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#And i know i still have it so ingrained in me to do everything everyone else wants of me... Im trying to be my own self

pocketbelt · 4 months

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they announced one of the main writers for FFXIV: Dawntrail is the one who wrote the Shadowbringers trial series, "Sorrow of Werlyt", and the amount of people going "ew no that's the one that redeems Gaius" drives me kind of insane

That storyline takes Gaius and says "Behold this idiot, watch and be stunned as everything he ever said to anyone turned out to be fucking obviously wrong. Watch as the fascist imperialist philosophy he ingrained into his beloved children makes them run to their deaths, even as he pleads them not to, and they tell him to fuck himself and do it anyway. Marvel as he watches them die by your hand, you, who destroyed Gaius himself at the peak of his life, and he can do nothing to stop it", and that's a redemption arc to people

The only surviving kid only makes it because her brother acts to protect her, she doesn't make it because of any act of Gaius'

The entire story is literally "In case you somehow missed it in ARR and most of Stormblood, everything Gaius believed in was horseshit and there's no such thing as a 'noble general in the evil empire'". All his meritocracy bullshit vanished the second he was gone, no-one but his own children believed it or held onto it, and the empire put someone directly opposed to that belief into his old seat when he vanished. No-one cared, no-one else "believed", the Empire was never about that, it was only propped up in his own singular legion by him being there and the second he was gone the legion dumped it and moved on and only Gaius was too naive and stupid to see it.

I mean for fuck sake, the Empire digs up the chemical gas weapon he explicitly had sealed away and destroyed all record of after he's gone and if it wasn't for a particularly dedicated and enterprising catboy and his comedy crew of hardcore engineers, it would have caused the eighth apocalypse

Even the follow-up in patch 6.4, of the family portrait, isn't some "aw he good now" thing. The family portrait you help organise for him has to have four of its six members be projected onto the scene via a machine's reconstruction of them as normal people because they're dead, they threw their lives away because the ideology Gaius taught them meant they could only think to die fighting and nothing else. That's his loving family portrait: four ghosts stood at his back as his last living child smiles through her pain.

"well the people of Werlyt didn't kill him for conquering them" they let him clean up the mess he made (which meant watching his children be killed) and as "thanks" they're letting him stay there to live out the last third of his life or so attempting to atone by fixing the damage he did.

He's 56 at the time of ARR; the Empire he gave 3-4 decades of his life to is gone, it's a smouldering ruin, all but one of the people he loved is dead, his surviving daughter is scarred by the path he led her down, and what few friends he had are also dead. He learned that his beliefs were all horseshit and pretty much everyone around him except for himself knew it, he must live knowing that those beliefs got his children killed, all that he achieved that he once considered "good" was for nothing, he learned that the cool old emperor he idolised who had no magic but built an empire by pulling up his bootstraps and who told him that magic and gods were bad was actually an ancient incredibly magical sorceror attempting to resurrect his own god.

That's not a redemption arc, he's the most owned man still alive in XIV

#ffxiv #pocket post

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eviesaurusrex · 9 months

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ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴡ | ʜ. ꜱᴛʏʟᴇꜱ

GIFs not mine!

Harry Styles x Wife!Reader

summary: Harry’s final show is over, and now the aftermath is hitting.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: crying, mentions of pregnancy (I couldn’t help it, sorry 👉🏻👈🏻), and dad-to-be!Harry, fluff, soft!reader, soft!Harry, more crying, just fluffness, not entirely proofread

author’s note: I only could watch parts of the livestream and saw videos on Twitter, and because I was so emotional over this, I had to write something. This is my first time writing in a while, so please bear with me, thaaaaanks

* * *

YN would have to lie if she told anybody her eyes were entirely dry over the course of his final show. No one would believe her anyway because the internet was full of evidence that she certainly had been crying—she had been a never-ending waterfall from the minute the intro had started, and Harry arrived on stage.

Maybe her hormones were already more chaotic and over the top than she had anticipated.

But seeing him falling to his knees, overwhelmed by all the emotions crashing down on him, seeing his loyal fans in numbers of thousands gathered to celebrate him and his last night on tour, also took her in. A moment after, she had found herself in the embraces of Anne and Gemma, all three women watching the man they loved so deeply and dearly doing what he loved the most while the venue cheered for him. It was an otherworldly moment, YN was sure of it. Her heart ached in astonishing proudness, in overwhelming love and devotion, but also in sympathy because the woman already knew how hard this was for Harry. He just loved his work just as much as he loved her. But she would be ready to catch him from falling and build him up again if he needed it.

Apparently, Harry’s goal tonight was to make this even more emotional than it already was, to ingrain it in her memory for all the years ahead of them, as he stood again and slowly, still in awe, walked back to the microphone stand, the Love Band in his back. YN only could wipe away the last fallen tears, her head resting against Anne’s shoulder, feeling Gemma’s head resting on hers, before Harry’s next words let new salty oceans well up in her already red eyes.

