort him as best she could. He couldn’t hear it. He shook his head. “S’not that simple, kitten,” her positivity was admirable, but he was so mad, so sad. This was a huge deal. A huge letdown.

She sat beside him and grabbed his hand. She twined their fingers together and she looked over at the pile he made of all his electronics and the chair. With a squeeze of his hand, she rested her head on his arm. “Whatever it is Harry, I’ll be right beside you,” she promised.

He turned toward her. “Kitten, I might...have t’fire you.”

She felt her heart flutter, but she nodded looking at their hands. “It’s just a job,” she whispered.

“Love...”

“Harry, I have you. A job... at your company.” she shrugged. “It’s just a bonus.”

“I might lose a lot of money.”

“I’m not with you for money,” she promised with a smirk.

He looked at her, his eyes were red around the corners. His face was withdrawn. He was handsome as ever; even as broken as he felt. “You would love me...if I was broke?”

“I would love you even if you didn’t have a porch swing.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “M’so in love with you. So...” he shook his head. “Hopeless for you,” he murmured. “Don’t deserve you,” he mumbled. “You’re too good,” he nosed at her temple. “I’m sorry, kitten.”

She shook her head. “You don’t need to apologize to me.” He looked at her. So sad. Poor thing. Her heart ached to make it better. The first thing she was going to do when she got back to her office was tell Niall as much as she could, and begin searching for a new client. Then probably order Harry new furniture. He stayed silent. His anger settled into sadness. He felt so dejected.

Sighing softly, she cupped his face. He looked so sad. “Do you know you told me you loved me when you were sick?”

He looked up at her curiously. “What?” He momentarily forgot about the turmoil he felt about his company.

“You were delirious,” she smiled. Harry thought she looked like an angel. He swore she had been sculpted by an artist. Even when he felt so terrible, she was just so pretty. It felt like he was healing. “You were falling asleep and just told me you loved me,” she shrugged.

“So y’knew all that time,” he murmured with a smirk toying at his lips. It was weird how he could make him feel better. Even at a time like this.

She nodded excitedly with an impish grin. “Yeah...” she smirked.

“And y’still thought I didn’t love you with m’whole heart after that? That I wouldn’t have...” He rolled his eyes as he trailed off.

She giggled and shrugged. “People can say crazy things when they’re sick.”

He looked at her. “I love you.”

“I’m aware,” she said cutely. If she had a free hand, she would have flipped her hair behind her shoulder. Harry laughed at her, shook his head so his nose bumped hers. “I love you,” she whispered.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his eyes getting this dreamy, far-off look. His chest felt warm. Part of him never wanted to leave this couch. He never wanted to move. The idea of dealing with what was in store for him seemed so bleak.

She was never bleak. She was perfect. She made everything better, even when he didn’t want her to. “I love you,” she repeated effortlessly. “So much. No matter what. No matter how much money you have or how many porch swings you buy me.”

He cupped her face and leaned so his lips just barely brushed hers. “Don’t know how I did this without you before,” he murmured.

“You’ll never have to do it again,” she promised.

Harry was dreading getting a new phone and a new computer, knowing how bad it was about to get. But somehow her ability to worm her way into his heart and his brain made him believe, even for a moment, that it would be okay.

Or maybe it was just the taste of her lips between his that made him believe.

--

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[hot-pota-toes]

Morning Cuddles

Eddie Munson x gn!reader 

Summary: You have to get up for work in the morning but it's a little difficult with your boyfriend's arms wrapped tightly around you.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: weed is mentioned once, a lot of fluff

A/N: This is my first fanfiction ever! I've had this idea sitting comfortably in my brain for what feels like a whole year, so I finally said screw it and wrote it down, and now I’m posting it. This takes place before the events of season four or maybe just in a completely different universe where everyone is alive and happy :)) Hope you enjoy it!!

You gently drifted awake to the warm early morning sunlight spilling into the bedroom through cheap curtains. As your surroundings became more clear. The week old clothes scattered along the floor. The posters and random doodles that covered every inch of the bedroom walls. You were reminded that you're not in your own apartment, but in your boyfriend's trailer and bed. The boy still sound asleep next to you.

Your head tucked gently into his chest as his chin rested upon your own head. His long arms were wrapped around you, similar to a child squeezing their favorite teddy bear. Your legs intertwined, holding you as closely as he possibly could. You felt warm and protected being pressed into his chest, listening to his gentle snores.

When he held you like this, it somehow made his twin size bed feel so much bigger. Unfortunately, the realization came that you would soon have to leave the comfort of your boyfriend's arms. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes before Eddie's alarm clock would go off (you had thankfully remembered to set it up last night before falling asleep), signaling the start of another grueling day at a job you didn’t care for.

Not wanting to disturb your peaceful surroundings, you stifled a groan, and instead let out a long, soft sigh as you turned over to rub the sleep from your eyes, as gracefully and with as few movements as possible, so as not to wake the warm safety that lay next to you.

You and Eddie had known each other your entire lives growing up together, from climbing trees in the woods and playing pretend when you were children, to weekly movie nights in middle school, to hotboxing his van the first night he got the keys. But it wasn't until high school when Eddie had told you he’d had feelings for you his entire life. Not being able to imagine a life without Eddie, you agreed to go out with him only to realize just how much you loved him too. Time you weren’t spending with him was time you spent thinking about him, and when he was around, you felt free.

