#mentally i am sending him lots of gifts and a cake

[arinzu]

My Headcannons for Yoichi Isagi, Rin itoshi and Alexis Ness💕

Part 1 l part 2

Might not be accurate

💗💗💗

Yoichi Isagi :

✿He took a photo once of his hair slick back and his fan went absolutely feral.

✿He time to time stalks Rin to observe what he does.

✿Isagi probably stares at the ceiling when he's about to sleep and think about all of the opportunities he missed.

✿If he played any other sports it would be chess, since his vision is great for mental games.

✿Tbh is he was a sin he would be greed/gluttony.

✿If he could ask anything from his parents, it would be to have a little sis.

✿Does skin, body and hair care every few days.

✿Swears in videos games often. Those little brats think they're so gOoD but once isagi finishes his puzzle he'll devour them

✿Tried to hit Kaiser in the head with the ball after a practice match, but Noel Noah was there

✿Gossips with kurona and hiori about kaiser and ness, It's perfect since kurona doesn't know what they're doing but hiori has a lot of dirt on them.

Boyfriend Headcannons💤

♡Plays football w/ u and teaches you by beating you, not even to destroy your self esteem.

♡ such a sweetheart while you are on your menstrual cycle (if you're a girl)

♡ gossip about every teammate with you, like a whole book of players he wants to gossip to you about

♡ once you were sick, he drove to the local store at 2 am just for you. He's so sweet.

♡ Cooks very well like he'll cook food decently

♡ Not that toxic? Maybe that's probably up for debate

♡tells you about his problems like it's the national news to be discuss

♡ Has that romantic playlist he made just for you and him to enjoy.

♡Due to being in blue lock he hasn't texted you often so in return he tries to send gifts every month

♡ Calls you darling and sweetheart multiple times a day

Rin itoshi

✿Drools in his sleep (Me too Rin)

✿I feel like he'll stand awkwardly in a party not even interacting with anyone

✿Is good at cleaning, not barou level but up there

✿Perfect grammar, also TOP at his English

✿Never uses any gen-z/alpha slangs or any type of slang infact

✿Dry ass texter...

✿Gets really weirded out by any of his THOSE fangirls/fanboys... Like wdym you wanna have the reproduction LIKE HE'S ONLY 16

✿Knows knife play at some point, don't ask him why (he doesn't know)

✿Artistic in secret... Like he'll paint the beach or anything that shows the happy times of him and sae

✿Gets nightmares of that day... (Pretty sure everyone has that headcannon by now)

Boyfriend Headcannons💤

♡Cuddles every time he gets a chance with you. That kinda prevents him from getting those dreams....

♡ even if he's not as romantic as the others, you guys still go on weekly dates and THEY are expensive or just casual date like movie date🫶

♡After getting traumatized by sae, he almost broke up with you, Thank goodness, that you manage to make him snap out of it.

♡ After getting convinced by your and his parents he went to couple counseling and saw his mistakes

♡One of his favorite things to do with you is Playing football, I mean two things he loves in one? Count him in!

♡ Bring extra clothes with him whenever you're around, just in case it gets cold and he doesn't need to give you his hoodie.

♡Does not have much of a soft spot for you BUT, his eyes sparkle whenever he sees you like the good old times

♡ Almost made you cry when you both were on a movie date, it was those scary ahh movies that you don't know what's coming next.

♡Has a separate Love notebook from his early days of middle school that he reads when he misses you.

♡Calls you lukewarm as a word of affection when he sees you

Alexis ness

✿Would probably be in good terms with isagi if it didn't end like this

✿Has a mental breakdown every few days because of kaiser paying too much attention to isagi

✿Makes Kaiser a birthday cake every year and even bought him EXPENSIVE stuff from his hometown

✿Keeps the magician outfit he had when he was just a child, he cherish it like it's the most valuable thing in the whole universe

✿Would be friends w/ Charles if they interacted more, I mean like opposite friends, Ya'k

✿If richer than his awful siblings back home, if not then... It's because of the plot.

✿If he didn't met kaiser he'll probably be better than what he is now.

✿Has surprisingly good fashion taste, It's better than most blue lockers I can tell you

✿Has that changing color book lamp at the side of his bed he use when he's upset or just sad

✿He would like science if it weren't for the fact of his childhood

Boyfriend Headcannons 💕

♡Is actually quite the gentleman to you and your family members, since he a very toxic household

♡Always makes your favorite dish, if he doesn't know the recipes he'll find it by your guardian/ by how you like it.

♡Gives you a lot of gifts, I MEAN A LOT like everyday you'll find things that you enjoy at your doorstep

♡Due to being away from blue lock, he gets awfully jealous of the boys around you. Even if it's just a friend

♡Husband material frfr

♡ Punch a dude that was making you uncomfortable, and then ran with you to flee the scene.

♡Prefers the value of affection than the materialistic value of a gift you give him

♡ Loves being the small spoon but if you want, he can be the big spoon, anything for his precious angel.

♡Yandere tendency!!! Whether a girl or boy, he will get jealous if you spend more attention on them than him!

♡Call you angel or any kind of German words of affection, he will use it

That's it y'all💋

Thank you for reading this! It too me longer than expected!

So thank you for staying till the end even tho it was just 3 blue lock characters!

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

[myevilmouse]

For the fanfic writer asks, 4 7 and 10 😙💙

Good evening @ele-millennial-weirdo! Thank you for sending me these lovely asks tonight! 💙😘

4. what fic of your own do you read for comfort?

Oh I love this question so much.  It really depends on the mood I’m in, but I go back to Infectious a lot when I want to turn off the world for a while.  I also do the same with Corrupted Cake…Maybe it’s just that sweet sweet sex polleny dubcon that transports me to cozytown?  I think those are like the “wahh I don’t feel like doing anything/reading anything” fics.  But depending on the day and what is compelling the search for comfort, pretty much any fic could fit the bill…

me reading smut ^^

7. how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

That’s a great question and I’ll split it into two categories, because feedback and support are different…

I have to say not receiving feedback isn’t something I notice/dwell on much (thank goodness), but I am ABSOLUTELY loving feedback when I get it.  I cannot pretend (nor would I wish to) otherwise. 

I adore getting kudos, including from that voracious reader “guest”, and comments are like marvellous presents you get to unwrap and cherish.  Some come in big packages, some in little, all are great for the soul and ego.  Some of the most wonderful things I have ever been told in MY LIFE have been in comments, and they stick with you.

Feedback and support can absolutely serve as catalysts for more fic.  The aforementioned Corrupted Cake was just a one-shot until readers asked me for more—the “what happened next”.  Same for Interpreter!  That was a one-shot/one-chapter that became a monster.  Something Real was written because @handsofthrawn really wanted a sequel to Something of Significance. Quite a few of my fics went from oneshots to multis because of feedback and encouragement and that “what happened next” push from readers.

Me @me

The danger is relying on the feedback like sustenance.  They are gifts, they are enzymes, but should not be the author’s only food.  That has to come from you, from the joy of writing, the urge to create a story.  If you need other people’s thoughts and support to continue, you will get caught in a cycle of never-enough/self-doubt.

I had an interesting experience the other day, which is worth sharing.  I discovered second-hand that a bunch of people were talking about one of my fics online.  None of these people had commented or kudo’d said fic (to my knowledge) but all of them were raving to one another about how much they loved it.  It was fabulous to see/hear about, and warmed my heart, but also serves as proof that you can never know the full extent of your reach.  There are tons of reasons people may not kudo or comment—anything from time constraints to social anxiety to being embarrassed for reading a clone gangbang or whatever.  Don’t take it personally and don’t let it stop you from writing what you want to write.

Support is enormously helpful outside of kudos and comments, and I strongly recommend you find one or two (or more) people who are just as weird and wonderful as you to be there when you want to rant or whine or wax poetic about Luke’s perfect sternum. 

LOOK AT HIM!

Everybody needs somebody sometimes, and fandom holds beautiful communities.  I love my fandom friends madly, and proud to count you among them @ele-millennial-weirdo!

10. how has writing positively impacted your mental health or overall mood?

I just answered this one a minute ago (I LOVE you guys for sending in all these asks tonight) here. 

Thank you so much for the asks! The evening is flying by and there are still more to come!!! 💙

[a-heart-noble-and-bright]

[ID: A digital piece of fanart showing James Bond from Yuukoku no Moriarty. He's depicted eight times in the same image, wearing varying outfits. In the foreground is a big drawing of James in his usual gray suit, smiling and winking at the viewer as he makes a peace sign with his hand in front of his face. In the background are seven smaller drawings of him: his past appearance, the disguises he adopts through the series, his butler and "commoner" looks and a doll of him. There are some papers and a knife with strands of blond hair near his past self and pink forget-me-not flowers at the lower right corner of the image. The text "Happy birthday, James Bond!" is written in all caps and the numbers "007" can be seen beside the main James drawing. The background is light blue with yellow stars scattered over it. The colors used in the image are saturated and have a high contrast. End ID]

[03/09] happy bday to everyone's favorite special agent

[gukyi]

midas | jjk

summary: jeon jungkook was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and the power to turn whatever he wants into pure gold. you were born with healing and invisibility powers but without a cent to your name. so when you’re plucked off of the streets for pickpocketing and assigned to be his minder as punishment, you realize you’re going to have to overcome a lot more than class differences if either of you are going to get what you want.

{enemies to lovers!au, ceo!au, magical realism!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, angst word count: 32k (my hand slipped) warnings: alcohol consumption (brief), mentions of bruising and injuries, characters being emotionally constipated and afraid of commitment, your usual guyi e2l lineup a/n: finally!! oh god this fic took forever to write and just kept getting longer and longer. remember when i overestimated the wc by saying 25k-30k? yikes. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this monster! nothing says gukyi like a jk e2l fic, am i right?

The best time to be on the streets is just past noon on weekdays and eleven o’clock on Sunday mornings. When every working professional is out on their lunch break or weekend brunch, basking in the nice weather by choosing to fill up every outdoor dining area available to them. When they plop their bags, their purses and totes, on the chairs opposite them or onto the pavement beside them, thinking that the plastic fence that guards them will be enough to deter pickpockets and thieves. 

Unluckily for them, they usually fail to consider the prospect of someone invisible swooping in to steal the bills from their wallets, a nondescript force reaching into their purse as they stare down at their phones while they eat, forkfuls of to-go salads and pasta dishes stuffed into their mouths. 

Pickpocketing is a skill that the most desperate learn and the shameless master. Normally, people work in teams, one person to distract and the other to fish for the wallet, grabbing the cash and credit cards before tossing it onto the sidewalk and disappearing without a trace. If you wanted to be especially good at it, you would have to be able to complete the entire thing in less than thirty seconds, in the time it takes for people to switch trains in the subway stations. 

But when you work alone, you don’t get that luxury.

But you suppose that the higher powers above, whatever they may be, are relatively benevolent, because in exchange for your prickly personality, you were blessed with the gift of being invisible. 

Unfortunately, that’s something that you don’t need magic to feel. 

The truth is that it’s always been easy to ignore a girl who has no family, no friends, and no money. Living isn’t the hard part, living with purpose is. Nobody wants to pay any attention to someone who has nothing, literally nothing, to offer in return. At least, nobody interesting. 

The only times when you ever feel truly at peace are when you’re sleeping, and when you’re walking down the streets of the city, letting the rest of the world pass you by without sparing you a second glance. You’ve never been one desperate to stick out, to make an impression. Never been someone that people stop to do a double take at when they walk past you. Strange as it sounds, you love the feeling of being insignificant. It is, in a way, liberating. 

So far today you’ve hauled eighty dollars and a subway card from the wallet of some poor tourist standing outside of a bakery looking at a map the size of Jupiter. Some people you feel particularly bad about robbing, but a bald man with dad sunglasses and a fanny pack isn’t one of them. Besides, being pickpocketed is a classic tourist experience. You’re actually doing him a favor. Something to check off of his bucket list. 

You stow away the money and the card into your pocket, bills folded neatly into your raggedy jeans, rips and holes lining the fabric not for fashion, but from wear alone. You’ll make a mental note to buy yourself a croissant or something later. A treat to reward yourself for all of the hard work you’re putting in today. You’ll be able to pay off your phone bill for the next month with this money.

When the lunch breaks are over, you’ll probably retire to your bed and wallow in self-pity for a little before returning for the dinner rush. Having no life is a constant job, and you don’t even get any legally-mandated breaks to keep you going. Every moment you aren’t on the streets is another moment you aren’t making any money. It’s sort of like being a salesman, which, if you think about it, is just a legal way to rob people. When have salespeople ever sold something of real value?

With the eighty dollars on your mind, you start to scope out nice bakeries on your route, coffee shop signs and pastries on display in the window, looking for a nice place to settle down and buy yourself something sweet. Seeing as you live off of Campbell’s soups and bread from dollar stores, anything is an upgrade. 

You walk a couple more blocks before stumbling upon one of those picture-perfect bakeries, with pristinely decorated cupcakes and cakes lining the window display. You can tell that this place is good because there’s a line out the door and a little seating area that is packed to the brim. However, you are currently invisible, which doesn’t accommodate purchasing goods particularly well, but you make a mental note to return to the bakery a little later when people can actually see you. As if you’d ever turn right here, in front of all of these people. 

While you’re here, you decide to snoop around the line and the outdoor seating area to see if anybody strikes your fancy. Everyone standing either has their bag on their shoulder or their wallets gripped tightly between their fingers, so that’s off the table. But, there is one woman wearing a massive wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses as she chows down on a pink strawberry cupcake, her Louis Vuitton tote bag sitting a good two inches away from her, possibly even out of her periphery. 

Bullseye. 

There’s never a need to be stealthy when you’re already invisible, so you trot over, eyeing the woman to make sure that she can’t see anything in front of her. She doesn’t seem to be paying any attention, so you quickly reach down into her bag, a close watch on her gaze, hand fishing around amongst the receipts and the lipsticks and hand sanitizer until you feel her leather wallet. Nimble fingers fumble with the zipper until the tips come into contact with the crisp dollar bills, which you quickly nick and stuff into your pocket, bounding off without a trace. 

Halfway down the block, you surreptitiously glance at your haul—two hundred dollars!

That’ll be enough to last you and your phone bill for the next three months, at least. 

You’re so busy mentally applauding yourself for your pickpocketing skills that you don’t notice someone standing right in front of you. At least, you don’t notice until you crash into them, the surprise forcing you to turn. 

You sputter out an apology, hoping that whoever it is you’ve nearly run over isn’t observant enough to notice that the currently-visible thing they bumped into was previously invisible, and that’s when you notice exactly who it is that you’ve collided with. 

It’s the woman from the bakery, Louis Vuitton bag and everything. And she’s staring you down like there’s no tomorrow, arms crossed over her middle-aged chest as she sends daggers at you. Oh, you’re so fucked. 

“Sorry?” You say unhelpfully, already knowing the direction of this conversation. This woman wouldn’t be sending you a death glare if she didn’t already know who you are. They definitely did this just to trap you, set you up like a mouse and a cheese trap. 

“Don’t play stupid, Y/N,” she orders. “You must already know why I’m here.”

“I was hoping you’d let me off the hook?” You say guiltily, her hand already wrapping tightly around your wrists as she handcuffs you, sharp metal pressing against your wrists. One wriggle and you know that there’s no magicking yourself out of these. They think of everything, they do.

“Tell that to the courts,” she snaps, effectively shutting you up as she drags you away, money digging a hole in your pocket as you begin to envision yourself six feet under. You’re as good as dead, caught red-handed.

Well, life was good while it lasted. At least you might never have to have Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup anymore. 

There’s no such thing as an attorney in the Realm. No such thing as a fair trial (even if they say there is), no such thing as defense and prosecution. No grand juries, no crowds, no sketch artist. Just a judge with a stick up his ass and a punishment to be delivered. You’re either guilty or a liar. 

And you’re rather good at being both. 

“The charge is as follows,” says the burly man at the head of the makeshift courtroom, reading off of a piece of parchment like it’s 1433 and the printing press hasn’t been invented yet. “Burglary, possession of illegally-gained goods, and petty theft.” Because charging you for burglary alone wasn’t enough, apparently. You have a sneaking suspicion that they invented the other two charges just so they could have more to punish you for. “Does the defendant have anything they wish to say?”

“Don’t you guys have anything better to do with your lives?” You ask with a dramatic sigh, having already resigned yourself to your fate. “Like, you could be playing golf round after golf round instead of sitting here, charging an orphan girl with no money.”

“This is my job,” says the burly man. Clearly he has never done anything fun in his entire life. 

“Also, stealing is my only crime, right? So do you really need to punish me like I’ve murdered someone?”

“You burglarized a Realm Leader,” he deadpans. As if Realm Leaders really wear wide-brimmed hats, sunglasses, and carry around a three-thousand dollar Louis Vuitton bag on their days off. 

“You set me up,” you accuse. Might as well go out swinging. “What if I charge you for lying, huh? How will you be punished?”

“Anything else?”

“Fuck you,” you spit. 

The burly man sighs, thinks about the potential verdict for approximately two seconds, and says, “The court finds the defendant guilty of all three charges. Sentencing will now be arranged.”

Big whoop. You could sniff out your ’guilty’ verdict from three miles away, knowing that the Realm takes plenty of pride in charging its constituents for whatever crime that they can invent. You slouch back in your chair as the judge and his heartless buddies discuss your punishment. You suppose that being jailed might not be too bad—you’d always have meals and a place to sleep, even if you would have to give up magic in return. And community service would also be alright. You’d be fine with cleaning up the expressway that runs through the city, though knowing the Realm, they’d probably put you up to some stupidly dangerous magical task. And at this point, death seems rather inviting, and would solve everybody’s problems because they wouldn’t have to deal with you and you wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore. 

The judge coughs, summoning the bare minimum of your attention. “The court has reached a sentencing decision for the convicted. We are offering you two options, of which you may choose one.”

Right, like you’d willingly volunteer for both punishments. 

“You may either be sentenced to serve time in the Realm Penitentiary for six months with the possibility of parole after four, or conduct supervised community service until the task at hand has been completed. Please select which option you would like.”

It’s like asking you to choose between being given one hundred dollars or having to pay one hundred dollars. What does the Realm think people will pick? Do they really think anyone in their right mind would choose to be jailed, forbidden to use their magic, and then let the Realm trick them into thinking parole is really an option, over some measly community service?

“Community service,” you say gruffly. 

“Excellent,” the judge says, writing something with a quill and ink because apparently, ballpoint pens are too complicated. “Your community service will be supervised by a Realm Leader with visionary powers, so you will not need to meet with them in order to discuss your progress, nor will they watch you in person.” And they said that crystal balls aren’t real. 

“What do I have to do?” You ask. Knowing them, it’ll probably be something like scrubbing all of the toilets in the Penitentiary, or going deep into the Amazonian forest to collect some magical sap or fighting off a magical beast. Something that could serve as a death sentence, or at least be extremely unpleasant, in the hopes that it’ll get you off of their backs. 

“The court will be assigning you as a minder to correct the ways of another mage,” the judge states. 

A minder? 

So, your community service is that you have to be a glorified magickal babysitter?

Well. It could be worse. 

“Alright, fine,” you say, though it’s not like you have a choice one way or another. Where was your minder? Why weren’t you assigned one, instead of just being hauled off by an undercover Realm leader to be sentenced for the same crime three times over? “Who will I be assigned to?”

The judge looks down at the parchment in front of him through his tiny old man glasses, and says, “Jeon Jungkook.”

Huh?

Jeon Jungkook lives on the top floor of an apartment complex the size of the Empire State Building and worth more than your entire life. There are ceiling-to-floor windows that span the entire perimeter of the penthouse, a whole security team in the lobby vetting every single person that walks through the automatic glass doors, and an elevator with a touch-screen instead of buttons. It sickens you, the fact that some people can live like this. The fact that some people have known only this world as their entire life, and have not once glanced the other way. 

Getting to Jeon Jungkook’s front door isn’t the hard part. The Realm gave you succinct instructions and permission to use your powers whenever necessary throughout the whole thing, two things more than you thought they would. It’s easy to slide by the big buff security guards when they can’t see you. Easy to turn in the comfort and privacy of the elevator, easy to figure out which door is his when he’s the only person who lives on the top floor. 

The hard part is getting there without feeling like you’re way in over your head. Getting Jeon Jungkook to stop abusing his powers will be no easy feat. He’s rich, powerful, and spits on people like you, people who are not either of those things. Not to mention the fact that if he really wanted to, he could just turn you to gold and set you up in his penthouse like a statue, frozen in time. 

For once, the only thing that makes you feel a little bit better is the Realm. They’ve handed you a strict order that neither you nor he can magic your way out of, lined with stipulations and regulations and requirements that both of you will follow or so help you God. If Jeon Jungkook doesn’t comply, he, his company, and his reputation are done for. 

So at least there’s that. 

Jeon Jungkook’s front door is made of a deep mahogany brown and about thirteen feet tall, towering over you just to serve as a reminder that he can pretty much afford to buy out the entire city if necessary. You feel like an ant in comparison, an insignificant little thing, no money, no power, no nothing. 

A fluorescent doorbell light flashes beside the door frame. 

The sound echoes throughout the hallway you’re standing in, a classic ding-dong noise that reverberates across the walls. 

“Coming!” A voice from inside calls. Is Jungkook expecting someone?

You quickly make any last minute efforts to look as presentable as possible—well, as presentable as someone who lives in a dilapidated, abandoned house at the edge of the city can be—before the door opens. 

For someone who’s got money to burn, Jeon Jungkook sure as hell doesn’t look like it. He’s wearing an oversized button down that hangs loose by his thighs, ripped jeans, and a pair of charcoal grey socks, like he got home from work five hours ago and decided to change into whatever feels most comfortable. 

“Oh, good, I called and they said that you would be another twenty minutes,” Jungkook says, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Let me go grab my wallet, you can just set the pizza down on the counter.”

“Uh, I’m not—”

Jungkook rushes off down one of the fifteen different hallways that branch off of the main living room, leaving you stranded as you wander into his massive abode. Windows line the walls, giving you a perfect view of the city below you, twinkling lights of skyscrapers as people slowly leave their offices and return home. His kitchen alone is double the size of where you live. How can one person possibly take up all of this space? Doesn’t it ever get lonely?

You wait awkwardly besides the counter, which is pizza-less, until Jungkook returns, a shiny black wallet between his fingers as he fumbles for some cash. And normally, you have zero qualms stealing from the rich and giving to the poor (aka, yourself), but seeing as he thinks you’re providing a service, you have the compassion to feel at least a little bit bad. 

Jungkook stops when he notices the bare countertop. “Uh,” he begins with a frown, “where’s the pizza?”

“I’m not the pizza delivery guy,” you explain hesitantly. You don’t suppose Jungkook would have opened the door otherwise. 

“Then where is the pizza delivery guy?” He asks, like you somehow know. 

“I don’t know,” you tell him. Was an interrogation supposed to be a part of this?

“Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N,” you say, hesitant to touch anything except the floor for fear that you will either dirty or break something and then spend the rest of your life trying to pay back the damages. “I’m your minder.”

“What?” Jungkook scrunches up his nose in disgust. “I never asked for a minder.”

“Well, you’ve been assigned one anyway,” you say with a frown. To be fair, it’s not like you expected this to be easy.

“That’s ridiculous,” Jungkook dismisses, already making his way to the door to shoo you off into the night, like he probably does with all of his problems. “I don’t need a minder. I’m fine.”

You look over his shoulder, noticing the flecks of golden accents that line his house, the golden teapots on shelves, picture frames hung up on the wall. Even the rods that hold up the massive satin curtains are gold. There isn’t so much gold to be garish and kitschy, like a teenager who can’t control what he touches, but enough to assert that he’s either wealthy or gifted, or in his case: both. 

“That really sucks, because I’m still your minder,” you tell him, refusing to budge. Jungkook can’t possibly imagine he’ll somehow be able to get out of this. Not when the law is working against him.

“Says who?” Jungkook spits back. 

“The Realm,” you tell him rudely, manifesting the agreement the Realm had given you to force Jungkook into accepting. The parchment is laid out on the countertop, curling up at the edges, black ink written neatly on top of it. He glares at it suspiciously, as if he’s suspected that you forged it. When you make no efforts to explain yourself further, he takes a hesitant step forward, eyes narrowing in on the parchment sitting in front of the both of you. In pitch black ink, loopy calligraphy, it says this:

As recommended and required by the Realm, its leaders, and its government, the recipient, Jeon Jungkook is to be assigned a minder, whose duty is to watch over him, regulate his use of magic, and work towards decreasing his magical activity. 

This minder is being assigned as a result of misuse of magic by the recipient, either by abuse or from the intent to inflict harm upon mages or non-magic users. The Realm decrees that all mages who disobey the laws that govern society either be reformed or punished. 

This minder must ensure that the recipient makes progress towards decreasing his magical activity by indefinitely accompanying and supervising him for every hour of the day. This minder’s term will expire once they have achieved their goal of decreasing the recipient’s use of magic and ensuring that abuse of it does not reoccur. 

Should the recipient disobey this proclamation in any form, including vandalism, ignorance, or rejection, he will be brought to court and sentenced to jail accordingly. 

Jungkook seems to read the parchment for about five seconds before crumpling it up in his hands and tossing it into the trash bin by the edge of the counter. 

“Absolutely not,” he scoffs. “I do not need a minder. I don’t know what The Realm told you but I have no problem with my powers and your services are not required. There was probably some sort of mistake.”

As if. The paper says his name. Jungkook’s almost as bad at violating the rules of the Realm as you are. 

“Uh—” you begin again, but Jungkook is already shooing you out of his penthouse, flicking you away like an animal that’s gotten too close. You find yourself backing up furiously in a desperate attempt to not be trampled by him and his oversized button-down and intimidating death glare, until you’re a foot out of his apartment. 

“Maybe you can go bother someone else instead,” he suggests unhelpfully, before slamming the door in your face. 

You stand there for a few more seconds, face to face with the dark mahogany wood. The bright side is that, even if Jungkook only read the first paragraph of the decree and then tossed it into his recycling bin, there’s no escaping the Realm. You have half a mind to just bugger off and let him face the consequences of his own actions. You can picture it in your head: Realm officers barging into his place of work and arresting him on the spot for consciously disregarding an order of the Realm. That might satiate you for a while. 

Resigning yourself to the fact that if you knock on Jungkook’s door and politely suggest that he pull the parchment out from the trash and read the whole thing will probably not go down particularly well, you turn, letting your body vanish before you, before making your way back to the elevator. The pizza delivery guy arrives just as you reach it, letting you easily slide past him as he goes to make Jungkook’s day a little better by being an expected guest rather than an unwarranted visitor. 

Jungkook may not have agreed to this today (not that he has a choice in the matter), but there’s always tomorrow. 

Passing by the security, who spare no second glance at the fact that the automatic glass doors have just opened seemingly by themselves, you turn left when you reach the sidewalk and head home. 

Home is a janky abandoned house at the very edge of the city, where the buildings meet train tracks and old highways, graffiti decorating every open surface within a five-mile radius. It’s not so much a house as it is a shack, old and rickety and forgotten. You think that the locals and the nons believe the place is haunted, since no one ever comes within one hundred feet of the entrance, the broken glass in the windows and big red spray-painted X on the door deterring most folks. 

People who invite you into their houses and say, “it’s not much, but it’s home,” are such liars. For as long as you have lived here, this place has never felt like home. You never come back from a long day and think, ah, home sweet home. You will never dream of wasting away within these walls. That’s a death sentence. 

You enter through the back door, ducking your head low to avoid hitting it on the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling by a wire or two. You’re not electrically-proficient enough to know how to fix it yourself so it’s less of a fire hazard, and you don’t have nearly enough money to call anyone to come repair it, so there it stays. It still works, though, and you use it in a pinch when you can’t see where you’re stepping. 

There’s a small pile of folded clothing on the floor by the mattress, the remnants of a past life that feels more like an alternate universe than it does part of your history. The fridge doesn’t work, nor do most of the utilities, but the little stack of Campbell’s soup cans on the countertop is reliable and unchanging. As is the fact that you will probably never get out of this dump, so long as you shall live.

When you were little, you used to dream of living in a big castle, and wanting for nothing. You would have people to cook for you, clean for you, dress you, bathe you, entertain you. All of these stories about being a little princess, doted on and loved by all, innocent and pure and beautiful. All of these stories about finding Prince Charming, meeting the love of your life as waltzes into your life on a gorgeous white horse, getting married, having kids, and growing old together. You dreamed of a perfect life, a perfect love, where you never have to worry about anything, where no one is ever mean or rude, no government to dictate what you do. 

It’s no wonder all of those stories were simply fairy tales. 

It makes you even angrier when you think about Jeon Jungkook. He’s lived a life as close to perfection as possible, born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a silver platter placed in front of him. He’s grown up with people adoring him, telling him he can do no wrong, rewarding him with a brand new toy when he gets in trouble, teaching him that his powers are for himself first and for other people next to you. Not much is fair in the world, but especially not the fact that he was bestowed with the gift of being able to turn whatever he wishes into gold. 

He is everybody’s Prince Charming: wealthy, handsome, powerful. Too bad you aren’t a princess anymore.

Strangely enough, even after a long day, you aren’t feeling at all hungry. The scent of the pizza Jungkook had ordered to his door was enough to satisfy you, a warm feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Normally, this late at night, you might even be daring (or sleep-deprived) enough to break into one of your precious ramen packs, but instead you collapse onto the mattress, heavy heart willing you fast asleep, the light flickering above your head. 

The next day you are faced with a choice: leave Jungkook alone and let him deal with the repercussions of his actions on his own (much to your delight), or go back and continue pestering him until he agrees to having a minder (much to your chagrin). 

A new parchment has manifested itself on the counter, words copied from the one Jungkook threw out before your eyes. It shimmers, almost as if there’s a golden halo that surrounds it, another trick that the Realm has up its sleeve. You have a feeling that this one won’t be as easily ripped, crumpled up to be tossed into the nearest trash bin. It terrifies you—how closely they watch. You suppose that it was only a matter of time before they caught you. 

Quite frankly, you’re shocked it took them this long to realize you were a serial pickpocketer in the first place. 

As much as you’d love to see Jungkook get arrested and tried for defying the rules of the Realm, see his face plastered all over the newspapers and tabloids with stupid headlines like JEON JUNGKOOK: CRIMINAL? and ARRESTED FOR HAVING TOO MUCH MONEY?, and count it as a personal win, letting that happen would mean that you would have failed to do your court-ordered community service, which is a one-way ticket to prison. 

So even if Jeon Jungkook was the grouchiest, greediest, cockiest person in the entire world (which, judging by what you know about him, he probably is), and even though you would happily let his career and reputation plummet, you don’t have a choice. The two of you will either go down together or not at all. 

Resigning yourself to the fact that you will have to be within close proximity to Jeon Jungkook for the foreseeable future, you rally yourself out of bed, tugging on what you deem to be your nicest clothes and splashing your face clean. The rags you have on are probably worth a cent of what Jungkook wears on a daily basis, crisp suits and silver watches and golden earrings. He could spit on you and that would increase your net worth. But surprisingly enough, there is something empowering about the fact that Jeon Jungkook will no longer be able to ignore the plight of those in a lower class than him. Not when he, a person who has everything, will be forced to reckon with you, someone who has nothing. 

It’s easy to find your way to Jungkook’s place of employment. It’s this enormous skyscraper with his name in a golden serif font above the entryway, marking the entire building as his own. It isn’t garish and ugly, per se, but it definitely makes a statement. This, combined with the cool, chic design of his penthouse apartment, redeems him a little. At least he has taste for someone with money to burn like fireworks. 

There are two massive security guards and a whole squad of receptionists standing guard inside the building’s lobby, dressed pristinely and narrowing their eyes at anybody who dares enter. You wait across the street for a few minutes, loitering outside of a coffee shop and trying to avoid having people bump into you, watching. The only people that seem to be worthy of entering are wearing suits and dresses that cost more than what your abandoned house could sell for on the market after being restored, nodding their hellos to the security guards and receptionists as they press the elevator buttons and disappear into the building. You and your thrifted blouse would be laughed out in an instant. 

Lucky for you, you happen to have a rather foolproof method of getting yourself through those doors, and it mostly involves the fact that nobody can even see you. 

You rush across the road at the next green light and wait until you see someone heading in, the grand glass doors automatically opening when they register someone’s presence. It’s easy to slip in undetected, and you hang around in the lobby, secretly judging every single person that walks in after you. You could, quite honestly, spend all day in here, watching the receptionists tap away at their keyboards with robotic efficiency, answering calls left and right and fielding all sorts of questions from folks entering. It’s a world you have never dared step into, a world filled with wealth and power and class hierarchy, with Jeon Jungkook sitting on a pile of money at the very top of the pyramid. 

Some of the people that work in this building will never in their entire lifetime get the chance to speak with him. They will come in, day after day, working for someone who they have no personal relationship to, someone that they will never be afforded the chance to meet. 

Those people are, in your opinion, dodging a bullet. 

If only your life was as kind to you. 

A nervous young man walks in, clearly more out-of-place than anyone else. He seems to have barely bypassed security, flashing some sort of pass that lets him through the doors, but if a breeze came blowing through the lobby, he’d topple right over. He stumbles towards the receptionist desk, all of whom have phones to their ears as they furiously type on their keyboards. One woman holds up a hand, making him freeze in place. If he grinds his teeth any more they’ll all fall out before he even gets a chance to speak. 

It’s another two minutes before the lady puts the phone down and says, “How can I help you?”

“I’m—I’m, uh—I’m here for a meeting,” the man fumbles out. You’re embarrassed for him. 

“With who?” The woman asks, peering over the glasses resting on her pointy nose. She begins to look over the list of people who have meetings. It must be a rather extensive list. 

“Mr—Mr. Jeon, ma’am,” the man sputters. 

She looks doubtful. “Your name?”

“K-Kim…” he begins, staring down at his feet, “Kim Taehyung.”

“And your business with Mr. Jeon is?”

“I’m—uh, well, I’m a photographer for… for an article being written about him by F-Forbes,” he explains rather helplessly. He must have superb photography skills to make up for his extreme nervousness. You’ll be surprised if he makes it all the way to Jeon Jungkook’s office without wetting his pants out of fear. 

The lady hums to herself, looking suspicious until she finds the man’s name on her list. “Mr. Jeon’s office is on the top floor. Make two lefts and then a right. You will have to wait to be called.”

“Thank you v-very much.” He scurries towards the elevator, and you strike while the iron is hot. 

Rushing over, you manage to squeeze into the elevator right before the doors close, waiting patiently in the corner as the man tries to calm himself down, doing some sort of breathing exercise. Well, he’s got plenty of time to put his nerves aside, seeing as this building has seventy floors and Jeon Jungkook is apparently at the very top of them all. You feel bad for him, in a way. Jeon Jungkook was rude and unapologetically uncouth when you spoke to him, even if an aura of professionalism and extremely good social skills surrounds him at all times, and you don’t cower in fear at the sight of him. 