“This-this tour was the biggest adventure so far in my life, and-and I will be forever grateful for the experiences I was fortunate enough to have, thanks to all of you. I will never forget that. Never. But now—“ His still watery eyes searched through the crowds until he seemingly found her, a knowing smile stretching over his lips. “Now, I’ll aboard the grandest adventure of a lifetime, feeling prepared enough not to make a fool out of myself, for not letting this gorgeous, gorgeous woman—“ He pointed in her direction, and the fans screamed as some of them seemed to realize what he was telling them. “—down and disappoint her. You helped me to grow over the past two years, and becoming a dad isn’t so frightening anymore.” Now, everyone caught up to it, the venue boomed and buzzed with excitement, and YN couldn’t hold back the pent-up tears and the smile appearing on her face.

This really was a final show to behold.

“Thank you to all of you. I might be gone for a while, but I’ll come back with something magical. I promise. Stay true, stay wild, stay kind. Remember everything will be alright.”

* * *

It took almost two hours until YN saw Harry rounding the corner and walking toward her in their hotel room. She had already gotten ready for the night, had ordered dinner for them, and got the place as cozy as possible. They wouldn’t stay long here before finally heading to Harry’s Italian sanctuary, reveling in the endless amounts of free and uninterrupted time together, distressing from this incredible tour, and preparing everything for the new addition to their small family.

“Hey,” she whispered as Harry wordlessly sank to his knees in front of the bed, kneeling between her legs and resting his head against her chest. YN could hear him humming in contentment as her fingers started to card through his still-damp hair, not caring for the sweat clinging to him. “You were incredible. I am so, so proud.” She continued to whisper praise after praise, interrupted only by soft kisses to the top of Harry’s head until she felt his shoulders shake under her loving hands and the quiet sobs pressed out against her top. “Oh, baby…” Tightly, they held onto one another, feeling each other as closely as possible while he drenched her shirt in much-needed tears and never let go of her.

YN didn’t care a millisecond for her clothes and let him cry until the only sounds inside the hotel room were his heavy, shaky breaths and her soothing voice, whispering sweet nothings into his soft curls, against his forehead, his temple. She felt his strong hands on her back, his long fingers burying into the soft fabric of her shirt, which had been once his a long time ago. Not able to stop, YN continued to press kisses to every spot she could reach and gently guided him through the emotional turmoil of the aftermath as best as she could.

After some time, Harry inhaled deeply before a long, deep sigh released it again, his body now unmoving resting against hers, slowly relaxing in her embrace. In one moment, he was like warmed clay under her hands, molding perfectly against her, and in the next, his hands had wrapped her legs around his waist, and he carried her wordlessly into the adjacent bathroom, gently placing her on the bench next to the shower. YN knew he needed her close, even though he stepped under the warm water stream alone at first. Without so much as a second thought, she discarded the clothes, ignored the fact that she had already showered earlier, and stepped right behind him into the glass cabin.

Hands softly, lovingly, glided over his hips before arms wrapped themselves around it, a face pressed against his back, fingers slowly tracing every single dark inked line on warm skin. Featherlike kisses flew over his back, and she could hear him sigh again, still not saying a word, still contemplating the last hours. Another heavy, shaky inhale was the sign of the next set of tears, and now, he turned in her arms and buried his face in the crook of her neck, pulling her as closely as possible to hold onto something in the sea of overwhelming emotions.

“It’s okay, love. Let it out. I’m here,” YN could only mumble against his shoulder, feeling somewhat helpless and on the verge of crying herself while the hormones started to run havoc inside her once again. But she never had liked seeing him upset or even crying, to begin with, too empathetic not to be fazed by it. Most times, she had cried alongside him until they laughed under tears which had always changed the mood to something brighter. But now, YN felt it wasn’t her place to cry along, so she bottled it up, forcing the traitorous tears down and let her hand find his cheek to gently caress it with the pad of her thumb.

Harry mumbled something inaudible against her neck, grabbing her tighter than before. “Hm? What was that?” YN asked quietly, her words almost drowned by the still-running shower. “Don’t think I’m mourning this tour more than I want to spend time with you,” he repeated himself and pulled his head back to let their foreheads meet again. “My career isn’t more important than you. Or the family we’re starting.” Blinking stunned, YN softly furrowed her brows, slowly shaking her head. “I’d never think that,” she finally whispered, not sure where this came from all of a sudden. Her thumbs wiped away the remaining tears. “There wasn’t a single moment in the past eight years where I felt like a second choice. I never thought you prioritized your career over me. So… Never think that. Okay? We know we’re loved without measure, beyond compare, H.”

At that, Harry started to smile, eyes still watery, and placed one of his hands over the place where his second true love was safely growing. “Thank you, sunflower.” It was only a whisper, voice filled with wonder, as he looked down at the woman who had decided he was worthy enough for her love all those years ago and who had grown alongside him. And now she gifted him the most precious thing he could ever ask for: fatherhood with the woman he loved more than anything else at his side.