You felt like you didn’t have to hide yourself, watch your every move, stringently guard yourself for fear of others ruining the things you had built within your castle walls. You were a private person, years of fortification having constructed barriers of the hardest stone, and Eddie somehow had found the key to the door of your castle. Maybe it was the way his deep brown eyes looked at you, not just looking, but seeing. Maybe it was the way he smiled, the light in his face brightening the entire room. Maybe it was the way he touched you, gently and respectfully, the warm skin of his hands making everything inside you melt.

He stirred, not yet fully awake, but adjusting to this new position. One arm hugged your waist while the other was tucked under your head, serving as a pillow where you had foregone yours. He nuzzled the top of your head. His eyes still closed.

This started out as a rare occurrence when you would spend the night. It happened one night, after you had spent the day together, and when the time had come for you to separate, you didn’t want to drive back to your apartment alone, nor did he want to leave you. The pure desire to be close to one another intoxicated the both of you, and you spent the night tangled in the sheets, wanting nothing more than for that moment to never end.

You buried your face in his chest, letting the smell of his detergent mixed with his deodorant fill your nose, the scent so comforting that you began to drift back to sleep.

And then the alarm clock went off.

You both took a deep breath, stirring awake. You reached behind Eddie towards the clock on the nightstand, but your movement was restricted by the two long arms that were still wrapped around you. The more you moved away, the more he latched onto you, burying his face in the space between your neck and your shoulder.

“Edd–“ you started. You didn’t really know how you were going to finish that statement, but you knew he was the obstacle between you and stopping the blaring sound yelling at you from just slightly too far away.

He mumbled a low groan into your skin, and you felt the vibration, tempting you to stay.

“Eddie please.”

He groaned again, slightly louder and assuredly more distressed than before, now wrapping his legs around you, pulling you tighter. You couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle as you made gentle attempts to free yourself, his hands going back to you and arms holding you tighter the more you tried to escape.

“I need to get up.” You pleaded.

“No you don’t.” He slurred in a tired response, his voice rough with sleep.

After more struggling, you finally managed to free yourself just enough to reach the alarm clock with your right hand stretched as far out as it would go, the top half of your body twisting uncomfortably away from your captor. Grabbing hold of the clock, you haphazardly grabbed the whole clock so that you could bring the device closer, locating the alarm’s off button. Its red numbers are no longer flashing.

You gently placed the clock back to its place on the nightstand and returned your body to its natural position, still being tightly bound by lanky limbs that had no intention of letting go. You decided to try a different approach.

Having wrenched yourself upward in your escape attempts, his face was now in your chest, his brown curls tickling your nose. You began petting his hair down, creating a spot to place a soft kiss.

“Eds, baby…” you murmured into his hair.

He didn’t reply. You continued petting and kissed again.

“I have to go to work.”

Still no reply.

“Not all of us get weekends off cause they're still in high school” Part of you was jealous. Okay, a lot of you was jealous. Eddie and you were supposed to graduate together, but that didn't end up happening with him being held back. Twice.

He sleepily breathed out a laugh. “You could just quit.”

You laughed in response, once again leaning away, trying once more to release yourself from his grasp. This time, he relented slightly enough so that you could sit up, but as you did so, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling himself to your hips and weighing you down.

“Eddie,” you groaned in mock frustration as you put your hand on his back, trying to rub him awake, “You know damn well how badly I want to stay here with you…”

He murmured an affirmation, as well as what might have been words if they hadn’t been so muffled.

“…But I really do need to get up.”

Not moving, he repeated the same low whine from before.

“It’s only going to be a few hours,” you bargained.

He snorted. “Yeah, like, nine of them.“

You rolled your eyes. Not wanting to spend the whole day in your place of work either, but knowing that you had to. “Yeah. Like I said. A few.” You both chuckled. “It’s not gonna be forever. I’ll come back here after work…”

You lifted his arm, which was heavy as he had no intention of helping you move it, and placed it to the side, sliding out of his other one. As you moved to a kneeling position and looked down at him, his eyes were half-open, meeting yours, practically reaching out for you. You leaned forward and kissed him on his temple, caressing the side of his face. “…And then we can pick up right where we left off.”

[buckybarnesss]

I don't if you already talked about it but I wanna know your thoughts about the love spell that Jennifer put on Derek. How did it dispell? It was the power or friendship and pack, with Scott and Stiles asking for help, real bond instead something that's it was believe to be love? Or it was Stiles? Just Stiles asking Derek for help, being completed honest and worry for his dad, and knowing that Derek would help? And he was crying, and Derek wouldn't let no one to make his bamby eyes little baby cry?

oooh no one has asked me this i don't think.

in my interpretation jennifer's entire plan hinged on isolating derek from everyone. she needed him disconnected from the tenuous support network derek had built by season 3. we see this in motel california. she convinces him not to let the pack know he's alive despite us knowing all through frayed that scott was deeply affected by derek's supposed death, cora and peter were worried and looking for him, and that isaac and boyd were near ready to boil over at ethan.

so what breaks her hold?

it's a combination of things and i think i've talked about it before but to me it feels like a direct call back to abomination. not only is the blocking of the scene similar but also it brings up stiles's big question to derek from that episode:

"would you just trust me this once?"

and also what scott says at the end of abomination before derek slams the door closed on his vulnerability.