There’s no telling what he’ll be like when Taehyung walks into his office. 

One tense elevator ride later, the both of you arrive at the seventy-fifth floor, the silver doors opening to reveal a busy office space filled with people near the very top of the building’s pyramid. People like his secretary and accountants and managers, people who come into direct contact with Jeon Jungkook every day from nine to five. In a way, you pity these people for having to deal with him, but it’s not like you’ll be any different. 

Taehyung rushes out and you make sure to follow before the elevator doors crush you, following the receptionist’s instructions. Two lefts and a right. 

Jungkook’s office, much like his apartment, is not hard to miss. His name is written on a plaque on the door, and a guard stands outside with a clipboard, regulating everybody who passes in and out of the room. The walls that surround him are glass but he keeps the blinds drawn permanently, so that no one has the pleasure of seeing his face while they work tirelessly to impress him. Taehyung gives his name to the man, who checks him off on the paper on his clipboard before entering the room. 

“Sir, your 12:30 is here,” the guard says. 

Taehyung looks about ready to pass out. 

“Let them in,” Jungkook’s voice bellows in response. The man nods to Taehyung, who trembles where he stands, twiddling his thumbs like there’s no tomorrow. He shuffles in awkwardly and the door shuts behind him. Luckily, the walls are sound-proof. 

The thirty minutes of waiting is agony. You have nothing to do but rehearse in your head how this next conversation is going to go down, the scroll burning a hole in your back pocket. If Jungkook was displeased at best to see you in his apartment, you can only imagine the horror on his face when he sees you’ve infiltrated his workplace as well. Especially since you don’t have even a fraction of the money and power needed to enter the building on more professional terms. 

The good news is that, no matter what Jungkook says, no matter how many times he kicks you out of his penthouse and his skyscraper, he has no choice but to accept the deal, regardless of how long it will take for him to realize this. You never thought you’d ever be relying on the Realm to carry you through a predicament, and nor did you ever think you’d be doing their bidding, and yet, here you are. 

The door opens at one o’clock on the dot. 

“Th-thank you so much for your time again, Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung says, bowing profusely as he heads out. “I really appreciate it, you—you won’t regret it, I promise, thank you again!” You quickly rush towards the door, even making to hold it slightly open for Taehyung as he heaps his thanks on top of Jungkook. In the split second it takes for Taehyung to let the door go and for it to shut, you slip inside. 

“Finally,” Jungkook huffs out to himself, hand rubbing against his forehead. He’s not wearing a suit like you had expected, rather, a silken button-down shirt and tailored slacks. He doesn’t even have a tie. 

Well, you suppose that being your own boss has its perks. 

Jungkook’s stomach growls. “Fuck, I’m hungry.” He presses a button on the phone in his office. “I’m taking my hour lunch break now,” Jungkook informs the person on the other end. “Put all of my meetings on hold until two o’clock and not a moment earlier.”

He hangs up the phone and runs his hands through his hair, neatly straightened and styled. You hate to admit it, but there’s no wonder the man has captured the hearts of people all over the city. He’s rather good looking, the flecks of gold scattered around his office complementing his swirling brown eyes, making them look like caramel instead of cocoa. You have a hunch that, in the eyes of the general public, unattractive people instantly become good-looking the moment that they acquire wealth, power, fame, or all three, but Jeon Jungkook doesn’t need any of those things for people to think he’s beautiful. To him, they’re just bonuses. 

He turns around for a moment to look for something, probably to fish his phone out of the pocket of his jacket, and you turn. Nothing says hello like magically manifesting yourself in his office. 

“Jesus fu—!” Jungkook practically jumps out of his skin when he sees you. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m your minder,” you explain again. 

“I told you I don’t need a goddamn minder,” Jungkook spits out, turning around again just so he doesn’t have to see your face. “Get out.”

“Sorry, no can do,” you say, rocking back and forth on your feet. “Realm’s orders.”

“Fuck the Realm,” Jungkook says. “I don’t need a minder. Your services are unnecessary. Now get out, before I call security.”

You purse your lips. “You may want to think twice about that.” With a flourish, you whip out the scroll, a golden yellow glow still surrounding the parchment, handing it to Jungkook like a Christmas cracker. He snatches it out of your hand and unfurls it. “You should probably read the whole thing this time. It won’t rip like the last one.”

Jungkook glares at the paper like it’s ruined his life—which, judging by his attitude, it probably has—as he scans over the words, scowl worsening with every second that passes. 

“You shouldn’t frown like that, it’s not a good look on you,” you chide. At least Jungkook knows that there’s no bribing his way out of this one. 

“I told you I don’t need a minder,” he says again like it hasn’t already been made abundantly clear. 

“Well, I didn’t want to be assigned to you, but unfortunately, it looks like neither of us are going to get what we want,” you retort. “It’s this or prison, Jeon. You pick.”

“Why the fuck were you assigned to me, then?” Jungkook asks, rounding on you. “What are your powers?”

“Healing and invisibility,” you spit out. Not nearly as glamorous or lucrative as his own, but they come with their own benefits. For example, the ability to infiltrate high-level, upper class places of employment. “Maybe they thought I’d make a good babysitter since those are two skills often used with children,” you tell him pointedly. 

“I don’t need a minder,” Jungkook repeats for the umpteenth time. “I don’t misuse my magic or abuse my powers.”

“Uh,” you point out, an eyebrow raised skeptically, “I think I’d like to beg to differ.” There’s more gold in this room than miners probably found in San Francisco in the nineteenth century. The fact that nons haven’t noticed the abundance of it in his office is outrageous to you. How else do they think he and his family built up this empire?

“Please,” Jungkook says with a frown. “As if we don’t all use our powers for our own benefit. Huh? What did you do that was so terrible that you had to be assigned as my minder?”

“I pickpocket,” you explain economically. No point in sugar-coating it. Jungkook has probably already figured out you don’t come from nearly as much money as he does. “And I got caught.”

“Sucks,” Jungkook comments callously. 

“Sucks for you, too,” you fire back. “You got caught as well. Agree to the terms or go to jail, Jeon Jungkook. I don’t care. But don’t say I didn’t try to help.”

You stand there in silence for a few more seconds, letting your words dissipate into the air, sinking into the ground. Jeon Jungkook seems to have this furious battle within himself, brows furrowing as he rubs at his chin, pacing back and forth behind his desk. He knows he doesn’t have a choice. He goes to jail and his reputation is soiled. The Realm repossesses all that he has made of himself and he must start from scratch under their ruthlessly watchful eye. There will be no recovery. Only survival. 

Or, he deals with you for a couple of months until the Realm is satisfied with the both of you, and you both go on your merry way, never having to see each other again. 

You know what you’d pick if you were in his shoes. 

“Fine,” Jungkook spits out, pointing an accusing finger your way. “But you are to be invisible whenever we are in public, and that includes here.”

“Done. But you have to decrease your turning otherwise we’ll be stuck with each other forever,” you negotiate. “I’ll also have to come and live with you. Can you handle that, or are you too ashamed to have someone else inside your home?”

Jungkook scoffs. “I live in a penthouse the size of a museum. Pick whatever bedroom you fucking want. I doubt we’ll even see each other.” At least there’s one upside to having to stay with him in his massive residence.

“Fine,” you spit out, just for good measure. 

“Fine,” he counters back. Like anything about this conversation, this agreement, this goddamn life you have to live, is fine. 

Yeah, right. 

Jungkook’s penthouse is much more magnificent when you are more than two steps in the door. From where you had stood before, barely just past the door frame as he crumpled the parchment in his hand and tossed it into the trash bin, you hadn’t been able to see it in half its glory, let alone in full. When you can stand in the center of it all, eyes darting from the hallways and archways and spiral staircases leading to a rooftop pool or gym or both, it is overwhelming. Suffocating. 

His living room alone is larger than anything you have ever lived in, anything you have ever had the pleasure of calling your own. The ceiling is sky high and completely glass, streaks of sun shooting down and casting its rays on his chic furniture, deep hardwood floors. You’re so busy looking up that you nearly trip on a white rug laid out on the floor. 

“There are four bedrooms down that hallway and two down that one,” Jungkook says gruffly, flinging his keys into a bowl resting on a shelf and shrugging off his jacket, letting it hang over his forearm. How could one person possibly take up all of this space?

“Where do you sleep?” You ask. 

“That’s none of your business,” Jungkook says with a frown. 

“There’s no point in not telling me,” you remind him helpfully, “there’s only so many places you can be.”

Jungkook sighs. “It’s upstairs. But you can just sleep in any of the empty ones down here.”

“Thanks,” you deadpan. 

“Is that all you brought?” Jungkook asks with a raised eyebrow, looking at the backpack hanging loose off your shoulder. The zipper’s broken, so the outer flap is in a constant state of being folded over, but it works. 

“What, did you expect a moving truck?” You retort. 

“Ugh, forget I asked,” Jungkook says, shrugging his shoulders as he turns away from you. He begins to point around the room. “There should be some ready meals in the fridge if you’re hungry. TV’s always set to the news, but feel free to change it. Volume shouldn’t ever be over forty. Books are alphabetized by the author’s last name. No parties, though I don’t imagine you frequent those.” 

You can’t tell if that’s a jab or just him being observant, but either way, it’s true. You don’t even have any friends. 

“Fine, anything else?”

“Every bedroom has an ensuite bathroom,” Jungkook informs you. “So use that one. Don’t come into my bedroom. There’s more than enough space here for the both of us to go without seeing each other, so let’s keep it that way.”

“Aw, you mean I’m not allowed to wake up to your handsome face and infectious attitude every day?” You pout sarcastically, making Jungkook scrunch up his nose and frown. “Don’t forget that the only way you’re gonna get me out of here is if you listen to the Realm and follow my rules.”

“Yeah, which are?”

“You’re not allowed to turn at all when I’m around, whether or not you can physically see me. Every time you do is a strike. Three strikes—because I’m generous and forgiving—and I’ll report you to the Realm. The whole point of me being here is to make you stop using your powers all of the time.”

“It’s not like I’m doing any harm to people,” Jungkook defends. “You steal, what’s your excuse?”

“You use your power to add onto your already-enormous bank account,” you point out crudely. “I use mine to survive. It’s different.” Jungkook isn’t convinced. “But it doesn’t matter anyway, because I got caught and so did you and now we both have to deal with the consequences.”

He huffs to himself. 

“So do we have a deal?” You ask, glaring up at him, unrelenting. Jungkook’s chocolate brown eyes flicker as the gold around his house reflects off of his irises, like he’s trying desperately to find a way to get himself out of this before it’s too late. 

What he doesn’t realize is that the very first moment he ever turned something to gold, the very first time the object began to shimmer and spark, he was already too far gone. 

You suppose that in a way, so were you. 

“Fine,” Jungkook gruffs out, a veiny hand held out towards you. It’s stiff and cold, much in the same way that his penthouse is, that he is. This is not an agreement birthed from choice. It came from necessity, out of self-preservation. He is doing this to protect his reputation. You are doing it to protect your freedom. If all goes well, after a couple of months the two of you will never have to cross paths again. Oh, doesn’t that sound lovely? “Deal?”

You grab his hand in your own, squeezing tightly. There is no going back from this. 

“Deal.”

On the bright side, being a minder has finally given you something to do instead of stalking the streets and wasting away on your mattress on the floor. Granted, office life isn’t that much more entertaining, but at least you don’t have to be out in the summer heat anymore. 

As per your side of the deal, you remain invisible whenever Jungkook is out in public, which, quite frankly, is less frequently than you had originally anticipated. His entire life seems to go back and forth from home to work then work to home, an endless cycle, a Newton’s cradle on repeat. Maybe that’s why he’s such a prickly asshole—he doesn’t ever make time for things he enjoys. 

You thought he would at least have business dinners or fundraising events or company galas to attend. Isn’t that what most CEOs do? Flaunt their wealth to other wealthy people? Jungkook has so much money that he could easily entertain himself by one-upping all of his fellow CEO friends at every event he goes to, flashing the Rolex watch on his wrist or the fancy Italian shoes he always wears. 

But no. He wakes up, gets dressed, eats a meal from the ready-made ones wrapped in foil in his fridge, and goes to work. When he comes home, he takes off his suit jacket and shoes, eats dinner, and lounges around his penthouse. Works out sometimes, maybe watches a movie. 

Being rich always seemed to be a lot more fun than what Jungkook makes it out to be. Maybe it’s because everything in modern media is completely fake and wholly unrealistic. Or maybe he’s just purposefully making his life boring because you’re here now. 

But even if the only two places Jungkook ever goes are work and home, his personality doesn’t seem to change no matter what location he’s at. All of his employees are simultaneously frightened of him and desperate to please him, lowering their heads when he passes by their cubicle but placing finished report files and completed tasks at the edges of their desks for him to glance over as he does. You follow him like a wearied assistant (of which he actually has three, and you are just the annoying invisible one) and he acts like you aren’t even there. When Jungkook returns home with you carelessly traipsing in after him, turning visible the moment he closes the door, he shrugs off his outerwear and goes back to doing his very favorite thing in the whole world: pretending you don’t exist. 

At least that hasn’t changed since you moved in. 

The bright side is that Jungkook hasn’t turned at all since you’ve shown up. Not in his penthouse and not at work, though he is usually far too busy dealing with real-world issues to dwell on whether or not he’s got enough gold to his name. The answer is that he does, but he doesn’t give a shit about that. Too much is apparently never enough. 

Even if you are invisible, being in an office setting is somewhat unsettling to you. From a people-watching perspective, you love it, because you get an entire building of people to observe and judge, but from a personal perspective, it’s just another reminder of a life that you are not meant to live. 

All of these people in their ties and pencil skirts and uncomfortable leather shoes, fighting to beat each other out for the next promotion and desperate to please their absolutely unpleasable boss. A nine-to-five job, day in and day out. A fat check in their bank account every month. These are things that are both undesirable and unattainable to you. A glimpse into their lives doesn’t spur you to pursue a career path like theirs, it tells you that no matter what, you won’t ever be able to do what they do. 

“Sir, here are the finished analysis reports on the Lee Corporation joint stockholdings,” a proud young man says, plopping it down on Jungkook’s desk as you watch on in silence. The not-speaking part has been rather difficult, but you do get to whisper annoying things into Jungkook’s ear whenever nobody’s around. 

“They are completed?” Jungkook asks without even looking up at the man, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Did I not ask for them to be completed by Friday?”

The man goes white in the face. 

“Uh—” he begins, immediately losing all confidence he had when he entered Jungkook’s office. “Well, I—”

“I don’t appreciate belated work,” Jungkook spits out. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

The man nods and scurries out of the office before Jungkook can say anything else. He doesn’t even seem to care.

“Wow, couldn’t even say a ’thank you’?” You chide. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners?”

“Late work is unacceptable,” Jungkook says. You’re lucky that his blinds are always drawn, or everyone would see him talking to apparently nobody. “There are no exceptions.”

“He was a day late,” you point out. 

“Three, if you include weekends.”

“That doesn’t make a difference; he wouldn’t have been able to turn them in over the weekend,” you tell him. 

“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” Jungkook orders sternly. He looks angry, but also foolish, because even though he can judge where you’re standing from the sound of your voice, he still can’t meet your eyes. He’s staring holes into the succulent plant on the shelf to your right. 

“I’m not,” you defend, annoyed. “I’m telling you how to be a nice person.”

“I don’t need lessons on that, either.” Jungkook frowns. “He turned in work late and was reprimanded. It’s not any different than what happens in school.”

“But you didn’t even thank him for his time or for showing up to your office, or for the fact that he did the work!” You cry out. 

“What should I be thanking him for? For making the thirty-feet trip from his desk to my office? For turning in work that he was obligated to do late?” Jungkook challenges. “He had to do those. He wasn’t doing me any favors.”

“Except he was, because if he didn’t do that work, then you would’ve had to do it,” you remind him. “Everybody here is doing work because you aren’t able to do all of it yourself. And that’s not your fault—there are only twenty-four hours in a day and you are only one person. But you should be thanking them for their contributions. Even when they turn in something a little late. It’ll do wonders for other people.”

“Are you implying that people don’t like working here?” It’s like he wants to keep this fight going. 

You sigh, loud enough for him to hear despite being a good few steps away from him. “I’m saying that everybody out there—” you say, opening the blinds that cover the walls ever so slightly, just enough for him to see out into the sea of people that sit outside, “—everybody wants so desperately for you to like them. Or at least outwardly display that you don’t hate them. And if you just said please and thank you every now and then, people wouldn’t be so afraid of you.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, he shuts it like a trap and sits back down. He probably doesn’t really appreciate the fact that you’re directing him on how he controls his office on top of how he uses his magic. But it’s the truth, and he had to hear it one way or another.

“I didn’t ask for suggestions on how to run this office,” he spits out. “Next time I think advice like this is warranted, I’ll ask.” Which will be never.

“I’m here whether you like it or not,” you stand your ground. Jungkook gets to put up with you no matter what! “So I’ll tell you whatever I feel is necessary.”

Jungkook scowls. 

“Don’t frown, it ruins your pretty face,” you tease. You walk a couple of steps and lean over to stretch his lips into a smile. He stiffens up, clearly having lost a sense of humor alongside his patience. “That’s better, don’t you think?”

“I can’t wait to get rid of you,” he bites. 

“You’ll have to get rid of that attitude, first,” you counter. “Or neither of us are going anywhere.”  Entitlement and greed go hand in hand. There’s no way you’ll be able to get Jungkook to stop turning everything around him into gold without giving his personality a makeover as well. Somewhere in there is a decent human being.

You just aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to find him.

The time spent at home is less eventful. Besides you, Jungkook has no one to shout at and be rude to, and in any case, he, for the most part, avoids you entirely. Which is understandable but totally counterproductive, because if you never interact, neither of you will ever get what you want. 

Still, there is plenty to keep yourself busy inside of his penthouse. He’s subscribed to every streaming service under the sun and has a movie theater-esque surround sound system lining the walls. He has more books than some small town libraries. His internet is stupidly fast. Even if this setup is temporary, you sure as hell aren’t going to waste a second of it. 

It is sort of weird to eat food with golden forks and knives, though. You always think you’re going to crack your teeth on your utensils. 

You and Jungkook aren’t on speaking terms right now because an hour ago you caught him turning a vase in his office gold, the metal slowly wrapping around the base of the pot like pixie dust, sparkling and shimmering as the clay was overlaid with a deep, lustrous yellow. It increased the value of the vase tenfold and sent the both of you flying back to square one. 

“Jungkook, what the hell?” You had shouted, storming into the room as Jungkook’s face turned beet red. “Just because I’m not sitting in the room with you doesn’t give you a free pass to do whatever you want.”

“It was just one pot!” Jungkook had defended himself. “I’m not even going to sell it or anything, it just looks nice. The room needed something extra.”

“I’ve upheld my side of the agreement, what’s so difficult about upholding yours?” 

“Oh yeah, like telling me how to do my job even though you have no experience in business whatsoever?” He had challenged. “I don’t think I agreed to that part of the deal.”

“Strike one, Jeon Jungkook,” you had spat out at him. “Otherwise there’s no way in hell you’re ever going to get rid of me.”

Granted, the vase did look much better in gold than it did when it was made of clay, a glazed design of ferns and vines wrapping around the base. But even if Jungkook does have a particularly good eye for interior design, it doesn’t give him a free pass to turn things just to match his chic aesthetic. How many other things has he turned when you weren’t around to shout at him? You’ll have to go through his entire house every day, taking stock of every single item inside of it, making sure that nothing has inexplicably turned to gold.

Defeated, you had returned back to the main living room, flopping around like a beached whale on the leather. Jungkook always has the television set to the news, so you put it on in the background as you count the minutes until you’re finally free. Judging from what’s happened so far, you think you’ll be here forever. 

There’s a knock on the door. You don’t recall Jungkook answering any buzzes to his home, but maybe he’s just ordered a pizza or something and it’s here. It’s nearly dinnertime, anyway. 

You wait a few seconds to see if Jungkook’s going to make any attempts at answering the door himself. When the knock repeats itself and Jungkook still doesn’t appear, you hop off of the couch to get it yourself. You’re hungry, and pizza sounds delicious right now. A massive upgrade from Campbell’s soups. 

When you open the door however, there is no pizza delivery guy behind the door. Instead, there is an extremely well-dressed couple who are smiling happily at you, albeit a little surprised to see you on the other side of the door. 

“Hello?” You ask, polite but confused. 

“Hello!” The man says happily, chortling to himself. “Who might you be?” One good look at the two of them tells you that they’re Jungkook’s parents. His dad has the same nose, and his mom has the same big, bright eyes. They would kick you to the curb if they knew who you were. 

“I’m Y/N,” you explain unhelpfully. 

“Well, Y/N, do you mind letting us inside? The air conditioning out in this hallway has always been too strong,” his dad asks. You nod awkwardly and step to the side, letting the two of them in. “Ah, looks the same as always. You must give Jungkookie that interior designer’s number, alright? He could do something much nicer with the place,” he tells his wife, who nods in agreement. She passes by the bowl that Jungkook always throws his keys into when he returns home and presses a finger to it, letting gold wrap around the edges until it’s transformed into the metal. 

“Jungkook!” You shout down the hallway, desperately hoping that he isn’t going to leave you alone with his parents. 

“What?” He shouts back. 

“We have visitors!” You call. 

Jungkook’s parents are already picking out all of the things about Jungkook’s living room layout that they would change, turning picture frames here and decorative sculptures there gold, careless and without reason. You’re standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying your best to look as unsurprised and as normal as possible. Luckily, you haven’t been interrogated yet, but there’s no telling what will happen if Jungkook doesn’t show up yet. 

Two minutes later, Jungkook comes strolling down the hallway, clearly uninterested, but his eyes practically bulge out of his head when he sees who’s come to say hello.

“M-Mom! Dad!” He sputters out, terrified. “What—what are you doing here?” He asks, looking at you nervously. You shrug unhelpfully. All you did was answer the door. 

“Came to pay our wonderful son a visit, of course!” His father says, guffawing loudly. He reaches an arm out and pulls Jungkook into a crushing hug. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, I mean—” Jungkook begins, speechless. “I wasn’t expecting you at all, you know.”

“I know!” His mother cries happily. “But you know that families must always stick together.”

“Yeah…” he trails off. “Listen, it’s really nice to see the both of you, but I’m kind of busy at the moment—”

“We should stay for dinner!” His mother suggests, a lightbulb going off above her head. “We haven’t seen you in so long—we have so much to catch up on! What do you say, honey?”

Jungkook’s father looks peachy keen. “Sounds like a great idea! And you can introduce us to Y/N too, hmm?”

“Okay…” Jungkook says. He turns to you and you’ve never seen him so caught off guard. With his big, wide eyes, he’s a deer in headlights. “Just, uh, give us a second, would you? Thanks.”

That’s the only warning you’re given before Jungkook is pulling you down the hallway and into the nearest bedroom, slamming the door shut behind the both of you. The sound of the wood hitting the frame makes you jump as Jungkook furrows his brows and turns to face you directly. 

“Alright, here’s the deal,” he says, looking you dead in the eyes as you stare up at him, unimpressed. “My parents can’t know that I’ve been assigned a minder. They just can’t. They’ve trusted me to run this business and to be in control of my life and I don’t even want to think about what they’ll do if they find out why you’re really here.”

“Okay, so?” You say with a frown. “I’ll turn invisible. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“But they’ve already seen you, you opened the goddamn door,” Jungkook says with a sigh, clearly exasperated. He rubs his forehead before his hand makes its way through his hair, brushing through the long, dark strands. 

“Well, sorry for not wanting to leave whoever was outside hanging,” you retort. 

“No, it’s fine, whatever,” Jungkook says. He paces around the room slightly, eyes glossing over the still life painting hung up on the wall and the door to the walk-in closet. He pauses in front of it for a moment, thinking, before he rounds on you. “Can I trust you to pretend to be my girlfriend for just one night while they’re here?”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“Please? They seem to already be under the impression that we’re dating anyway, and I don’t want to have to think of a different explanation for you,” Jungkook pleads. He’s desperate. 

“Let me get this straight: you want me, your minder, to fake being your girlfriend for your parents?” You ask, punctuating every word. This is worse than actually being his minder. 

Jungkook nods. “Just while they’re here. And then we can go back to avoiding each other. Please?” 

And for once, when you see Jeon Jungkook’s stupidly beautiful face, you don’t feel angry, or resentful, or envious. You feel… sympathy. It’s easy being rich and powerful, even easier when you don’t even need to work for your money, but parents are parents, no matter how much gold is in your pocket. 

Besides, it’s not like you rejecting him will have much of an effect on the grand scheme of things, anyway. You do, and then Jungkook has to spend an awkward night with his parents and you won’t accomplish anything. 

“Fine,” you say, begrudgingly so. “But only for tonight.”

“Oh God, thank you,” Jungkook says, and he actually means it. He dashes into the walk-in closet and pulls out a summery day dress, all flowy and floral, coming down to right above your knees. “Here, put this on. You know I don’t give a shit about what you wear but my parents will.”

“Why do you have this?” You ask, holding the hanger in your hand. One touch of the fabric and you can already feel the craftsmanship, the material sturdy and soft.

“An old hookup or something, probably.” Jungkook shrugs, nonchalant. 

You decide not to question whether or not you are about to wear something that Jungkook has had sex with someone in and head into the closet to change. From inside, you can hear Jungkook pacing back and forth in the bedroom, no doubt trying to come up with a believable story as to why you’ve suddenly appeared in his life and where you had come from. 

When you emerge, Jungkook stops dead in his tracks. This dress is easily the most expensive (and clean) thing you’ve ever put on your body, draping seamlessly along your hips and smoothing over all of the parts of your body you’ve never been too fond of. The sensation is pleasant but uncomfortable, as you have always vastly preferred your own clothes to other people’s, but wearing this at least doesn’t make you feel like you live in an abandoned house on the edge of town. 

“Wow,” Jungkook says dumbly, looking at you with his lips parted like a fish, mouth agape. He scratches at the nape of his neck and coughs. “You look kinda good.”

“How thoughtful of you to say,” you chide, basking in the feeling of finally catching Jungkook off guard. 

“Hopefully my parents won’t be here too long,” Jungkook says as he opens the door, letting you exit first. “Normally, they stick around just long enough to tell me about all of the things in my life that I’m currently doing wrong or should improve upon, and then they leave.”

“Fun.” It doesn’t sound very fun at all. 

“At least this time they won’t be grilling me about a girlfriend,” Jungkook says, offering you a grateful smile as you return to the main living space, where Jungkook’s parents are in the middle of turning some of the decorative trinkets on his shelves gold. “Sorry,” he begins, catching his parents’ attention. “We were just talking. Y/N had to change.”

“She looks lovely in that dress, did you buy it for her?” His mother asks. You send a small smile of thanks. 

“Yes, of course,” Jungkook lies. You think not knowing the origins of this dress is best for both you and him. He shuffles the both of you into the kitchen, an awkward hand on the small of your back. If you were a third party watching the two of you, you could sniff out the fake gestures and affection from a mile away. No two people in love are this stiff around each other. 

His parents wait in the living space, blissfully ignorant, as the two of you fumble around in the kitchen in a last-minute attempt to scrounge up something resembling an acceptable meal. You, admittedly, do not use a kitchen fairly often, and stick to pouring the four of you some wine as Jungkook fishes through his fridge and cabinets. He eventually decides on heating up a pre-made pasta dish, filled with all sorts of vegetables you couldn’t name even if you tried. It smells good, at least. 

For someone who seems to rely entirely on a personal chef to do most of his cooking, Jungkook knows his way around the kitchen fairly well, bouncing from one end to the other as if he’s running on a mental timer. Granted, he isn’t actually cooking anything, but compared to you, he may as well be a top chef at a five-star restaurant. Ten minutes later and he’s got a mouth-watering spaghetti dish, topped with vegetables and what looks to be an herb garnish, a side salad, and four glasses of wine that you so expertly poured. 

Unfortunately, with his parents around, you and Jungkook don’t get to go through your usual meal ritual of sitting as far away from each other as physically possible and not talking whatsoever, sitting down next to each other in his fancy suede dining chairs as his parents take the two seats opposite you. Jungkook’s dining table only seats six, despite the sheer size of his actual dining room, and quite frankly, you have never seen him actually use it for what it’s meant for: dining. 

“Delicious, did you make this?” His father asks, already reaching over to serve himself some. 

“Y/N helped.” No you didn’t.

The serving utensils then move to Jungkook’s mother, who does not turn them into gold, instead opting for a baby tomato, which she places in her drink to serve as some sort of extremely niche ice cube. You can’t imagine how good that will taste. Jungkook’s father laughs at his mother, who is obviously proud of herself. Jungkook forces himself to chuckle ever so slightly, and you crack a very helpless smile. It doesn’t really take a genius to figure out where Jungkook got his turning habits from. 

“So, Y/N,” Jungkook’s father begins, catching you right as you shove an entire forkful of pasta into your mouth, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk getting ready for the winter, “how long have you known our son?”

“Uh, a couple of—”

“A couple of months,” Jungkook interrupts, speaking louder than usual. “We met at the Park Gala that they hosted, do you remember?”

You kick Jungkook’s shin under the table, making him wince. 

“Ah, yes.” His mother nods in recollection. “Unfortunately we were on that cruise through France, so we couldn’t make it. A shame, we would have loved to meet you then. Are you a friend of the Parks?”

“An associate,” Jungkook explains as vaguely as possible. “Y/N works in law.”

“Ah, law,” Jungkook’s father says romantically, twirling his fork around in the air. “The conscience of business.”

“Yeah,” you say, forcing out a small laugh. The less you say, the better. Though it is ironic that you now apparently work in law, considering your favorite activity is breaking it. You suppose that nobody knows the law better than its criminals. 

“Where are you from, Y/N? Do we know your parents?” This is starting to sound less like a dinner conversation and more like an interrogation. 

“Y/N actually built herself up,” Jungkook covers for you. Lord knows revealing your true background would send both of his parents storming out of the building. “She doesn’t like to talk about her parents very much.”

That’s one way of putting it. 

“Ah, what a shame,” his mother tuts, shaking her head. “We’d love to meet them.”

“Yeah…” you agree distantly, making a mental note to give Jungkook a good shove when this is all over. Well, two can play at this game. “Jungkook is teaching me a lot about how you guys run your business.” You add pointedly, earning a leg kick in return. “It’s very interesting to see from a law perspective.” More like from a human perspective. 

“Oh, you must be very impressed,” his father says proudly, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “We’ve all worked extremely hard to get where we are.” Because turning things to gold at the press of a finger is truly such a taxing job.

“I’m certainly surprised,” you say back, sending a patient but stiff smile their way. They return the favor easily. Maybe you’re more like these people than you thought. “It’s a big change from what I’m used to.” Jungkook smacks his leg against yours, and you retaliate not a moment afterwards.

“I’m sure,” his mother says, voice sickly sweet. “But you’ll be able to adjust in no time. It’s definitely a level up, is it not?”

Jungkook looks like a lost child in a grocery store aisle, eyes wide as they flit back and forth between you and his parents, hurling thinly-veiled insults at each other like it’s nobody’s business. 

“It’s different,” you respond. 

“Well, I’m sure that Jungkook is doing all that he can to accommodate you,” his father says. “Sometimes the people he chooses to date are… not ideal for this sort of lifestyle. We hope that you are able to adjust quickly. We understand that this is a lot.”

“I certainly hope that I’m a good match, then,” you finish, because something inside of you can’t bear to let Jungkook’s stuffy, elitist parents get the last word. 

The rest of the meal is rather silent, save for a few mindless comments about how poorly Jungkook’s decorated his dining room. You and Jungkook have been warring underneath the dinner table all evening, your shins undoubtedly sporting bruises, because apparently everything the two of you are saying to his parents is wrong. Jungkook’s parents either don’t know or don’t care, because they don’t say anything about the tension that settled over the table like a cloud of fog, thick and potent. 

When everyone’s finished eating, Jungkook’s parents head straight to the door, determining that their contributions to his evening and his penthouse are enough—for now. Who knows if or when they’ll return. You and Jungkook have no choice but to see them off, rounding out the night just as you started: fake, empty smiles. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Y/N,” his mother tells you, hand clutching her purse. “I hope that we may see each other again sometime soon.”

“Yes, I am looking forward to it,” you say with glee, knowing that the chances of you never having to speak to her again are well in your favor. 

“Nice work, son,” his father says, a heavy hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Just let us know if you ever need anything.”

“Will do,” Jungkook promises distantly. You can tell that Jungkook doesn’t ask his father for advice too often. 

You bid your goodbyes and Jungkook shuts the door behind them, and it’s almost as the atmosphere immediately begins to clear, the air conditioning cycling out the tension, like a breath of fresh air. 

“Ugh, thank God that’s over,” you huff out, already itching to get out of this dress and back into your own clothes. It was gorgeous at first, but now it’s just an ugly reminder. 

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Jungkook says. 

“’Wasn’t that bad’?” You repeat. It’s as if the words went in through Jungkook’s one ear and right out the other. “Are you serious? It was unbearable. Your parents were judging me from the moment I opened the door. No wonder you’ve never had a lasting girlfriend. I couldn’t think of anyone who would want to deal with that.”

“Excuse me?” Jungkook says, rounding on you as fire burns in his eyes. “What do you mean, ’that’?”

“I mean that I don’t know how on Earth people just accept the fact that in other people’s eyes, they’ll never be good enough?” You tell him like it’s obvious, because it is. This sort of life has been so ingrained into Jungkook’s head that he doesn’t even recognize it as unwelcoming and stifling. “I couldn’t stand being your girlfriend. Your parents are judgy and rude, and you all act like people who don’t come from as much money and power as you have no business sitting where you sit.”

“So your best approach was to shade and insult my parents in return?” He combats. “I would hate to be your boyfriend. My parents get more aggressive when people fight them, but you shove me under the table when I try to get you to back down? Just so you can have the final word to two people you’ll probably never see again?”

“The fact that anyone has dated you astounds me,” you tell him. 

“The fact that nobody’s dated you doesn’t astound me,” Jungkook spits back. 

You frown, embers flaring in your boiling blood. What, did Jungkook think you were going to enjoy yourself tonight? By pretending to be some sort of ditzy, desperate-to-please girlfriend? “You’re welcome for doing you a favor and not just straight up telling your parents you’ve been assigned a minder because you can’t handle your own powers. Don’t expect me to do it again.”

“I’m not planning on it,” Jungkook mumbles to himself, just loud enough for you to hear. 

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

You and Jungkook march down opposite hallways, desperate for this night to be over. You tear off the dress and let it sit at the foot of the bed, taunting you. 