YN smiled up at him and let Harry kiss her softly. “Nothing to thank me for, love. It’s my job. I’ll always be here to catch you, just as I have always done.“ Mumbling against his lips, she couldn’t let go of him, but soon, she was wrapped in a fluffy towel, and Harry lovingly dried her hair, always watching her through the mirror above the sink with a loving expression. She watched him just as closely, seeing that one familiar spark of inspiration lighting up in his mesmerizing eyes, but he contained himself. YN couldn’t have any of that. “You can go and do your magic, y’know? Dinner should be here soon, and the little bean and I can entertain ourselves.” But she should’ve known better and allowed Harry to pull her back against his chest. “The music can wait. I need this. Need you. Time with you. Wanna talk about anything and everything. Want to talk to the little bean. I want to have dinner with my wife on the balcony. I want to sleep in with her tomorrow before we head out to the villa.”

Sometimes, YN couldn’t comprehend her luck, couldn’t comprehend how it was possible for someone to love another human so deeply. It was like a miracle.

Grinning, she let both brows wander up in question. “Have you ever thought about telling your fans that the Harry Styles is not only becoming a dad but is also a married man?” A chuckle escaped them at that, and she still wondered how they had been so successful in keeping secrets from the world. “Maybe after coming back,” he continued to chuckle as he bent down and kissed her right shoulder, his thumbs now sweeping over her skin like soft feathers.

The moment of contentedly looking at one another through the slightly fogged-up mirror was over as the sound of knuckles against the wooden hotel room door echoed through their rooms. Harry bent down once again, his index finger resting under her chin and turning her face to capture her lips in another kiss. He just couldn’t get enough of her. “I’ll set up dinner, and you’ll get cozy again, sunflower.”

And with that, he ventured out of the bathroom, leaving a smiling YN behind.

* * *

As usual: Thanks for reading, folks <3 If you like my work, I’d be very happy if you reblog it because reblogs are super great! And I love to hear your thoughts, so hit me up whenever and however you like

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shiftinglea · 25 days

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People are awakening.

I’m excited to see where humanity goes. For so many centuries, we have been living in the illusion of being separate from God, the illusion of having to earn, be worthy, and do a certain set of actions to be happy, healthy, wealthy, satisfied, and fulfilled.

I would say 99% of us grew up in an environment where limiting beliefs and assumptions were ingrained in our minds, making it difficult for us, as future adults, to grasp the LOA and manifestation. It was (and still is for many) challenging to easily believe and use the knowledge that we can create and experience whatever we want, that there is nothing else left to do but enjoy and express the grandest version of who we are. That there is literally nothing impossible. We can change our reality and experience of it whenever we choose. We have absolute free will to do whatever we wish. We are God and One with everything and everyone.

Old patterns, mindsets, and beliefs from previous generations made it hard for us to adopt these simple truths that were forgotten by humanity. But now I see that we are being guided to remember once again. To remember that we are God and can do whatever we desire, that our life is eternal, and the process of creation never ends. To remember that life was never supposed to be a turmoil with challenges but a perfect play ground for you to experience and create.

It’s exciting for me, as a 28 (soon to be 29) years old adult, to see all these young people learning (or remembering) about the principles of creation. Because these teenagers and young adults will grow up and teach their kids new ways. They won’t instill all these limitations in their kids’ minds. They will empower them and remind them that they are also God. You can read this post by @catherineaboutlife to see a perfect example of what I mean.

New generations will grow up remembering the truth that they are powerful creators, and it all starts with you.

So yes, humanity has been sleepwalking for a very long time, not remembering their true powers and true identity. But now we are starting to wake up, and it all starts with you.

So I encourage you to follow your truth, to embody your truth, which is you being God. Not only to know it but to act like it. That will trigger others to awaken as well.

#loa tumblr #loassumption #void state #loa blog #neville goddard

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fever-fluff · 5 months

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Cat's Out of the Bag, Claws and All Pt II

Word Count: 3.5k (not proof read) Am I writing this instead of doing my finals? Yes. Is it going to be worth it? I bloody hope so. Please do tell me what you think, I didn't expect the first part to go down as well as it did so I hope this lives up to expectations :D

Synopsis: The fallout of Azriel finding out about the bond is bigger than anyone though it would be

Thoughts swirled in your mind as you tried to find Azriel. You’d checked everyone house, the training ring, even going as far as to walk through Velaris aimlessly until you could spot some trail from your mate.

Gods, how had you messed this up? You knew Azriel’s feelings towards the mating bond. In your first few weeks together, he’d explained everything that had happened to his brothers, how they’d found their other halves in the form of two sisters, and that he was sure the third had been meant for him. It had ached to hear him talk of Elain like that, to know your mate was so sure of another that he could not see you right in front of him.

But the shattered tether between you two had torn long before that. Azriel had been sealed shut to the rope intertwining you two for centuries. You had pushed so much love into that bond in the beginning, so much that it had grown thick and blinding on your end, but slithered to nothing at his. Mor and Feyre had helped you come to terms with that, and you never faulted Azriel for guarding himself so tightly. Rhys had mentioned in a off handed conversation that Az was the toughest out of everyone to breach when he needed to speak with him, that he’d built his mental walls so high of his own suffering even one of the most talented Daementi found it sometimes impossible to penetrate.