"nobody trusts anyone! that's the problem! while we're here, arguing about who's on what side, there's something scarier, stronger, and faster than any of us, and it's killing people, and we still don't even know anything about it!"

and here -- a full season later -- in the overlooked derek looks at the two of them and answers with trust.

people really seem to forget how much scott, derek and stiles's relationship changed in season 3. that they worked through their season 1 and 2 bullshit.

plus, you know, derek has been manipulated and used in the past by kate argent and by peter. each time has resulted in pain, suffering and death. i think this leaves room for self-doubt inside derek that jennifer couldn't account for.

so that plus scott and stiles trusting him despite everything? they came to him and are asking for his help and trust? the very thing he wanted in the first two seasons and somehow he earned it.

jennifer's false love and trust ae nothing compared to that.

it's a two way street too. it's not just them wanting him to trust them but they are putting trust into him too. that he'll be on their side.

also derek knows scott and stiles do not fuck around with the safety of their parents. melissa and the sherriff are all they have. derek would do anything for these two kids he's tried very hard to protect for months and months to not go through the loss of a parent like he did.

but also like

she made stiles cry man. fuck jennifer.

it's why she poisoned cora though. i think she had an idea that she wouldn't be able to dupe derek forever so she created an insurance policy.

[boywifesammy]

sam winchester just doesn’t fit. he lives life between two worlds; too strange for normal people but not strange enough for his family. he’s passionate and nerdy and kind-hearted. he’s trusting but terrified of losing the little that he has. he’s been looking from the outside in for his entire life and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t change that.

imagine growing up like that. never in one place, constantly moving around, surrounded by fear and family secrets and things that go bump in the dark. imagine always being the new kid, getting weird looks in the hallways, growing up in hand-me-downs and dingy motel rooms and having an alcoholic, revenge-obsessed ex-military dad who’s never around. being raised by your big brother and never being able to explain to anyone what family means to you. that they’re your prison and your curse but also everything you have, because you never stopped in one place to keep anything else.

and on the inverse, imagine being the black sheep in a family of hunters. imagine wanting autonomy and safety and being shamed for it. sam is a dreamer at heart. he loves reading and human connection and moral philosophy. he wants to be good above everything else. he’s a bleeding heart who gets far too involved in cases and feels the pain of everyone else too strongly.

imagine wanting to play soccer instead of shooting at things that want to kill you, and being berated for it. wanting to get an education and being belittled for it. wanting to get free of it all, wanting to make an honest life for yourself and have companionship and a stable career and a family that trusts you as much as they love you and being told that if you leave, you’re never welcome back.

sam tried so fucking hard to fit in at stanford, and it ended with his girlfriend burning up on his ceiling. he tried to be a good hunter, and instead became the boy king, a demon-blood halfling, an abomination, a monster even in the eyes of his family.

if you can’t save him, kill him. if i didn’t know you, i would want to hunt you. sam has always been more monster than human or hunter. always. he was a monster at school and a monster at stanford and a monster on the road with dean. he was stuck between worlds and floundering for any bit of reassurance that god hadn’t given up on him.

yet even through that, he was still kind and loyal and motivated by good will. he wanted to see the good in everything, even in the monsters he hunted. he wanted to give them a chance, because he wanted so badly to believe that he wasn’t a monster either. he knew how it felt to be bad to his very core yet still want to do good. he GOT it. even when the world hated him, he still always tried to do the right thing.

sammy’s a big, cuddly, bleeding-heart monster and i love all of him.

[lykaios2]

may i request reciving headpats from Donnie please ? A fic or headcanons any of them would be great

you know headpats are amazing and you can't convince me otherwise

I've said this before and I'll say this again: sorry for the wait

anyway hope you enjoy! ❤️

The Comfort in a Touch

rise donnie x reader

cw: panic attack

wc: 1280 words

It was a Friday night, the perfect time to kick back and relax after a long week. And your idea of kicking back was going over to the lair and hanging out with your favorite turtles. Somehow, you had convinced Donnie to stop working on his projects and hang out with you. Mikey and Raph were out shopping in the Hidden City for ingredients for a new dish Mikey wanted to try. Leo apparently had a date, but no one knows how that happened. That left you and Donnie alone at the lair.

Of course, that meant chaos. You and Donnie were like two peas in a pod. You fed off of each other's energy. No one could ever guess what you two would do next.

On this night, it was no different. No one knows exactly how it came to be, but you were on the floor, crawling around on all fours, and Donnie was watching you, laughing uncontrollably. Something about the way you moved was so unnatural, but to him, it was equally as hilarious. As he watched you, he thought to himself how closely you resembled a feral animal. And what do you do to animals? Pet them, of course, he thought.

"Aw, who's my adorable little feral animal? You are, yes you are."

You laughed at the comment, but when Donnie reached his hand down to pat your head, you froze. Donnie stopped as well, confused by what was happening.