There is no way in hell you are ever leaving this place. 

The time spent at work is allocated half towards following Jungkook around like an invisible puppy with a personal vendetta against him, making sure that he doesn’t turn, and half towards wishing that something actually interesting will happen. Jungkook runs so tight a ship that nobody ever seems to want to do anything fun or exciting, no doughnuts, no inside jokes, no pranks. Just an endless cycle of trying desperately to please the unpleasable.

Admittedly, nowadays, you don’t really mind being here as much as you used to, when you would mentally criticize every person that walked through the glass doors to Jungkook’s office, hands filled with stacks of paper and manila folders, plopped onto Jungkook’s desk one by one. Jungkook’s started to keep extra food up in his office, the mini-fridge by his bookshelves constantly filled with takeaway salads and fruit. Apples are a definite no-go because they’re too loud, and you can only ever risk eating salads when nobody’s around to hear you pop the plastic top off of the container, but other than that, it’s nice.

Jungkook has pretty good taste in food, too, which is an added bonus. Though anything is a leg up from what you normally eat.

And even though you’ve begun to start roaming around, exploring the nooks and crannies that line the clean-cut layout, your favorite place to be is Jungkook’s office. He’s got these magnificent floor-to-ceiling glass windows, with a view directly over the biggest park in the city, thousands of feet up in the air. From up here, it almost feels as though you’re looking down at a different world, a different universe. It’s difficult to imagine that everyone down there, every ant-sized person walking along the sidewalk or resting on a park bench or ordering from a food stand, has lives of their own.

Especially when they are but specks of dust in yours.

Jungkook looks at this view forty hours a week. You wonder if he ever gets sick of it.

The door to Jungkook’s office creaks open as you’re staring out of the windows, watching as the clouds pass overhead. They look like little white dogs, like cotton candy, like angel wings.

“Mr. Jeon?”

The owner of the voice is the same man you berated Jungkook for shouting at a few weeks ago, the one who had turned in an analysis report a day late. He seems just as frightened of Jungkook now as he did back then, and it makes you wonder if any of Jungkook’s employees aren’t afraid of him.

“Here’s the completed budget report for the Lee Corporation for last fiscal year,” the man says, reaching a trembling hand out to lay a manila folder on Jungkook’s desk. Jungkook only looks up once he sees it out of his periphery, hand pausing mid-write, pen still hovering over the papers on his desk.

He meets the man’s eyes, and when he does, he cracks a small smile, this sort of barely-there grin, lips curling upwards ever so slightly. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

It’s as if the man has won the lottery. He thanks Jungkook quickly before bouncing out of the room, steps much lighter, like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. You watch as he leaves the room, a smile etching itself onto your face. It’s rather incredible what a simple ‘thank you’ can do to people.

You don’t say anything to Jungkook, instead just turning back around to gaze out of the window. There’s an entire city below your feet, one that bustles around like bees in a hive, everyone with a place to be and things to do. There is this strange but comforting feeling of insignificance, one where you feel as though you could disappear and nobody would notice a thing. The rest of the world can and will move on without you. But that doesn’t mean that your life means nothing. It means that your life can be whatever you want to make of it, because in the grand scheme of things, nobody else will know what you have done.

History is like that, too. You must be remarkable to be remembered. But that doesn’t mean the unremarkable people were forgotten. They touched lives, too.

Staring out the window as the clouds swim over the sun, a light grey shadow casting itself over the park, you feel at peace.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

You jump at the voice, Jungkook’s presence next to you having gone totally unnoticed. You didn’t even hear him get up from his chair.

“How did you know I was here?” You ask.

“I could sense it," Jungkook says with a grin, making you raise an eyebrow. You’re invisible. “I’m kidding, I saw you come over here a bunch last week when you first got into my office and I figured you’d probably still be here.”

“You figured correctly,” you tell him.

“You know, I don’t spend enough time looking out these windows,” Jungkook admits, and you aren’t sure if it’s to you or himself. “I’m always staring at my computer or writing something at my desk with my head down. I’ve got the best view in the whole city and sometimes, I don’t even remember what it looks like.”

“You work hard,” you tell him, because that’s something that is undeniable about who he is and what he does. “But you deserve to give yourself a break, every now and then.”

“For lunch breaks, the first thing I do is get out of my office. I spend all day in there and when it’s finally time for me to put work on pause, I rush out of the room like it’s on fire,” Jungkook comments. “Maybe I should stay up here every once in a while instead.”

“It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere,” you joke.

“You can, you know,” Jungkook tells you. “You don’t have to stay up here all day.”

“I know,” you say. “But I don’t really mind it. I like being here. It’s calming, in a way.” In a way that you can’t explain. Like you’re stuck in freeze frame while everyone else moves around you. Like you’re watching a movie about everybody’s lives but your own. Like you’re a spectator in your own body. “Plus, the view is gorgeous.”

“It is,” Jungkook agrees.

You stand there in silence for a few more moments, the only sounds filling the room your inhales and exhales, soft and slow, your hearts beating in time. Jungkook is more than a foot away from you but here, in his office, looking out over the world, he has never felt closer.

“Thank you,” you whisper, letting the words hang in the air in front of you.

“For what?” Jungkook asks.

“For listening to me.”

You feel Jungkook turn to you, and when you dare to look up at him, you meet his hazy brown eyes, warm and sparkly. He looks like a goddamn celebrity, like a magazine cover come to life, crisp shirt collars and fancy Italian shoes, glossy brown hair and perfect skin. He smiles at you, this homey sort of thing that makes you feel like summer is running through your veins, like the rays of the sun are pressing against your skin.

“Of course,” he tells you.

Jungkook is a lot of things. He’s unabashedly gorgeous and outrageously wealthy. He walks around like he owns everything that he touches. His house is clean and chic and minimalist, almost like nobody lives there at all. He’s determined and a workaholic, and hates admitting when he’s wrong.

But maybe, just maybe, in the white afternoon light of his office, the rest of the world underneath his feet, standing next to you as the two of you stare out in a city you call your own, he’s not that bad.

Being alone in Jungkook’s penthouse is, to put it lightly, absolutely terrifying.

It’s hard to believe that Jungkook--and maybe a girlfriend for a brief period--has occupied this entire space on his own, no one else to talk to, no one else to spend time with, no one to occupy his massive couches or fill up the chairs in his dining room.

You’ve always wondered why rich people buy the biggest houses. Sure, it’s because they’re rich, and because they can afford it, but it’s impossible for one person, or even two, to make the entire place feel like their own. You leave countless rooms untouched, meant for guests that you never have and parties that you never host. It’s like you’ve moved into half of a house, a quarter of a mansion. What’s the point of having so much space if you don’t ever have anyone to fill it up?

Normally you wouldn’t leave Jungkook’s side, following him around the city whenever he has errands to run or needs to dash back to work to pick up something he had forgotten. But Jungkook hasn’t been turning anything lately, even when you sleep in four hours later than he does, even when he stays up into the early hours of the morning while you pass out before it’s midnight. It’s like he’s somehow lost the will for his magic entirely, like it’s vanished from his body.

Well, you’re not complaining. That just means you’re one step closer to finishing your sentence.

Jungkook’s penthouse feels bigger when he’s not around. Even though you hardly ever see each other while you’re at home, the mere knowledge of his presence makes you feel like you’re not alone. Makes you feel like there is someone else in this little corner of the world.

Everything in here has always looked untouched. Like it doesn’t belong to anybody, like a house listing come to life. His marble counters are always empty, his cabinets always closed and organized. His books are always alphabetized and the stack of art books on his coffee table has never been touched. All of the bedrooms look like they belong in a hotel. The bathrooms look like they belong in a museum.

Jungkook’s house has never felt like a home but then again, neither has yours.

Still, if you had to choose between living in your abandoned shack at the edge of town or living in an enormous penthouse in the center of the city, you would never look back at that old, dilapidated building. The difference between you and Jungkook is that Jungkook chooses to live in this tragically empty place.

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand Jungkook’s life. Not just the technicalities of the company he runs, the economics and business that he has spent his whole life mastering, but also the way he sees the world in terms of money and power, how everything has some sort of value, even people. Even you. His biggest concern has always been himself. How much money he has matters, how many investments his company owns matters, how the public views him matters. He has spent so long crafting this perfect image of himself that he’s willing to spend as much money as necessary to maintain it. 

Jungkook doesn’t even look at the total on the card reader when he purchases things. He simply tugs his silver card out of a sleek black wallet and swipes, crumpling the receipt up in his hand before shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. He comes back home to a gigantic penthouse with a gym and his pool and more bedrooms than he can count on both hands, to a personal chef in his kitchen making him five-star meals to last him the rest of the week. 

Money is never on his mind, but it is always on yours. 

When will you get enough to pay off your phone bill, will you ever be able to afford a repairman to fix the broken, exposed lightbulb above the back door, how many Campbell’s soups can you buy and still have enough funds to last you until the next day? What if, God forbid, the city comes knocking on your door and either evicts you or orders you to pay up for the three years you’ve been living in that house, rent-free? What will you do then?

Life is by no means easy for either of you, but Jeon Jungkook has never had to want for anything. If it isn’t handed to him, he works for it himself. If he can’t buy it, he’ll just make more money. If he doesn’t already own it, what’s stopping him?

People dream of having Jungkook’s life. People fear having yours. 

Alone in Jungkook’s apartment, the differences between the two of you have never been clearer. 

Your greatest fear is the fact that, in the past few weeks you have spent here, you are already becoming used to it. You are dreading going back to where you were before, stealing money from people off of the streets and living in a house in such disrepair that local nons think that it’s haunted. You fear that you will never want to leave. 

It’s such a terrifying feeling, isn’t it? Becoming attached to something. Feeling as though your life will be worse without it. Knowing that your life will be worse without it. 

There are parts of you that make you wish that life wasn’t so unfair. 

The living room is three times the size of the dining room but you hate eating there, sitting at an empty table with no one to talk to but suede chairs, reminding you that you don’t even have any friends to invite anyway. At least in the living room you can sit on the couch and watch television and pretend that you have at least some semblance of a life. 

You pick at a pre-made salad that has too much lettuce and not enough everything else—Jungkook needs a new chef, you decide, plucking out all of the croutons and slices of cheddar cheese, when the front door swings open, slamming against the wall adjacent to it as Jungkook storms inside. 

“Oh my God, what happened to you?” You exclaim, eyes practically bulging out of your head as you jump off of the couch. Even from here, you can see the dark bruising around Jungkook’s eye, purple and blue, the busted up knuckles clenched around the bag he’s carrying. There’s even a small streak of blood on his upper left cheek, already beginning to scab. 

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he says, wiping away the blood on his lip with the back of his hand. 

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, rushing up to meet him in the middle of the foyer, standing in front of him as you look up at his face with wide eyes. He waits there patiently, avoiding your gaze, steely eyes looking elsewhere, as you reach up to hold his head in your hands, tilting it from side to side. “What happened to you?”

“Some dudes jumped me in the parking lot on the way back,” Jungkook says casually. You’d almost believe he didn’t feel anything if he doesn’t wince when you press a gentle fingertip along the bruise on his jawline. He meets your frightened expression and smirks wickedly, something glinting in his eyes. “Don’t worry, I got ‘em good.”

“Are you alright?” You ask him, even though it’s obvious he’s not. “You aren’t seriously injured or anything, are you?”

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” Jungkook says with a sigh, even as he obeys your movements and moves his body pliantly to the feeling of your hands pressing against his skin. Most of the visible damage seems to be to his face and hands, and quite frankly, you’re not exactly sure if you want to see what’s underneath his dress shirt. “I’m strong. I work out and eat healthy and everything. I’ll be better in no time.”

“No, are you kidding?” You say, reaching out to grab his hand without a second thought, pulling him towards the nearest bathroom. “You can’t just leave it like this. Here, let me heal you.”

“I don’t need you to patch me up or anything,” Jungkook resists, frowning as you sit him down on the edge of the bathtub and begin to fish through his bathroom cabinets. “First aid isn’t in that one.”

“No, you idiot,” you chide him. “I’m not gonna patch you up. Aren’t you forgetting that I’m a healer?” 

“So what are you gonna do, then?” 

You finally find the first aid kit and pull it out, revealing rolls of gauze and bottles of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant. There’s even a couple of rows of Ibuprofen. “Well, you should be patched up anyway,” you decide, turning back to look at Jungkook’s face as he waits obediently on the edge of the tub. “But I can heal you faster than what time and medicine can do on their own.”

“You don’t have to,” Jungkook says softly. 

“Please, of course I do,” you reply instantly. You’re not gonna let Jungkook walk around like that. “We can’t have your pretty face all messed up, now can we?”

Jungkook cracks a small smile but it’s obvious that the simple gesture alone pains him, making him wince slightly as his lips turn upwards. You wet a face cloth with cold water and press it against Jungkook’s bruises, looking intently at his features as you move the cloth around, letting the cold water draw out the heat that sizzles beneath his skin. Jungkook watches you the whole time, his eyes never leaving yours, even as your brows furrow in concentration, determined to fix Jungkook back up so he’s brand new. Slowly, the bruises begin to fade, going from an angry violet to a light lavender, and then to a pink that could almost be mistaken for a heavy blush.

It feels weird, knowing that he’s right there. Knowing that he’s watching you, eyes following yours as they scan his face. His clean-cut jawline is a little swollen, perfect skin angry and marked, but his eyes are still the same. Still wide and bright, like a young child, like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time. They look almost caramel in the yellow light of the bathroom, flecks of gold to mirror the accents in the room. 

There’s something about them that makes you not want to turn away. 

When the bruises have faded, leaving only petal pink remnants along his skin, you move onto the small cut along his cheek. It’s rough and jagged, like the skin had been torn right through, a nick from a fingernail or a knuckle. It’s not long, but it is somewhat deep. You imagine it might scar permanently. 

Kneeling down in front of him, you pull out some rubbing alcohol and a cotton pad, dabbing a gentle amount onto the round before moving closer, holding his head in your hand as you reach out. 

“This might sting,” you say, like he doesn’t already know. 

“That’s alright,” Jungkook tells you. “Fix me up, doctor.”

At his cue, you softly press the cotton pad against the scab, rubbing away at it until it comes off cleanly, leaving only fresh, exposed skin behind. For wounds like these, a cloth won’t do. Your mother used to tell you that healing didn’t come from your hands, it came from your heart. That even if your fingertips had the magic, it was your heart that had the power to wield it. 

Slowly, you rest your palm against his cheek, rubbing your thumb along the cut. Jungkook blinks, big eyes shimmering, as you do so, and you feel trapped in his gaze. Like you couldn’t turn away even if you tried. Like you almost wouldn’t want to. His skin is baby soft, perfect, a far cry from the calloused pads of your fingertips, worn from so many days and nights out on the streets. 

There is magic in your fingertips, surely, but there is something different in your heart. Something that you don’t think you have the words to explain.

The cut seals up instantly, the skin patching over itself until nothing is left but a mark, a little scar that will stay there forever. And yet, you stay there, locked in his magnetic pull, like tearing away will hurt you rather than him. The cut is healed, and his bruises are fading, and there is no reason to stay like this. 

And yet. 

“There,” you whisper, watching the words appear between the two of you, lingering like ghosts. “All better.”

Jungkook grins. It doesn’t hurt him, but something in you feels a sharp jolt, an ache. Like a spark in the pit of your belly. Like magic in your veins. 

Jungkook has been tearing his hair out over this one manila folder in front of him for the past twenty minutes. Every ten seconds he writes something down before scribbling it out, the ink bleeding through the paper to the next one. He flips through the files relentlessly, carelessly, until they’re all out of order and splayed all over his desk. He’s instructed the guard outside not to let anyone in, even if it’s some sort of emergency. 

You’ve seen Jungkook at work a lot, but you’ve never seen him like this. Even his anguished sighs are difficult to listen to. 

Creeping over to the wall that overlooks the rest of the office, Venetian blinds shielding the both of you from view, you crack open a slat, peeking out at everyone else. None of them pay any attention to Jungkook’s office, too busy worrying about the next report they have to complete and all of the office meetings they have to attend, so you take it as a good opportunity to turn visible. Just for a little bit. 

“You alright?” You ask, nearly making Jungkook fall out of his seat at the sound of your voice. 

“What?” He asks, surprised. “Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“What’s the matter?” You ask, because you’ve never seen Jungkook as stressed out as he is now. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to organize this new collective to monitor our investing habits so we can assess where investments need to be divvied up into in order for clients to find us worth of their own investments as opposed to other companies,” Jungkook explains, though he sounds positively exhausted while doing so, like the very mention of what he’s slaving over is enough to send him over the edge. “But no one can agree on how we can use this information to promote this company to our clients and the public. People invest in both of us either way.”

“You want people to invest more money in your company, don’t you?” You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well, yeah.” 

“How much money does this company give to small businesses? To nonprofits and charity?”

Jungkook frowns, scrunching up his nose as he thinks. He clicks around on his computer for a few seconds before saying, “About five percent.”

“And your investments are public, correct?”

“Yes.” Jungkook nods. 

“You should be giving way more than five percent of this company’s investments to small, local businesses and charity,” you tell Jungkook, already worming your way behind his desk to look at what he’s looking at. You point to the numbers on his screen, single-digit percentages, some even less than one, being sent to local businesses, nonprofits, and charities. “Look at this. Ninety-five of your investments go right into stocks. If you invested more money into nonprofits and local businesses, people would see you taking the time to help boost the local economy and the organizations that serve it for free. Then, those businesses would invest in you in return, and clients would see that you’re investing in noble causes and give you more money as a thanks, which can then be funnelled back to small businesses and nonprofits.”

It’s a rather roundabout sort of proposal and you’re almost positive that it has no real footing anywhere in real economics and finance, but it makes sense to you. If you had money to invest in major companies, you would choose the ones that invest in the things that will benefit you, like local businesses and nonprofits. If you saw that the companies you were giving money to were simply giving it away to the stock market, you’d pull your money out. 

You know that the stock market is nothing but the world’s biggest economic gamble, but that doesn’t mean that you have to gamble with it. Companies that stand for what you stand for are much more appealing than companies with a bigger investment bank behind them. 

You turn to Jungkook, who is squinting at his computer screen as he fumbles around with the numbers, flicking from Excel sheet to Excel sheet, bouncing back and forth between the information online and the files on top of his desk. 

“Is that stupid?” You ask, breaking the silence. It’s not as if people know you for your groundbreaking economic policies. 

Jungkook spares one more glance over all of his files, and turns up to look at you. “No,” he tells you with a shake of his head. “It’s not.”

“Really?” You’re actually impressed with yourself. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees happily. “You’re right—I’d want to know that my investments were going to a company with good morals that lifts up local businesses. It would encourage me to invest more, too.”

“It’s not a very sound economic theory…” You admit. Jungkook’s probably seasoned in how investments and the stock markets work, charts upon charts of client behavior that shapes the way he organizes his company. And you? You don’t have enough money to even buy food some days. 

“It doesn’t have to be,” Jungkook assures you. “Theory is total bullshit anyway, because nobody can predict what will happen with the economy. But human nature has always been reliably good. People like to know that their money is going to a good cause.”

“So, it helps?” You ask with a smile. 

Jungkook nods. “It does. It’s actually a great idea, Y/N. You might have a future in business.”

You scoff. “Me? I don’t know the first thing about this stuff.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t need to. You’re a good person who thinks about everyone, Y/N. That’s why you’d be good at business. Because your clients can trust you, and you’ll actually put your money where your mouth is.” 

“I guess,” you say unhelpfully. Just because you think about others doesn’t make you especially remarkable. It makes you human. Isn’t that how everyone’s supposed to be? “I just don’t think about clients and money like you do. Money’s always been really valuable to me, since I’ve never had much of it, but you guys see it as expendable. I need to know where my money goes, I don’t want to see it just vanish into the hands of someone else.” Jungkook’s nodding along, eyes looking intently at your own, like he’s committing the words you say to his memory. “I just think that people and companies with tons of money have a duty to give back to those who are less fortunate. That’s all.”

“That’s noble of you,” Jungkook says. 

“It’s just common sense,” you explain. “Why wouldn’t you want to do something like that?”

Jungkook heaves a sigh, a long, winded sort of one, like there’s a whole conversation behind it that he wishes he could have with you. But instead, he just shakes his head, a fond smile lacing its way across his features. He chuckles to himself. “Maybe you aren’t cut out for business after all, Y/N,” he tells you softly. “You have too big a heart.”

And maybe that’s true. Maybe you’re too kind, too generous, to ever make it in business. To succeed without losing every penny to your name. 

But if that’s the case, then where does Jungkook stand?

When Jungkook stays at work late, the two of you eat dinner together. 

There’s just something so demoralizing about coming back to an empty house, letting the hollow sound of the door slamming shut echo throughout the room, and then marching off in different directions to spend the rest of the night alone. When it’s dark, and late, and you’re starving, it’s all you can do not to beg Jungkook to eat with you. Even if in silence. 

By the time you get home, your stomach is just about ready to consume the art books sitting in a neat stack at the top right corner of the coffee table. You begin to clear off some space for the both of you to eat as Jungkook heads towards the refrigerator, when not three seconds after, you hear him swear, “Oh, shit.”

“What’s the matter?” You call out. 

“We’re out of premade meals!” Jungkook shouts back. What? You could have sworn there were at least two full tupperwares still available. Actually, maybe you had eaten them for lunch… 

“Really?” You get up from the coffee table and make your way into the kitchen, where Jungkook is standing in front of a refrigerator with the entire middle section wiped clean, empty shelves mocking the both of you as you glare at them. “Oh, wow. Really.”

“I didn’t know we ate that much,” Jungkook comments, shocked at the sight before him. 

“What are we gonna do?” You ask. You’re hungry. 

“What do you mean?” Jungkook says with a laugh. He kneels down and begins to pull vegetables from the drawers, plucking different bottles from inside the fridge door and plastic cartons from the top shelves, the ones that you never dare touch. “We’ll cook something, obviously.”

“Can’t we just order takeout?”

“You don’t wanna cook something with me?” Jungkook asks, eyes wide and pouty. You shake your head guiltily. Is ordering a pizza really so much to ask? Jungkook narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, a grin pulling at his lips, before he nods knowingly. “Oh, I get it.”

“Get what?” You challenge. 

“You don’t know how to cook.”

“What? I know how to cook!” You cry out, aghast. True, your past meals have mostly involved warming food up in the microwave, but that counts, in your book. Jungkook frowns in disbelief. “I know how to use a microwave.”

Jungkook tosses his head back and laughs, this warm, hearty sound filling up the kitchen, before he starts placing all of the containers and bottles and vegetables he pulled out from the fridge onto the counter. “Okay, we’re going to make something together.”

“Seriously?” You say, borderline whining. “Can’t you just do it?”

“No,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “because you have to help me. Kitchen’s orders.”

“You’re the kitchen!”

“Exactly,” Jungkook says, smiling to himself. He pulls out some more ingredients from the cabinets, hands deftly reaching for the exact ones he wants, until you have a collection of food, seasonings, and sauces on the countertop, and an apparent recipe to be made. 

“What are we making?” You ask, looking down at everything on the counter. All of these things can’t go into one dish… can they?

“An old family recipe,” Jungkook says. “Kimchi jjigae. It’s kimchi stew.”

“Is it easy?” 

Jungkook grins something wicked, something devilish. “It’s fun.”

He sets out to put a pot on the stove, turning the gas on, bouncing back and forth between the stovetop and the counter as you stand there like a floundering fish, waiting for him to either give you an instruction or do everything himself.

“Can you cut the green onions?” Jungkook asks as he adds water and what looks to be tiny little fish to the pot, reaching behind his back to gesture wildly at the ingredients sitting on the marble. 

“Which are those?” You scan the countertop. Your familiarity with food and recipes extends about as far as anything non-perishable that comes in a tin can. Never in your life have you seen so much laid out in front of you, all meant to go into the same meal. 

The metal lid clinks as Jungkook covers the pot to boil, turning around to join you at the counter, where you wait awkwardly in front of an unused chopping board, no knife in sight. 

“These,” he says, reaching over you to pull up several stalks of something that looks similar to the wild onions that grow in your backyard. He fishes through the drawers before he pulls out a kitchen knife, gently placing it in your hand as he moves around to grab all of the other ingredients he needs for the boiling water on the stovetop. 

Hesitantly, you line up the onions and begin to chop, carefully sawing through each one until it comes cleanly off of the stalk. It’s awfully time-consuming, especially since Jungkook seems to have already made the stock base in the time it’s taken you to cut one. Nevertheless, you persist, because Jungkook wants these to go in the pot, and you refuse to be seen as incompetent in the kitchen, especially when Jungkook seems to be rather proficient when it comes to cooking despite the fact that a chef makes the majority of his meals for him. 

Old family recipes die hard, you suppose. 

Jungkook turns around to check on you and grab a small red container of what looks to be some sort of spicy pepper paste. When he sees you carefully slicing through each onion stalk, he laughs. 

“Hey, what are you laughing at?” You say, pouting. You don’t think you’re doing a terrible job, even if you are a bit slow. 

“You,” Jungkook says with a grin, not even bothering to think of something else to say instead. “Here, let me show you.”

He comes to stand behind you, his torso pressing against your back, as he reaches his arms around you, hands gently resting atop your own. There is something in the way his breath hits your skin, tickles the part right behind your ear that’s always been sensitive, how he leans down to look over your shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest against you. Something strange and foreign and calming, like when you tense up right before you fall asleep.

Frozen, you watch with nervous eyes as he holds your hand in his own, grasping onto the knife. He stacks a few onion stalks next to each other on top of the cutting board and slowly begins to cut—thin, quick slices until he develops a rhythm, an imaginary beat to the drumming of his heart, to the pounding of your own. 

The seconds seem to drag on for eternity, as if every cut through the vegetable is done in slow-motion, like time has slowed down just for the two of you. His breath tickles your skin, hot and tingly and filled with fire, lighting sparks everywhere it touches. You think that, if you concentrate hard enough, you can hear the way his heart thumps like a bass drum, ringing in your ears. Or maybe that’s just you. 

When four green onion stalks have been cut down to their very tips, suddenly the world speeds up, like the breaths that have slowly been leaving your lips come out all at once, like your heart picks up time to a universal metronome, desperate to realign itself once more. 

“There,” Jungkook murmurs from behind you. The words are soft and distant, almost like someone else had uttered them. “All done.”

You blame the tears welling in your eyes on the onions. 

Thirty minutes and an overwhelming amount of slicing different ingredients later, there is a boiling pot of kimchi stew on the stove, steaming up the inside of the glass lid that Jungkook has placed on top to keep it warm. He’s big on optimizing the time spent in the kitchen, cleaning up everything before you eat, stuffing all of the used plates and bowls and knives into the sink as they come, wrapping up the vegetables in the thin plastic bags that they came in and putting them back into the fridge. Jungkook says it’s because he doesn’t like having to clean the kitchen up after he’s eaten. You think it’s because he thinks you’ll run off and leave him to do all the work. 

You, admittedly, don’t make your own meals very often (or at all), but you can see the appeal. There’s something different about food that you make yourself, food that you turned from ingredients to a meal. Something rewarding. 

Or maybe it’s just because Jungkook did most of the cooking, and he’s got this inexplicable magic touch. 

“Good, right?” He asks when you’re finished, the both of you heading back to the kitchen to wash up the last of your dishes.

“It was okay,” you tease, even though your empty bowl says otherwise. There’s not a drop of soup, a scrap of food left inside of it, just an orange ring around the inside from the kimchi color. 

“Okay, Miss ‘Okay’,” Jungkook says, placing his bowl gently into the sink. “Hand me your thing, I’ll finish washing up.”

“You sure?” You ask. You feel like you’ve contributed absolutely nothing to the making of this dish. Not cooking it, not putting away the ingredients or washing the pot, nothing. The least you could do is clean up a couple of your bowls. Or put them in the dishwasher. 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says, hand already latching onto it. “Takes two minutes.”

“Okay,” you tell him, watching the bowls fill with soap as his big hands scrub away the remnants of a very delicious meal. 

You linger in the kitchen. Despite not really having anything else to do, you don’t want to go back to your room, or curl away in some corner of the apartment where Jungkook can’t find you. You’re finally spending time together. Isn’t that what you wanted?

“It was pretty good,” you add on belatedly, when Jungkook is just drying his hands on the dish towel. There’s a precarious stack of dishes, utensils, and pots on the drying rack, like adding one more chopstick will send the whole thing tumbling down, but Jungkook isn’t worried about it at all. Even though he likes cleaning stuff up, he doesn’t like putting it away. 

“Aha!” Jungkook shouts, pointing at you accusingly. “I knew you would like it.”

“You’re a good chef,” you tell him. Maybe kimchi jjigae is the only thing he’s good at making, but rather be a master of one than a jack of all trades but master of none. Though, you have to admit that Jungkook is a master of several trades, none of which you think you could ever do. “You should cook more.”

“I wish,” Jungkook says with a sigh. The two of you have retired to the leather couch, the conversation drifting away from the kitchen and towards the sofas. When he collapses on the cushions, he relaxes, like the feeling is sucking out all of the tension in his body. “Every time I get back from work, I’m so drained and exhausted. I just want to go to sleep.”

“You weren’t tired tonight,” you point out. 

“No,” Jungkook says. The words are distant and faintly register in his mind, almost like the realization has just dawned on him for the first time, “I wasn’t.”

“Is there something else you wanna do?” You ask, not feeling particularly lethargic either. Normally, you’d spend the rest of the night raiding the rest of Jungkook’s amenities, watching old shows on his television or taking a bath until your body looks like a raisin. Something you can do by yourself, something that you’d want to do by yourself to make up for the fact that Jungkook doesn’t ever want to do anything with you. Watching him at work is getting less boring, because you’re actually starting to interact, but at home, you go right back to square one. Or, you did. “Watch a movie, or anything?”

“Nah, I’m alright,” Jungkook shakes his head, scrunching up his nose. You watch him as he chews the inside of his cheek, finger tracing over the scar that’s been left from that night, the night you patched him up. You’re a healer, but some things are meant to leave marks. You almost think that Jungkook is going to up and leave, heave himself off of the floor and spend the rest of the night alone in his bedroom, but then, he turns to you and he asks, “How often do you heal people?”

“I haven’t in a while,” you admit. Not because the opportunity has never presented itself, but you never had anyone to heal. “I used to when I was a kid, a lot. You know, scraped knees and paper cuts.”

“What about you?” Jungkook asks. “Do you have to heal yourself as well?”

“No,” you explain, “healers’ bodies heal by themselves.” It’s why, whenever you get back to your shack after crashing into a tree on the sidewalk that you hadn’t spotted, or stubbed your toe on the leg of a table, or pulled a muscle from stretching too far, you let yourself rest, and your body does the work for you. “But healing isn’t… it isn’t something I do very often. I turn invisible much more.”

“I can tell,” Jungkook muses. “But you’ve been invisible around me so much that it feels like I can still see you.”

“That’s because I’m always in your office when I’m invisible,” you point out. Jungkook knows you’re there because you wouldn’t be anywhere else. Where would you even go, when the whole point is to watch him? “In a place like this, there is no way you would be able to find me.”

“You wanna bet?”

“You know what, yes, I do,” you say, because Jungkook can’t possibly think his human-snuffing skills are as good as yours. Especially when the only person he’s trying to find is invisible. “You think you’re such a hotshot, hmm? Try and find me, then.”

“First floor only,” Jungkook rules. “And, when I do, I get to turn something.”

“Fine,” you agree, only because you know that that’s not going to happen. “One thing. That’s strike two, though.”

“You won’t tell,” Jungkook chides, eyes narrowed. 

“Will I?”

“Twenty seconds!” Jungkook says, already beginning to count down. “Nineteen, eighteen—!”

You turn invisible at once, not wasting a second, scurrying off down one of the hallways. There are plenty of places to hide in Jungkook’s house, from the walk-in closets in every bedroom to the one-foot-tall gap underneath every bed. But you won’t go for one of those, because Jungkook expects you to. He’s going to hunt around his entire house, looking in all of the nooks and crannies, the armoires and cabinets and cubbyholes, because he thinks that that’s where you’ll be hiding. But the truth is that there is no way that Jungkook will be able to find you when he can’t see you, because he doesn’t know what he’ll be looking for. 

So, you pick the second-to-last bedroom down the hall, and you wait. You’d sit down on the mattress, but Jungkook easily be able to spot a dip in the comforter, so you stand, right next to the door, holding your breath. If Jungkook really does think he can sense your presence, or whatever psychic nonsense he’s on about, then he should have no problem finding you. 

You hear Jungkook’s voice echoing down the hallway, a sickly sweet singsong as he walks into every room. 

“Y/N…” He calls out, like a ghost in a horror movie. “Where are you?”

From your angle, you can peer down the corridor, watch as he trickles in and out of each room after five minutes, no doubt searching through every one with both of his arms out, desperate to crash into you. Good thing you’re standing, otherwise Jungkook might accidentally elbow you. Slowly, he makes his way out of the room right before yours, casually walking towards you. You suck in a quick breath, holding yourself perfectly still.

“Are you here?” Jungkook flips his head around the doorframe, a foot away from where you’re standing. He isn’t looking right at you, thank God, otherwise you think you might just burst into laughter. “Hmm, I think you are.”

He begins to walk around the room, one hand tracing over the quilted pattern on the comforter, the other reaching out, grabbing fistfuls of air. He looks like someone’s blocked his vision, wandering around aimlessly as he tries to find something to cling onto. You bite your lip, refusing to laugh and give yourself away as he makes his way into the bathroom, singing your name like a chant, a curse to be laid upon you. When he obviously has no luck, he returns to the bedroom, eyes narrowed, as if that will better help his vision. 

You don’t think you’ve ever held your breath for this long, lungs about to burst, but you can’t let Jungkook find you. There’s more than just your powers on the line, and his reward. There’s your pride, and his massive ego that you refuse to stroke. The fact that he looks absolutely ridiculous is also doing nothing to aid you, but giving yourself up would be a metaphorical death sentence. 

Jungkook has one foot out of the door, already heading towards the last bedroom in the hallway, when you crack. You sputter out a half-breath, this miniscule exhale, and he stops in his tracks, turning around. You freeze up, hoping that maybe Jungkook will just think it was a trick of his own ears. 

“Y/N?” He taunts. He looks around the room again, trying to see if the wind is blowing a different way, if there is something different. He almost doesn’t notice you. 

Almost. 

You turn in shock when Jungkook reaches a hand out, his fingers pinching at your lower torso, shrieking as you practically topple over, Jungkook’s arms the only things that prevent you from diving head first onto the floor. He encases you in his hold as you sink to the floor in defeat, laughing as he follows you, one arm holding your waist as the other wraps around your back. He chuckles to himself while you curl up in shame, desperate not to meet your eyes. Your skin sizzles where his fingers had touched it, like oil in a pan after it’s been taken off of the stove, like the remnants of a flame, embers left to burn into ashes. It feels like your body is on fire. 