So, instead of withering away over a bond that would never snap, you had stopped pouring all your love into something only you could see and began pushing it into your words and actions over time. Azriel had accepted it all, finally overcoming his preconceived loss and accepted the love of his own accord. But now you’d gone and torn down everything you’d built with him in months over a few seconds.

You’d looked all day, and he was still nowhere to be found. So, you’d call it a night and look tomorrow, not looking froward to the cold sheets that awaited you.

Except they weren’t cold, a very real, very sombre looking figure with curling wings sat on you side of the bed. You felt the tears of relief spring to release, and made to sit in front of him, an acceptable distance away so as not to touch him in fear of him turning away.

“Azriel?” you hadn’t felt this meek in eons. The weeks gone by had truly taken their toll.

“Did you just say that today to get them off your back?”

Gods, you truly wished he could feel the bond right about now. Feel how much it pulsed in the admittance one of you believed it didn’t exist. Azriel was your life force, what you lived and breathed for every second of everyday. How could he think this was not real? Any of it?

“No, gods no. Azriel, it’s real. It’s there, I promise you.” If he walked away now, you didn’t think you would be able to handle it. Everything had been good, so good. Was looking to have him all to yourself for a couple weeks the wave that toppled the boat? Was your selfishness the flap of the butterfly’s wings that sent an earthquake through the rest of your life?

But the darkened look from Azriel was enough for you to know this was not about you. He wasn’t asking to catch you in a lie. “I-I can’t feel it. It’s never snapped, and it’s been months. How-how can you still be here?”

Leaving the distance between you had been a mistake. Lunging for you mate, you placed your hands either side of his face, and lifted his tear filled eyes to meet yours. “Because I love you, Azriel. Bond or no bond, I love you.”

He shook his head, “there’s nothing to love. I can’t even feel something so innately ingrained in our beings, how can you find anything worth so much?” he had turned his back to you, standing to walk to the dresser.

“Azriel, do not walk away from me.” Fuck being nice, he never responded to your pretty words when he was like this before, how could you think different now. “Shout at me, curse me to Hel, but never walk away from me.”

“What…what can you find in me that you’d rather me stay than go?!” he was spiralling into the darkness that had swallowed him in the first years he had been in this world. Azriel was throwing you his lifeline, and you reached and tugged on it with everything you had.

“Because you’re made for me! In every sense of the word. You are everything I’ve ever wanted for every century I’ve been alive. And even if you cannot feel that I have been made for you, I will prove it every single day of this life and the next that you are wrong if you think not.”

You had stepped up to him again, searching his eyes to see if he’d truly heard you, “I know you hate those stupid parties, I know you hate it when Cassian leaves his sweaty towels in the ring after training. You don’t like the tea Rhys gives you in your early morning meetings, but you still drink it because its been 150 years and to admit it now would make you look bad. I know that Mor’s perfume, the one she wears when the seasons change from winter to spring, makes your nose itch and you sneeze every time you smell it. You don’t like Elain’s scones because of the raisins, and Feyre’s awful singing to Nyx at the crack of dawn.”

“And I love all of you, Azriel. Every damn part of you. The only thing I would change is how much you allow everyone you’ve let into your heart walk all over you.”

Azriel’s breath hitched and the tears that clung to his lashes finally trailed down his cheeks. “I – I… what if it never snaps. What if the bond never snaps for me? What then?”

Closing the distance that had grown once again between you two, you made to grab for him. Holding his face to yours, you felt your tears fall as your mate’s hands covered your own. “Then I’ll love you even more than I already do. I don’t need you to feel the bond Azriel, if you never feel it, then it’s okay. I will love every broken piece of you, even if I can never put them back together.”

You meant it. Every word. Azriel had been broken too many times for you to even think you could fix what hadn’t been whole since he was born. But those pieces of himself, the ones he clung to so desperately and allowed only a few fae to ever glimpse at were worth so much more to you than anything else. You’d hold them, even if they cut and sliced you over and over, and press them close to your own heart, hoping that the love there would be enough to stop them from shattering entirely.

“Ask me to stay, Azriel, and I swear to you that there will not be a day that you won’t know how much I love you.”

You could see the doubt in his eyes, the fear that one day the half-made bond would not be enough to keep you with him. But you needed him to take that risk. And you would take care of the rest. He needed to have the faith to jump, and it was only him who could make that choice.

And as he closed his eyes, resting his head against yours, you felt your whole world tilt on its axis, ready for the words that would seal your fate.

Stay.

It had been fifty years since that day, and Azriel finally began to understand that you were there to stay.

The weeks after the admittance of there being a bond between you had been some of the toughest he’d ever lived through. But it was no one’s fault but his own.

He’d pushed you repeatedly, subconsciously seeing if you would snap under the pressures he shouldn’t have ever needed to place upon you. Rhys had given you leave of your position for the few weeks, but in the end you hadn’t returned to your post for a full year after everything. His constant tearing at your relationship had snapped and sliced at you so much you had become so tired it was even a chore to fight with him, and he realised almost too late that you would rather endure it than leave, nearly turning you to a shell of yourself.