"A-are you okay? Did I do something?"

You shook your head to tell him it wasn't his fault. Well, it was, but he didn't do anything wrong. When he gave you the headpats, it felt strangely comforting. It was almost like you felt small, but in a good way. Like you were safe and protected.

Donnie still didn't know what was going on, so he sat down next to you and asked again.

"Yeah, I'm okay..."

"Then what happened? Why did you stop?"

You didn't answer him, and instead curled up into a ball. You didn't want to tell him, it sounded weird and embarrassing to say. But it was so nice...

"y/n?"

"...I stopped because..."

"Because...?"

"...well, I...I liked it when you were...giving me headpats. But I didn't think it would feel so nice...so I just kinda froze up."

Donnie looked at you for a second. He didn't know what to do with that information, but he could tell that something about it made you not want to share it with him. You covered your face, scared that Donnie would make fun of you for liking being pet like a cat. But all he did next was put his hand back on your head.

"Like...this?"

You were confused at his action, but also, the feeling of safety and comfort were mixed in, too. In that moment, all you could do was nod your head and hoped he wouldn't make any comments about it.

"Okay...good to know, I guess."

"Wait...you don't think this is stupid or something?"

"Not really. I mean, I wouldn't exactly say physical touch is my main love language, but it's nice sometimes, and I understand the appeal."

A wave of relief washed over you as Donnie said that. You let out a small smile as you turned to look at him.

"Heh, thanks. That's comforting to know."

"No problem. Although, if you don't mind me asking, what about the headpats makes you enjoy it?"

You explained to him how it made you feel safe and comfortable. He listened, not speaking until you were finished.

"I see. I'll keep that in mind, then."

After everything, you admitted to Donnie that you didn't feel like doing any crazy activities anymore, so he suggested watching a movie. You agreed, and after picking out a movie, you and Donnie sat down in the living room with some snacks and watched the movie. Eventually, everyone came back, and shortly after you had to leave. You said your goodbyes, and headed home.

After that night, you and Donnie were able to move past the incident and hang out normally. You continued to go over to the lair every so often, and hung out with the turtles a lot. Neither you or Donnie said a word to his brothers about that night, and it just became something that happened.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Donnie kept true to his word. He held the information he learned that night deep in the recesses of his memory. He didn't think about it much, but he always kept that thought stored away. He never thought he would need it.

That was, until one night. Earlier that day, you had invited him over to your place to hangout. It had been a rough couple weeks at work, and some time with a turtle friend was just what you needed. When he arrived, he expected you to remember he was coming, so he let himself in. When he opened the door, the lights were off. He thought it was a bit strange but he figured you were somewhere else. But it was almost completely silent, which was even more confusing to him.

"Hello?" He called out. No response.

"y/n? I'm here!" Still nothing.

He set his things down and began to look around. The light was on in the kitchen, so he checked there first. There were some plates out, so you must have been there recently. He continued to look around the house, until he eventually heard something coming from your room. It sounded like...crying? He opened the door, and there you were. Crying in the corner of your room, curled up into a ball.

He rushed over to you, and kneeled next to you. He tried to get your attention, but nothing was working.

"Wait...shaking, quick breathing...and a fast heart rate...you're having a panic attack! Oh my..."

Donnie knew that all he could do in the moment was to be there to comfort you and help you. He remembered that panic attacks don't last very long, so all he had to do was sit here and wait. But what could he do to help?

"y/n...I'm sorry, but this is the only way I can think to help you."

He reached his hand out, and started to rub your head. For a second, nothing happened, but then you jerked away from him. He retracted his hand, scared he had made it worse. In reality, he had calmed you down slightly, enough for you to start coming out of the panic attack. After a minute, he started apologizing in a worried tone.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I really didn't. I was just trying to- huh?"

He paused. He didn't notice, but you had grabbed his hand. You didn't speak, but you slowly lifted his hand up and placed in back on your head. Donnie was a little confused, but you still said nothing.

"What...?"

You scooted closer to him. After a second, Donnie finally got the hint. He slowly started to rub your head again, and you scooted closer to him. Eventually, you were right next to him, leaning against him. Donnie spoke as he continued to rub your head.

"Hey. I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to. I just wanted to help."

You nodded. You were still trying to calm down, so you couldn't speak. But the headpats were so comforting...it was that feeling of safety again. The feeling of protection. You were able to muster up a quiet "thank you" to Donnie, to which he hummed in response.

"We can just sit here for a while...if you'd like. I don't mind."

"Yes...I would like that."

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Day 4 of writing for blade until he comes home.

Blade x fem! Reader

Minors/blank blogs dni

This mini 'series' doesn't have an official timeline, it's all over the place, aka tomorrow I might write their first meeting only to write their 1st year anniversary the next day. Just an example.

Warnings: implied violent thoughts, mention of murder/death, slight possessiveness if you squint, toxic-ish relationship cuz blade would not be able to keep a healthy one, implied past sex.

Could be read as yandere but not intended to be. So I'll tag it just in case.

In which you're scared but unable to walk away.

==

You can't help but walk on eggshells around him.