“Found you,” Jungkook teases, but it’s soft and sweet and fond. “I told you, I just know.”

“You just heard me breathe,” you defend yourself, because the former is impossible to accept. 

“Whatever you want to say to make yourself feel better.” He grins, cheeky and prideful, making you shove his head away with the palm of your hand. 

“Fine, whatever,” you say, resigning yourself to the fact that you lost this round. “What do you want to turn? The bed frame? The door knob? That really ugly pot in the living room?”

“Hey, that pot isn’t ugly,” Jungkook exclaims. You frown at him. “Okay, it’s only a little bit ugly.”

“For someone with so much money, you sure don’t have the best taste,” you tell him, even though everything else in his house reads expensive like nothing else. That pot is just weirdly out-of-place. “Maybe the gold will make it look better.”

“What’s this?” Jungkook asks, reaching a hand out from behind you to toy at the bracelet on your wrist, this silver chain with a couple of charms dangling from it. It’s rusted beyond belief, from rain, from humidity, from wear, but you refuse to take it off, even when it loses what’s left of its shimmer, even when the silver fades to a scratchy red iron. 

“An old bracelet,” you say, fingers instinctively making to play with it, rubbing away at the metal. “From my mom.”

“You wear it every day,” Jungkook notices. 

“I never take it off,” you say. 

“It’s pretty,” Jungkook tells you, and you know that he isn’t just saying that. That he means it, despite its abysmal condition. The years have not been kind to it, but then again, they haven’t been very kind to you either. “It must be really special.”

“It is.” You shuffle the bracelet around so that all five of the charms are in view. “She would buy a new charm every year for my birthday.”

“I like this one,” Jungkook says, pointing to the milk carton charm. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah…” you trail off. The bracelet isn’t much, but it’s all you have left of a childhood that you had been robbed of. You had to grow up too fast, that you know, but at least this bracelet reminds you that you are never too old for your memories. 

“Can I turn it?” Jungkook asks. It’s as if you can see the words leave his lips, resting in front of you, waiting for your response. 

You turn around to face him, eyes wide. Your hand goes to rest atop the bracelet protectively, the idea of letting someone else touch it almost unfathomable. 

“You can say no,” Jungkook quickly stammers out, face beet red. “It was just—you wear it so much, and it looks like the silver is fading, so I was thinking maybe the gold would… fix it up a bit, or something. Make it look new again. Ignore me, you don’t have to say yes, it was just a suggestion.”

Your fingers drop into your lap as you look at him, expression softening. Here, in this unused guest bedroom, Jungkook looks nervous, lost, stumbling over his own words like he isn’t sure of himself anymore. He looks away from you, eyes already beginning to scan the room for something else to turn instead, doubtful you would even agree to such a wild request. It is your bracelet, after all. Why would he do something like that for you?

“You want to?” You ask him, hopeful and wishing. 

Jungkook nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “I do.”

“Then you can,” you say, holding out your wrist to him, the charms dangling over your laps. “Please.”

Jungkook’s shocked that you even said yes, but he scrambles to twist you around, moving your bodies so you aren’t pressed against each other like two peas squished inside of a pod. In this new position, you’re facing each other, staring right at each other as Jungkook reaches out a tentative hand, delicate fingers padding against your wrist. He breathes, and so do you, because you’ve gotten so used to the way this bracelet has looked, so familiar with every rust and crack and dent, knowing that it has remained unchanged for years. 

But this isn’t a change. It’s a rebirth. It’s something different, something fresh, something to remind you that not all is lost. That old memories can become new once more. 

Slowly, as Jungkook presses soft fingertips against the metal, sparks fly. A golden sheen wraps around the bracelet, inch by inch, leaving behind this unmistakeable shimmer, glinting in the sunlight. You can’t tear your eyes away, watching the magic unfold in real time, the silver vanishing before you. The gold consumes it, erasing all of the rust, the wear and tear, until it looks brand new.

Your mother would have loved it. 

“Is that strike two?” Jungkook asks, a cherry red blush decorating his cheeks. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out, not caring if it’s strike two or strike two hundred. Your fingers press against the metal, smooth and shiny, the bumpy texture gone. It must be worth thousands, now. But to you, it is priceless. “It’s beautiful.”

Jungkook nods, and you can distantly feel the weight of his gaze on you. 

“I know,” he says. 

You can’t sleep. 

You’ve slept better here than you have for the past three years of your life. At this point, sleeping on cement would be more comfortable than your bed back at your own house, but here, the soft, plush mattress takes away all of the exhaustion that manifests itself in you throughout the day. Not to mention the fact that for the first time in over a decade, you finally have a normal routine, an internal clock to direct your body, rather than the other way around. There is something soothing in knowing exactly what the next day will bring. Something that doesn’t keep you up with worry.

But tonight, you are wide awake. 

The golden bracelet on your wrist clinks against itself as you sit up, rubbing at the gunk that’s collected in your eyes. You’ve been keenly aware of its existence on your wrist much more in the past several days, ever since Jungkook turned it from its previous faded silver, fingers instinctively toying with it whenever there’s nothing on your mind—and even when there is. 

What you fear most is the fact that you feel as though you are relying on Jungkook to be there more and more, counting on the fact that you know he will be by your side no matter where you are, no matter what you do. You are relying on him to be there, on his house to be there, shaping the way that you run your life based on the belief that at the end of the day, he will be asleep under the same roof as you. 

You pull yourself out of bed. Maybe a night spent alone will remind you of the days where you would watch the moon move across the sky, sitting underneath trees and counting the stars that you can see. Remind you that no matter what, the moon will always be there for you, too. Remind you that this, all of it, is temporary. 

You know that you aren’t allowed to go up to the second floor of Jungkook’s apartment, and that you’ve never been solely because Jungkook requested that you stay downstairs, a promise you have kept throughout the weeks. But there must be some appeal to the rooftop, you think, because Jungkook never comes downstairs whenever he’s having a restless night. Besides, it’s not as if you have any plans to go into his bedroom. 

Softly, you creep upstairs, hand dragging along the golden rail, feet leaving creases in the carpet. The top of the stairs opens up into a general hallway, a dark wooden door undoubtedly leading towards his bedroom, while the walls on the other side turn to glass, leading towards the pool. You tiptoe down the hallway, making sure to avoid making too much noise by Jungkook’s bedroom door, passing by the gym that Jungkook must use all of the time, whenever he’s not around to bother you. The glass door at the end of the hallway must exit out to the pool, so you twist the doorknob and push it open, the cool summer atmosphere hitting you like a breath of fresh air. 

All of the lights are on outside, this soft white that reflects off of the metal railing and the pool water, crashing in waves against the tiled edges. You think it’s just for show, like how people leave their Christmas lights on twenty-four hours a day, visible through their windows, but then you round the corner and see him.

Jungkook sits along the edge of the water, legs swishing around in the pool, as he looks up at the sky. The summer breeze blows through his hair, messy and loose, the way it looks right when he gets out of the shower, before he puts any product into it. Whatever he’s playing with in his hand glints in the lights, that distinctive yellow glow. It must be a coin or something, something small, something to keep his fingers occupied. 

“Are we considering that strike three?”

He whips around when he hears your voice, hears the way the pool water carries it across to him. 

“I thought you promised never to come up here,” he muses back. 

“Then I guess maybe both of us can be forgiven,” you suggest.

You amble over to him, crouching down to dip your feet in as well. You seat yourself along the edge of the pool beside him as the water sloshes around, the sensation sending shivers down your spine despite the humidity in the air. 

“Can’t sleep?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “My body’s tired but my mind isn’t.”

“What’s that?” You ask, pointing at the coin in his hand. It isn’t a form of currency that you recognize, certainly nothing used here. 

“A family heirloom,” Jungkook tells you, holding it out for you to see. It’s covered in a thin layer of cold but you think that you can make out some sort of crest, an emblem or insignia above the coat of arms. “Apparently it had been stolen from someone of royalty or high status back in the day. My family turned it into gold and made it ten times more valuable.”

“Oh, but I pickpocket a few people and suddenly I get sentenced by the Realm to be a minder, I see how it is,” you joke, rolling your eyes. Your eyes glaze over the crest, tracing the lines of a lion, a spear, a shield. It must mean something to someone, but to you and Jungkook, it could be anything. 

“Hey, but being my minder hasn’t been terrible, has it?” Jungkook asks, mockingly offended. His lips curl down into a pout as he looks at you, a hand on his heart like it’s been punctured by your words.

“It’s…” You begin. You suppose that it hasn’t been terrible. In the beginning, it was positively nightmarish, left you feeling like there was no way you would ever complete your sentence. Now, there’s this weird, hidden part of you that doesn’t want to leave. The part of you that has become attached to this world, this lifestyle. The part of you that relies on there being another person in your life to be with. “It’s not that bad.”

“You know what, I’ll take it.” Jungkook grins. “Even though I know you secretly love me.”

You give Jungkook a shove, pushing him on his side. “You wish.”

He laughs, pulling himself back up off of the cement, knocking his shoulder into yours. “I know that we both kind of didn’t have a choice in any of this,” he tells you, looking up at the stars, watching their faint light, twinkling from millions of light years away. “But I think I really needed you here.”

“Oh, now he admits he needs a minder,” you say sarcastically, flinging your arms out in front of you. 

Jungkook chuckles. “I didn’t realize I turned so much until you forced me to stop cold turkey.”

You nod. The truth is, you can’t blame Jungkook for his turning habits. You can’t blame him for living the way that he lives, when it’s the only thing he’s ever known. When the two most important adults in his life turn like wildfire, when they taught him everything he knows. But Jungkook is his own person, now, not a product of his parents, anymore. He has his own choices to make. He can become whoever he wants to be. 

He has become someone he wants to be. 

Jungkook’s magic habits aren’t any fault of his own as much as yours aren’t, either. They were born out of ignorance, out of necessity. Out of the fact that neither of you have ever known a world where you didn’t have powers, where you didn’t feel as though you needed to use them. You couldn’t imagine not having your magic. You know that Jungkook feels the same. 

“Why did you?” It’s as if the words don’t even belong to you. Like someone else has spoken them—the moon, the sky, the stars. 

Jungkook purses his lips, and sighs. “It was all I had ever known.”

Jungkook grew up drunk on his powers. You wonder if he’s sobered up now. 

(You wonder if you had anything to do with it.)

“When I was little, my parents gave me that whole ‘you’re different, and that makes you special’ talk. They told me that my powers were valuable. A gift. And that people with gifts like mine must never waste them. That if we had been given this magic, we ought to use it, right? So that’s what I did. God, every day I would turn a new toy gold, and then I would get another one to replace it, and I would turn that one gold, too. My parents probably sold that to our banks, another hundred thousand dollars into their pockets,” Jungkook says, forcing out a laugh at the memory. The thought is rather endearing, when you think about it. Little Jungkook turning a stuffed bear gold, crying when it isn’t soft and fuzzy anymore. 

“And my parents encouraged me. They told me that I was doing the right thing, that I wasn’t letting my gift go to waste. You saw them that evening that they came over. They were turning things gold left and right. Things that I had wanted to stay their natural material. Like that bowl for my keys. Do you know how easily gold is scratched?” He exclaims, gesturing frantically in front of him. “I purposefully kept that as the clay it was made out of. And now it’s gold.”

“A modern day crisis,” you joke. 

“I guess…” Jungkook begins, but the words trail off and he pauses, almost like nothing he says will be correct. “I guess I just never knew the difference between not wanting my magic to be in vain, and not wanting to ever stop using it. Like you. You only heal when you need to. And even then, you don’t treat it like this precious gift. You treat it like something you owe to others.”

“That’s because without other people to heal, my power is useless,” you explain. Being able to heal others has no direct benefit for you. It doesn’t make you stronger, or faster, or better. It is a gift that is meant to be shared. “It’s different.”

“Every time I turn something, I feel like shit afterwards,” Jungkook admits to you. “Like I’ve turned so many things, that I don’t have the right to do it anymore. Like I’ve exhausted my magic.”

“You feel guilty,” you explain to him, resting a hand on top of his own, his fingers losing their grip on the coin he’s been tossing between them. “And that’s okay,” you tell him, meeting his eyes with your own. “Your parents are right—what you have, this power that you possess, it is a gift. It has made your life better in a way that nothing else could. But your fear of letting it go to waste, of not truly appreciating it for what it is, is a two-way street.”

Jungkook blinks at you, petal pink lips parted ever so slightly. 

“Wasting a gift by never using it is the same as wasting it by overusing it, because it loses its specialness. When you turn things now, it doesn’t feel amazing or blessed or exciting, because it’s lost the ability to feel like that for you. It’s almost second-nature, at this point,” you say.

“Then what do I do?” He asks, feeling helpless. “How do I make it feel special again?”

You squeeze his hand in your own, making him look up at you, the pool water reflected in his big brown eyes, like a warm chocolate ocean. “You only use it on things that make you feel like a better person.” Things that make Jungkook feel special, as opposed to things that make his magic feel special. “Not just things that will put more money in your bank account, or things that will make your house decor nicer. Things that you really, truly care about.”

Jungkook’s eyes glance downward at something, but he nods. He breathes out this exhale, this heavy sort of breath, like he’s trying to reteach himself the things that make him tick. Things like alphabetized books, and homemade kimchi stew. 

“Gifts like that only come once in a lifetime,” you say. “Remarkable things don’t happen to us all the time.” You know this, because it’s true. Because you’ve lived it.

Because in another life, in another universe, there is a you who can’t turn invisible, can’t heal people, and there is a Jungkook, too, one who can’t turn whatever he pleases into gold. And they would live their whole lives not knowing what it would be like to have these powers, to ease their way of life. And they would never meet each other, either. Too busy trapped on opposite sides of the world, too busy to worry about anybody but themselves. 

“So we have to learn to treasure them.” It feels as though you’re drowning in him. Like you’re floundering, barely staying afloat. “We have to make sure that they always feel special to us.”

You curl your hand around his own, lacing your fingers together as your palms rest against each other’s. You watch as his gaze drifts down to where your hands are interlocked, a bridge between the two of you, a lifeline that connects the two lives you had lived without each other in them. 

“Do you understand?” You ask. You can see the words as they appear, watch as they linger in between the two of you, hot summer breaths on a cool summer night. 

He squeezes your hands together, and he smiles, warm and round and real. He looks at you, and he is there, he is sitting by your side. And he is beautiful and extraordinary and remarkable. And he says, “I’m starting to.”

You wake up the next morning to find a shimmering piece of parchment sitting on the dresser in your bedroom. 

As declared by the Realm, its leaders, and its government, it reads, 

The recipient, Y/N, has successfully completed her sentence of community service as mandated by the courts. She no longer needs to serve as the minder to Jeon Jungkook, and may return to her former residence. 

Though the sentence has been carried out, The Realm, its leaders, and its government, reserves the right to re-charge the recipient for the crimes for which she had been originally tried should she commit them again. Should this instance occur, the option for community service will not be available. 

We thank you for your service.

Oh. 

Already? 

It feels like you just started. Like it was only yesterday that you stormed up to the front door of Jungkook’s penthouse, watched as he crumpled up the parchment and tossed it into the bin. Like it was only yesterday you reappeared at his office, this time with a declaration that won’t be so easily destroyed. 

You wonder why this one is all sparkly as well. 

You don’t know exactly what prompted the end of your sentence, what duties you had somehow fulfilled to earn you your freedom. What is the Realm searching for? What data are they using to determine whether or not you have met your goal? It certainly couldn’t have just been the fact that Jungkook hasn’t turned in a while. Not turning is not the same as not wanting to turn. 

So what changed?

You stare down at the parchment, each word leaving you more confused than the word before it. 

It isn’t over already, is it?

Knowing that you are now free to return back to your own house means that your worst fear has been realized. You don’t want to. 

You want to stay here, in Jungkook’s massive penthouse, relishing in the glory and wealth that comes alongside it. You want his chef to make pre-made meals for you and the extra kimchi stew he keeps in the fridge. You want Jungkook’s five thousand different streaming services and enough books to last you several lifetimes. You want the sense of normalcy that staying here has given you, the regular routine that you have so effortlessly fallen into. You want the late-night pool chats and rounds of hide-and-seek. 

Why would you want to give up all that you have?

“You want fried or poached eggs?” Jungkook knocks on your closed bedroom door, tapping softly with his knuckles, already awake and ready to make breakfast. 

“Either,” you tell him, glaring down at the parchment with furrowed brows. You’re too afraid to touch it, too afraid to even look at it any closer. Because that will make it real. 

“Alright,” Jungkook calls. “It’ll be ready in ten! Got freshly-squeezed orange juice too!” You can hear his footsteps as he heads back down the corridor, the thump, thump, thump of his fuzzy slippers against the hardwood floor. 

“Coming,” you say weakly, too focused on the glowing paper on the dresser. 

 Just because you can go back to your house doesn’t mean you have to. Just because you can go back to your old life, doesn’t mean you have to. 

You grab the paper and stuff it in an old tote bag, covering it with old clothes, memories of the former world you lived in. Not anymore. 

After all, isn’t this the life you’ve always dreamed of?

Kimchi stew is, as it stands, delicious, but it can’t be the only thing that the two of you ever cook together. 

Jungkook does all of the grocery shopping, mostly because the both of you know that if you went out to the store with a list of ingredients, you would be lost for days searching for them. So when he returns home with three tote bags filled with ingredients, your mouth already starts to water. 

“What are we making today, chef?” You ask, bounding into the kitchen as Jungkook begins to unpack. 

“Another Korean recipe,” Jungkook says happily, pulling out a bright yellow pack of thin grey noodles. “Japchae!”

“Sounds delicious,” you say, though at this point he could make you microwave mac-and-cheese and you’d snarf it down like nothing else.

“You bet it is.” Jungkook grins, slowly dumping out the rest of the contents of the bags. They are filled to the brim with vegetables and seasonings, peppers and zucchini and everything in between, the makings of a colorful little homemade dish. 

Jungkook seems to be making more time to actually cook things these days, fishing through the cabinets regularly to see what meals he can make with all of the ingredients in his kitchen. The chef only comes once every two weeks now, and usually brings with him any groceries that Jungkook has personally requested. He’ll ask you what you think of a new recipe that he wants to try, showing you the guide on his laptop screen, writing down whatever he needs to buy from the store. 

And you thought that the chef’s meals were appetizing. 

“Have you ever thought of meal-prepping?” You ask as Jungkook sets the noodles in a pot of boiling water, turning the heat on high. 

“Why?” Jungkook says. 

“I don’t know,” you tell him, washing the red pepper underneath the faucet, cutting board and knife ready and waiting on the counter. “So you don’t have to go through the process of cutting everything up and sauteing it, or whatever.”

Jungkook turns around, shakes his head. “No. Half the fun of cooking is making it.”

“But you could save yourself a lot of time when you come back from work,” you point out. Jungkook’s always so exhausted by the time he walks through the front door, keys scratching the golden bowl on the table on the way in. 

“But then we wouldn’t get to cook together,” he says like it’s obvious, like it’s the thing that he thinks about the most when he comes back home. The two of you, filling up his kitchen, leaving oil stains on the countertops and burnt vegetables at the bottom of the pans. The scent of spices, of onions, of sizzling vegetables wafting through the air. 

Another person to fill up this barren house. 

You never eat in the dining room, because two people still isn’t enough to make that room feel like it’s full, like there are people that regularly use it. But now, there are grease stains on the leather of Jungkook’s couch, and a little bit of ketchup on the rug that he doesn’t know about, reminders that just because Jungkook’s house is big doesn’t mean it has to be empty as well. 

“I’m a horrible chef,” you say, because you’re not quite sure what else to tell him. Up until a few weeks ago, you had never cut up an onion in your life. Things in the kitchen that take Jungkook five minutes to do take you twenty. You certainly aren’t any help, not when Jungkook has to pause whatever he’s doing to teach you something that you should already know. So what’s the appeal?

“You’re not that bad,” Jungkook assures you gently. “You just need to do it more.”

“Oh, so is that your mission? You don’t meal-prep because you want me to learn how to make my own food?” You ask, rounding on him. 

“You got me.” He grins guiltily, pinching the part of your waist where he knows you’re the most ticklish, making you laugh as you turn invisible for a moment, a sort of gut reaction whenever you’re sensitive. “And because I like cooking with you.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “It must be my infectious personality, right?”

“That, and teaching you how to cook stuff is fun.” Jungkook smiles, reaching out as he begins to chop vegetables beside you. Standing here, in the middle of his kitchen, you wonder if this is how life is supposed to be. Someone you can cook with, someone you can eat with. Someone who will teach you the things that you don’t know, who will help you master the things that you do. Someone who doesn’t care where you came from, only that you’re here now, that you are right beside him. 

Homemade meals make your insides warm and fuzzy, but having someone to spend the night with makes your heart feel comforted. Makes it feel like it’s been wrapped in a blanket, cradled in someone’s hands. 

“What happens when I learn everything?” You ask. “What will you do then?”

Eventually, this routine must come to an end. Eventually, there will be nothing left for him to teach you, nothing left for you to learn. You know that your days are numbered, that there is only so much time that the two of you can spend together. What will happen when you reach the last day? When there will be no tomorrow for you to rely on?

Jungkook must know that you can’t stay here forever, even if the two of you try to keep it that way. But he doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “Then, I’ll find something new to teach you.”

This arrangement has always been temporary. 

But for a moment, just a moment, an echo in time, he makes you believe otherwise. 

There’s a golden glint on your chest of drawers when you walk into the room, the glare flashing in your eyes as the sun hits it. 

You, admittedly, don’t go into your room very often, usually only to do the thing that bedrooms, at their most basic level, were meant to do: sleep. But Jungkook retired early to his room tonight, citing some ridiculous reason like he hadn’t worked out enough this week, and everything in the house suddenly becomes less inviting whenever he’s not around. 

When you step closer, you can see it. See the thin chain that rests on the dresser, the key that hangs from it, a similar size to the charms on your bracelet. The gold is faded, shine erased, leaving behind this gentle matte texture, smooth but worn. It’s much more vintage than the sorts of things you would find in jewelry stores today—bright, sparkly necklaces and shiny, lustrous rings. It was made to look old, to look worn. It probably is.  

There’s a little note next to the necklace, a torn piece of paper from a notepad, the edges rough and uneven. 

To Y/N,

Found this in my mother’s old jewelry that she always leaves here when she decides it’s not her style anymore. Didn’t really think of anybody else that would make good use of it like you. I think it’ll match your bracelet well! I hope you like it.

Jungkook

You smile as you read the words, take in this meaningful little gesture that Jungkook has done for you. The bracelet from your mother has always been your most prized possession, but with its new golden makeover, it reminds you that you don’t always have to look to your past to be happy. That what you have, right here, right now, is enough. Now, your mother’s charm bracelet has a matching partner. 

Standing in front of the mirror, you put the necklace on, fingers craning to attach the clasp to the chain, metal slipping from your grip. After a bit of a battle, you finally manage to connect the two ends, letting the key hang low past your collarbones, the gold resting gently against your skin. It doesn’t match your bracelet perfectly, but the two aren’t so much a matching set as they are a pair, two pieces that are meant to complement each other rather than complete. 

You seriously doubt that Jungkook’s already asleep. 

Sneaking up the stairs to the second story, you see that the door to Jungkook’s bedroom is wide open, revealing a little glimpse into the room he spends so much time in. It’s dark, empty, a signal that Jungkook is elsewhere on this floor. You don’t spend too much effort peering into Jungkook’s bedroom, not when it feels like you’re invading his space, his privacy. He’s already given up so much of his home for you. He deserves to keep his bedroom his own.

He’s not in the gym, you determine as you pass by, which means that there really is only one other place he could be found. 

You push open the door to the rooftop, rounding the corner to the deck to find Jungkook doing laps in the pool, wearing nothing but his swimming trunks. The water sloshes around his body as he swims back and forth, kicking up splashes as he goes. You watch for a few moments as he works out, not wanting to interrupt him he burns away the calories in his body. This is the closest you’ve ever come to seeing Jungkook undressed, but you don’t really mind. At least he’s got shorts on. 

When he stops, he stands up in the pool, sopping wet hands running through sopping wet hair, strands that frame the sides of his face, make his hair look longer than it actually is. He wipes away the water on his face, blinking the chlorine from his eyes, when he spots you. 

“What are you doing up here?” He asks, not even caring to fight away the grin that has laced itself on his features. 

“Came to say thank you,” you tell him, fingers toying with the key around your neck. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to,” Jungkook says honestly. “Besides, my mother was never going to come back to get it, so I figured that it should go to someone who will actually wear it.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, slowly sitting down along the edge of the pool, letting your legs dip into the water. Jungkook makes his way over to you, water splashing at his torso as he walks through the pool to stand before you. “Was it always gold?”

“It was, yes,” Jungkook says with a nod. “My mom liked to turn a lot of things, but she preferred her jewelry to be naturally gold. That’s why it’s pretty faded.”

“It looks nicer this way,” you say. “Shiny gold looks cheap.”

“Spend a couple of months in a mansion and suddenly you think gold looks cheap?” Jungkook jokes. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Can’t help that I’ve got an eye for nice things,” you tease, looking Jungkook up and down just to be dramatic. You have to admit that he’s got a rather attractive figure, fit, built, toned. You would be lying to yourself if you said that you weren’t eyeing him at least a little bit. 

Jungkook pretends that he isn’t paying attention to the fact that you are blatantly ogling his body and laughs. “You swim?”

“I learned when I was little,” you tell him. “But I haven’t done it in a long time.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Jungkook says with a disapproving shake of his head. 

“What? I like being dry,” you say, hands on your hips as you defend yourself. Besides, when you were little, swimming always meant showering afterwards, which sucked because then you had to waste water just to clean yourself of other water. Your mother always said that being able to swim would carry you far in life, would be an invaluable skill. You haven’t swum since she died. 

“But, you wouldn’t mind if I… oh, never mind,” Jungkook dismisses, being purposefully vague just to capture your attention. 

“What?” You demand. 

“If I…” Jungkook begins, leaning back down in the pool until all but his head is submerged. He floats towards you, paddling until he’s right beneath your feet. “Did this—?”

Without a second of warning, Jungkook’s wet hands are grabbing onto your ankle, pulling you and your fully-clothed-self into the water with a splash, making you shriek as you feel your skin freeze up at the cold temperature. Luckily, it’s shallow enough here that you can stand rather easily, but now you’re soaked from head to toe, sopping fabric sticking to your figure.

You come up from beneath the water, positively accosted, hands wiping across your face as you clear your eyes so that they can narrow in on your target. “Okay, that was uncalled for,” you say, splashing Jungkook furiously, even as the two of you fight off the laughter that is bubbling up from your throats. 

“Oh, but it’s such a nice night for swimming,” Jungkook grins devilishly, that cheeky sort of look reserved for when he knows he’s being a nuisance. 

“Maybe for you!” You say, punctuating every word with a splash. Jungkook takes them all in good fun, accepting his punishment for pulling you into the pool. “I’ve been betrayed.”

“Admit it,” Jungkook coaxes, “you love me.”

You refuse.

When the rage has died down and the water begins to feel less like an icy death trap and more like a pleasant dip, you and Jungkook paddle around each other, swimming in circles like two fish in a school. Looking up, it is a nice night, clear skies as a crescent moon hangs above your heads. There are seldom any stars in the middle of the city, but the especially bright ones still shine, flickers of white in an otherwise deep blue ocean. You wonder how many times Jungkook has come out here, spent the night underneath the sky when he cannot sleep away the hours in bed. 

You wonder how many times you missed the opportunity to spend the night with him. 

“I sort of wish that we could stay like this forever, don’t you?” Jungkook asks, the two of you floating on top of the water like light against the sea. 

There’s a lot of things in your life that you wish would never change. This is just another bullet point added to the list. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, because out there somewhere is a timer, counting down the moments until you have to say goodbye. “I do.”

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” you say, looking at Jungkook. 

He sits across from you in the booth, face lit up in a warm yellow from the rustic exposed light bulb above your heads, this soft, homey glow to his features, sharp jawline but rounded cheeks. He’s cleaned up well, in a different way than how he gets ready for work, when he has to make sure his collars are crisp and his hair is sleek and straight. Here, his dark brown hair is bouncy, loose, like he had blown it out after jumping out of the shower and then immediately ran his hand through it a couple of times to mess it up. He wears a plain button down, nothing fancy or chic, no tie, no suit jacket. The beauty of how he looks is that it’s so simple, so timeless, like he doesn’t need to put any effort into how he looks because he is just naturally perfect. Like the cover of a magazine. Like a sculpture come to life. 

“I wanted to,” Jungkook says happily, fork twirling around the pasta in the dish in front of him. “We can’t just eat premade meals and leftover Korean food forever.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t complain if we did…” You reason, because you’ve been better fed in the few months you’ve lived with Jungkook than in the years you have spent on your own. Not to mention the fact that everything Jungkook makes tastes eons better than the meals the professional chef whips up, for some odd reason. “But you’re right, a night out is fun.”

“Sometimes food tastes better when you don’t make it yourself,” Jungkook points out, motioning to the dishes before you, these high-class servings of fish and pasta and vegetables that look like they belong on a cooking show rather than on the table in front of you. You and Jungkook may have mastered (or at least… gotten better at) cooking, but presentation is a whole other battlefield. Besides, it’s all going to the same place, so why bother?

“Mmm,” you murmur in agreement, savoring the flavor of the meal in front of you. A year ago you wouldn’t have dared step foot in a restaurant like this one, would have probably gotten kicked out after you walked through the door, so being here feels like a real treat. One that you think you could definitely get used to. 

“Thanks, by the way,” Jungkook pipes up, as if suddenly remembering something. 

“For what?”

“For your idea about the investment management,” Jungkook says, sending the both of you back to that day in his office, where Jungkook was on the verge of flipping his desk over because he couldn’t figure out a solution. 

“Oh, is it working out?” You ask, curious to know if your suggestion is truly paying off or if you just had too much faith in the goodness of humanity. 

“It is.” Jungkook nods happily. He seems very proud of himself. “It was slow going at first, because a lot of clients were starting to wonder why we weren’t investing in other stocks that would guarantee us a higher payout, but then they saw where the money was going. We aren’t bigger than our rival companies, but this levelled the playing field.”

“I’m glad,” you say, because it’s one thing for Jungkook to tell you you had a good idea, and it’s another for him to actually implement it. “That makes me happy to hear.”

“You’re not as bad at business or economics as you think you are, Y/N,” Jungkook informs you, waving around a nonchalant hand. “All they are is an in-depth study of human nature. Some economists assume that everyone in the world is selfish and cares only about themselves, but you’re different. You see the good in everyone, you believe that people can be honest, and selfless, and giving.”

Like Jungkook. 

Like Jungkook, who has given up his home, his work, his life just to deal with another person hovering around him. Who gifts you gorgeous pieces of jewelry and takes you out to fancy meals, who lets you screw up a recipe in the kitchen and obligingly eats peppers that have been charred beyond recognition. Who is so much more honest, so much more selfless, so much more giving, than you could ever be, sticking around because to not do so would cost you your freedom, because you would rather stay here than be anywhere else. 

“I don’t know what I’ll do when you’re gone,” Jungkook says, cracking this weak, terrible smile. He shakes his head as if to banish the thought from his mind, to exist only in this very moment, choosing to ignore both the past and the future. “I think I’m starting to rely on you being there.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, distantly. Something weighs heavy on your chest, pressing your heart down, slowing its temperate rhythm. The truth is that your heart stopped a long time ago, it stopped when you realized that there’s more to Jungkook that you want to know, when you realized that you can’t bear to imagine a life different than the one that the two of you share, no matter how temporary it is. But this weight, this burden on you, it serves as nothing but a reminder that without Jungkook, your heart cannot count in time. “Me too.”

You return home with plastic tupperwares in your hands, leftovers from the enormous meal that the two of you couldn’t have finished even if you tried. Jungkook takes the container from your hands as you excuse yourself to the bathroom, desperate to wash away the thoughts that rest heavy in your heart, cleanse yourself of the lies you can’t seem to stop telling. There’s this naive part of you that thinks, when you wash off the makeup, change back into your raggedy old clothes, all of the secrets you carry with you will vanish as well. 

You know you’ll have to come clean eventually. Eventually, Jungkook will get suspicious as to why you’ve hung around so long even though he is no longer turning. He’ll begin to wonder why you haven’t dashed out of the penthouse you once used to disparage, desperate to return to your old life, where you didn’t have to know him the way that you do now. When you didn’t feel like there was something else trapping you here. 

When all is said and done, though, it feels like here is where you were always meant to end up. 

You head back out into the living room, ready to settle down and wrap up the night by watching a movie or something, when you see Jungkook standing by the couch, your old tote bag sitting on the cushions from a laundry trip earlier today, a shimmering piece of parchment in his hands. 

“Jungkook—”

“How long?” He asks, voice cracking. He’s clenching the paper so hard that his knuckles are turning white, like he can’t believe the words that he’s reading. “How long have you been free to go?”

“Listen, I can explain—”

“A week? A month? When were you going to tell me?” He pleads. When you can’t even muster up the dignity to look at him, he shouts. “When?”

“A month,” you tell him weakly, desperately. 

“A month? You’ve been staying here for a month when you didn’t even need to?” He asks, and he isn’t angry, or furious, or full of rage. He looks helpless, like there is no longer light behind his eyes, twinkles in his irises. Like he’s in pain, like he’s hurt. Exposed, his walls broken down and nothing left to repair them. “When were you going to tell me? Were you ever going to say anything?”

“Yes, Jungkook, but I—”

“All this time,” he says, more to himself than to you, like he can’t believe how foolish he’s been. “All this time you’ve been using me? Using my money?”

“No, Jungkook, it’s not like that.” You are desperate, desperate to salvage what you can from this broken arrangement, desperate to start anew. 

“Then what is it like?” He demands. “If you weren’t using me for my house, or my money, or my personal chef, then what is it? What did you want from me that you couldn’t get on your own?”

You stop. Why did you stay? Normalcy? Opportunity? Company? All things that you never dreamed of having in a million years. And while being with Jungkook did provide you with all three, none of them feel quite right.

“I don’t know, I just—” You begin, scrambling for the right words and feeling like nothing you say will be correct. “I didn’t want to go back just yet.” It’s a pitiful excuse. 

“So you just decided to stay? To play along with me, with all of the things that I was doing with you, for you?” Jungkook shakes where he stands in front of you, blindsided. “Let me teach you how to cook and give you expensive jewelry and take you out to fancy dinners? Just for fun?”

“I never asked for you to do those things for me,” you remind him firmly. It’s not like you were scrounging for money from his pockets, selling insignificant gold sculptures on the black market to buff up your empty bank account. “You wanted to.”