He'd been gone for nearly two months at this point. The mission shouldn’t have taken this long, but Azriel couldn’t find it in himself to return.

Every time he did, this knawing guilt would eat at his insides about fighting with you once again. It wasn’t your fault, it never was. You tried everything to support him, and yet he kept pushing and even he couldn’t understand why.

Cassian and Rhys had sent word not too long ago that he was needed back at the earliest time possible, and it had been their words, not yours, that spurred him to return to the city.

He should’ve answered your letters.

“She’s not responding to the treatments like she should. It’s too slow, and I fear the malnourishment is starting to outweigh whatever help I can give her.” Madja’s words iced his whole being, Cassian and Rhys looked away in shame.

“Where is she?” the plea in his voice did not go unnoticed by the others, but none seemed inclined to tell him.

“Azriel, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see her right now. We called you back in case anything serious should happen.” Cassian placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged away from the hold. “You don’t get to make that decision. She’s my mate! I’m supposed to help her!”

“You should tell him.” It was Nesta, coming out from putting Nyx to bed. “Maybe he’ll finally get it through his thick skull if he sees what’s happening.” She’d never used that tone with him, harsh and cold unlike anything he’d heard except the first few months she’d been brought to their court. He felt himself want to cower in the face of Lady Death. You two had always been close, your ability to take on Nesta’s bite and stop it before it festered allowed her to settle a new bond outside of Emerie and Gwyn, something everyone was glad for.

Rhys sighed but relented, and Azriel winnowed to you before any of them could change their minds.

You had been moved to the cabin, away from prying eyes of the fae who’d attempt to do harm while you weren’t your full self. Feyre and Mor had placed extra wards in case, and he had to call to Rhys to ask them to let him through as he felt them blocking his path.

The cabin was warm, fire blazing in the hearth as he made to search the room you were staying in. But the bundle of blankets on the couch had his feet lurching to turn in its direction. You were sleeping, although it was fretful, and the feel of his hand barely grazing your skin was enough to snap you eyes open.

“Az?” You were like ice, and the croak in your voice reminded him of how Feyre had been when Rhys had first called in their bargain all those years ago.

“It’s me.” He reached for your hand, intertwining it with his as he lifted you to sit up. The blankets fell from your form, and his breath hitched to see your bones protrude more than was healthy. Gods, how had he not noticed until now?

Your smile was what broke him the most. Lips chapped, it didn’t reach as wide as it did before, and the warmth it usually held was dulled to a small ember. “Did you get my letters?”

The letters. Oh gods, he hadn’t read any of them. Too scared of his own thoughts that one would be about you leaving before he arrived home.

His reaction must have told you everything you needed, and your smile dropped as your eyes turned like glass. “Did-did you not want to come home?”

Fuck, what had he done?

“I-”

Azriel never finished that sentence. Your head had rolled to the side as he made to catch your falling form. Sitting up had become too much for you, and the little energy you had was expelled in the very few words you’d spoken to him.

Rhys. He called for his brother. Rhys, what do I do? What’s happened?

His answer was almost immediate. Madja says she’s been strained too much. It’s the bond cracking. Even if you can’t feel it, all the fighting has been tearing at it from her end.

He’d done this. He’d torn at her so much he was going to kill her.

Gathering her in the blankets, he lifted her down closer to the warmth of the fire, settling her to his body as he wrapped his wings around them both. Her breathing began to even out as she fell into another shallow sleep, but it seemed she had enough strength to hold onto him, curling her hands in the front of his tunic. “Please stay. I don’ wanna fight anymore, Az. Please, just stay.”

Azriel tightened his arms around his mate, the one who’d given him everything even as he tore her down to nothing in the past few months. “I’m here. I promise, no more fighting. I’ll stay.”

The mark weaved onto the shadowsinger’s skin, burning into it like no other bargain had ever done before. It settled where her head now rested, over the fractured parts of a heart he had refused to allow her to put back together.

But as sleep pulled her further under, Azriel swore he could feel one part stitch itself slowly to another. He’d mend it. If not for himself, then for the woman he had nearly lost to his own darkness.

She wouldn’t leave, he knew that now. But he would no longer make it so hard for her to stay.

Watching now, as she sat having tea in the garden with Elain, Azriel thought of how he’d been so foolish in his first five hundred years of life.

If he’d just waited, and used all those wishes at starfall he wasted on Mor and Elain to instead wish for a chance to meet his real mate, he go back to all that time ago and start over.

You were laughing unabashed at Elain’s annoyance with the sprites leaving bite marks in her prized tulips, keeling over as the middle Archeron shooed them away for the hundredth time.

His own smile turned up at your outward display of happiness. It had taken a while, and months away from one another to get back to this point after he’d realised his mistake. Madja had been helping you recover, while he spent time with the Priestesses to figure out how to get past his own fears and love you like you loved him.

You had sent him word of how you were doing every week, never pressing him to write back but letting him know you’d be waiting when he felt it was right to return. After the first few, he has picked up his own quill and began spilling his thoughts onto paper.