No name given to you, your brother basically shoving this 6'2 man to you, who looks so bored it could practically be his entire personality. Black hair that reaches below the waist, the tips red. His eyes are also a unique color, red with golden rings within. And he's your 'travel buddy', which is really a nice way to say bodyguard.

It's been two since then, no longer as naive as you once were, unable to ignore the shady business your brother partakes in. Unable to pretend that this man seated next to you on your own bed, is anything but a crazed criminal, his wanted posters being torn down as quickly as possible outside. But for your own safety, you still play the part of a naive young woman - barely any knowledge of the outside world yet a bit temperamental at times.

You're scared of being killed.

Hurt.

Tortured.

And so much worse and even so, you allowed him in, Blade looking around your room with some interest. Books scattered around instead of being placed in the bookshelf, stuffed animals decorating your bed's corners and the opposite side of your perfered sleeping spot. A computer desk that's way too cluttered with resumes and job sites, a few empty coffee cups from earlier that day -

You allowed this criminal into your room. The worst part was that he wasn't the only one - your brother counts, too. And Kafka as well. And maybe even you, just for being related to and associated with them.

Maybe you're even worse.

You allowed yourself to become involved both romantically and sexually with a wanted criminal, one who may go crazy at any moment. It's even worse when you bring up the fact he's Mara struck, if you heard right. The worst part is that you're considering alerting the authorities.

You only found out their names through the wanted posters and kept your mouth shut about it.

No wonder your brother was so paranoid about leaving you alone. He can't monitor your activities, your access to the internet, can't control where you go outside. But he couldn't exactly keep you locked up either, the guilt would kill him. But apparently the guilt wasn't enough, still forcing you to act like the perfect sister, never ask questions and play pretend.

He knows that you know.

You just hope that Blade doesn't.

"It's your first time being in my room, huh?"

And hopefully the last.

"Hm." Blade doesn't say much, arms crossed and doesn't say much. Or anything at all really, letting out a sigh after a few more minutes of silence.

You forgot why he's even here.

"Your brother is worried about you," he doesn't look at you and you don't look at him. Your attention is on the T.V, trying to tune out his voice, his smell, his very presence because if you don't, you might scream. Scream at him for keeping it a secret, for lying to you too, for making you fall for him when he's the incarceration of evil -

He hasn't exactly given you a proper reason to be afraid of him. But after reading his list of crimes, it's hard to see him in the same light, especially when there's video evidence, victim reports from those who managed to get away somehow. Just when you finally were starting to open up to him, getting to know him properly, you found out everything thanks to a single wanted poster shown on the screen for but a second before the channel was changed by a maid.

Everyone knew expect you.

"Is he now? Hard to believe considering he sent a man into my room instead of a woman." You don't mean to bite back, but it's either that or let the fear reveal itself in your voice. Your actions. So, you cut yourself off from him, reverting to your past self from a year ago when you first met him.

Masking your fear with annoyance. Convincing yourself he's annoying rather than scary. It barely worked and it's barely helping now.

"He knows I don't have any dubious intent concerning you. I don't see why you're so uncomfortable with this, considering we... 'shared' a hotel room once. Plus the door is open," he gestures to it with his head.

The memory of the hotel room brings warmth to your face. Whispered praises, soft touches, kisses that lasted longer than needed. You can feel him looking at you, now.

You still don't look at him. Your entire body is tense, and it's obvious be can tell. From the way he decides to look at you and take in your appearance, to how he raises a brow, not understanding just why you're like this.

You did a 180.

From sharing secret and gentle touches, hidden kisses in the hallways, lingering looks as you pass by each other. Now you can barely look at him, and you're aware he's confused and maybe even a bit hurt - if he wasn't using you. It was a perfect plan on his part, worming his way into your heart, insurance in case anyone were to find out and rat him out, you could be there to lie for him.

But everything felt too genuine and that makes the matter worse.

"It's stuffy in here," standing up, you smooth out your dress, the skirt all wrinkled now. You try to ignore the way Blade stares at you, from your face to the way your legs move, unable to settle on one place. You can't tell if you're shivering from fear or slight arousal.

Just like how you can't tell if he wants to love you or kill you at times.

You're scared that he's going to hurt you. Go crazy and kill everyone in this house. Hurt himself.

You both fear and love him, but the fear is stronger than the love.

Blade reaches out from his position on the bed, hands resting on your sides before bringing you closer. You don't resist, allowing him to place you between his legs, trying your best not to flinch. He hasn't hurt you yet, he's still being gentle, he's still -

"We're the only ones here right now. Everyone left to either go home or attend to their business." His thumbs rub circles into your hips, tilting his head as his eyes travel between your thighs and your chest.

Your body freezes over. He just said your brother sent him to check on you, and now he's asking for...?

"I'm... I'm not really in the mood." You squeak in surprise when he brings you down with him, straddling him as he lays on his back. Locking eyes with you, his hands travel lower until they rest on your upper thighs. He hums in content.

"I know. But it's the perfect time for you to tell me what's wrong." The way his fingers dig into your flesh unsettles you. The look in his eyes do as well, both possessive and cautious. How did you not notice this before?

"Just tired. I didn't realize job hunting could be tedious," you settle down on him, gently placing your hands on his lower abdomen like you always would, drawing circles on it. When unsure and scared, revert to old habits that led to positive results.