“Because I thought we had something special, Y/N,” Jungkook admits helplessly, collapsing back on the couch. “I did those things because I felt it, Y/N. What you were talking about, that night at the pool, where you saw me sitting at the edge of the water. I felt it. With you,” he begs, hopeless and anguished. “I didn’t understand what it meant to make the magic feel special again until I did it for you. I turned your bracelet and it made me feel like I had something to give to others.”

“You know that that’s not what I meant,” you say, shaking your head. “I was talking about your gift, not us.”

“Aren’t they all the same, though? Magic? Powers? Love? Don’t they all make us feel like we have something special beneath our fingertips?” He asks, to you, to himself, to the moon and the stars, searching for an answer that none of you can give him. 

“Love? You don’t mean that,” you say, refusing to admit it. You have no explanation as to why Jungkook did the things he did, just as much as you don’t have an explanation as to why you did the things you did. They just happened. 

“I thought we had something,” Jungkook admits sadly, unable to even bring his head up to look at you, at the tears that are welling in your eyes, the ones you refuse to let fall. “And I thought the reason that you wanted to do all of those things with me was because you felt it, too.”

“Jungkook, you know that—”

“What?” He erupts. “What do I know? I know that you’ve been using me all of this time, that you did those things with me because you were getting freebies out of it. I know that I was foolish and—and stupid to think that maybe it was because you were falling in love with me just like I was falling in love with you.”

“Jungkook…” You reach out a trembling hand, wanting to feel the warmth of his body once more, the weight of his head in your palm. 

“Don’t,” he says, swatting it away and standing up. “I get it, Y/N. I was stupid and I thought that we had something, when we don’t.” He turns back to look at you, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to get the image out of your head, the sight of him, broken and beaten and empty, a shell of the beautiful, vibrant man you had become so attached to. “There’s nothing left for you here. Your services are no longer required.”

He disappears down the hallway, leaving you with nothing but a tote bag, a necklace, and a bracelet left for you to remember him. 

When you step into your house for the first time in months, it feels even less inviting than it normally does. Which is, as far as you’re concerned, rather impressive, considering you’ve always dreaded coming back regardless of what happened throughout the day. 

But now, you can name no place you would rather not be than in this graffiti-laden house, a dangling light bulb above the back entrance and dirt and dust all along the walls. You’ve never had time to fix up this place and make it look even the slightest bit presentable, never had the money to paint over the walls and get rid of the big red X on the front door. Day in and day out, this would just be a place where you could sleep, a mattress on the floor and Campbell’s soups on the cracked kitchen counters. The first thing you’d do every morning is get out. The last thing you’d want to do every night is come back. 

No place has felt like home in a long time. Not since your mother died, when you lost how her smile would light up a room, how she would spin you in circles and kiss your forehead when you got scared that you were going too fast. You had almost forgotten what it meant to have a home, to have a place that felt sacred, like coming home to a warm hug and a steaming cup of tea. To have a place that you didn’t dread returning to, a place that you could gladly waste away in. 

The bracelet that dangles from your wrist is the closest thing that you have left to the feeling of home, of comfort and warmth and solace, of something that makes you feel truly happy. But now, the bracelet has been tinted with the memories of another, of the only other person you can think of that has brought you that same feeling of joy, of these rose-stained memories that rest deep within your heart’s attic. They have always been there, hidden, buried beneath the bad, but when there is nothing left they surface. To remind you of what good life can bring you. 

To remind you of the magic inside you. 

You hate living here. And for a time, you hated living with Jungkook, too. Hated how extravagant his house was, hated how he refused to even speak to you. How there were so many unused rooms, so many empty spaces. But what changed, there, and what hasn’t changed, here, is how people, and not things, are what fill up rooms. 

Living with Jungkook made you feel like coming back after a long day was worth it. Planted the knowledge inside you that you would always have him there, could always rely on another’s presence within the apartment. He’s only one person, but he fills up the room like nothing else, lights it up like New Year’s Eve. He’s funny, and witty, and gorgeous. He’s caring and honest and cheeky, just cocky enough for it to be charming as opposed to egotistical. He cooks like nothing else and spends his sleepless nights beneath the stars, looking at the same moon and sky as everyone else. 

You don’t hate living here because it’s shit. You hate living here because it’s lonely. 

There was a space in your heart that you didn’t even realize was empty. It had been overtaken by the part of you determined to make it to the next day, determined to stick it to the Realm, to its leaders, to all of the people that look down on you because you aren’t made of money. 

But when you left Jungkook’s house, you realized that that space had slowly been filled up with him. That over time, bit by bit, moment by moment, Jungkook returned what you had lost, revived what you thought had long been dead. 

The truth is that you wanted to stay with Jungkook because you couldn’t stomach the thought of being alone again. Of being forced to fend for yourself, forced to come home to an empty house with no one to waste away the night with. Of being forced to live like every day is a threat rather than a gift. 

Jungkook has magic in his fingertips and his heart. It was only a matter of time before it spread to you as well. 

Being hurt by someone you love feels like an arrow to the chest. Like a puncture wound, deep and piercing, but too painful to even want to pull it out, patch up the hole. You had already experienced it once. You didn’t have any plans on experiencing it again. 

But losing the opportunity to love someone feels like an ache throughout your whole body, this crippling sort of pain that spreads through your bloodstream, setting every organ it passes on fire. It feels like there is something tearing you apart from the inside out, like every piece of you is slowly crumbling. 

Jungkook’s biggest mistake wasn't falling in love with you. It was thinking that you were still falling in love with him, when the truth is, you had already fallen. It was letting you leave when both of you wanted nothing more than for you to stay. 

Loving someone is a gamble. It’s a risk, a toe in the water, a spark from your fingers. 

But not loving someone? That is magic, wasted. 

Who knew twenty dollars could get you one large pizza and extra garlic rolls? Certainly not you. 

The smell wafts through the hallway to Jungkook’s apartment, filling it with the scent of warm, fresh bread, of a hot meal waiting to be devoured. If you don’t knock soon, the pizza will go cold and you’ll probably eat all of it before you can even say hello to him. You have more food in your hands now than you have the past week you’ve been back at your old place. 

You ring the doorbell. 

 “Coming!” Jungkook shouts. Oh, is he expecting someone?

Ten seconds later the door opens to reveal someone you hardly even recognize. Gone are the soft loose strands of hair and oversized button down shirts. Jungkook opens the door still wearing his suit jacket, tie tight around his neck, like he hasn’t bothered to change since he got home from work over two hours ago. His hair is sleek and straight, a little shorter than you last remember it. He looks the way he did when you first met him, this rigid, workaholic guy that doesn’t care about anybody except himself. He looks like he’s done nothing but work for a week. Not even sleep. 

“Hi,” you begin, a short, quick intake of breath. “Did you order a pizza?”

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head, already starting to close the door. “I think you have the wrong apartment.”

“Wait, Jungkook, please? I need to talk to you,” you plead, a hand going out to stop him from shutting you out completely. All that you can see through the crack of space between the door and its frame are his piercing brown eyes, absolutely unreadable. He doesn’t budge. “Also, did you just get back from work? You must be starving. And as it so happens, I have an entire large pizza that I won’t be able to finish all by myself.”

Jungkook budges a little bit. 

“Please?”

“Fine,” he says reluctantly, opening the door. “I hope you aren’t planning on staying here too long, this time.”

The words are biting cold, send angry shivers down your spine. 

“Just enough for you to hear me out,” you say, placing the pizza box on the coffee table as Jungkook rummages through his kitchen for plates. He eventually manifests two paper ones—you didn’t even know he had those!—and returns, taking a seat on the carpet as he inhales the cheesy, greasy scent. 

Your stomach grumbles, but you can’t eat just yet. First, you have to explain yourself. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Jungkook asks, cold and distant, the same way he spoke to all of his employees before you encouraged him to do otherwise. “If it’s about my company, we can compensate you as necessary for your contribution. It won’t be much, though.”

“No, no, it’s not about that,” you say with a shake of your head. “It’s about us.”

“What ‘us’ is there to talk about?” He asks economically. 

“The ‘us’ that I left behind that day,” you say softly, a gentle reminder. “The ‘us’ I should have realized existed before I let the door shut behind me.”

“If you’re just here to tell me that you’re sorry for not loving me back, don’t,” Jungkook says bitterly. “I don’t expect you to love me back or anything. You can’t change how you feel about people.”

“You still love me?” You ask, a spark, a flash, a ray of light. 

Jungkook grumbles. “Yes. It doesn’t go away that easily.” 

“You aren’t stupid, or foolish, or idiotic for thinking that I was falling in love with you at the same time that you were falling in love with me,” you tell him, the words light and airy, like weights plucked off of your chest, like butterflies released from a jar. “You were stupid for thinking that I wasn’t already in love with you.”

Jungkook’s head jerks up, eyes blinking wildly. You can see the way that they glisten, with hope, with tears, with desperation. With the possibility that not all is lost. 

That old memories can become new once more. 

“You were right,” you muse, more to yourself than to anyone else. Even Jungkook. “Magic, powers, love, they’re all the same thing. They are meant to be treasured. Cherished. Protected. They are meant to make us feel special.” You breathe, reaching out next to you, an open hand for Jungkook to take. “But most importantly, they are meant to be shared.”

A small smile. A lip half-turned up, this gentle little grin. 

“I stayed because I wanted to keep sharing my life with you, Jeon Jungkook,” you tell him honestly, because it’s real and it’s true. Because, at this point, you can imagine nothing else. “And I’m here again because I can’t stand living without you anymore. I never want to stop sharing my life with you.”

“You make me feel like my heart is made of magic,” Jungkook admits, finally, finally, finally. “You make me want to use it just for you.”

“You don’t need to,” you say, pressing yourself into him, letting your lips hover above his own. He reaches a hand out, lets it rest on your waist, waiting desperately for you to close the last inch between the two of you. “You’re already made of it.”

With that, you close the gap, pressing your lips against his, the soft sweet cherry taste of his lip balm filling up your senses, leaving you gasping for air. It’s just a kiss, just a press of lips, this simple gesture, but it takes your breath away nevertheless. It makes you feel like magic swirls inside of you, like your heart is sparking, catching fire, sending it sizzling through your veins. Jungkook has taught you what it means for a house to become a home. You have taught him that magic is only special if he has someone to share it with. 

It’s hard to think about the lessons you would have never learned without the other. 

It’s hard to think about how different life would be, had you never even met. 

Jungkook kisses you and it feels like you’re finally whole. It feels like what has been missing in your life has returned. What you have kept locked up, in the dusty, cobwebbed corners of your heart, in the spaces between your bones, has finally been remembered. 

Jungkook takes your old memories and turns them new. He is the only thing you ever want to remember.

“I love you,” he whispers, watching as the words sink into your skin, leaving embers in their wake. “You are my most precious gift.”

“You are my home, Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur. “I love you, too.”

Pizza is good and all, but nothing beats homemade kimchi stew. 

You made it all by yourself for the first time last night to celebrate Jungkook donating over a million dollars to various different animal rescues and human rights organizations, taking the kindness that he has been given and paying it forward. Besides, he can make money at the touch of a finger whenever he wants, so he might as well, right?

You also don’t accompany Jungkook at his work anymore, because you’ve gotten enough of a taste of office life and have declared it not your ideal profession, but the nice thing about that is getting the whole house to yourself while he’s gone. Not that you want to do very much without him, but napping in different bedrooms is always exciting. 

You never realized how good love makes you feel. How it lifts you up from the inside out, brightens up every day no matter how dull it is to begin with. You had forgotten. What love can do to a person. 

Jungkook always comes home and tells you about how happy his employees make him whenever they’re happy. Good feelings like joy, like laughter, like love, they are contagious. It’s a wonder that neither you nor Jungkook figured that out before you met each other. 

Well, you suppose that there’s a first for everything. 

Jungkook comes home and you can hear the door slam, even from where you’re hiding. You listen as he stops at the door, picks up the note that you left for him. 

Loser washes the dishes! ♡

You hear his keys clink in the bowl, metal on metal. He pauses for a moment, for dramatic effect. 

And then he shouts, 

“You’re on!”

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[jaehyunsuh]

nct u(make a wish) reaction to: finding their s/o asleep at the dinner table (w tearstains) and remembering it was your anniversary after showing up late

REQUESTS ARE: OPEN

MASTERLIST

please go to the ask box to send your requests, opinion or questions♡ you can interact as much as you want!

Taeyong is the softest :( I feel like he is a really giving person and celebrating special occasions with his s/o is something he would like to do because he can buy an even more special gift, do something cool, maybe even make a so g for them, just something cool and different from what he always does. He would make a mental countdown for your anniversary so he would never feel insecure that he is going to forget, but this time he was a really busy week, full of schedule, coming home at 3 am just to sleep and that’s it, that week was so tiring that all he was thinking about was talking to you and sleeping, that’s it. He comes to the apartment that you both share and finds you sleeping at the table with tear stains and a whole dinner set up on the table. He open his eyes in shook wondering what happened to you and that’s when it hits him, it was your anniversary! he holds his head in shook and feels frustrated, he feels so bad that he didn’t even text you a ‘happy anniversary’.

Taeyong is the softest :( I feel like he is a really giving person and celebrating special occasions with his s/o is something he would like to do because he can buy an even more special gift, do something cool, maybe even make a so g for them, just something cool and different from what he always does. He would make a mental countdown for your anniversary so he would never feel insecure that he is going to forget, but this time he was a really busy week, full of schedule, coming home at 3 am just to sleep and that’s it, that week was so tiring that all he was thinking about was talking to you and sleeping, that’s it. He comes to the apartment that you both share and finds you sleeping at the table with tear stains and a whole dinner set up on the table. He open his eyes in shook wondering what happened to you and that’s when it hits him, it was your anniversary! he holds his head in shook and feels frustrated, he feels so bad that he didn’t even text you a ‘happy anniversary’.

Taeyong is the softest :( I feel like he is a really giving person and celebrating special occasions with his s/o is something he would like to do because he can buy an even more special gift, do something cool, maybe even make a so g for them, just something cool and different from what he always does. He would make a mental countdown for your anniversary so he would never feel insecure that he is going to forget, but this time he was a really busy week, full of schedule, coming home at 3 am just to sleep and that’s it, that week was so tiring that all he was thinking about was talking to you and sleeping, that’s it. He comes to the apartment that you both share and finds you sleeping at the table with tear stains and a whole dinner set up on the table. He open his eyes in shook wondering what happened to you and that’s when it hits him, it was your anniversary! he holds his head in shook and feels frustrated, he feels so bad that he didn’t even text you a ‘happy anniversary’.

He quickly goes to the his room and picks up the necklace that affortunately bought for this date a month ago, and heads back to the dinner table.

“Y/n, wake up love.” He says while touching your back softly.

“Hey.” You say faking a smile while opening your eyes.

“Y/n, it was our anniversary today and I totally forgot, I’m so sorry.” He sounds upset.

“Yes, I could notice.” You say.

“I was really busy, but look! I have something for you.” He takes a little box out of his jacket pocket, he opens it showing a beautiful necklace with a T on it.

“It’s so beautiful Taeyong!” You smile feeling happy.

“I’m glad you like it, I have one as well.” He says while showing you his necklace with your initial on it.

“I love it, thank you so much.” You him a peck on the lips.

“I love you.” He says kissing you back.

Doyoung

I think he definitely likes to do special stuff for his s/o and take tons of pics and videos to remember the moments and stuff. Ig he saw you there in that situation he would instantly get really really worried thinking what happened to you, but when he sees you all dressed up, with flowers in the table and notices that you cooked stuff he would feel extremely terrible and guilty, he wouldn’t be sure if he should wake you up or let you sleep or take you to your room, he would just be stressed.

He decides to wake you up. “Y/n, please wake up, I want to talk to you.” He says. You open your eyes and find your boyfriend sitting in the chair next to you.

“Y/n, I’m really sorry for today, I totally forgot. I was so busy this whole time that I didn’t planned anything.” He looks upset.

“Yes, I can see that.” You say disappointed.

“I’m so sorry, really.” He says grabbing your hands.

“It’s okay.” You say.

“But look! We can do something, let’s go to the Han River, eat some chicken, at least be together for an hour.” He shows excitement in his face.

You sigh. “Okay, i’ll accept just for the chicken.” You smile.

“I love you, I promise i’ll never ever forget any date again.” He kisses your forehead.

“I hope you do, I love you.” You laugh

Jaehyun

He seems like he is lowkey romantic or more like caring about special events for his s/o, so when he walks into his apartment and finds you like that he would immediately remember that today was your anniversary, he would feel so bad and disappointed at himself because two weeks ago he was thinking about it and planned to buy you gifts and take you to a nice place without you knowing it. Since the day began and Jaehyun didn’t even texted you, you didn’t mind as much because he had schedule today but later nothing happened so you decided to make dinner for the two of you but it was already 11pm and he didn’t show up so you didn’t even notice and felt sleep on the dinner table crying because your boyfriend didn’t knew what day was today.

“Y/n, Y/n, babe wake up.” He says while shaking you softly.

You open your eyes and see your boyfriend kneeling next to you.

“Hey.” You say

“Honey, I’m so so sorry for not remembering that it was our anniversary today. I was so busy, I had a lot of things in mind, I even made plans for today but I forgot.” He says with puppy eyes.

“I waited for you all night.” You sound upset.

“I know babe, I know, I promise i’ll make it up to you.” He holds your hand and caress it softly.

“Okay.” You say.

“We can go out tomorrow, or we can stay here and cuddle, I’ll cook your favorite dish, I’ll dance if you want me to, whatever you want me to, to make this up.” He says.

“Maybe we should do all of that.” You laugh. “I love you. You are the best.” You smile.

“Me too.” He grabs your chin and proceeds to give you a kiss full of love and you end the night making out in the couch.

Lucas

I see Lucas being all over the place and a last minute type of guy when it comes to important events, but now that he has his s/o he is fully committed to remember every date, every birthday, every important event, he would even put alarms to remember. When he sees you like that would immediately put him in a stress mode, wondering if someone hurt you, if something went wrong at work, if he should fight someone, but then he gets closer to the table and notice the cake that has written ‘Happy Anniversary’ in it, he closes his eyes in frustration and follows to check on his phone wondering why the alarm didn’t make a sound.

“Hey love, I’m here.” He says shaking you softly.

“I waited for you.” You slowly wake up.

“I know baby, i’m sorry, I had a lot of shoots this week, I only could sleep and I forgot to put an alarm.” He says fast and

desperate, making you laugh with the las phrase.

“I know.” You say looking at him.

“Im sorry, we can go out tomorrow night, have a nice dinner, i’ll take to a beautiful restaurant and you can also see the pics from today.” He winks playfully. “How does that sound.” He smiles.

“Sounds good, I’m good with that.” You smile and touch his face softly.

“Great.” He continues to give you a sweet kiss.

Xiaojun

This sweet boy, oh my god! Even if he is 30 years old he is always gonna give me first love vibes, I just feel like he really commits whenever he likes someone, that’s why he is constantly caring with his s/o showering them with gifts and their favorite things and doing cool dates when they have to celebrate something. When he finds you like that in his apartment he just want to hug you and never let you go because he doesn’t know what made you feel like that but he is gonna fight whoever made you feel like that. He tries to investigate what’s going on, that’s when he sees a decorated bag with a little tag that says ‘happy anniversary’, he opens his eyes in shook and punches his forehead with the palm of his hand. He starts thinking how is he gonna fix this? and how was it possible that he would forget something so important for you both?.

You hear a guitar playing and that’s when you realize it’s your boyfriend, it keeps playing and he starts to sing ‘let me love u’ , you wake up and admire the beautiful guy in front of you, but still a little upset.

“I’m sorry.” He says as soon as he is finished.

“It’s okay.” You say and give a simple smile.

“You know it’s not typical for me to forget this type of thing and I’m really sorry, I don’t want to make you feel anymore.” He holds your hands.

“It’s okay, I accept your apology just because I really liked your serenade.” You smile and give him a peck on the lips.

Jaemin

We all know this boy is so romantic and caring, when it comes to celebrating with his s/o he makes a whole event and gives the best gift. Today when he entered his apartment and found you like that felt really weird to him, he stood there for straight 5 mins looking at you and trying to figure out what was going to on, he notices that there are pots with food in the kitchen and that you are also wearing heels and a beautiful dress, he checks his phone and it was your anniversary! it was yesterday technically because now it’s 2am of the next day. He felt really bad for leaving you waiting like that and also making you sad, he didn’t even knew hot to talk to you.

“Sweetie, wake up please.” He says caressing your head. You slowly open your eyes and look at your boyfriend’s face who extremely close to yours.

“Hey.” You say

“I messed up didn’t I?” He gives an embarrassing smile.

“Uhm, yes.” You talk in a monotonous tone.

“I’m sorry baby, I had to do so many thing this week that I didn’t remember anything else.” He looks at you with sad eyes.

“But look, you know that i’ll forever love you and i’ll make every other anniversary really really special, right?” He says in a calm tone, sitting next to you and hugging you from behind.

“Yes.” You give a soft smile.

“Would you forgive me them.” He says while doing aegyo in a cute way.

“Yes Na Jaemin, I do.” You laugh.

“Thank you.” He continues to do aegyo and winks at you.

Shotaro

this adorable ball of cuteness, the softest boy ever, I see him buying the prettiest and cutest stuff for his s/o on their birthday, christmas, valentines day, and obviously, their anniversary, things like teddy bears and cute cups or matching hoodies, just the most adorable stuff. When he arrives home after a long day of practice he gets surprised finding a girl in a cute outfit apparently sleeping on his diner table, when he looks closely he realizes it’s his s/o, he is confused about what they are doing there. He gets closer and notices the tear stains, and he gets worried, but when he sees a gift on the table he realizes it was your anniversary today, he starts feeling really sad because he didn’t remembered this at all, suddenly he remembers the matching cups that he bought 2 months ago when he went to Japan, so he gave cheers to himself to try to feel better.

“Baby, are you awake?” He says caressing your hair. You open your eyes slowly and see you him standing next to you.

“Hi.” You say with no emotion

“Y/n, I forgot that it was an special day today, and I’m genuinely sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad and I never want that to happen again.” He says in a sincere tone.

“I waited here with your gift and you didn’t even call.” You look away.

“I know, and like I said I’m sorry, but look what I have.” He says excited while showing you the matching cups that were hiding behind his back.

“Wow, this are so cute, when dis you get it.” You say happy admiring the cute cups.

“The last time I went to Japan, I was supposed to give you this and something else but we know how that went.” He looks to the floor.

“You are the sweetest, I forgive you.” You caress his cheek and leave a kiss. You both smile at each other.

[anonthenullifier]

In a follow up to Billy coming out to Tommy, how would Tommy come out to Billy? Would he even say anything or would he just appear with a boyfriend one day and cackle as Billy’s brain recalibrated?

Thank you so much for the ask! In case anyone wants to read Billy coming out to Tommy here it is. Below this is Tommy coming out to Billy...and Wanda and Vision because I figured the whole family should find out. I hope this meets your expectations of how Tommy would do it!

———

It was supposed to be an escape room. One of the ones where intellect wins and the biggest challenge would have been dealing with a bored and grumpy Tommy. “He is never planning,” Billy twirls around, arms engulfed by pulsating electric blue, and slices a chainsaw wielding robot in half, “again.”

Teddy’s glorious smile tempers his annoyance...marginally. “We are trying to escape,” he crushes a tentacled, monstrous vacuum-like robot between his hands, “and it’s a room.”

If Teddy wasn’t so stunning in situations like these, Billy would seethe for longer, but the sheer elation on his boyfriend’s face as another onslaught falls under their combined might is enough to make it seem a less horrible idea. Until his annoyance at his brother’s idiocy surges back. “This would be Tommy’s idea of a chill evening.”

Expertly Teddy deflects. “Where are they?”

It’s not something Billy had thought about in the ten minutes of endless fighting, but now that Teddy points it out, both Tommy and the newest recruit, David, are not visible. “He’s um,” Billy reaches out mentally, quickly finding the frenzied mind of his brother, the pattern of his thoughts like watching a pot of boiling water right before it bubbles up and over the rim. With practiced ease he latches on, keeping his own mind detached enough to not be dragged into the whirlpool of chaos, “they’re on the other side of that tower.”

“Race you?”

Billy grins, hanging back a second to appreciate the view, and then his hands alight and he rises into the air, body leaning with the current and wrists rotating forwards and backwards as he clears all obstacles from his path. If he allows his eyes to stray down to watch Teddy’s path of destruction, no one’s the wiser, neither Sam nor Carol here to scold him.

Five feet before Teddy reaches the base of the tower, Billy opens a portal, diving headfirst into it and then pops out of a second portal past the makeshift finish line, just in time to paint on his best faux innocent grin. “What took you so long?”

The dry “Congrats,” is made more genuine by the loving kiss that follows.

Tommy’s frantic “David!” ruins their moment.

“Shit.” Billy follows his boyfriend’s eyes up to a little walkway on the tower where David stands, hands gripping a rickety railing and glasses reflecting the menacing lights of the encroaching robot battalion.

Blue energy crawls out from between Billy’s fingers, his body gearing up to fly up and help their teammate, until Tommy sprints over. “I got this,” and then becomes a blur, zigzagging up the ramps and stairs, bowling through the last of the mechanical foes until they all crash down from the tower.

“He’s such a show—“ Billy freezes, head tilting to the side as Tommy scoops up David bridal style and executes a perfect Maximoff rescue, their lips meeting in fevered presses, David’s arms wrapping around Tommy’s neck, and their attention focused solely on passionately celebrating. “Um…”

“I told you David had a small crush on me, right?”

Billy’s brain slogs through recent memories, vaguely recalling this information. “Um...yeah?”

“Guess he moved on.”

“Guess so…” The mind isn’t a computer. Billy knows this, has sat through dad’s lectures on the tired and not empirically backed metaphor, and yet right now he feels like a computer that’s missing a vital update, his thoughts desperately trying to recalibrate and refresh itself to process the awkwardly long make out session in front of him. And then they stop, Tommy placing David back on his feet, though their arms remain around each other, and that’s when his twin starts cackling.

“Look at your face!” If this is some cruel joke, Billy doesn’t appreciate it nor does he appreciate the fact that Teddy is chuckling along with Tommy’s riotous glee. “Look at it.” Now David is snickering as well, the mood apparently contagious to everyone but Billy, who’s inoculated to Tommy’s shit by now.

Tommy hoists David back into arms and runs them down until they’re standing in an awkward sort of square-oval formation. “Oh don’t look like that.”

“I’m not looking like anything.” Real convincing.

“It’s not a joke,” his brother hesitates and then clarifies, “okay, depends on how you define a joke, but the message is real.”

What message was he sending? That he’s learned mom and dad’s celebration tactic? That he likes to catch Billy off guard and embarrass him or that...that he and David are still holding hands and that Tommy’s usual confidence is starting to crack and a spur of fear that never, ever exists in his brother’s mind has cropped up the longer Billy stays silent. All at once Billy’s chagrin disappears, replaced by emphatic happiness, one that manifests with a chuckle at the ridiculousness of his brother.

“Finally connect the dots?”

“Yeah,” Billy pulls his brother into a hug, ignoring the grunt of disapproval at such shows of affection, “thanks for telling me.”

“Of course,” Tommy pulls back wearing the sunniest smile Billy’s ever seen on his face, “had to make sure you knew first.”

A brush of his brother’s mind reveals an evening out of stress and concern, both things Tommy didn’t need to have, but Billy knows firsthand how terrifying coming out can be. “I appreciate it.” Billy steps back, eagerly accepting Teddy’s arm around his shoulders, “You going this elaborate for mom and dad?”

The glance between Tommy and David not only answers his question perfectly, but helps him see the genuine connection they already share and the future trouble of dealing with a mutually devious couple. “I have a few ideas, if you’re willing to help.”

———

Everything is set. There’s a conspicuous rope ladder hanging out his window, the banner is strung up over the table with his cake and party hats, he’s got a box of party poppers under the comforter, and, most vital to it all, David is laying next to him.

“You nervous?”

Insanely. “Nope,” he’s a pretty gifted liar but the little quirk of David’s eyebrow lets him know he isn’t fooling anyone. “Fine, a bit.”

He has, for a long time, made fun of Billy and Teddy’s little reassuring kisses, but now that David tenderly brushes his lips to Tommy’s forehead, he’ll have to admit it’s a little calming. “Me too. This is going to be my first time meeting your parents outside of uniform.”

Oh shit, he hadn’t even thought about that or how awkward this all might be for David. Other than the crushing fear that their acceptance and love can only extend to one child (something he knows is not true but still can’t shake), Tommy has no qualms with the method of coming out they’ve gone with. He thinks back to all the talks (the many many many talks) dad has had with him on respect and consent. Things he has considered and put into practice but it feels way more important now. “If you aren’t comfortable with this…”

“I’m fine, just nervous,” another kiss, but this one on the mouth and exciting instead of soothing, “and really looking forward to the cake.”

It’s a three tiered cake, each layer a different color of the flag, all wrapped in white buttercream, and in the fanciest writing Billy could muster it says: I’m bisexual . They argued over whether to add an exclamation mark, but Tommy himself would like to insert the enthusiasm instead of the frosting doing it. “Me too.”

There is the tell-tale chime of vibranium phasing through a wall and the less easy to spot sound of wind going through his dad’s intangible body. Good thing Tommy has snuck around enough to recognize it. “Come here,” he pulls David closer, deciding if they’re going to have to incur suspicion, might as well have some fun with it. It’s successful, the chiming moving from outside to inside the master bedroom and then footfalls let them know his parents are outside the door. Tommy steals one more kiss, “You ready?”

Except David can’t let him win and sneaks one more. “Are you?”

“Yep.” He is. He has never been more ready in his life which is why it’s aggravating that there hasn’t been a knock and the door hasn’t clicked open. “Be nice if they moved faster.”

From outside there is a muffled conversation, one that sounds like it involves a lot of gesticulating and disagreement. Then he can hear Billy, his guardian angel, chime in, “You can’t let him get away with it. That’s not fair.” What a sly and loving asshole.

Dad sighs, and it’s a deep one, one that means he’s exhausted from his mission and just wants to relax but now there are shenanigans he has to deal with. That’s when the knock comes, followed by, “Thomas?”

David giggles and Tommy does his best to shush him, only that just encourages it further and now Tommy’s sniggering as quietly as he can. “Thomas?” A more forceful knock and more barely subdued laughter. “Thomas, I am opening the door.”

His fingers grip the party poppers as he waits for the light to switch on and then Tommy leaps up with a “Surprise!” The first party popper bursts to life, confetti flying all over his comforter. “I’m bi!” The second popper erupts with even more force.

It’s through the settling confetti that he sees the confusion on mom and dad’s faces and suddenly it all feels too much, too elaborate, too close to a joke. Even Billy’s double thumbs up from the hallway doesn’t allay the dread circling in amongst the swirling shreds of paper. He tracks every movement of his parents’ eyes as they take in the cake and the banner and the streamers and oh...yeah this is awkward, “Um and this,” Tommy helps David out of the bed, “is my boyfriend, David.”

Mom and dad look at each other, some unspoken thing passing between them and then dad walks over to the table, grabs two of the pink, lavender, and blue striped party hats, hands one to mom and then delicately slides the elastic band of his under his chin. “It’s nice to meet you David,” they shake hands and then dad, without asking permission of any kind, wraps Tommy in a tight hug. “I love you.”

This is usually when he squirms away, utilizing his super speed to avoid such displays of affection, but this time he allows it, reciprocating the hug and smiling as mom joins in to make a Tommy sandwich. “We love you so much.”

“Thanks.”

After about a minute it’s a bit much though, something his brother senses, exuberantly declaring, “Anyone want cake?” David, bless his heart, takes on the role of cake slicer and disher, passing out the plates and making sure Tommy gets the corner with the most frosting.

It’s all a bit surreal, a bit too wholesome for his tastes and yet it’s also perfect, mom’s hat askew while dad grimaces at the overly sweet frosting she offers him, Billy chatting happily with David over some punch, all under the handcrafted banner of Guess Who’s Bi?

Tommy smiles, digs his fork into the cake, and joins them, feeling more like himself than ever before.

[primergon]

Hi! I’ve seen you doing matchups in the tags I follow, and I just saw your most recent ones and I was really impressed by your dedication to doing them. It’s clear you really put in a lot of effort and care into each one, which is really amazing. I’ve never been compelled to send an ask after seeing those kinds of things but after seeing your writing responses to them and how thought provoking they are, I really feel compelled to try it myself, if that’s okay! So, I guess I should ask; could I get an idw matchup?

I’m a transman, bisexual, with all the package deals for mental problems; depression, ptsd, anxiety, adhd. I’m going to college for psychology, but I also have a soft spot for history and the classics. I know everyone on campus though, because I love making friends with people and I especially love helping my friends when they need it. Cheering up people and making them laugh is my favorite thing in life. My favorite clothes make me look like a jock too, but I just call myself a himbo because I am also a little dumb at times, but in a good way.

For my hobbies I love baking, writing, gardening, that kind of stuff. I love baking food to give to people, and I love cooking too, because love is stored in the soup broth. I love all kinds of animals too, which is really funny when I go visit friends and their pets all decide I’m the bees knees- I go visit farms occasionally and tend to get followed by the horses, which is cute. I also love music and singing, and I don’t mind if I’m not good at it, because love is ALSO stored in the actions you perform from your heart.

On fears, though, I’m kind of terrified of driving, despite that I drive my car for work all the time; something about going 70mph in a steel box that wants you dead kind of puts it all in perspective. I get around being afraid by trying not to think about it, which, hey, if it works it works!

Some fun facts about me: I once got my hand caught in a bear trap, I legally changed my middle name to Glennjamin, I have gotten sick from eating ONLY chocolate cake for 2 days straight, and when I go running to exercise I put on music like I’m being chased by a serial killer.

A/N : Hi Anon ! Thanks for sending this in, I hope you're doing well. I'm glad you enjoy my previous works, I do try my best to personalise each ask to make them more meaningful (ˊ•͈ ◡ •͈ˋ) I hope I don't disappoint with this one because I'm going to pair you up with IDW Ultra Magnus ( minimus ambus ) and Fortress Maximus !

IDW ULTRA MAGNUS

01| While Ultra Magnus may come off as intimidating to most, you were more than happy to approach him with a friendly greeting. You were always making conversation with the officer, either waving at him as you pass down the halls or stopping to ask him about his day. Even if he didn't show it, Ultra Magnus was touched by the gesture. A lot of people tend to steer clear of him when it comes to matters outside of work. So whenever you try to cheer him up and reassure Ultra Magnus it's not his fault whenever danger strikes, he can't help but smile at your thoughtfulness. He's naturally introverted and somewhat aloof, so don't blame the poor mech when his attempt to get to know you come off as awkward. He's attracted to your lively personality, it's one of the many reasons that pushed him into actually confessing to you.