Azriel had realised that while you would put him above all else, that wasn’t always a good thing. He needed to learn how to do that for himself so you wouldn’t lose yourself again. And he had.

He was still the courts spymaster, but his workload had dropped immensely in the past few years. He trusted his spies more often to fill the menial tasks he once filled his time with, and instead spent it doting on you like he should’ve from the beginning.

His heart was slowly mending itself, and he was now more comfortable within himself to not allow the darkness in him to stray from the light.

The last pieces of the puzzle were finally placing themselves back when he’d asked you about the bond and how it felt. You explained to him that it was there, thought it was purely a string of thread between you. Because of the block on one side, you couldn’t feel his emotions or his thoughts, and it had settled something in him he hadn’t realised was so restless.

You truly had loved him for him. There was no extra help from your end, you had to put in just as much as him to make it work.

Grabbing his mug from the counter, he rounded to the door that would lead him out to you. As if sensing him, you turned, and gave him that wonderful smile that had his whole body humming in delight.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” He wrapped himself around you as you greeted him. “You were dead to the world this morning. I’ve never seen you sleep so soundly.”

His hum vibrated against your neck as he placed a kiss on the tender skin. “I was. Couldn’t wake up even when you left. Something has me more tired than usual.”

Being open with you like this was still new to him, and there was still that knawing at the back of his skull that he shouldn’t be revealing something so vulnerable. But as you turned in his hold and wrapped your hands round his middle, he felt it subside. “Maybe its all those years of running on practically nothing creeping up on you.”

“Maybe.” Even now, his words broke off into a yawn, and he felt himself cuddle into your warmth as a soft breeze blew in.

“Well, its lucky we have the day to ourselves then. I asked Rhys last night if we could take a little break.” He could still feel your apprehension as you spoke. It was still there at times, unsurety settling in when you doubted how he’d react.

“I would love nothing more.” Placing a kiss onto the top of your head, Azriel made to pull away to grab his mug.

“Sit. I’ll get us something to eat.” You made for the door he had walked through, but the smash of ceramic had you head snapping back to Azriel.

“Az?”

His breathing had turned heavy, and all that weight of tiredness had lifted from his body in an instant.

Turning to face you, you watched as he mouthed something you thought you’d never hear from his mouth with such reverence.

Mate.

Fifty years. Fifty years of utter turmoil and love and pain and happiness. All of it washed over him at once. He felt the bond, coiling and snapping and threading its way round his very soul. It was thick, more like rope than a mere tendril. And he felt everything he’d shut out from the very moment of meeting you for the very first time. He watched the realisation hit your face, your hands shaking as if you didn’t know whether to grab for him or stay where you were.

“You- you can feel it?”

He felt his voice choke on the simple yea and it was all it took to have you running into his arms hard enough to force you both to the grass beneath you. Laughter, pure and loving laughter spilled from your lips, and he pulled you as close as possible. His own joined not a minute after.

Azriel felt it thrum from you to him, everything you had to give poured down to his side of the bond, as if it had been waiting for this moment. He supposed it had, and as he took everything you had to offer, he returned it tenfold.

Azriel realised then that it wasn’t his heart from stopping the bond from forming. Even if it was still broken, it would have found a way to wrap around it.

No, the only thing that had stopped it all this time, was he fear of giving everything and receiving nothing. Even when you had shown you would, his own mind had fooled him into believing otherwise.

But you had never blamed him, and the missing part of himself had finally returned home when he had stopped blaming himself.

Azriel knew then that he was worthy of the love you gave him, and that you had been right. Even if the bond had never snapped, he would still love you just as much as you loved him.

Taglist (bold could not be tagged) @kalulakunundrum @imnotsiriusyouare @notsarareallynot @mell-bell @ang-taylorsversion @finleyjaycee @luvletterstogwyn @dwkfan @sagskylar01 @hnyclover

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #azriel #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fanfic #fem reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel fluff #azriel x you #acotar x reader #az x reader

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folklaur21 · 22 days

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What would've should've been

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!ravenclaw!reader

Summary: Theodore Nott didn't truly know what love felt like until he found you. But now all he can do is sit and imagine what should've been.

Warnings: Mentions of death/killing, Battle of Hogwarts, use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.3k

Before You

Theodore Nott isn't the happiest person in the world. Scratch that, he might be the most subdued, emotionally complex guy to have ever existed. Hardly anything made him smile, next to nothing made him laugh. That's just how he was, is, and how he will always be.

It isn't completely his fault. People are never born 'sad' or 'emotionless'. Theo was brought up this way. It was ingrained into him as a child, silently impacting his life forever, and he didn't even realise it. Well, that was until his mother died. At the hands of his father.

Theodore's mother was a gentle soul. Sweet and caring, she always looked after her son. She gave him everything a child needed, wanted, and then some. The one thing she couldn't provide for Theo? A stable father, who wasn't an alcoholic, abusive pig. Though she did try, the fear she had of Theodore's father never ceased throughout their marriage. She just had to try to shelter Theodore from this cold, uncaring lifestyle.