You could feel him relax to your touch. Like his worries were disappearing, but not fully. You try your best not to cringe when one of his hands clasps over yours. His hold on it is gentle.

You wonder if these same hands strangled someone to death, or if he just stabbed them. They're blood stained, and you had allowed them to touch you, pleasure you, comfort you. And now they might strangle you someday, if he doesn't stab his sword through your heart first. And yet, despite everything, it still feels nice.

"Hm. Something else is going on in that head of yours," his grip on your hand gets tighter. In the past, you thought he would do such things because he didn't want to let go. But now knowing his past, finally putting a name to the look in his eyes, you're sure he wants to hurt you.

You remember him saying how to love something is to kill it, and to kill it is to love it.

You're scared he was talking about you. You want him to use you if loving you meant killing you. Because then throwing you away wouldn't spell the end of your life. But loving you would.

Even so, it almost hurts to think that.

"I wish you would tell me your real name." You all but sigh out, dropping your weight onto him, chest pressed against his, head nuzzled into the crook of his neck. He can't see your expression this way, the way your lips quiver and how wide your eyes are with every passing second.

His arms enclose around you, and for once, you hate how touch starved he is. You hate how his touch both comforts and horrifies you. You can't make you your mind, but you're still scared of him regardless.

He doesn't say anything, but once again, his grip gets tighter and tighter until -

"I know that you know."

[sovonight]

bg2, ust natha

—

Radri: Xan… are you alright?

Xan: "Am I alright"? How can you find the words to ask such a question, given where we are?

Xan: Being trapped beneath the ocean was terrible enough, but we have escaped that confinement only to be doomed in the Underdark. We are surrounded by drow who may discover and kill us at any moment. I have not seen the sky in far too many days.

Xan: No. No, I am not "alright".

Radri, tentative: Perhaps, there is still a way…

She offers him her hand, thinking there's at least one thing she can do for him—but Xan turns away from her.

Xan: I cannot, Radri. Not while my reflection is not my own… not while I will wake only to see the Underdark's ceiling above us, a barrier from the sun and the stars.

She tells herself this makes sense, but that can't stop a sharp spike of rejection from piercing her heart. Xan doesn't even flinch; he can't feel her, anymore. That, more than his lack of reaction, plunges her heart further into pain.

Radri: …Okay.

Radri: I'm sorry, Xan. I'll get us out of here, soon. I promise.

Xan, tired, empty: Save your promise, Estel'amin. There is no point.

—

She is still awake when Xan slips, at last, into reverie. Xan is curled up on the bed beside her, his back to the wall, his face partially concealed by the uneven barrier of his bent arms, the whole of him arranged to escape notice. It takes her a moment to dissect the sense of unease she feels at seeing this, and realizes that eerily, she thinks this is how she found him in Mulahey's lair.

It has been a long time since she has felt so helpless to comfort him. Seeing him, yet not being able to feel him, makes her feel like she's back in the past, when they were tentative lovers, and before that friends, and before that strangers. Perhaps their connection was always meant to be brief; perhaps she will never feel him again.

She turns her face to the side, letting her tears soak into her pillow. No, she can't get lost in those thoughts—when one is tired, one no longer thinks clearly, and when she wakes in the morning, everything will surely feel better. Trying to ignore the terrifying, heavy weight that she has carried into the Underdark, she closes her eyes and tries her hardest to focus on brighter times.

—

When she wakes, she half expects to see the inn's wooden ceiling above her, and a pit forms in her stomach when she sees the dark, spidery architecture of Ust Natha spread out above her instead. Her hand is empty, as is the room; a familiar ache fills her heart, but there is no one there to feel it.

She jumps at the sound of the door opening, ready to school her expression into something—well—meaner, but it is only Xan.

Radri: Oh—You surprised me.

She wonders if he catches the disappointed lilt in her voice—and wonders if she wants to hide it. Xan does not react.

Xan: The others are prepared to leave.

Radri: …And you?

Xan: Little else is more torturous than lingering in this place, waiting to be discovered. I am eager to leave, as well. If you are ready…

She isn't. But she doesn't need to be an enchanter to read the mood: everyone is antsy, uncomfortable, discontent, like Xan. As terrified as she is of playing the role of Veldrin, she must.

Radri: Just give me a moment.

She delivers the words with a reflexive smile, which Xan only stares at for a moment, before he steps forward and brushes a thumb down the corner of her lips, guiding her smile back into nothingness.

Xan, quietly, reminding: A false smile of this kind has no purpose here.

Despite knowing that it's only to ensure their safety, she can't help but feel relief that he's still willing to touch her.

Radri: Any more advice for my new role?

Xan: (sigh) This may be the only moment in which I think, "if only Viconia were here."

Xan: All I can suggest is to follow their orders, stay out of their notice, and speak only as needed.

Radri, joking, self-deprecating: Ah, my specialty.

Xan gives her a sadder look.

Xan: It is only temporary, Estel'amin...

Radri, quiet: Yes... everything is.

—

(The memory she visits in reverie is this one. Xan had shown her the stars in reverie when they were blocked in the waking world, and she had hoped to do the same.)