02| Ultra Magnus is calm and practical. His strong will and sense of duty allow him to act as a natural problem solver. So whenever you struggle with your mental problems, Ultra Magnus is always there to help. While he's known to be impatient, Ultra Magnus is very understanding when comforting others. He has his own experiences in dealing with his mental wellbeing, so he's more than happy to be the shoulder for you to lean on whenever you feel overwhelmed. When you found out about the Magnus armor, Minimus was more than thankful for how accepting you are of it. He can't help but feel bashful when you tell him it doesn't make you love the mech any less. Minimus admires your study in psychology and is very supportive of you, gifting you with stationaries and a brand new study corner.

03| Everyone knows Megatron isn't the only resident lover of all things literature and classics. Minimus enjoys hearing you talk about history. The workaholic would love to take breaks and spend the remaining time with you. (Rodimus tells you you're the only one who can convince him to rest.) He also likes to watch you cook. It's relaxing to the point where he had accidentally fallen into recharge somewhere in the middle ( he woke up from the best sleep he had in ages and reassured you it was not out of boredom.) Minimus also watches you garden in the little greenhouse above the Lost Light, helping you pick the ingredients needed for baking. (It's funny how he would eye every single chocolate cake menacingly after you told him it made you sick once.)

04| Arguments are rare when it comes to Minimus. Although he can be too rational and very by the book, he's always adjusting to find win-win solutions for the both of you. You know he wants to talk and resolve a problem when he goes "Glennjamin." ( He thinks it makes him look more serious. He heard it from Whirl.)

05| Ultra Magnus understands your fear of being in a car. His alt-mode is a truck bigger than the ones you've seen on Earth, so it can sometimes get nerve-wracking whenever he has to drive you around. But whenever he slides his seatbelt across you and assures you it'll be alright, you can't help but feel safe and loved. Knowing that Minimus won't let anything happen to you.

IDW FORTRESS MAXIMUS

01| Fortress Maximus was surprised to see you approach him, wondering why you aren't afraid of him after the whole incident with Rung and Whirl. While others have forgiven him, he finds it hard to excuse himself from his past. Yet you were warm and open and more than happy to befriend him. The gesture warmed his spark and gave him the confidence he needed to feel better about himself. The two of you became each other's support systems. Whenever he feels weighed down by his mental health, he'll always find comfort in spending time with you. And whenever you're feeling anxious and conflicted, Fort Max is never far from helping. While Fortress Maximus carries this sense of responsibility for his community, there's no denying that he has a soft spot for you.

02| Both of you share a love for animals. Fort Max is thankful that you were there to help reverse the Roboids' damage. ( He's even more moved when you volunteered to leave the Lost Light to accompany him.) There's something about you being so gentle and kind towards animals that made him fall in love even more. Fort Max's journey would sometimes take you to foreign planets. He worries when the native animals you fed along the way start to follow you, but once he thinks it's safe, he can't help but smile at the sight. ( He would rather fight an entire ship than admit his fantasy of living a domestic life with you by a secluded farm.)

03| Ever since you told him about the bear trap story, Fort Max has been more protective of you. He'll insist on carrying you around even if you tell him you're fine. He knows you like to go on runs so he'd accompany you to do your exercise from time to time. The first time you run with your headphones in, Fort Max thought you were actually being chased at how fast you were going. It was a funny mishap that you both laugh about from time to time. He likes to watch you write and garden, praising you whenever you read to him one of your works or come home with a good harvest.

04| Fort Max is naturally adherent to tradition. So in disagreements, when he is suddenly forced to try unvetted solutions, the mech may become uncomfortable and stressed. But he is more than ready to put his stubbornness aside to find a solution that is best for both of you. Besides, he can't stay mad at you when you make him laugh.

05| Although it makes Fort Max sad that he can't eat the food you cook for him, he does love to help out. He would even sometimes taste the soup you're cooking. You're afraid it'll make him sick, but he assures you if it does, it would be worth it. ( You immediately called First Aid after he said this.) Fort Max has never been happier. Rung tells you that his optics shine brighter whenever you're around. The psychologist says you're good for each other, and you can't agree more.

I hope you enjoy this Anon ! xx

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Rough Night

Bucky Barnes x (f)werewolf reader

Summary: Your life is already so weird, thankfully Bucky loves you through it all.

Warning: fluff, reader being a sass master w/ no filter

side note: couldn’t think of any cool avenger powers and then brain went werewolf so here we are

Masterlist

If you had a dollar for every time you’d ended up in the woods with ripped clothes and no shoes, well, let’s just say you could probably afford a real nice two bedroom apartment in some real pleasantly fancy building with a great view and all. Too bad green doesn’t just rain down from the sky every time the full moon comes round to knock you back into another world of blurry confusion.

You won’t lie to yourself, being what you are is strange and not very common in the slightest, obviously. It’s even weirder that you weren’t bitten one night and turned just like that, oh no, all passed down through the bloodline of other strange relatives. So you’re gifted with the curse, forced to inevitably change into a furry beast every single full moon, so what you’re still a mostly pleasant individual.

Well luckily for you, being born with the gift does happen to have its perks which do come in handy. For instance, you’re incredibly strong, quick on your feet, and have heightened senses, plus the ability to shift on command. It’s not all bad, well......most of the time.

Honestly you truly thought life couldn’t get much stranger for you and your whole hidden secretive situation, until low and behold some random red head found your little hideaway in a remote mountain side village far off in the Himalayas.

Everything was completely fine and under control and then BAM, she showed up with some important documents and something called an Avengers initiative and well shit, guess some time spent with the real world couldn’t hurt. I mean come on, some more friends seemed like a nice idea and uh, somehow they knew who you were so too late to run and hide.

Also at the time, considering you lived like a recluse on the edge of the village and of course for good reason, but damn if the red head didn’t just hand you an open invitation for some real adventure. Who were you to say no?

Fortunately for you, all seemed to go in your favor and fantastically enough, they had a nice big strong cell for you on nights when the wolf was inevitably bound to come out. A fridge full of plentiful snacks, a training room to lay off some steam, and a big safe and secure room all your own. It was perfect. Only problem was, there happened to be a very attractive and very wary of you super soldier who undoubtedly caught your attention.

How could you not, he smelled divine, muscles for days, thick thighs that could make a girl swoon, and he just seemed like the best goddamn hugger alive. Okay listen, maybe you were touch starved and deprived of human affection but dammit if your little monster heart didn’t skip a beat every time he was near you.

And yes, the few months it took to get him to crack was just down right torturous. But with some coaxing from Steve and encouragement from Sam, the winter soldier at long last did talk to you. Turned out he thought you were scared of him all along, how hilariously ironic you thought when he told you that.

But as time progressed and you both opened up more and more, a blossoming relationship sprouted forth, eventually evolving and manifesting into a big beautiful flower called love. Cheesy yes, but you couldn’t have dreamed of anything better.

And seriously, he wasn’t freaked out about your whole hidden hush hush secretive gift that usually either goes in your favor or ends up causing you major legal trouble. The man himself, Bucky Barnes, thought you were a marvel to behold, so odd and fantastic that he couldn’t stay away even if he tried.

And for that you could love him forever, especially now after a full moon while you’re out in the middle of nowhere. Hoping that the team will send your hundred year old boyfriend out to find you in the brisk dark morning after a grand unrememberable adventure. Which would be very nice of course, considering you have not a damn clue what you’ve done.....or where you are.

Cracking your back, you stretch your hands up to the dawning sky as a tired yawn escapes you. It’s been a long night and you look like a wild woman with your hear a fluffy nest and your clothes ripped in various unrevealing places thankfully.

Your surroundings are simply trees and small scraggly bushes, green grass underneath your bare feet and a small stream flowing in the near distance. With a second to listen, you can hear a highway a couple miles away to the east, guess that’s a start.

Rubbing your eyes you set out in that direction for about twenty minutes before a blue and gold Mercedes comes into view from the side of a country back road, it stops when you guess the driver spotted you from the tree line. Keeping a wary eye on the fancy sports car, you keep walking towards it until a figure gets out and leans against the passengers side door all cool and casual, then on further inspection you realize the driver is Bucky.

Yes! My knight in shining armor is here!

Trudging through the grassy field in the dewy morning light, he watches your every move, eyes crinkling in amusement as you come to stand a couple feet in front of him. Undoubtedly looking a bit wild, and very tired as you fold your arms underneath each other, giving your dark haired lover a shy almost fangy smile.

“I know I look like a hot mess.” You mutter with a shrug, biting your lip as you dart your eyes to the fields behind him, slightly embarrassed of the current disheveled state you’re in.

Bucky smirks before pushing himself off the car and engulfing you into a big Bucky bear hug to your pleasant surprise, “Y/N I’m just glad you’re okay and nothing bad happened to you.” He mumbles into your shoulder as you press yourself closer to him, letting yourself have this wonderful moment to relax and feel at ease.

Slowly pulling back to look up at him, you smile, “Aww Buck you were worried about me?”

He returns the grin, leaning down to press his head flush against yours, “We all were, me more then anyone else of course...and maybe for the general civilians nearby.”

You laugh nervously, “Oh right, yeah. Well hey, I didn’t destroy anyone's car this time. I think I’ve made progress.”

He pauses for a brief moment indicating he’s not sure if he should tell you something and this does make you nervous before Bucky finally lets out a little laugh, “You ate a whole cow Y/N.”

Snorting in surprise you quickly pull your head from Bucky’s, “What? Did I? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Yeah, uh I wish.” He admits with a casual reassuring squeeze to your arm, “We tracked you with Sam’s suit tech, yunno Red Wing, and uh....you seemed to be having fun.”

Mentally and just about physically cringing at yourself, you purse your lips together in slight embarrassment, “Shit. Was it gross?” You ask, making a face that causes him to chuckle.

“A little.” Adds Bucky with another casual shrug to make you feel less terrible.

“Is the farmer going to see everything, I mean shit they’re gonna be so pissed.” You worry, biting your lip anxiously as you break eye contact from him. “Why am I like this.”

“Uh, that’s not going to be a problem.” Inquires Bucky causing you to find his blue eyes once again.

Eying him up suspiciously you raise a brow, “And why’s that.....Bucky what did I do?”

Taking a breath he gives you a small apprehensive smile, “Y/N...you uh, kind of ate......everything.”

“I what?” I did not! No way, right?

Giving you a quick kiss on the cheek he smiles affectionately, “I’m going to be honest with you here it looked like a kid with a piece of cake who has no impulse control, and loves cake....like a lot.....Rodney almost puked.”

Rolling your eyes you fake glare at him, “Oh god who all watched my little horror show?”

“Mostly everyone.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s like a car crash Y/N, we don’t want to watch but we can’t look away. Sorry doll.” He confesses apprehensively, though honest and sincere knowing you do feel bad for what you do when out of it.

“No.” You say honestly, pausing for a moment, “It’s fine. Seriously Buck, I’m just relieved you guys keep taps on me while I’m out, god knows I can’t help what I do and where I go. It’s nice to have people making sure I don’t injure any innocent bystander.”

“Yeah I guess so huh...alright Y/N/N,” Chirps Bucky with a beaming grin as he attempts to shift the mood to a less dull one, “let’s get out of here, I mean unless you want to sniff around the place for awhile...it is a nice forest over there and all but I guess we can stay and I’ll let you...”

“Alright Barnes, can-it or maybe I’ll bite you.” You tease with a playful squeeze of his bicep before breaking out of his strong grasp.

“Depends on the context maybe I’d enjoy it.” Adds Bucky sarcastically, side eying you with a half smile as you move to open the car door.

Shaking your head in playful disapproval you lightly shove him aside, “Believe me you wouldn’t.”

——

The ride back to the Avengers base or headquarters or facility, who the hell knows at this point, was actually quite smooth and peaceful. Then again you fell asleep as soon as Bucky made it onto the highway, and continued to catch a much needed nap for the next hour ride home.

No one ever said you were easy alright, but let’s be real, Bucky would let you put him through anything and he’d be happy about it.

After parking and walking down the sidewalk past some early morning trainees catching a run, the two of you made it into the Avengers official HQ where all your rooms and other luxury’s are located. But of course not before walking past the facilities giant living space and huge kitchen.

Just keep looking forward, keep walking, walk faster you idiot!

“Y/N!” Shouts Sam in that stupidly peppy obnoxious early morning voice of his, no doubt gaining the attentions of Steve and Natasha who are seated at the kitchens bar talking about some mission report.

Pausing in the large doorway that’s not giving you or Bucky a whole lot of hiding space, you take a deep breath before turning to acknowledge him, “You’d think people would be sleeping considering it’s only six in the morning.”

Chuckling, Sam raises his protein shake, “Weird,” He says while giving you a knowing smirk, “we missed you during training this morning.”

Nat and Steve conceal their amusement as you simply roll your eyes, “Yeah well it was a long night.” You mutter unenthusiastically, earning the tiniest laugh from Bucky which causes you to throw him a glare. Knocking that smile right off of his handsome stubbly face.

“Well we got all these shakes here if you two love birds want one. Hate to have em go to waste.” Adds the smiling man with a nod, if he doesn’t just love seeing you looking like shit. No Sam I do not accept this invitation for you to tell me how crazy I look.

Sam means well of course, but damn he loves teasing you in front of Bucky for a fun reaction out of him. And it’s kind of working, but not on Bucky.

“It’s fine Y/N, you don’t have to have one if you don’t want to.” Calls Natasha before taking a sip from her mug. “Just ignore Sam, he’s been annoying since the gym.”

Before Sam’s even able to speak you quickly narrow your eyes at him, holding up a finger before making hasty steps across the room. Stopping right in front of him, “Give it.” You deadpan.

Brows raised in surprise he glances from a confused Bucky, then back to you again, “Listen I only made so much, Y/N this is my breakfast okay you can’t just...”

Ignoring his rushed rambling you pull out the whole glass blender full of protein shake before taking a step back as the whole room goes quiet, then never breaking eye contact you heartily drink up the whole entirety of its cold contents without missing a beat. Yeah, definitely needed that.

After you’re finished you lick your lips in satisfaction, taking a step closer towards a speechless Sam as you set the blender back in its place. Giving him a satisfied smirk before walking back over to Bucky where you tug on his jacket to follow you down the hall and away from everyone else.

Sometimes you can’t help but be a little dramatic.

——

Laying sprawled out on yours and Bucky’s giant mattress, you stare up at the ceiling as he folds your clean and freshly scented laundry, your mind swirling with thoughts of what duties you have to be apart of today. Blah, work.

Sighing gently you glance at Bucky to see if he heard you, not getting anything from him you sigh again with more grandeur this time. Nothing. Rolling your eyes you suck in a deep breath before practically soft yelling out your exhale like the dramatic little beast you are.

Glancing over to Bucky, you watch as he turns around to put some of your pants away in a drawer. Okay then, that’s how it’s gonna be. Quickly sitting up, you smirk a devilish grin before silently reaching over to pick up a small pillow, once in hand you don’t think twice before launching it at full speed directly headed for the back of his head.

But before your decently soft projectile can smack his precious flowing locks does a metal arm swiftly reach up to catch it mid flight. Oh, shit. Bucky’s head turns to you, brow raised at you before tucking the pillow underneath his arm, and going back to his usual domestic duties for the day.

Okay, killer of fun Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frustrated from lack of a reaction out of him, you stand up on the bed like a warrior about to give a great battle cry. Eyeing his cute butt up for a moment, you smirk once again before launching a sneak attack pillow right for his head. It sails magnificently across the room before a metal hand stops it in its place. 

Well, shit.

This time he gives you a proper look, full of mischief and a new profound playfulness that sends an excited thrill throughout your entire being. As fast as one of Thor’s lightening bolts does the pillow soar in your direction, but conveniently for you he’s forgotten just how quick you can really be. This is just what you wanted.

Dodging to the left you watch in almost slow motion as the fluffy cloth just misses your face, instead opting to smack against the back wall with a loud thud. Snapping your attention back to Bucky he narrows his blue eyes at you suspiciously while you let out an admittedly scary villainous chuckle.

Let’s party my love.

He hands you a smirk right before shifting his body to the right, arm cocked back and thrust forward just as quickly, launching his second pillow attack without an ounce of mercy. You see it coming a mile away and as graceful as a dancer do you flip off the bed, landing perfectly on the carpeted floor just as the pillow smacks hard against the door. Thwack!

Slowly standing, eyeing him up like a lioness to her prey, you give him a satisfied smile, “Missed.” You tease.

Letting out a breathy laugh, Bucky takes a cautious step in your direction as he tests the waters, “Y/N what are you doing?”

“Getting your attention you ass.”

Chuckling he takes another step forward, “Was I ignoring you?” Duh, that’s why I, oh wait he’s playing you.

“Well you certainly weren’t doing anything interesting.” You sass as he steps again closer, this time about an arms length away.

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement, “Okay that’s fair, but was the pillow really necessary?” He asks, though his tone is still humorous.

Not falling for his alluring charm you tilt your head to the side, a knowing smile breaking out across your face as he tries to register what your true intentions are. “Yes, and so is this.” You quip before dropping to the floor for a side sweep of his legs, in an instant he’s on the ground and looking wide eyed up at you.

God he looks beautiful. No, focus.

“Y/N!” He whines breathlessly, brows furrowed as he holds himself up by his elbows, “Now you’re gonna get it!”

Taking a quick step back you snort, “Oh really now?”

And he’s fallen for the plan.

“Yes, and when I get you, you won’t be laughing anymore.” He grumbles, trying to keep himself from laughing as well.

“Alright then hot stuff try and bring me down.” You snap back playfully as he rises to his feet, “First one pinned has to run with Sam later, and we both know how much fun he is to run with.”

Bringing his arms up into a defensive position he readies himself for an attack, “Yeah, I’d rather not be his jogging buddy today. I mean it is raining outside, but I know you’d look real nice after a wet run.” Teases Bucky with a smirk.

“Touché you smartass.” His lips twitch into a grin as you ready your own stance. “Now let’s dance.”

[frostedfaves]

I Don’t Feel Alive (3)

Masterlist

Pairings: Jake Peralta x sister!reader (platonic), Rosa Diaz x fem!reader (romantic), Jake Peralta x Amy Santiago (also romantic)

Summary: You have a disappointing birthday that your family tries to salvage, and you end the night with a brand new experience.

Warnings: mentions of incarcerated parents, underaged drug and alcohol use

A/N: nothing really to say except I love this story and also if you live in the US like I do please PLEASE stay safe and take care of your mental health (every day, not just today!) I love you all and thank you for reading what I write to cope with living during such uncertain times!

Previous part

-

You opened your eyes to the sight of sunshine pouring in through the windows. Birds faintly chirping beyond the walls of the house, the smell of whatever was being made for breakfast floating in through the crack of your bedroom door, which Jake was currently standing in front of while holding a balloon.

“What are you doing, weirdo?” you grumbled as you threw your covers to the side and sat up in bed.

“Happy birthday!” he cheered, stepping over to tie the balloon string around a piece of your headboard. “I wanted to be the first to say it! I also came to tell you that your social worker is here.”

“My what?! Jake, am I being--”

“No no, nothing like that,” he assured you as he grabbed your hands, thumbs running lightly over them. “You’ve been legally part of this family for 11 years now, nothing can change that. And you’re not in trouble, so don’t look at this negatively, okay?”

“Okay.” Your eyes closed as you exhaled slowly, opening them again to peer at your brother. “Can you come down with me?”

“Of course.”

He released one hand and laced his fingers with yours as the two of you traveled downstairs to the dining room, where Karen was currently plating your breakfast and chatting with your social worker.

“Oh, happy birthday, angel!” Karen approaches you, throwing an arm around your shoulders and dropping a gentle kiss on your temple. “You remember Susan, right?”

“How could I forget?” You laughed nervously. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine, sweetie. I was just talking to your mom here about your birth parents. They’ve been released from prison recently, and requested a visit with you for your birthday.”

“What did you say?” you asked as you turned to Karen.

“I told Susan that you were old enough and smart enough to know whether or not you want them to be a part of your life.”

That was the problem, you didn’t know what you wanted. To be completely honest, you never expected to see or hear from your birth parents ever again, not even sure if they still wanted to know you after all this time. You didn’t know what kind of people they were before prison, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to see how the experience changed them.

“Little Carrot?” A squeeze of your fingers brought you back to the room.

“Sorry, I was thinking.” You met Jake’s gaze and when he slightly nodded, you turned to Susan. “I think I would like to meet them. I don’t even remember what kind of people they were before I lost them, and I’m curious.”

“Okay! I’ll set up an after school meeting and send your mom all the information.” Karen stepped away to walk Susan out and Jake came to stand in front of you.

“Do you want Mom and I to come with you?”

“Nah, I’ll be okay. Besides, I expect pizza and cake on the table when I get home.” You poked his chest jokingly, laughing when he grabbed your finger and pulled you over to the table.

-

The school day was full of nerves, more piling on with each hour on the clock that brought you closer to the meeting time. When you left the building, Susan was there, waiting by her car with a comforting smile.

“Nervous, huh?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“You’re not the first kid I’ve taken to meet with their birth parents.” She opened the car door for you, closing it once you were situated and getting in on the driver’s side. “I know it seems scary, but just know that there are no consequences for doing this. You can either love them and they can be a part of your life in whatever way you decide, or you can decide not to continue seeing them and still have a loving and supportive family to go home to.”

You thought about her statement as she drove you to the park, your leg bouncing with the anticipation of meeting your parents all over again. The two of you were the first to arrive, and Susan parked near the meeting spot so you could wait in the car.

“They should be here in about twenty minutes. We’re actually pretty early.”

Twenty minutes turned into thirty, then an hour and another. Three hours had passed since the end of the school day and your parents hadn’t made an appearance yet. Susan tried calling both of their phone numbers countless times and no answer. The last time she went to dial them, you simply shook your head.

“Please just take me home.”

After unlocking the door, you were greeted by birthday wishes and smiling faces hovering over boxes of pizza and a cake. Jake could immediately tell by your slouched shoulders that you weren’t bringing good news and he quickly approached you.

“What happened?”

The question and his concerned gaze meeting yours struck you hard, causing you to crumble into his waiting arms as you broke down.

“Oh angel, what’s wrong?” Karen’s hand ran comfortingly along your back, and you sniffled repeatedly as you pulled away to speak.

“They didn’t come.” Jake’s jaw clenched, but he fought to contain his anger for your sake, simply tightening his hold in response. “We waited three hours and they didn’t come.”

“I’m so sorry--”

“It’s fine.” You shook your head dismissively despite the tears that threatened to break free. “I just want to eat and forget about it.”

“How about you kids get your pizza while I set up the birthday girl’s favorite movie in the living room?”

“Thanks, Mom.” 

You sent her a smile as she left the room, holding it as you stepped around Jake and Gina handed you a plate with a couple slices on it. Your façade was kept until cake was eaten and Gina bid you all farewell for the night, and you slipped away to your bedroom for privacy.

Knock, knock, knock. Or maybe not.

“Come in.” You sighed as you flopped down onto your bed, scooting over as Jake came to sit down. “What’s up, Pineapples?”

“Just checking on you. Didn’t really get a chance to see how you feel after today.”

“I’m…” Another sigh left you as you lost the will to lie to him. “I wish they would’ve just left me alone. Forgetting their existence was a lot easier than letting them get my hopes up.”

“I’m sorry this happened to you, and I’m hoping maybe this will help you feel better.” He pulls a jewelry box from the pocket of his denim jacket and hands it to you while you frown at him.

“What’s this?”

“Your gift. You didn’t think I only got you a CD, did you?” he teased, knocking your shoulder with his. “Open it!”

You took the top off and set it to the side, gasping as you pulled out a silver necklace with a small pendant, yellow on one side and orange on the other.

“It’s us,” he tells you before you can ask. “I know things are about to get weird with me going to the academy and everything after graduation, but I wanted you to have a little reminder that I’m always here for you. Even if I’m not right next to you like this.”

“I love this so much.”

You faced him with watery eyes and he simply smiled, instructing you to turn around so he could help you put it on. The two of you leaned against the headboard when he was done, his arm around your shoulders while you leaned into him.

“In case I haven’t told you enough, you’re my favorite person on this whole, weird planet,” you mumbled into the fabric covering his torso.

“Good, because you’re my favorite too.”

-

You listened for snores heard just over Karen’s TV and Jake’s radio before closing your door and locking it, then slipping on your shoes and a jacket to keep away the chill of the night. After leaving a book in the window you snuck out of to keep it from closing, you made your way down the block to where your friend Erica and her older brother waited in a car.

“Hey, hope I didn’t take too long.”

“It’s fine!” She turned in her seat to grin at you. “Parties don’t really pick up until this time anyway.”

The house was full of teenagers when you arrived and Erica sent you to get drinks from the kitchen while she greeted the host, her brother headed off to his own friends.

“There she is!”

Erica called your name and waved you over to a guy that seemed too old to be at an eighteen and under party.

“This is Greg. I was just telling him that it’s your birthday, and that it hasn’t gone that well so far.”

“Happy birthday, kid.” He handed you a little plastic bag with a few pills in it. “First one’s on the house.”

“Thank you,” you told him, meeting his eyes again after examining the small objects. “But I’ve never--”

“--seen something so beautiful, right?” Erica quickly cut in with a wide grin, thanking Greg again before pulling you off to a quieter corner of the room. “This is so cool! He hardly ever gives anything away for free! He must think you’re cute.”

“Yeah? Well, I think he’s too old. Erica, what is this?”

“It’s a good time!” She took the bag from you and opened it, taking one out before handing it back to you. “Just take one and swallow it down with your drink.”

Against your better judgment, you took one of the pills and washed it down with the fruity alcohol in your cup. You danced with your friend and other people you recognized from school, not noticing at first the changes in everything. Lights seemed brighter, the music louder and better, and you felt lighter, the disappointment of the day long forgotten. You were happier than you’d ever felt in your whole life, and you never wanted it to end.

-

Tags: @beeblisss @marie-03 @gaulty74 @xetherealbeautyx @makapaka11 @rosadiazswifey @ochrythum @halfofwhatisayismeaningless @hip-hopphile

[annewritesfic]

Happy Endings Don’t Exist

y’all i’m so attached to this au-

anyways! based on chapter 58 of cress by marissa meyer!

tw: discussion of blood, violence, chess has a pretty gorey nightmare in the first section (you can skip the first few paragraphs and pick up at “Chess opened her eyes with a gasp” to miss it), blades, pain medication, mention of attempted murder/murder, hallucinations

word count: 2275

In Chess's dreams, she was being chased by a wolf.

She was running through a field of crops with thick mud that sucked at her shoes, fog soaking her jacket and leggings, her lungs burning and her eyes stinging and her heart thundering. Dry leaves crunched underfoot, quickly being swallowed by the mud, and something in the back of her head dimly registered that she was being chased through the sugar beet fields on the Benoit farm back home. Even as she thought it, something began to glow in the distance - the lights of a farmhouse. Her house. The house she’d grown up in, the house that had always been safe and warm. If she could just make it to the farmhouse, then everything would be okay.

But no matter how hard and fast Chess ran, the farmhouse didn’t get closer. It almost seemed that for every step she took, the farmhouse was three steps farther away. She might’ve been running for hours or days or months or years, but the farmhouse got no closer. Eventually, the fog closed in and swallowed the farmhouse, the warm glow blinking out of existence.

She tripped, landing on her hands and knees with a shout of pain, mud sticking to her clothes and caking her braid. The damp wetness soaked into her bones, making them ache from the cold. She looked up, and just a few feet away was the wolf, crouched low to the ground, eyes flashing with hunger and anger. Her hands desperately searched for a weapon on the ground, something, anything, as the wolf got closer, and closer, and closer…

There. Something smooth and hard under her fingers. It was surprisingly easy to yank from the mud. She barely had time to look at it, to register the blade glistening in the moonlight under the layer of mud, the sanded wooden handle - an axe - before the wolf leaped in the air, jaws unhinged, sharp teeth reflecting in the axe blade. Chess lifted the axe reflectively, bracing herself, just moments before the wolf would’ve landed on her chest and ripped her to shreds.

The axe cut clean through the wolf, slicing it in two pieces from snout to tail. Its blood splashed all over Chess’s face and chest, and she heard twin thumps as the two halves fell on either side of her head. A choking sob fought its way up her throat, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, sure she was going to throw up.

Then the two halves of the wolf began to move, shifting beside her into two human-like shapes, each wearing half of the pelt. The fog began to clear as two hands reached towards her, and Chess stifled a cry - her grandmother and Cairo, welcoming her home.

Chess opened her eyes with a gasp.

Instead of her grandmother’s old military jacket and Cairo’s shining eyes, all she saw were steel bars. The air was filled with the scent of ferns and moss. The chatter of birds was so overwhelming she almost covered her ears.

A soft yip came from somewhere to the side, sounding concerned - the white wolf. Chess rolled over to look at him - on the other side of the pathway, the wolf sat, watching her. He tilted his head a little bit, and it struck her how much he almost seemed like the neighbors’ dogs back home.

Home…

It wasn’t the first time she thought it, but Chess was still shocked by the near-physical pain in her chest, the longing for the rolling fields and blue skies and familiar faces. She wanted to go home.

“He likes you,” said a voice.

Chess inhaled sharply and sat up, eyes searching wildly for the source of the voice. A girl about her age was sitting in her cage, hands folded in her lap, watching her curiously, close enough to touch. Chess tried to move away, but pain shot through her hand, and she fell back to the ground with a hiss of pain. Her hand was wrapped in bandages, but her pinky was the worst of it - during her trial, Levana had forced her hand to pick up a hatchet and use it on the pinky finger of her other hand, taking it off at the second knuckle. The pain had been bad enough that she’d wished to pass out, although she hadn’t. But while that was the worst of her pain now, it wasn’t all of it - there were scratches and cuts and bruises all over her entire body, some from the scuffle on the satellite and some from that awful Lunar boy she’d stayed with for several days and most of the aches from sleeping on hard floors for more nights than she could count.

The strange girl didn’t react to Chess’s fear. She sat quietly against the wall, her back straight, looking interested and curious. She clearly wasn’t another prisoner - she wore a pale pink dress that looked out of place against the dark regolith Chess’s cage was carved from. Her honey-brown hair tumbled around her shoulders in healthy, shiny curls, half of it tied up in a ponytail. Her eyes were a pale blue, sparkling with excitement, and Chess realized that her left eye had three scars below it, cutting in straight, parallel lines down her cheek - almost like perpetual tear tracks.

She was the most beautiful person Chess had ever seen.

And it was that beauty that made Chess realize she was wearing another glamour - another trick.

“Ryu and I were wondering if that was a very good dream or a very bad one?” the girl asked in a sweet voice. “You were mumbling to yourself quite a lot.”

Chess pushed away the lingering memory of the dream, the image of Cairo and her grandmother smiling at her. “Who the hell are you? And-and who’s Ryu?”

The girl smiled. “Ryu is the wolf, silly!” She turned to look at the wolf across the path. “Haven’t you been neighbors for four months now? Ryu, why haven’t you introduced yourself?”

The wolf blinked big yellow eyes at her.

The girl looked back at Chess and leaned forward, like she was sharing a big secret. “And I am your new best friend. But you mustn't tell anyone, because all the guards think that I am your master and you are my pet - they don’t know that my pets are my dearest friends of all! We will fool all of them, you and I.”

Chess struggled to comprehend what the girl was saying. None of it made sense, or answered Chess’s question.

The girl reached for a basket beside her that Chess hadn’t noticed before. It seemed like a picnic basket, lined with some soft, silvery material. “I thought that today, we could perhaps play doctor and patient! I’ll be the doctor, of course. You seem in need of some care.”

Chess sat up and pressed herself against the opposite wall. “You’re not a doctor.”

“I know. That’s why it’s pretend.” The girl smiled wider. “Aren’t you having fun?”

“No, actually, I’m really not.” Chess’s fingers pressed against the rough stone floor. “I’ve been mentally and physically tortured, I’m starving, I’m thirsty, I’m locked up in a cage in a goddamn zoo-”

“Menagerie.”

“-and I’m hurting in a thousand different places. And now some crazy girl comes in here and wants to play make-believe? Like we’re best friends or some shit?” Chess scoffed. “I’m good. Go away.”

The girl sighed and leaned her chin on her hand, resting her elbow on her knee. “You shouldn’t call me crazy. The guards don’t like that. Even though it’s true.”

Neither of them broke the silence for a moment.

“I know it’s true. You want to know how I know?” The girl leaned forward again. “The palace walls have been bleeding for years, but I am the only one who sees.”

More silence.

“No one believes me, no matter how many times I say it,” the girl continued. “Sometimes I can’t help but step in it, and then I track bloody footprints everywhere, and I worry that perhaps a wolf soldier will smell it and come for me. But if the blood was real, don’t you think the palace maids would clean it up?”

Chess tried and failed to think of an answer.

The girl pulled a small box wrapped in ribbon. “These are for you. Doctor’s orders are to take one pill twice a day.” She handed Chess the box with a wink. “It isn’t real medicine, of course. It’s just candy. Sour apple petites - they’re my favorite.”

“I’m not eating one of those.”

“Why not? It’s a gift.” The girl opened the box and held it out to Chess - four small, round red candies, shiny and smooth. Chess didn’t move, and after a moment, the girl set the open box down on the floor between them.

“What do you want from me?” Chess asked.

“I want to be friends.”

“A friendship based on lies?” Chess laughed sharply, humorlessly. “Of course you don’t mind that. You’re Lunar. Lying is all you know how to do.”

The girl looked at her lap. “I’ve only ever had two friends - two human friends. One became a pile of girl-shaped ashes when we were very little, and the other has gone missing. I don’t know if he’ll ever return.” She shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut. “But I asked the stars to send me a sign that he was all right, and the next day was a trial like any other trial, except standing before me was an Earthen girl who’d seen him.”

“Can you make sense? Please?”

The girl leaned forward, closer than she had before, close enough that Chess could almost feel her breath across her face. “Is he all right? Sybil said he was still alive, that he probably was supposed to be piloting that ship, but she didn’t say whether he’d been injured. Do you think he’s safe?”

“Who?”

The girl smiled again, almost wistfully. “Clark Winslett. Sybil’s guard. The man with the blond hair and the kind eyes and the smile that holds the sun. Is he all right?”

Chess blinked, baffled. She didn’t remember much from the fight on the Rampion, and what few memories she did have were blurry. But while her focus had been mostly on the thaumaturge, she did faintly remember a blond guard.

But the smile that holds the sun? Bullshit.

“I remember two people that tried to kill us,” she muttered.

“And he was one of them?” the girl pressed, seemingly unconcerned with the killing part.

“Yeah, I guess.”

The girl smiled gleefully. “Did he look okay?”

“He looked like he was trying to kill me,” Chess said. “But I bet my friends killed him first. That’s our typical procedure for people who work for your queen.”