She could only protect her son so much. When Theodore was just nine years old, she couldn't take the abuse from his father anymore. So she tried to escape. From her house, from her husband, from her life. Yet she failed. And he found out. Theodore Nott Sr. was not happy with this. So he did the only thing that he thought could ease his troubles. He killed his wife. The mother of his child. The child that had heard the Unforgiveable Curse uttered from his father's lips. The child who watched the flash of green light emitted from his father's wand. The child who had to watch his own mother, the only person who truly cared for him, die.

When he started Hogwarts, Theodore wanted a somewhat fresh start. Free from the burdens of his home life, he made friends.(Arguably, they were friends who his father would have approved of. If his father even cared.) At school, Theodore worked hard, and tried to mask the emotions he had always been told to oppress. Anger. Hatred. Vulnerability. So none of his friends truly knew what his life was like. Except for Lorenzo.

Theo told Enzo Berkshire everything. It was easier, having someone understand why you were like you were. Someone who you trusted with your deepest, darkest secrets. Someone who cared about you. That's how the two became best friends. Practically inseparable, 24/7.

During You

Having a connection with someone was something Theodore didn't truly seek throughout his lifetime. Especially now, in his fourth year at Hogwarts. Apart from Enzo, he was fine with keeping to himself, keeping a low profile and staying out of everyone's way. That was, until he saw you.

"Enzo, I don't want to go."

"Please, Theo, I want you to come. I'll be lonely without you." Enzo pleaded with his friend.

"I don't want to go to the Yule Ball. And besides, I didn't ask anyone to go with me." Theodore replied, still resisting the idea.

"So? No-one really cares if you're with someone or not. It's supposed to be fun." Enzo says with a sigh as he flops down next to Theo on his bed.

Theo scoffs. "Says you! How many girls asked you to go with them? 15?"

Lorenzo turns slightly pink at his friend's comment. "23..."

Theo lets out an exasperated sigh. "Exactly," Theo says, but after a moment he decides, "I will go to the ball with you Enz. Only because it's that, or sit around here or in the common room with all the first years."

So, that was how he ended up standing at the side of the Great Hall, sipping a glass of pumpkin juice, and watching all of his friends dancing with whoever they brought to the Ball. Theo didn't really mind. Once again, he was merely waiting in the wings, not really expecting anything grand to happen to him. At least, that's what he thought would happen. Until he saw you.

You were with some of your friends on the dancefloor. Laughing and smiling, you were carefree, living your life to it's full potential. Theo couldn't bear to take his eyes off of you. It's not like you would have seen him anyway, with him lurking in the shadows.

After he had spent what felt like forever watching you, Enzo came to his friend's side, offering a new glass of pumpkin juice, which Theo gladly accepted.

"Who's that?" Theo asked his friend, nodding his head in your direction.

"That's Y/N. Y/L/N I think. She's in Ravenclaw. She's actually quite clever, I sat next to her in arithmancy last year." Enzo pauses for a second. "Why do you want to know?"

"I don't know," Theo shrugs, nonchalant. "I just... don't remember seeing her before, that's all."

"Oh. Well, she's really kind. And sweet." Enzo smiles before rushing of again to resume dancing, leaving Theo to mull over his thoughts. Thoughts of you.

A week later, whilst sat in Potions, Theodore couldn't help but watch you, sitting across from him in the classroom. Strange. He had never noticed you before, but now it seemed you were the only thing plaguing his mind. He hardly took any notice of Professor Snape that lesson, watching you as you took notes with your brow furrowed, and how you twirled your quill around in your fingertips if you seemed distracted.

Over the next few weeks, Theodore Nott grew to know lots about you, even if you didn't yet realise it. He knew your favourite subject (Charms), your favourite sweets from Honeydukes (Chocolate Frogs, because you collected the cards). He even knew how you liked to spend your Sundays (sat in the courtyard with a book and a hot chocolate). Theo was drawn to you, for some unknown reason, and not even he could figure out why.

In the weeks leading up to your exams, you spent an increasing amount of time in the library, studying. Funnily enough, so did Theodore. He wanted to do well academically, even if his friends preferred skiving off and messing with first years. So, that was how he came to speak to you for the first time, five whole months after he was first captivated by you.

"Can I sit here? All the other tables are either occupied or slightly sticky and I don't want to mess up my books"

"Uhh, sure!" Theodore said, shocked that you had even come over to him. "No," he told himself. "She's only over here because nowhere else was free. Don't get your hopes up."

"I'm Y/N, by the way." You smile at him, and wave your wand to get your books laid out on the desk in front of you.

"Theodore. But you can call me Theo." Theodore said, as he found himself smiling in return.

The two of you started to talk about anything and everything; school, exams, your hobbies, interests, just your lives in general. And that's how Theo realised that, maybe he wasn't such a cold, uncaring teenager after all.

A week or so later, the two of you were sat under the shade of an oak tree overlooking the Black Lake, studying for, you guessed it, exams. That moment was when Theo finally plucked up enough courage to ask you something.

"Hey, Y/N?" he asked, taking a deep breath.

"What?" you replied, looking up from your book.