[lemonykoo]

last minute christmas gift - diluc

Pairing: Boyfriend!Diluc x Reader

Genre: Fluff! Female reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Notes: Diluc has to work Christmas day and you’re bound and determined to visit him to spend the holiday with him. Only, the winery staff seems to be doing everything they can to prevent you from leaving and your boyfriend actually wasn’t at work this whole time…? Merry Christmas/happy holidays everyone!! (sorry for any typos i wrote this kinda quickly so i could post it on christmas day hehe)

You could hear soft footsteps approach you as you fished through your jewelry box in search of the perfect pair of earrings to match your outfit. “Oh y/n, where might you be going?” Adelinde’s gentle voice cut through the air and you saw her standing in the doorway to the guest bedroom you were staying in for the holidays. Diluc had invited you stay a few nights at the winery to celebrate Christmas with him and the staff. You wouldn’t be able to visit your family this Christmas, and vice versa since they were so far away in Fontaine, so you accepted your boyfriend’s invitation gladly. You arrived the day before Christmas Eve and you would be leaving tomorrow morning, though you would probably be back the next day since you two spent so much time together.

“I was going to go visit Diluc while he’s working,” you answered, softly cursing as the back of an earring stabbed your finger. “Oh, these would be perfect,” you thought as you grabbed them.

“Oh?” Adelinde’s eyes widened slightly before she smiled kindly. “Y/n, it’s so cold outside, though, are you sure? He’ll be back later.”

It was unfortunate that Diluc had to work today – on Christmas, no less. You understood that it gave Charles the chance to go home and see his family, but still it was upsetting for you so hear last minute that you would barely spend any time with your lover on such a special occasion. That’s why you thought you could go visit him while he was at work, so you could make the most of the holiday. Sure, you spent almost every day with the man, but on Christmas? This was special! “But it’s Christmas, Adelinde. It’ll just be another gift to him today.”

The head maid sighed. “I know, y/n,” she said as she watched you gather your coat and push past her to leave the room. “But do you think he’d be very happy with you if you walked all the way there in the freezing cold?”

A soft smile came across your features as you imagined him gently scolding you. He wouldn’t be mad, of course, but he cared for your safety and he wouldn’t be too thrilled if he heard you had done something like that. “No,” you answered. “But I don’t care. It’s the thought that counts.”

Adelinde bit her lip. Her main job today was to make sure you didn’t leave the winery and here you were, dressed up in your cutest attire to venture out into the snowy afternoon. Luckily, Elzer was there to help.

“Y/n, his shift will end before you know it and then you’ll have him all to yourself the rest of the night,” the butler interrupted, moving a bit to block you from the doorway. “There’s no sense in risking your health. I went out earlier and I nearly slipped and broke my back.”

It seemed like everyone was against you today, despite it being such a joyful holiday. A visible pout appeared on your face as you turned your direction away from leaving and to the couch in front of the fireplace. You admit, you were being a bit silly acting this way since you would be seeing him later in the night, but you really didn’t understand why he had to work Christmas. Instead, he could be here, enjoying the lovely desserts Adelinde had made with you. If anything, you were starting to get a bit annoyed. Here you were, already dressed up pretty, wearing your new perfume gifted to you by the special man in question earlier in the morning, not able to go out as you had planned. You were so frustrated that you felt a tear surface but you blinked it back. It was silly to cry over this. There was no need to act this way over such a small matter.

An hour and a half had passed, and you noticed that none of the staff were in the room with you. They had been idly lurking around, preventing you from trying to leave once more but after Adelinde had given you a slice of pie and a blanket so you could lounge on the couch, it seemed they had assumed that you had given up your endeavors. Their mistake, because you had never take your shoes off and seeing that your opportunity was open, you quickly sprung up, grabbing your coat and quietly slipping out of the winery’s front door.

It was cold, bitterly cold. The wind nipped you as you pulled your coat tightly to you and there was a thin sheet of ice on the ground outside the door. You felt your nose and cheeks turning red already, so that just meant you had to be faster in your travels. You turned to make your escape only to run right smack dab into someone else. If you didn’t know any better, you would have assumed it was Adelinde and begged for forgiveness, but the figure was much too tall to be her.

“Trying to run away from here already, hm?” Diluc chuckled, planting a small kiss on the top of your head while he wrapped you in a hug. “I can tell you’ve already been using the gift I got you.” Before you could say anything, the winery owner was guiding you back inside, which you were thankful for since you were already freezing. You made a mental note that you probably wouldn’t last two seconds in Dragonspine.

Upon entering the winery once more, you were expecting to see the staff giving you dirty looks for making your escape. Instead, they were all giving you warm-hearted smiles. You think that worried you more. “I wanted to come see you while you were at work since it’s Christmas,” you said, looking up at Diluc. His eyes seemed to be glowing, giving him a very cheery and bright appearance. You noticed he kept the small braid you had done earlier, pulling it into the high ponytail he had his hair in.

“I appreciate the thought, my dear,” he responded, guiding you back to the couch you had just come from. Unknown to you, he looked at the winery staff members, which was a message to leave the room while he sat you down in front of the fire, to which they all obeyed immediately. The plate from your pie from earlier was gone now. “About that, y/n, I wasn’t at Angel’s Share.”