The girl’s smile vanished. “You’re lying.”

“Nope. And he deserved it.”

The girl began to shake, almost hyperventilating. The wolf - Ryu - pawed at the bars of his enclosure, whimpering. Chess tamped down her guilt and told herself she wouldn’t call for the guard’s help.

The girl got her breathing under control and sat up, her hand resting on her basket. “I see. Well, I-I should go.” She moved as if to stand, but then stopped. “I wasn’t lying about the bleeding walls. Soon, the palace will be so soaked with blood that Artemisia Lake will be so red, even Earthens will see it.”

“I don’t care,” Chess said. “And I’m not going to feel sorry for you. Your glamours and your mind control - you people have built your entire civilization around those lies, and I don’t want anything to do with it.”

The girl crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Chess, but said nothing for almost a minute. Chess lifted her chin and looked the girl in the eye, refusing to be afraid.

“I haven’t used my glamour since I was twelve years old,” the girl said at last. “That’s why I have these visions. Why I’m going mad.”

Chess didn’t show her surprise as the steel bars of the cage opened and the girl ducked out, taking her basket but leaving the candy. “Your Highness,” said the guard as he closed and relocked the cage door.

Chess listened to the footprints retreat down the path, staring at the candies, her heart thundering in her ears.

Your Highness.

Princess Annleigh.

The queen’s stepdaughter.

Annleigh was rumored to be more beautiful than Levana herself - which was why the queen had given her those scars. Even Earth knew about her, about her unspeakable beauty, about her scars… though Chess had never heard about the girl going mad.

The candies lay in front of her still, tempting her. Chess had no reason to trust her, but she’d finished her one small meal hours ago, and she wouldn’t be fed until the next day. Her stomach began to ache, and her head spun, and while she was proud of how long she made it, eventually she reached for the box and lifted one of the candies from the shreds of paper it was nestled in. It was smooth as glass between her teeth and cracked easily, the warm, melty center sweet and sour on her tongue. Nothing, nothing, had ever tasted so good.

But it was nothing compared to the sensation that expanded through her chest, down to her legs and into her fingers. A feeling of warmth, of comfort, that took her pain away with it.

Chess managed a smile up at the glass ceiling, at the stars beyond it. Perhaps the princess wasn’t so cruel after all.

[nxrthmizu]

| me and you | Sugawara Koushi

»»——⍟——««

song | Night Changes - One Direction

pairing | Sugawara Koushi x Reader

words | 2.9k 

author’s note | Hi yes I am late but,,, Oh wait I have no excuses. Anyway, please reblog and comment if you enjoyed reading! Not sure if I’m still being shadowbanned :/ Not proofread so let me know it there are any mistakes! 

»»——⍟——««

cadowly’s songfic december mlist

»»——⍟——««

Goin' out tonight, changes into something red

His mouth dropped at the sight of you, a gentle smile on your lips as you walked into the room. You were dressed in a black cloak, a dark green scarf wrapped around your neck like a snake. The kids’ attention instantly gravitated towards you, a whole bunch of them swarming towards you, a walking clump of excited chatters and ‘Merry Christmas, L/N-sensei!’. 

Her mother doesn't like that kind of dress

“Hello everyone,” You replied with a laugh, tugging off your cloak and your scarf as you walked into the classroom of the pre-school where both you and Sugawara Koushi worked as teachers at. “Merry Christmas!” 

A blush crept up his cheeks when you undressed, proudly showing off a bright red sweater with what seemed to be Rudolph on it. The pre-school had organised a secret gift event, where everyone would buy a gift, wrap it, and leave it under the tree. Later on, everyone would get a chance to pick out one gift for themselves, and since the teachers were required to participate, Sugawara had picked out a sweater, wrapped it in a cute box, and left it under the tree in the teachers’ staffroom. He had never anticipated the fact that you would choose his gift, giving your reason for the choice as ‘It looks really nicely wrapped, whoever bought this must’ve put a lot of effort into it!’.

Everything she never had she's showin' off

“L/N-sensei, your sweater’s really cute!” One of your kids said with a beam. 

“Thank you!” A soft smile graced your lips as you glanced down at the sweater with a fond expression. “It’s from my secret santa!” 

The kids continued to chatter excitedly around you as you set down your cloak and your bag in Sugawara’s classroom, where both of your classes were having a joint Christmas party. 

“Merry Christmas, Suga-san.” You greeted with a smile, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Your sweater’s really cute.” 

He glanced down in surprise, remembering with sudden shock that the sweater he was wearing came as a set with the one that he had wrapped. His was dark green, and also had Rudolph on it- Except Rudolph was standing in a different pose, of course. 

“Ah.” He coughed awkwardly. “Thank you. I like yours, too.” He knew without a doubt by the glint in your eyes, you were aware that the sweater you were wearing was from him. 

“Thanks! I really need to thank the person who got me this sweater.” At this point you were just teasing him, and boy was it working. Red flushed across Koushi’s cheeks, and it wasn’t because it was snowing outside. 

“Suga-sensei, you’re blushing!” One of the girls pointed out with a giggle. This caused a chain reaction throughout the classroom, the forty-or-so kids you had packed in Suga’s classroom rushing to the front, where he was sitting cross-legged on the carpet while wrapping some last-minute gifts. 

“Suga-sensei’s blushing!” Came the chorus of the kids’ exclamations. The red on his cheeks only darkened as he tried to laugh it off, but unfortunately for him, the red around his cheek, neck, and ears did not recede. 

You laughed softly. “Alright, alright. That’s enough. Who’s excited for the gift exchange?” 

The kids raised their hands and jumped around enthusiastically, some bragging loudly that they got amazing gifts for their classmates. Sugawara breathed a sigh of relief, glad that you had redirected the kids attention. 

“We still have a few students who aren’t here yet, so why don’t everyone leave their gifts under the tree first and we can play some small games while waiting for the rest of your friends, okay?” You suggested with a smile, the kids instantly rushing to grab their gifts from their bags to stash under the tree that both your classes had decorated together. 

“Thanks.” He smiled thankfully at you, praying that his blush had lightened up. 

Your eyes twinkled in amusement. “No problem.” 

»»——⍟——««

“Suga-sensei!” One of the girls approached him, pushing past his arms to settle into his lap. He chuckled, patting her hair as he gave her a questioning look. “I have a question!” 

“Well, go ahead.” He smiled. 

“Are you and L/N-sensei dating?” The kid whispered, looking up at him with saucer-sized, curious eyes. 

Sugawara coughed loudly, trying not to choke on his own embarrassment. “No! I mean... No. No we’re not.” 

“But she’s so pretty!” The girl scrunched up her eyebrows, not understanding why her teacher wouldn’t want to date the pretty teacher from the neighbouring class. “And she’s really nice!” 

“Well, yes, but...” He struggled with his words, trying to remember that you were across the room and that he couldn’t let the conversation get out of hand or he was done for. 

Little did he know, across the room, seated with your own kids, you were being confronted with the same question. “L/N-sensei, are you dating Suga-sensei?” One of your boys, who was cuddled up against your side while he munched on a piece of cake asked you, the rest of the kids tuning in to listen in interest. 

“No, but what made you think that?” A light blush painted your cheeks but you kept your cool, entertaining your kids with the conversation. 

One of the kids who were seated in a semi circle around you piped up. “Because he’s really nice to you!” 

“Because mommy said you two look nice together!” 

“Because his sweater looks a little like yours!” 

You smiled, your eyes flicking up to spot a flushed Sugawara across the classroom. “Well, we’re not dating. If we are I’ll let you guys know, okay?” 

It wasn’t just the kids, though. 

“How was the Christmas party?” One of Suga’s kid’s mother asked as she engulfed her child in a hug. The boy broke into a grin and begin ranting about the cake and the gift that he had picked out from under the tree. “That sounds great!” 

“I met new friends from L/N-sensei’s class!” The boy continued to say excitedly. 

“Ah, L/N-sensei?” The middle-aged woman glanced across the entrance of the pre-school, spotting you, also talking to one of your kids’ mother. “Wow, she’s really pretty!” (Suga had to stop himself from nodding vigorously in agreement.)

The boy agreed without holding back. “Yeah! Suga-sensei blushed when he talked to her!” The grey-haired teacher spluttered, not expecting his own student to betray him. 

“Is that so?” The mother instantly piped up, wiggling her eyebrows at Suga, whose face flushed again. “Suga-san, I think the both of you would look great together! Is she single?” 

“I-” He fumbled around with his words. “I think?” 

The mother shot him a smirk, walking away with her excited child as Sugawara blushed, drowning further in his growing affection for you. There you were, across the entrance, waving goodbye to one of your kids. “See you after Christmas break!” You smiled so brightly he was sure you could outshine Hinata, the literal sunshine child. 

The both of you sighed in relief as the last kid was picked up by his mother. At that rate, the both of you were ready to collapse from exhaustion- Dealing with kids during Christmas eve was one of the most draining things you had ever done, and the two of you were incredibly grateful that you had combined the class celebration- Because it meant only one classroom to clean up. 

“I’m exhausted already, and there’s still the staff celebration tonight.” You complained with a tired whine as you picked up all the trash left behind. 

He shot you a knowing smile, feeling his mental fatigue start to settle in. God, he loved kids, but they could be a handful at times. 

“L/N!” One of your female coworkers burst into Suga’s classroom, startling the two of you. Her expression turned sheepish as she apologised quickly. “I’m really sorry but- I can’t send you to the staff party tonight!” 

Your face dropped as you groaned. You couldn’t drive, and the party location was a reasonable distance from the nearest train station, and you didn’t feel like walking... 

“My mom suddenly told me she wanted me home for Christmas eve, so...” She winced. “I’m really sorry. Maybe you could get another teacher to send you?” 

“I could.” 

The both of you turned to look at Suga, who had paused halfway through sweeping the floor. “I’m going to the party. I could drive you.” 

“Perfect!” Your coworker clapped her hands a little too enthusiastically. Your eyes narrowed at her suspiciously as she very conveniently ignored your questioning gaze. “You can go with Suga-san, then. Sorry and thanks again!”

 »»——⍟——««

Drivin' too fast, moon is breakin' through her hair

“Wow.” Sugawara couldn’t help the way his jaw unhinged at the sight of you, clad in a tight-fitting red dress that hugged your curves in a way that left little to his imagination. “I mean. Um. You look great.” He offered, trying to fix his composure, heat bursting in blossoms across his neck, cheeks, and ears. 

“Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself.” You replied gracefully, your heels clicking as you walked down the steps of your apartment. 

Sugawara had cleaned up from his sweater-dressed pre-school teacher look into a well-groomed man with soft grey locks, a dark-green dress-shirt with a Christmas tree patterning and black jeans. “T- Thanks.” He stuttered, rushing over to hold the door open for you, quite like the gentleman he had a reputation of being. 

She's headin' for somethin' that she won't forget

The ride started off a little tense until you started humming along to the song on the radio, enticing him into joining you. He could barely keep his eyes on the road- How could he, when he had an angel like you in his passenger seat, eyes blinking under the stars and your heavenly voice tickling his ears?

Havin' no regrets is all that she really wants

“Suga! Oh, hi L/N-san.” A male teacher greeted the two of you with wiggling eyebrows that instantly made the two of you look away from each other. “Well, get yourself some drinks, we’ve got quite the night ahead of us!” 

We're only gettin' older, baby

“Come on, the two of you have been sitting here for the whole night! Get on the dance floor!” 

The two of you were seated by the bar, nursing your respective drinks (Suga had a glass of carbonated water- He wasn’t allowed to get drunk and he’d be darned if he forgot his responsibility of driving you home) while sharing small-talk, primarily about your classes and what you do outside of work. Koushi enjoyed your presence; Conversation just seemed to flow when he was with you, and awkwardness a foreign concept that he had forgotten. The twinkle of your laugh was imprinted in his mind, your eyes curved into crescents and a giggle vibrating down your throat. 

“I don’t... Know how to dance.” You admitted shyly. 

Your coworker rolled her eyes. “Just get out there!” 

“I’ll go with.” Koushi laughed, setting his drink down. His hand found yours, in the maze of coloured strobe lights and the next thing you knew you were laughing, smiling, giggling as he brought you the centre of the dance floor, like he wanted to show off to the world just how special you were. 

You flushed in embarrassment, feeling multiple sets of eyes on you- Your coworkers’. “What do I do?” The whisper was shot to the grey-haired man, who was already moving to the music like he was born to dance. 

“Just listen to the music and focus on the beat.” He laughed, taking both of your hands into his, jerking you onto the beat and directing your movements until you got a hang of it. “There you go!” 

And I've been thinkin' about it lately

Everyone in the room must’ve been able to see how in love with you he was, Suga mused with a tiny groan. There were literal hearts in his eyes when he looked at you, your red dress dancing in the air alongside you, a slightly-drunk smile on your lips. The pounding music faded away from him, the only sound he heard being your angelic laugh. At that point he was sure your laugh could cure the world’s deadliest diseases. 

Does it ever drive you crazy

“I’ve never had that much fun.” Breathless, you smiled widely at him, both of you (Well, mostly you) stumbling back to the bar. 

His eyes softened at the sight of your tousled hair, your gleaming eyes, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin. You looked like you hadn’t went to a club to dance in ten years- Which, judging from how stiff you were when you were first dragged onto the floor- Was probably true. 

Just how fast the night changes?

“Hey... Can we get out of here?” You asked after a while, giving him a mini-heart-attack when you turned to look at him. “It’s getting too loud for me.” 

“Sure,” He replied easily. Heck, you could ask him to get on a plane to anywhere on the planet and he’d probably still say sure. Koushi knew he had fallen for you, and when he fell, he fell hard. 

Everything that you've ever dreamed of

The two of you grabbed a couple of rental bikes a little away from the club, scanning the barcodes with your phones before pedalling away. Your red dress fluttered in the wind from under your coat, your hair loosened and a couple strands waving at him with a laugh while they flew behind you. 

Disappearing when you wake up

He wished he could continue pedalling behind you forever; God, what he would give to have Christmas eve last forever. Your laugh played on loop inside his mind, the ring of your giggle warming him, insuring his body against the cold winter. 

But there's nothing to be afraid of

By the time morning came, would you remember? Would you remember the park that the two of you stopped at because you wanted to stargaze? Would you remember the love-struck way he stared at you while your eyes were fixated on the dots of white up in the sky, just out of your reach? Would you remember the way he took a breath of courage and intertwined your fingers together just as the clock struck 12? 

Even when the night changes

“Merry Christmas, Suga-san!” You smiled, looking at the time on your watch. 

It will never change me and you

“Merry Christmas, L/N-san.” He replied, an identical smile on his lips. You leaned closer, your lips connected with his as sparks exploded as loudly as the fireworks up above in his heart. 

“W- Wait!” Koushi pushed you away, cheeks flushed and painted a visible scarlet despite the dim lightning of the park. “You- You’re drunk. I’m not going to take advantage of you like this, you’ll regret this when you wake up.” 

A pout crossed your lips, but you figured he had a point. Even you knew that you were slightly drunk- It was the boldness of your actions, the way stars seemed to litter the air around your silver-haired coworker, the shine in his eyes that were a little brighter than usual. 

“I won’t.” You pursed your lips. “I probably won’t dare to do it again if I’m fully sober.” 

»»——⍟——««

“Suga-san?” 

He swore he almost had a heart attack when he woke up at 8am and his phone was ringing, your caller ID staring him in the face, urging him to pick up. “Yeah? Do you need anything, L/N-san?” 

“No, uh, can I- Can I come over?” 

If he didn’t have a heart attack at seeing your caller ID, he had a heart attack at your request. “Uh- Sure? Why?” 

“I... I’m not too sure either. I’ll explain when I get there.” 

Christmas morning was a wonderland of white falling from the sky, your window sill covered with an inch-thick of cold, powdered sugar. There was a faint throb in your head- You had drunk a little bit more after returning to the party with Sugawara. Fumbling around, reaching for your phone, you turned it on, blinking in surprise as you stared at the three words etched on your lockscreen wallpaper. 

‘Kiss’. ‘Sugawara’. ‘Koushi’. 

“What did I do last night?” You mumbled, sitting up. Flashes of a park, a sparkling night sky, and a silver-haired coworker flipped through your mind like a flipbook with a dozen pages missing. At last, you figured you might as well call the man in question- Surely he knew what you did last night. 

»»——⍟——««

“I... Woke up to this on my lockscreen.” You explained, showing him your phone. Red burst across Koushi’s cheeks like cherry blossoms, and for a moment you wondered if spring had come early. “I figured there was no harm if I came over.” 

“So... Are you going to do it?” He eyed you, a mixture of shy and curiosity. 

In one swift movement, you jerked the front of his shirt, pulling him to you for a kiss. When you pulled back, Sugawara Koushi was a stuttering, blushing mess who had apparently forgot how to use his words. 

“No harm in trying.” You shrugged with a tint of a smile across your lips. “So... Did you forget how to use words or...?” 

“Dammit, you can’t just do that to me like this!” 

»»——⍟——««

taglist. @mrs-kuroojinguji @procrastination-lady ​@drippinginhoneyandgold ​@shoyosun​@aka-a-shii ​@shibayamasbae ​@churochuu​ @seijohlogy​ @dearsukuna 

send an ask to either @owlywrites or @cadenceh2o to be a part of Cadowly’s Songfic December’s taglist!

hello sorry for how late it is but uhhh yeah 

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[whydoyouwantmyname]

Imagine not telling the boys some important information

This was supposed to be an easy case, after everything you and the boys had been through you three needed an easy case.

You had known the boys for years, having met at the roadhouse, Ellen told the boys they would be fools to not ask you to help with a case, and you had been stuck with them ever since.

Since then you three had been through the ringer, John Winchester was dead, Yellow Eyes was dead, Sam had died, come back, and died again, before coming back again with no soul. Dean had sold his soul, been ripped apart in front of you, just to turn up on your doorstep four months later, living and breathing. You had befriended an angel, befriended a crossroad demon, and witnessed the apocalypse. You learned that your boys were vessels of Lucifer, and Micheal, learned they had a bastard brother, Jo, and Ellen were dead. And to top it all off you witnessed Dean look you in the eyes, pull you into a hug and whisper, “Be good.”, before he climbed into the impala, and drove back to Lisa and Ben’s doorstep. After a month of no word from him or Cas, you asked Bobby if you could move in permanently, and drank more whiskey than either Winchester ever could. However within a year’s time, Bobby called you down stairs, your hair a mess, an oversized Led Zeppelin shirt was draped over your frame, and in your hand was an empty vodka bottle. As you wandered down the stairs you let out a yawn, and when you opened your eyes, there they were.

Since reuniting with the boys, you learned Sam had returned with no soul, and had been racing around with Samuel, the elder he was named after. Bobby also revealed that he had made a deal with Crowley, and that he had discovered Crowley’s true weakness, his child, Gavin. Gavin’s spirit was extremely willing to reveal where Crowley was buried. Both you and the Winchester’s went to dig up the bones, and upon Crowley collecting them, you all flew back, comforted that Bobby had reclaimed his soul from the new King of Hell. Meg had returned, Death had made an appearance with Sam’s soul, Dean became a vampire, and you fought fairies. Which led you to your current situation, where you were sitting on the hood of the impala, cold beer in hand as Dean, Cas, and Bobby assessed Sam’s current state. The sun reflecting off of your dark sunglasses as you looked towards the back porch door, which shut with a bit of force and revealed the eldest Winchester walking towards you with Bobby.

“Did our precious sleeping beauty fall back asleep?” You called as the men looked away from one another, and found your eyes. Dean scowling as he states, “Why my car? You have a perfectly good car…”

“My car is in the front yard though, and covered by shade, at least your precious baby is in the sun, meaning I can tan.”

“You are wearing jeans and a flannel, what are you tanning?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t scratch her, now what do we do?”

“Well Cas says we can’t let him know, or else the whole wall protecting his mentality.” Bobby replied, as you looked over to him.

“So we just pretend this last year didn’t happen, awesome.” You smiled

“Well for you that will be easy, since you probably drank yourself to unconsciousness for most of it.” Dean joked as you smiled and replied, “So we got a new case yet?”

“Yeah, seems like a pilot was trying to impress a girl, took her flying and his body ended up torn to shreds by god knows what, and the girl is missing.”

“When are we leaving?”

“I expect your shit in the trunk in 30, and I swear if she has any scratches or dents on her hood…”

“I know, you will send me on a one way trip to Hell.” You smiled before finishing your beer, and hopping off the Impala, turning to look at the hood, “Oh look, not even an ass print.”

While sitting in the back seat, you all discussed the case at hand, and discovered the case was larger than just one missing woman. You also quickly learned that Sam had no recollection of the events that occurred since he went into the hole, and innocently asked, “So while I was gone, did you two finally admit you are in love with each other.”

Now it was a common fact among your group that you and Dean loved each other, you said it on multiple occasions, if you ever needed to pose as a couple, you and Dean were always the bait, you shared beds in countless hotels, you were the only one allowed to steal his fries, and you were the only one allowed to touch Baby, as proved earlier. You knew if anyone else even attempted to sit on the Impala, Dean would have their heads, but with you, you just got light harassment. However you both knew it could never happen, due to the life you led, and the baggage you carried with you.

“No, I actually moved in with Lisa and Ben, however we… uhhh… didn’t work out.” Dean answered, looking in the rearview as you added, “She was tired of competing with a car from 1967.”

Sam chuckled, as Dean smiled slightly, his lips corner lifting in an unseen smirk, neifre Sam asked, “So what did you do [Y/N]?”

“You know all the normal stuff, moved in with Bobby, became a functioning alcoholic, researched a bunch.”

“Don’t forget to add, slept with a bunch of dudes.” Dean joked, as your eyes grew slightly, the truth was, you hadn’t slept with anyone, ever. With the life you lead, and the baggage you carried, it was just easier to not get involved with anyone, seriously or causally, most times you never even had a crush, but Dean Winchester was an exception.

“Oh I am sure Sam didn’t need to know about that.” You joked, in an attempt to hide the secret.

“I agree.” Sam added, “Besides, we all know that there is only one person…”

“So are we going straight to Penny’s house when we get to the hotel?” You cut Sam off

“That’s the plan.” Dean answered, pulling into a motel parking lot, “I call first dibs on the bathroom.”

As you opened the door to the motel room, you looked behind you to the two boys in suits, your flannel, boots and jeans replaced with a pencil skirt, black pumps, and white button down, as fake glasses sat on your nose, “I call dibs on the bathroom, unless you want me to just take off the skirt right here.”

“All yours.” Sam replied as Dean lifted an eyebrow, “You need some help with that skirt darling?”

“I think I have it handled Stud, but thank you for the offer.” You replied, before discarding your pumps, and jogging towards the bathroom.

As the door shut behind you, Sam looked to his brother, “Dude, why did you ever leave her for Lisa?”

“What do you mean?”

“Dean, you clearly love her, we all know you both do. Why not try to make it wor….”

“Dude, we have talked about this, she doesn’t want to date because she doesn’t want to burden her next relationship with her baggage.”

“She said that four years ago Dean.”

“And if she wanted to move forward she would tell me, so I nominate you drop it, before she comes out of that door, and kills you with her pumps.”

When you re-emerged, your hair was soaked, and the FBI outfit was replaced with your black leggings, jean jacket, and a tank top, your hand ruffled your wet strands of hair as Dean looked towards you and smiled, “So I think I figured something out.”

“Did you finally learn that Boston Cream pie isn’t pie, but cake?” You questioned, both you and Sam looking to see if he would react, however he just held up a small black book with a silver lock, “No, but we are looking for virgins.”

“Dude is that a diary?” Sam inquired as Dean just nodded, “You stole Penny’s diary?”

“I mean at this point are you really surprised? I have stolen much worse.”

“Honestly Dean, this might be a new low, even for you.” You replied, sitting on your shared bed as you opened Dean’s bag and removed your bourbon lotion, which Dean had stolen from you two months ago. However it was a common tradition for Dean to use your lotion, the origin of the tradition was unknown to either of you, “Besides we have no proof that either of these victims are..”

“Tonight I have decided to give Stan my most precious gift.” The statement sounded extremely creepy as he read Penny’s handwriting, both you and Sam looking towards Dean as you whispered, “Well that wasn’t creepy.”

“It might have been, but you can’t tell me that doesn’t scream Virgin excited to get fucked into next week by Stan.” Dean answered as you returned the lotion to Dean’s bag and chuckled, “Definitely.”

“Okay, so why would this creep be after virgins?”

“No idea, I mean I prefer a woman with experience, someone who probably has daddy issues, lots of baggage and her drink of choice is whiskey. Also she has to smell like bourbon.”

“Sounds like you are looking for a bartender.” You smiled, as Sam cleared his throat, causing you to glance over to him, a blush in both your and Dean’s face, “So what do we think it could be?”

“Easy, dragon.” You shrugged, as they both met your eyes,”I mean they are attracted to virgins, they are like a fine delicacy to them.”

“Yeah, but they are extinct.” Sam replied as you pulled out your phone

“At least that’s what everyone says, but what if they aren’t, they are just underground.” You answered, your fingers pressing a familiar number sequence on your number pad before you brought your phone to your ear.

“Yeah?”

“Hey Bobby, I got an odd request for ya.”

“I’m all ears.”

“What do you know about dragons?”

“You mean other than the fact that they are extinct?” He replied as you smiled, “And what if I said I think we stumbled upon a case that proves they aren’t.”

“Well I can look into it, but how do you know…”

“Dean stole one of the vic’s diaries, and there is a line in it that screams virgin.”

“I’ll see what I can find, but while I do that, I got a friend who might be able to help. If you and Dean wanted to take a ride over, her name is Dr. Visyak. It is kinda her specialty,”

“Thanks Bobby. I’ll tell the guys.” You replied, before hanging up, your eyes casting to the eldest, “Bobby said he would do some digging, however he might have a friend who can help, said Dean and I should take a ride over.”

“Sure sweetheart, whatever you say.” He smiled, alarm in his eyes as you both threw on your shoes and started towards the impala. Before opening the passenger door, you said to the air, “Cas, I need you to babysit Sam, just for an hour or two.”

Once in the car, you turned the music up, and screamed along with the mixtape you made Dean once for Christmas, both of you rocking out to the songs before the song You’re My Best Friend by Queens started playing, and you both looked at each other. This was the song that you both defined your relationship by, and as the lyrics blared through the speakers, you couldn’t help but lean your head back against the headrest, and look at the dirty blonde, green eyes man seated beside you as he took his callused, dry, enormous hand into yours, smiles on both of your faces as you sang every word. Once it was over however, Dean let go of your hand, and turned the radio off.

“Awww come on, Air Supply is next.” You groaned as Dean looked at you quickly, before he asked, “What are we doing [Y/N]?”

“What do you mean Dean?”

“Listen, I know we talked about this once, but then…”

“You messed it up by selling your soul.”

“And you told me you didn’t want to date because you had a lot of baggage that you didn’t want me to have to deal with, nor were you willing to tell me.”

“Guess we are both at fault.” You replied as he breathed out.

“Listen I know what we said, and that this is by far the dumbest decision we could make as hunters, but what if we try?”

“And risk losing my best friend?”

“You really think we won’t be best friends even if we break up, I mean it will be awkward knowing what my best friend looks like completely naked, but other then that nothing else has to change.”

“You offer a very valid point.” You exhaled, as he pulled into the address Bobby had sent you, “How about this, we get this son of a bitch, and go home to Bobby’s. After unloading the impala we drive over to that bakery on the corner by the grocery store, get a pecan pie, two forks, and a case of beer. Then we talk about it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You replied, before holding your pinky out and watching him link his own to yours, as you pulled apart you both threw the impala doors open, and started towards the doors of Dr. Visyak’s office.

Upon reaching the door, Dean reached out and knocked, a few moments passing before the door creaked open revealing Dr. Visyak, “ Can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Dean Winchester, and this is [Y/N] [Y/L/N], we are friends of Bobby Singer, and he said you might be able to help us out.”

“How about you just go kick him in the family jewels, it would be more poetic.”she replied, Dean’s face taking an O appearance as you replied, “That bad? Doesn’t surprise me honestly.”

“I am glad you understand, I would share, but that’s his story to tell. However if he sent you here, he must be desperate.”

“What can you tell us about dragons?” You asked, as her eyes increased in size, “Dragons? Really?”

“What, no 12 sided dice jokes?” Dean asked as you looked at him, “How do you get a DND player to go out with you?”

“Do I want to know?”

“You ask them on a D8.” Dr. Visyak smiled at you after delivering the punch line, your eyes fixated on the confused face of Dean before she opened the door wider, allowing you both to enter the house. As you entered you leaned over slightly and whispered, “You asked.”

As she guided you to the parlor you inquired, “So what can you tell us about them?”

“Well if they are active then you should be extremely concerned.”

“Can we kill them?” Dean followed up, as she looked at the artifacts on the wall, “Of course you can, however you need a blade forged in a dragon's blood.”

“Of course you would need a dead dragon to kill a dragon.” You breathed out

“No dear, you just need one of the blades, they are quite rare, only 5, maybe 6 in the whole world.”

“Of course there is.” Dean sighed

“One of which is in my basement.”

“What?” You both asked, eyes on her as she smiled.

“I can show you, if you like.”

“Yes please.” You replied before following her down the steps and into the room with a large rock, a sword hilt sticking out of it as you looked towards Dean.

“Thank goodness I have the macho man with me.”you smiled as he raised an eyebrow.

“So what’s with the rock?”

“Dean, have you never heard the story of Excalibur?”

“Who?”

“More of a what actually, it was a sword that was trapped in a rock during 5th century Britain, King Arthur pulled it out at the age of 15, and from there vowed to pursue a life of justice in the name of God. However some claim it was a test from Merlin to prove he was truly the king. However both stories kinda have the same message, if you wanna pull the sword out, you must be worthy.”

“I mean I think I am pretty worthy.”

“Sure you are my shining knight in tin foil.” You stated as he threw up his middle finger and advanced towards the rock. You folded your arms and leaned back against the doorframe and smiled, as he gripped the hilt and breathed out, “Alrighty Dean, time to impress the lady.”

Soon the room was filled with your laughter as you watched Dean struggle and after several minutes of struggling he finally slipped from the rock and landed on his back a groan filling the room as you wandered over to him and looked down over him, arms crossed as he groaned, “You okay Dean?”

“I would be if you were wearing a skirt.” He groaned, his green eyes looking up at you as you smiled, “Smooth one.”

“Wanna give it a go my fair maiden?”

“Of course I do, but first I need to get something out of the impala.” You extended a hand for the keys, which Dean happily surrendered, as he did he stated, “If you need me, I’ll be here, on the ground, just waiting.”

When you returned you were holding a small cylinder of TNT, Dean’s head lollied towards you as he groaned, “We had that the whole time?”

“Yeah, however I figured before we blew it up, you might want to attempt proving your worth.”

“I mean yeah, but the boom sticks would be way funnier.” He sighed as you extended a hand to help him up,once vertical you extended the TNT and stated, “Either way Dr. Visyak is going to be pissed.”

“So let me get this straight, you both found out that to kill a dragon, we need a dragon blade, which is extremely rare, and you two decided to blow it up and break it?” Sam asked, as you both looked at the towel on the table, which you used to wrap the severed blade.

“Now when you say it like that Sammy it sounds like we knew it was going to break in half.” You replied

“What did you think was going to happen [Y\N]!”

“I don’t know, something amazing.” You replied as Sam looked to the blade

“It could be worse, it could have been completely destroyed. I mean at this point we can still kill the son of a bitch, we just have to get a bit closer.” Dean defended you as you looked at him.

“So, Sam, you figure out where we can find it?”

“Yeah, it looks like he is using the sewers, my best bet is he is somewhere in this region.” Sam answered, his finger landing within a hand drawn red circle he made to symbolize the likely hideout.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Dean asked, “Let’s go get the son of a bitch.”

After wandering for hours you were starting to think it was hopeless, until you saw the slight glimmer of the pile of treasure.

As soon as you pointed it out, Dean walked over to it and knelt before it, reaching out to start shoving it in his pocket.

“Really Dean?” Sam stated as you held up a hand, “No let him have this, who knows when it will happen again.”

“You two are unbelievable sometimes.” Sam sighed as Dean stood up and tossed a ruby towards you, “That is for your unconditional support.”

That’s when you heard the bang, and you and Sam turned your attention from Dean, and down the tunnel before you. Both of you started towards the noise as Dean quickly followed, and soon you found yourselves in a large space, and could see the girls crying through the grates, none of them noticing you were standing there. However before any of you could get to them, you heard a bang above you, and looked up to see two men on a runway above you. Quickly you were bonding up the stairs to the runway, and upon getting up there one snarled, “I never thought our job would be so easy that virgins would start coming to us.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You retorted as Dean arrived behind you, sword in hand as he quickly advanced, slashing at the beast before noticing one behind me, “[Y/N]!” He hollered, tossing the blade before slugging the younger dragon he was fighting, catching the blade, you quickly turned, and sliced a small incision into the arm of the older one, who quickly exclaimed, “You will regret that Virgin.”

Ducking his own swing, you quickly tossed the blade back to Dean, who caught it as you both backed up closer to one another, ducking again before swinging Dean decided to ask you, “Anything you want to tell me Darling?”

“I really wish we didn’t use TNT.” You replied, looking out of the corner of your eye to see Dean take another swing.

“Anything else? Like why these assholes keep calling you…”

“I’m a virgin, no big deal.”

“Umm it is kind of a big deal right now.”

“Nah I think we got this.” You replied, Sam finally joining you all on the runway as you reached around and took the sword, which you once again swung at the older dragon, before Sam hit him from behind, distracting him for a second as you turned, and landed the blade into the younger dragon as Dean punched him, a speech of pain filling the space as you felt something wrap around your middle before the rapid feeling of acceleration overtook you, a scream exiting your lips as you dropped the sword, neither Sam or Dean were able to even process what was happening until they heard the crash from above, the man hole that was above them wide open as Dean screamed, “Son of a bitch!”

Dean’s POV

My foot was to the floor, knuckles gripped tightly on the steering wheel as her words echoed over and over, “I’m a virgin, no big deal.”

“I don’t get it, why would the dragons take her?” Sam asked as I pulled into the parking lot of the motel, releasing a breath I didn’t even know I was holding I whispered, “She was a virgin.”

“What?”

“We basically served them a victim on a silver platter.” He huffed as Sam looked at him, before muttering something about getting the bags, however all I heard was the shutting off the impala doors, which triggered me to begin beating the steering wheel. How could I be so blind.

The ride to Bobby’s was silent, I didn’t even have the desire to put on the radio. Upon arriving I noticed Cas was standing on the porch, his eyes directed right at the impala as I turned the key, and the purr of Baby died down, leaving her silent as I sat there, my head leaned back against the headrest as Sam looked towards me, “We have to go in Dean.”