You blinked as you watched him give you a sorrowful expression. His cheeks were flushed from the cold outside, but he was warm to the touch. Maybe that’s why the staff was trying to keep you from leaving. “H-huh? What do you mean?”

“Well,” he started, looking over to the crackling fire, “there was a gift I really wanted you to have and today was the only day I could get it. And this was the most important gift I wanted you to receive, so I couldn’t pass it up. I’m sorry for lying to you, but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise for you.”

Your brows were furrowed as you felt him grab your hand and give it a little squeeze. “It’s okay, love, but you didn’t need to lie to me.” You shifted a bit closer to him and you could smell his cologne waft in the air around you. The moment felt tender and warm.

“I hope you can forgive me for that,” he said, almost bashful. “That’s not the point, though, dear.” He cleared his throat and took your other hand, bringing it to his lips to place a kiss on your knuckles. “I know this might be a bit sudden since we haven’t really talked about it, but I thought that this was the right moment. We’ve been together for almost four years now-”

“Are you breaking up with me?” You asked suddenly, interrupting him since you felt like maybe this conversation wasn’t going to end in the way you wanted it to. Your mouth worked faster than your brain this time, and you pressed a hand to your mouth out of shock.

Diluc’s eyes widened, and he blinked as his posture seemed to tense up before relaxing once more. “N-no,” he stammered before reaching into the coat he wore and pulling out the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. The diamonds in the golden ring caught the light from the fire just perfectly, making them glow like snowflakes in the winter sun. “I’m proposing to you.”

Now it was your turn to widen your eyes as you stared at the ring in disbelief. Diluc was right, this was a bit sudden, but you always imagined proposals were sudden and not always expected. Time seemed to slow down as your brain tried to form a coherent thought, but ultimately you were left speechless. Well, except for the eager “yes!” you exclaimed before grabbing him in a tight hug.

[astra-galaxie]

★✿▼♒ for fili savage :)

Of course, I have some headcanons for our gentle giant! I did make him, after all!😉

★ - sad headcanon

As a child, when Fili’s gigantism first manifested after starting puberty, he was hospitalized while doctors tried to figure out what was wrong with him. Due to the genetic mutation in his DNA from the enhancement serum, his body started growing at an unnaturally fast rate, alarming everyone. He was in constant pain as his body grew, leaving his muscles stiff and sore and his skin full of bruises from stretching so fast.

He also suffered from malnourishment as the serum was using up his nutrients faster than he could consume them. Fili had to be put on a feeding tube and IV fluids to receive a constant supply of nutrients so his body could keep up with what it was using. When his condition reached its worst point, Fili was bedridden and couldn't even get up to use the bathroom without screaming in pain. Even worse, some nights, the doctors had to sedate him so he could sleep through the pain as his body burned off the pain medication too fast for it to help him.

Fili’s parents couldn't bear to watch their son suffer in constant agony and did everything they could to get him to help. When MI6 finally found the solution to slow down his body’s production of growth hormones to a normal rate, Fili was able to experience being pain-free for the first time in months. He still had months of recovery to go through, including physiotherapy, but he didn’t care now that he was finally discharged from the hospital and able to go home and sleep in his own bed again.

✿ - Sex headcanon

To many people’s surprise, Fili is a switch. While he does prefer to be on top, he enjoys being the bottom with the right person. He can be kinky when he wants to be, but his favourite type of sex is the slow and loving kind. He likes taking the time to pleasure his partner and make them feel good instead of rushing to climax.

▼ - childhood headcanon

Growing up, the McGee family farm wasn’t just a place to find livestock and fresh produce but also a place for supernatural creatures seeking sanctuary from humans and hunters. As a child, Fili met all kinds of supernatural creatures, from fairies and pixies to sea creatures and were-creatures. There always seemed to be someone new on the farm seeking the McGees’ help, and Fili made many friends. Most don’t stay for long as they are just looking for temporary safety or aid, but some stay for a long time, and others still visit frequently.

Fili has also met his fair share of hunters over the years, and the first time he encountered them was when he was a child. Hunters had tried attacking the farm, but thankfully, Fili’s family managed to defeat them. After the attack, his family strengthened the magical wards around the farm, making it invisible to anyone seeking to destroy it or harm its inhabitants. Since that day, Fili has remained vigilant for possible hunters and vows to protect his family and friends from them.

♒ - cooking/food headcanon

Fili is a good cook but a better baker. He’s not great at making things from other cultures, but he’s always willing to give a new recipe his best shot!

While he prefers the foods he grew up on, he is always open to trying new things. Travelling with the Bureau was fun because he got to experience his teammates’ cultures through their cooking and try foods in the countries they visited. He always stocked up on local snacks that he liked and kept them in his and Star’s room to prevent the others from stealing them.

Some of his favourite foods are homemade breads and locally sourced produce. He always says he can taste the difference between foods from a local farm and those from a factory. As a child, his mother always made fresh bread for them to have for breakfast and sandwiches, and the McGee family farm grows some of the best fruits, vegetables, and grains in Dublin.

That’s all of my answers for Fili! Thanks for the request, Liz! I’m sure you enjoyed the angst fuel the most!😉