“We weren’t supposed to be here.” I stated, Sam’s eyes filled with concern as the tears gathered, I could feel the sob in my chest as I continued, fighting the urge to let the sob loose, “We agreed that we would go get pie as soon as we dropped you off, along with a case of beer and two fork, and finally figure out this whole sexual tension thing. If I had just suggested it sooner, if I had the fucking balls to tell her I don’t give a damn about the relationship rule…..” my voice grew silent, and then turned into a growl, “ he might be here.”

“Dean none of us knew…”

“I should have! I was her best friend, we told each other everything.” I stated, before I took the door handle into my hand, and gripped the cool metal, pulling with force to trigger the door to open. As I advanced towards the angel he grimly stated, “Dean, I’m sorry…”

“Where is she Cas?” I asked, not looking for small talk

“I have lost track of her, either she is being possessed and whatever is holding her prisoner is blocking her from angels' sight, or she has..”

“Don’t you dare fucking say it.” I growled, before pushing through the peeling paint door, and advancing straight to the kitchen, grabbing her bottle of Jack before pushing out the back door, the smooth glass lips of the bottle on mine as I grabbed the bat Bobby had sitting on the porch, and wandered into the pile of junk cars. Once I was in front of a mostly complete car, I set the bottle down and took a swing.

Back to [Y/N] POV

Upon waking up you could feel you body jostling around, you were sitting up, feet and wrist bond with thick rope, your eyes covered with a bandanna as you opened them, your nose filled with the stench of BO and sewer.

“Ever heard of Axe body spray?” You snapped as you heard a foreign laugh, “It’s alright sweetheart, you won’t be around long enough to even be bothered by the smell.”

“So tell me, what was the point of all this, to drive all of the virgins out into the woods, a feast upon their pure flesh?”

“Nope, I have a bigger plan for you, you are the only one who seems worthy enough for Eve.”

“What is she your girlfriend or something?”

“No, she is my mother, and you will soon be her vessel.”

“When they find you…”

“Oh your two little boyfriends that killed my brother? They don’t scare me.”

“It isn’t them I would be scared of.” As you growled that, you felt the vehicle stop, and a door open and shut. Soon you felt your own door open, your feet cut loose, as you went to kick, yet he was too quick, and soon you were dragged out and felt the cool breeze against your face. As you inhaled the fresh, crisp night air, he removed the bandanna, and revealed the gully to you, causing you to respond, “Ahh I take it I am a sacrifice?”

“Now you’ve caught on.”

“Oh now you are definitely fucked when he finds you.”

“ Ego coniuro vos, insolubiliter ad mei potenciam aligati! Ad me...Sine prestolacione venire... Debeatis aperiat!” With the last part he took all his force and shoved you as hard as he could, your body flying over the ledge and towards the bottom of the large ravine, which was quite warm. That is when it all went dark.

When you opened your eyes, you were in a hotel room, the tv screen covered in static as you looked around, hoping it was a dream, “Sam, Dean!” You called, but the voice that replied was neither.

“Hello [Y/N]. Or should I call you Ailsa?” A female voice asked, as you spun around, looking for the source

“Only my father can call me that.” You snapped

“ Feisty, I like it, tell me do you really think your dear old daddy is going to find you.”

“Do you have any idea who you are…”

“Ailsa MacLeod, you were born in 1803, your mother was a mortal,she died from you ripping your way out of her womb. Your father… well your father is a bastard. You were raised in the depths of hell, your beauty preserved among the paperwork, and your father constantly looking over your shoulder. You left in 1981, and became a hunter, drifting motel to motel, bar hopping, until you met the legendary Winchesters, who became your family. Tell me what do you think Sam and Dean would think if they saw those bright ruby eyes you hid behind your [Y/E/C] ones?”

“How do you…”

“How foolish of me, I haven’t even properly introduced myself, I am Eve, mother of purgatory, and the one who is going to tear your father’s heart from his chest for what him and his partner have done to my children.”

Part 2

—————————————

A/N: hey, so this is basically a revision of a piece I wrote when I first started this page, I was recently reading it, and I was cringing the whole time. (Which if you cringed during this rewrite I am sorry, I believe that your writing always improves during time, so who knows maybe if I rewrite this in another 5 years it will be even better) plus this is a nice break from the two major stories I have been focusing on for the past three months I have been in quarantine.

Today I have to go to my rehiring meeting with my place of employment, so hopefully life will be normal soon, but I promise I will keep posting 🖤

[i-like-5sos]

Awesome Can you make one where Ashton has a 16 year old sister and her boyfriend has sex with her without consent and has a baby and her boyfriend leaves her and Ashton and the boys help her get ready for the baby,the day the baby is born she has a boy and she names it fletcher after Ashton who she looks up to and adores!!

Hi there ! Thank you so much for the request :) <3

Anything For You

POV: Ashton Irwin 

Word Count: 1991 (short and sweet)

Warnings: Swearing, one reference to the cause of pregnancy (nothing detailed at all).

Summary: Ashton’s younger sister finds herself pregnant and he supports her throughout her pregnancy with the help of Calum, Luke, and Michael.

A/N:  So just so everyone reading knows, I have taken it upon myself to not include anything that has happened before the 5th month of this character’s pregnancy as I believe it could be triggering to readers. I did however, include everything else you’ve requested :) I hope you all enjoy!

5 Months In - Gender Reveal Ultrasound

As I sit in the waiting room, tapping my fingers on the hard plastic armrest of the uncomfortable chair I find myself in, I begin to notice the pattern my eyes have made darting between the clock, the door she left through, and the model uterus that sat on the table across the room. It’s been about 25 minutes since she went to find out the gender of her baby, and I feel like I might actually be going insane in this room. I sigh deeply and pull out my phone for the fifth time to try to distract myself again. I notice a text from Calum asking if we know the gender yet, and I quickly send a reply letting him know that there’s been no updates and that they wouldn’t let me in the room with her.

15 minutes pass and finally I hear the door open and watch as my sister enters the room and smiles wildly at me. Is it too soon to say she’s glowing? Maybe. But I swear to god she is.

“So? What are you having?” I say too loudly, drawing the attention of the very pregnant woman sitting next to the uterus.

“Calm down Ash,” She laughs softly, “I’ll tell you in the car to save these poor people the damage to their ear drums.”

…

I practically run to the car and unlock it quickly before sitting down in the driver’s seat and wait for her to join me. She takes her time walking over, smiling to herself at the obvious torture she’s putting me through at this moment.

What feels like an eternity later, she joins me in the car, sitting in the passenger’s seat. Before she even has the door shut, I’m asking her again about the results of the ultrasound. She chuckles and looks towards me before covering her ears.

“It’s a boy!”

“Ohmygod!” I shout out and crash into her hard, hugging her as best as I could manage around the center console of the car.

As I pull back, I remember the surprise I have waiting for her in the backseat.

“Wait here.” I say as I hold up a finger and quickly dash out of the car to the trunk to grab her the gift.

I return with the small piece of folded-up fabric.

“You said you weren’t going to be crazy about this” She said shaking her head.

“That doesn’t sound like me at all. I was clearly lying.” I chuckle as she shakes her head. “Just humor me.” I pass her the small white fabric piece.

I watch with joy as she unfolds the infant-sized shirt. Her eyes water slightly as she reads the writing on printed on the front – ‘mama’s boy’. She smiles softly as she looks back to me.

“Ashton this is too cute. I can’t wait to see him in it…. How did you know it would be a boy though?”

“As much as I would love to admit that I have the ability to predict the future… I didn’t know. I actually have another in the trunk that says, ‘mama’s girl’ as well.” I say and shrug.

She laughs and looks down at the shirt once more before putting it close to her chest and smiling softly again.

“I love it, thank you so much.”

“Anything for you”

 8 Months In – Baby Shower

“Luke just texted saying they’re here. Get over here Mike!” I say loudly to Michael, who’s been eating the majority of the blue cupcakes at the small snack table we’ve set up.

He quickly joins Calum and I under the archway made of blue balloons near the gate, and we wait for the sound of Luke’s car doors shutting. I chuckle softly as her voice becomes more and more clear as they approach the back gate.

“Luke, can you please just take off my blindfold. I promise I won’t tell Ashton... Call me crazy but I think there’s a rule that says pregnant people can’t walk around blindfolded.”

“No way. The blindfold was my idea. And I don’t see any pregnancy rule books here so I’ll be the one making the rules.” Luke replies as he opens the gate and then guides my younger sister towards the three of us. “Okay we’re here… now don’t move. You can take it off in three… two…” He lets go of her arm and quickly runs over to stand with us. “one!”

She pulls of blindfold off and her face immediately lights up as she takes in the baby shower wonderland that once was Calum’s backyard. The large balloon archway, the table overflowing with gifts from the four of us, the diaper cake, the actual cake covered in baby blue icing surrounded by different blue themed snacks, the blue streamers and balloons covering the entire backyard and, of course, the table containing all kinds of baby shower games the four of us were able to find online.

“Guys! You shouldn’t have! I had my baby shower last week! You know this… You were there!”

“Yeah but… it sucked. There were no balloons and the only snack you had were pretzels… who even likes pretzels?” Michael says shrugging. “And besides, we’ve had this planned from the moment you and Ashton face timed us revealing little Michael Junior’s gender.”

“Michael, how many times does she have to tell you that she’s not naming him Michael Junior? We all know the little guy’s name is going to be Calum Junior.” Calum interjects and gets a swift shove from Michael.

“If she’s naming the baby after anyone it’s going to be named after me” Luke says proudly. “I’m the one that brought her safely to the best baby shower anyone’s ever seen!”

She laughs loudly and shakes her head “You guys are too much.”

…

Once all the gifts have been opened, the guys are trying to see how many balloons they can fit into Calum’s pool as we eat our cake and watch them.

“Thank you again for this amazing baby shower.”

“It was worth it to see you smile. You deserve to be happy.”

She sits there quietly for a moment before responding. “You’ve done so much for me over these last 8 months and I just want you to know how thankful I am to you and to the other guys too… I don’t know what I would do without you four.” She says with a layer of sadness to her voice and looks down at her cake.

“Hey now, you’re okay, you’re safe, you’re loved… You both are. We are here for you no matter what. Never forget that.” I say, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

Our attention is pulled away from the moment as we hear a loud crash of someone – Luke – falling into the pool, followed by the booming laughter of Calum and Michael.

 9.5 Months In – The Night of The Birth

Everything is black as my eyes fly open in response to the sound of my little sister yelling out my name from the hallway as she bangs on my bedroom door. I shoot out of the bed as quickly as I can once I realize what was happening. I open the door to see her standing there in her pajamas in a pool of liquid on the floor.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Okay. We can do this.” I mumble and rush past her to grab the hospital bag in the hallway and begin down the stairs to get the car keys.

“Ashton.” She calls out to me from the top of the stairs.

I turn back to see her staring at me with fear and impatience on her face. Oh right. I run back up the stairs to help her walk down them and continue my mission to the front door. I throw my shoes on, grab the keys, and unlock the door. I begin mentally planning our route to the hospital while trying to decide whether to call or to text the boys once we were on our way, and I pause to take a moment to try and figure out what time it was in Australia to determine whether or not we’d wake up mom with our call... What time is it here?

“Ashton!” She says loudly, snapping me out on my haze.

“What? What did we forget? We have the bag and the keys, and you…” I mentally go over the checklist we had mad a few weeks ago for this exact moment.

“Your shirt maybe?” She says, gesturing to my bare chest.

“Fuck. Okay yeah maybe I need that.” I pat the pockets of my pajama pants and realize my phone is still charging in my room. “Might need my phone too… I’ll be right back.”

I dash back up the stairs, taking two at a time. As I get to my room, I grab the first shirt I see and quickly unplug my phone before running back down to join my sister at the front door.

“Okay, fully clothed. Now let’s go.”

9.5 Months In – After the Birth

As I stare at this beautiful child in my little sister’s arms, I can’t help but smile softly at the site before me. I’m an uncle! The sound of the boys entering the room pulls my eyes from the ball of sweetness before me.

“Oh my god… He’s so small!” Luke says, darting to the newborn.

“Look at him! So precious! How are you after… you know… birth and whatnot?” Calum asks, sitting down on the edge of the hospital bed.

“Tired” She replies, stretching her back and then smiling back down at her baby.

As we all take turns holding the newborn, we all fall in love with him instantly. How could we not? Michael promises to teach him how to shred on guitar, Calum somehow was able to find a bucket hat for a newborn and has the little guy wearing it, and Luke introduced himself and pretended to shake the baby’s hand.  

“Okay… we’ve waited long enough. What’s his name?!” Michael asks excitedly as Luke hands the newborn back to his mother.

“I gave it a lot of thought and I finally decided on a name that I can only hope he will live up to… Fletcher.” She smiles softly as she looks over to me.

I’m speechless as I stare at the young woman I’ve known for the entirety of her life and have loved for every second of it. She has chosen to name her child after me. Me. I am truly honored as a tear slips out of the corner of my eye. I wrap my arms around her and Fletcher and hold the two of them, stunned.

As I let go and sit down in the chair beside the bed, I look back at the two of them.

“I don’t have the words to tell you how I feel right now. I am truly honored.” I finally manage to say.

“You have helped me through the worst days of my life… and you’re still here with me on the best day of my life. Ashton, you helped me more than I could ever say. I wanted my son to be proud of his name, and I know that the more he knows you, the prouder he will be. You’re my role model and I would be proud to have a son that grown up to be half the man you are.” She smiles at Fletcher, and then at me.

I get up to hug them both again and kiss my sister on the forehead. “Thank you so much” I whisper softly.

“I guess Fletcher’s a nice name… I still like Michael Junior though.” Michael jokes.

We all laugh together as we sit in the hospital room and continue to fall in love with Fletcher.

[tragicallywicked]

bella asks alice about the time before she and jasper joined the cullens

Happy birthday to Bella!!!!

So here's a fun little family time. This turned out a bit different, though they do talk about Alice and Jasper’s two years together it’s more of Bella and the fam try to embarrass Alice and then be nice to her cause Esme said so. Very cute Bella and Alice sister-in-law/best friends bonding too. And obvs Jalice cuteness PS.: It's set in 2017 for timing purposes.

Birthdays were my favorite. Even if we couldn't eat cake, we could still celebrate and party. On previous occasions, Bella's birthday had been the cause of commotions in the family. But since we had an eternity of those now, I wanted the impressions to be new about the date. Bella was my best friend and now that she wasn't human or aging anymore, I hoped that she would be glad with a party. Of course, it was just our family. 

She spent lunch at Charlie's while I had the rest of the family organize the house with me.

"Are you sure she wants this?" Rosalie eyed me as she passed on with a pile of present.

"Over on the round table, Rose," I said simply as she rolled her eyes amusedly. "We celebrate everyone's birthday here."

"Yeah, but it's not like she likes it, Alice." Rosalie mocked lightly and I sighed. Of course, they were comparing it to the previous times.

"Sure as hell it's always eventful!" Emmett came in saying it, poking Jasper on the ribs. I rolled my eyes dramatically and waltzed to my love, pecking his cheek.

"Don't mind him, it's in the past," I whispered against his ear. 

Jasper planted a hand on my lower back and nodded, "I know. Thank you." We exchanged a brief kiss and were off to finish up the decorations.

There was a cake that would be mainly for Renesmee, but it was three tiers tall, light pink with petals around it. Some appetizer plates around it as well. Anyone could easily think we were all going to eat and Edward made a remark about that.

"Ness doesn't eat that much food." He mumbled and helped Jasper place some of the helium balloons around the birthday table.

She can have it throughout the week; I thought knowing Edward would catch that, Jacob can have it too whenever he visits.

"Well, Bella hates birthday parties, so you're setting yourself to lose." He murmured with an amused smirk. Irritating, really. That thought only made him smile further, obviously.

"Get out of my head and get to work, Edward."

I joined my niece into wrapping the presents and heard as Emmett made yet another joke to Jasper. I was glad he didn't take it to heart, nor Edward. That's just how family was. It would take them some time to let go of the incident on Bella's birthday a few years ago.

Bella obviously was appalled at the party, but she gave in seeing how Renesmee was happy about the entire celebration. That much I had predicted way ahead when I first decided to plan it, so I was very excited with the outcome.

We sang her happy birthday and opened the presents with no incidents. Bella joined me on the couch as I finally sat back to relax and watch the family.

"Thanks." She mumbled, snuggling to my side for a moment. I smiled and poked her ribcage.

"I knew you would like it in the end." Honestly, sometimes her lack of faith in me bothered me a little.

"I don't like parties." She insisted, making me roll my eyes.

"When you married Edward, I told you that you would have to live with it." I loved throwing parties, so that was something Bella would have to accept.

"How come you never have parties celebrating you?"

"Yes I do, we celebrated my birthday."

"We gave you gifts and you went on a trip with Jasper."

"Believe me, we celebrated me," I smirked and my eyes quickly moved around the room until they landed on Jasper. He wasn't looking at me, but I knew he had heard it when I gazed at the side grin across his lips. When my eyes landed back on Bella, she was rolling hers amusedly, having witnessed the exchange. "I guess my sisters are not as excited as party planning, that's all."

My tone was merely teasing, but Bella seemed to take it to heart. "Oh, Alice. I'm sorry."

"Bella, I was just messing with you." I laughed heartedly, giving her a side hug.

"Ah, right." She gasped and sighed in relief, leaning into my hug. "Hey, when is yours and Jasper's anniversary?"

"You don't have to throw us anything." I clarified after the vision invaded my mind. Bella frowned, clearly distressed.

"Maybe I want to."

"I don't need to be a psychic to know you most certainly don't."

Bella seemed convinced of that much but then added, "Well, when is it? I don't think you ever told me."

"October 16th," I told her, and the date now made Jasper look at me. I gazed at him briefly and beamed. "Of nineteen fifty-two."

"Oh! You'll be married for 65 years this year!" I nodded excitedly, eyeing Bella with joy. They had been the best sixty-five years getting to share it with the love of my life. "I thought you were already married when you joined the family."

I shook my head, "Jasper and I were living in sin." At the time, that was what people thought about a woman and a man living together without being married. "We met in forty-eight and then came to the family in nineteen-fifty. It was Carlisle that suggested we get married because of what people would think."

Bella nodded; it was a no brainer that people's marital habits had changed a lot. "But you didn't think of marrying before?" I shrugged.

"We were enjoying our time together before we met the family in Calgary. You know how it is when you first do it as a vampire." I smirked, and even if my tone was a little lower, I was aware all the vampires in the room had heard it. "But not just that, we had found each other recently, we were madly in love, but Jasper had gone through a hell lot. I wanted to take my time."

I noticed the presence behind me and smiled. "That's no accurate," Jasper said it, taking the seat next to mine, talking directly to Bella now. "Alice was worried I would desert her if she pressed too hard, even if she didn't ever see it happening." Jasper's hand rested on my knee, and I placed mine on top of his, briefly looking at him.

"Like I said, you had been going through a lot." My eyes trailed back to Bella. "You know that part. I just didn't want to have him think I was trying to manipulate him or push my agenda."

"Did she tell you she got the jitters?" Rosalie said from afar, siting with Renesmee as they organized the gits. I rolled my eyes as everyone was suddenly attempting to make me the embarrassed one. Bella looked extremely surprised at Rosalie's reveal.

"She was worried I could be hiding the decision to leave her at the altar," Jasper added and I groaned.

"I like this, making Alice embarrassed. Go on." Bella chuckled. It was Edward who began approaching us with a smirk.

Don't you dare, I told him mentally, but he couldn't resist.

"She went on rambling that this was a mistake, and it was too soon to marry," Edward told them. I was appalled about this turn of events with my family, brow furrowed in annoyance.

Emmett jumped in too. He was carrying a helium balloon and I saw it happening before he did it.

"Emmett, do not." He inhaled a fair amount of helium and blasted out words that I had said on that occasion. 

"He's the one, you know. I can really ruin it. There won't be anyone else, ever." They all cracked into laughter more at Emmett's voice than the actual words. I had to admit it myself that it was indeed a little funny.

"Oh, you lot, leave Alice be," Esme said as she was with Carlisle by the kitchen counter, organizing the party's leftovers. "She's always throwing all of you memorable events, be kind. Besides, it's completely normal to get anxious at your wedding. We all had it."

"She's right, sorry, Alice." Bella pinched my elbow with an apologetically grin. Emmett passed by me and brushed, more like messed though, my hair.

"It was still funny." He said it and I rolled my eyes.

"It's fine," I assured as Jasper's hand brushed my knee, making me look up at him.

"For what's worth, I was worried you would realize I wasn't worth all that dedication and trouble." Jasper leaned to peck my cheek as I felt the entire room get filled with tenderness, love.

"Never."

"Get a room, you two." Emmett squealed out, his voice still slightly pitched. It made us both crack up in laughter again.

"It's decided," Bella said. I looked at her, puzzled that I hadn't seen what it was."

"What?"

"Ah, I like this. Jasper distracts you, and I can actually decide things privately." Her tone only made it more challenging for me. I searched for recent events, choices she was making for the near futures and landed on October 16th.

A beautiful gazebo in our backyard, our family gathered together and some of our friends as well. Not a big party, no. A small ceremony, a celebration very modest and beautiful, like something Bella would plan. She was by the gazebo's steps, in a pale mauve dress that cascaded from bellow her bust all the way to the floor. Next to her was Rosalie in the same dress, both stunning, holding a white bouquet of wild followers. On the other side were Emmett and Edward, dressed in suits and smiling. But my heart raced fast on my eyes fell on Jasper standing inside the structure, my stunning groom.

I walked down the aisle with Carlisle holding me by the arm. And joined my love on the renewal of our wedding vows. Or the making of them for those who didn't know our relationship had been sealed already, long ago.

Bella was clearly frustrated when I came back to my senses.

"Well, so much for gloating."

Jasper, who seemed a little lost, asked, "What's going on?"

"Seems like we'll be having a wedding soon." Edward chuckled.

"It's too closeby to send out invites, Bella."

"No, no, no. You let me handle that." She protested and then eyed Rosalie over her shoulder as if asking for her aid. The blonde joined us quickly now.

"It'll be great, Alice!"

"I have to agree." Carlisle echoed and Esme too was beaming.

"Am I too big to be a flower girl?" Renesmee asked, standing up to come sit with the rest of the family around the couch.

"Of course not, sweetie," I told her and then looked at Jasper. "Are you on board with that? We could always just skip and elope in Alaska, or Vegas again."

Sharing a smile at the memory that got everyone but Edward, with his intrusive thoughts, with a confused gaze at us.

"Tale for another time." Jasper clarified, as a wave of relaxation hit us all. "There's nothing I'd like more than marrying you again."

Bella grinned, and for a second, she looked too much like me, happy and excited. "It's going to be great, you guys. I promise."

I leaned into her, giving her a tight hug, "You're just happy you're not the center of attention anymore."

"You're damn right."

We all laughed.

"I just want to do something nice for yet another birthday celebration." Bella sighed contentedly into our hug.

"Alright, alright..." We were silent for a moment before eyeing Bella. "I always knew we'd be best friends. Happy birthday, Bella."

Send me a Jalice prompt

[quiltwork]

TW: Processing Session of Abandonment

I’ll be talking about the swift detour my aunt and cousins took from being in my early life, to becoming distant and haughty in my preteens onwards. And the transformation that took place after much prayer and coming clean with them how I felt all these years...

My aunt gives the minor details I couldn’t remember, I was 8-9 years old. Around the time of my grandma’s death. My aunt was depressed despite the new apartment and job. 

I was spending the night and I couldn’t sleep. Too uncomfortable for some reason, cold, a hard bed, whatever it was. I get up and ask for her, and she sends me back to bed, but I still can’t sleep. 

She gets more and more agitated with me, telling me to leave her alone and go back to bed, I’m not trying hard enough. Eventually she either goes to sleep on the couch and ignores me, or wakes up and yells at me at this point. I go to bed crying and until I fall asleep.

I wake up to find her gone. Her house is more freezing than a normal house should, as far as I knew. I think my cousins wake up at some point. I get hungry faster than them. 

I’m utterly confused and shocked there’s no one around to feed me, so I sing an annoying song about it, hoping to gain attention. 20 minutes later, my cousins wander in and chime, “What are you doing?”. After I explain, they cook me something. One cousin is just a year older than me, while the other is by three. 

I start to feel shame that they are able to take care of themselves and I’m not, though I know it’s rude to rummage through cabinets and fridges without permission, I know at least my mom feeds me. So I am silently enraged about this. 

Later, after my aunt comes home and her boyfriend is here, something sets me off about my family and I’m arguing back. I feel justified for the previous reason I couldn’t remember and put into words other than childish backtalk like, “You’re not my mom!”. My aunt wouldn’t listen, so she told her boyfriend to take me home.

I’m even more shocked why I’m being dropped off instead of someone asking me why I’m upset. I’m yelled at to get out of the car, and I run inside my home crying. I never spend the night again.

By my preteens, my cousins no longer come over to play. I ask about them, and my mom says they’re outgrowing me to try bad things I wouldn’t be interested in. 

One day, I walk down to the apartment myself to hang out with them, and I find my oldest cousin hanging out with his friends, who laugh at him when they find out we’re related. When they ride off on their bikes, he tells me to go home. I try to tell him I’ve missed him and came out here to see him, and doesn’t he love me anymore? “No. Go home.” 

“Fine”, I say. I never see my other cousin... until she and my aunt move in when I’m 13.

We’re just roommates who ride the same bus to the same school. We come home, and she leaves and does her own thing, or stays in the laundry room to get high with my aunt. I try to hang around to form bonds again, but no one notices I’m there.

I only gain her respect after all my friends show up at our conjoined birthday party, and none of hers do. She doesn’t join the party, but stays inside. I never knew I was a loser to her, but what am I now...?

I find without trying I can make her and my aunt laugh. So they call me in to make me “do something funny” on the spot, but when my actual attempts fall stale, my aunt shoos me away with, “Okay, we’re done. Go away”, snickering. And I leave, feeling used. This continues for years, even after they move out, they call for a joke, not to know me and wonder how I’m doing.

I try and fail at every family gathering to reconnect, to no avail. Just scornful looks and tones that say “Why are you trying so hard? Go away”. Or looks of distress at not being able to handle talking to me because “my autism makes it so hard to understand”. I am told over and over I am too childish and lack the life experiences that they’ve had and continue to go through, that they could never get back on my level for me.

As my mom regains her lost relationship with my aunt, with my aunt never asking to talk to me, I think about my cousins living and reconnecting with family through their newborns without me, one even moving out of state and I am so shattered that I finally reach out. I begin to get honest for the very first time. All of the hurt, all of the hiding, how I wish things could be different and could they be?

The oldest cousin responded well. He was very supportive. Said I never deserved it and promised he would be there. My other cousin only saw me at first as being inconsiderate of her own suffering she felt she endured living with me and my mom, sleeping on a mattress that she broke in the living room while her mom got the couch. Witnessing my sister’s verbal/emotional abusive tendencies and domestic violence, being on the receiving end once herself. 

How she was focused on surviving and growing up and she had no time for me and my childish ways, gaslighting my perspective and mocking me for keeping my grudge this long. I say I’m trying my best to be honest now, and I still love her, and she loves me too... but she doesn’t respond for months. 

I continue praying that God would restore my family somehow, to some degree, or that I could move on and be okay. I forgive her later and decide to be the bigger person and be kind to her in encouraging words, asking for them back as well, and she agrees. 

The amazing thing, after all those months of prayer, I go on vacation with everyone for the first time, and everyone acknowledged me throughout the week. How precious I was to them. With a thoughtful card, gifts and a cake with more cake on my birthday, I am overwhelmed at the possibility that this is really happening. I am overjoyed. 

My aunt had agreed with me on the phone whenever I took it from mom that I felt used by them, saying I shouldn’t have to feel that way. After these sessions, I finally told her about the traumas, why I was so paranoid of starving on vacation, of not being safe. She reveals she didn’t mean to hurt me, she could see how I felt that way and did what I did in hiding my true feelings from everyone. We truly make up and hope to start over.

Like a lot of my other traumas, I wore masks for survival/love, especially with the school and emotional neglect, and time has erased others’ memories of my events. I can only say that she was too busy with adult stresses and her own unresolved childhood traumas, that she didn’t have the adult mentality I needed when I was growing up around her. Much like her children didn’t grow empathy until after having children of their own. Even though they all loved me somewhat.

I can rest finally with God taking care of my family and breaking the cycle on so many threads. I must continue to pray for others, though. 

[chicagosfinest2021]

nosy anons let's go

(I know people are supposed to anonymously send these to people but most people usually don't bother so I'm just going to answer them myself because I can :-P )

0: Height-5'3"

1: Age-Old enough to know what a pager is but young enough to never have actually used one before X-D

2: Shoe size-9

3: Do you smoke? No

4: Do you drink? Occasionally/socially

5: Do you take drugs? Just benadryl for my allergies

6: Age you get mistaken for? Early to mid 20's

7: Have tattoos? No

8: Want any tattoos? No, I like my chocolately skin the way it is :-)

9: Got any piercings? Just my ears

10: Want any piercings? I might get one or two more

11: Best friend? My sister

12: Relationship status? Happily unattached

13: Biggest turn ons? Men who have money and spend it on me

14: Biggest turn offs? Broke men who are looking for free sex and free therapy

15: Favorite movie? An Indian movie I just watched on Netflix a few months ago called "Queen". I saw so much of myself in the main character, it was amazing.

16: I’ll love you if… For men, you consistently make the effort to make me happy and make sure I'm taken care of(which includes respecting my time and my presence in your life). For women...we just have to bond and genuinely enjoy each others company, that's really it. Women earn my love much more easily.

17: Someone you miss? My grandmother, I'd probably give up a lot of good things I have going for myself right now in exchange for having my grandmother back.

18: Most traumatic experience? (*Trigger warning*) My sexual assaults, especially the second one because it was someone I'd known since I was a kid.

19: A fact about your personality? I've been introverted since childhood. I like either small intimate settings or being alone, rarely do I enjoy being in big groups.

20: What I hate most about myself? That it took me so long to come out of my social anxiety and had low self value for so long. I think that if I had conquered all of that sooner, I'd be a lot further ahead in life.

21: What I love most about myself? I'm more secure in who I am now than ever before. There's certain things that I used to tolerate that are unthinkable to me in the present, and I don't have "haters" because anyone that might be throwing negative energy my way doesn't register.

22: What I want to be when I get older? A luxurious Black woman with my own condo and living in an upscale neighborhood. I want to be saving money, making wise investments, and spoiling myself and my niece <3 I also want to have a tight group of girl friends I spend time with regularly.

23: My relationship with my sibling(s)? I have one full sister who is like my twin and we're very close, and a younger half-sister who's 8 years my junior whom I love but don't relate to too much. We have different mothers and (through no fault of hers) we grew up in very different environments: me and my oldest sister are a lot more "bougie" as a result of our suburban upbringing, but our little sister grew up in the 'hood and applies "hood logic" to a lot of things. The type of men we're attracted to, the type of music we like, the company we keep. . .it's like trying to talk to someone who speaks a foreign language.

24: My relationship with my parent(s)? I'm a daddy's girl. Even though my dad and I don't see eye to eye on everything he's the reason why I have such high expectations from men. My mom and I only recently started getting close, she and I tend to bump heads more often than me and my dad.

25: My idea of a perfect date? I show up to a 4 star Italian restaurant and my date meets me with roses and a small gift. We sit down and he's a gentleman, we eat, chat, makes jokes, and have a few drinks. After he pays the bill but before we get up to leave he passes me an envelope under the table. I take a look and see that it has $700 in cash inside of it. I accept it and thank him. Before we part ways he requests to see me again soon and I tell him I'll have to check my schedule. My Uber ride pulls up and my date opens my door for me before taking my hand and kissing it.

26: My biggest pet peeves? Men who want maximum benefits for minimal effort and the women willing to give it to them. Also trap music, just. . .in general. Oh and Black people who still insist we're "taking the sting out of the N-word" by using it casually amongst ourselves, it's just such a problematic and counterproductive mindset and I can't even pretend to entertain it.

27: A description of the girl/boy I like? I don't currently have anyone that I like but ideally they'd be well groomed, witty, intelligent, stable mentally, emotionally and financially. Someone who likes jokes but isn't vulgar, and notices the little things about me (how I make eye contact, my natural scent, the way I carry myself when I walk, sit, stand, etc). Being physically attractive is always a plus, but things that I find physically attractive in a person is very broad.

28: A description of the person I dislike the most? Rude, unkempt, body odor, someone who doesn't respect personal boundaries, ungrateful, uninteresting, someone who talks incessantly about things they don't actually know or can't comprehend.

29: A reason I’ve lied to a friend? I can't remember the last time I lied to a friend about anything.

30: What I hate the most about work/school? My current position is uninteresting, tedious and not in a field I was working in previously. Also I'm doing work that realistically should be performed by 4 or 5 people but of course they expect one person to take care of everything. It's really just a temporary gig to make money to save up for a new place, so I'm trying to suck it up because I know I won't be here long.

31: What my last text message says: My cousin said she got her 2nd covid vaccination today so I responded with "Hip Hop Hooray!" LOL

32: What words upset me the most? "I'm just looking to have fun. . ."

33: What words make me feel the best about myself? When another pretty Black girl gives me a compliment, I immediately feel invincible.

34: What I find attractive in women? High self esteem and a sense of security, not seeing other women as competition, women who are cultured and have multiple interests, and who enjoy learning new things as well as sharing her wisdom with others. I also enjoy creating bonds with women who are child-free by choice like myself.

35: What I find attractive in men? Their ability to spoil me and give me pleasure.

36: Where I would like to live? North side of Chicago maybe around Lincoln Park. Outside of the US I'd like to live in England or Ireland in the future.

37: One of my insecurities: I am a short woman with large breasts (double D's). I've been buxom since a very young age and being well endowed has made me the center of negative attention on more than a few occasions. I'm constantly battling between wanting to highlight my curves without "advertising" too much either.

38: My childhood career choice: I believe I wanted to be a writer. I'd love to be a travel blogger actually.

39: My favorite ice cream flavor: It used to be cookie dough but now it's mint chocolate chip

40: Who I wish I could be: Sade

41: Where I want to be right now: Sitting on the balcony of my luxury condo, sipping wine and watching the lights of the city while smooth jazz is playing on my record player.

42: The last thing I ate: A slice of my dad's birthday cake (red velvet)

43: Sexiest person that comes to my mind immediately: I have this picture of this male model saved on my phone who looks like a "stereotypical" sugar daddy to me: tall, caucasian male, white/silver hair, piercing blue eyes, mid to late 50's, full beard and mustache, about 6 feet tall, muscular build.

44: A random fact about anything: Countries with more irreligious people/atheists/non-believers tend to also be the most peaceful and prosperous.