"I was wondering, would you maybe like to, and it's OK if you don't, I don't mind, you don't have to say yes or anything because it's completely your choice-"

"Spit it out, Theo!" you giggled, humoured by his rambling.

"Right. Sorry." Theo said, trying to calm himself down. "Umm, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend? And could we possibly go to the Three Broomsticks? You know, just... us?"

Your eyes widened, before you smiled at the boy's worried expression. "Of course! Theo I'd love to."

You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a small kiss on the cheek before returning to your book, leaving Theodore grinning as if he'd just won the lottery. Which, with you, he basically had.

After You

It had been a while since Theodore Nott had been back at Hogwarts. Since he had gotten the Dark Mark, at his father's force, he had stayed working for The Dark Lord, being a Death Eater. He hated it. It was a life his father had forced him into, a life which wasn't truly his. And now he was back at the one place which had been a home to him, but now he was here to destroy it.

Theo tried to look for you. The one person who he trusted, and the one person who trusted him. Theo wasn't here to fight. He wasn't here to kill. He couldn't do that here. His safe place, where his father couldn't physically torture him. Where you were.

Before his sixth year at Hogwarts, Theo was held under the Imperius curse by his father, and the searing skull tattoo, the tattoo that would hurt him forever, was imprinted into his left arm. When school started again, he couldn't bear to tell you, his girlfriend, what had happened. But he did, because between you two, there were no secrets. When you found out, all you were was supportive. You helped Theo though his pain and anguish, but what he didn't know is that when you first found out, you cried for hours. Crying about his future, your future, angry at the world you live in for being so cruel. Crying was really the only thing you could do.

After Dumbledore's death, Theodore did what he thought would be best for your relationship, best for you.

"You can't be serious, Theodore?" you said, trying to keep your voice levelled and clear, holding back the tears.

That hurt Theo. You never called him Theodore, unless you were really frustrated. Which hadn't happened until now. "Y/N please, I have to, it's for your safety."

"My SAFETY? Theo, I couldn't care less about that right now. Please, don't do this." You couldn't hold back any longer. The tears were now streaming down your face.

"I don't want to, but-"

"But what, Theo? I love you!"

"I love you too, but-"

"Then surely that's all that matter?" you say, exasperated. "We love each other. We can run away together, and live in hiding until it's safe for us to come out, to be together."

"No, we can't, you know we can't, we'll be found and then... you'd... You'd be killed." Theo says in a small voice. "And I can't let that happen to you. Please, Y/N, just listen to me. As soon as this is over, we can get back together. We can live together, start over together. But it can't happen now. Not yet. Please, Y/N, wait for me."

You can't stop crying now, and you lean over to Theo and kiss him. "OK. When it's all over. I'll be waiting for you, Theo. You'll definitely come back to me?"

"Of course I will, Y/N. I promise I'll find you."

And of course, that's what he was currently doing. Looking for you. He had been waiting a year to see your face again, hoping you hadn't forgotten about him. However now he couldn't find you. Running through the corridors, shouting you name, dodging curses and rubble, Theo's only goal was to find you. And he did.

There you were at the top of the Astronomy tower, a split lip and wearing a torn blue jumper, you were aiming all sorts of hexes at a Death Eater. Theo was so relieved, and began firing spells at your opponent, until he was knocked unconscious. At that point, Theo kicked the limp body over the balcony, not caring what would happen.

"Y/N." Theo smiled. "I told you I'd come back."

You pulled Theo into a hug and kissed him. "Theo!" you breathed.

"I love you more than anything, Y/N." All Theo could do was look into your bright, tearful eyes, relieved that he could see you once again before-

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

That fateful curse.

A flash of green light.

Your body fell limp in Theo's arms.

Your eyes lost their brightness.

"NO!"

Theo tried to pull you up, tried to hold you tight, but it was no use. You were gone. Theo looked up to see your murderer, looking him in the eyes. His father.

Your death at the hands of Nott Sr. ensured Nott Sr.'s death at the hands of his son. That was the first and last time that Theodore Nott would ever use the killing curse, and it only made sense for it to be on the person that used it on the two people who he had loved most in the world.

When the Battle of Hogwarts was over, most of Voldemort's supporters were dead, captured, or had fled the scene when it was evident that they were losing. But two Death Eaters stayed behind, simply because they couldn't bear to leave the castle like this. They felt it was partly their fault. Those two Death Eaters were Theodore Nott and Lorenzo Berkshire.

Whilst everyone gathered in the Great Hall, Enzo wandered the, now ruined, corridors of a place he loved so dearly. What he didn't expect to find his best friend, leaning on the crumbled wall of the Astronomy tower, cradling someone in his arms. Not to mention the fact that his father lay on the ground mere feet away.

"Please, Y/N, you can't be dead, you can't. I came back for you I-"

"Theo?" Enzo inquired, sitting on the floor next to his best friend, who was in fits of tears.

"He killed her, Enz. He killed her so- So I killed him. I had to."

"It's OK, Theo." Enzo replied, putting an arm around his friend's shoulder, and letting him cry.

The pair fell into a comfortable silence, with the sound of everyone in the castle talking and grieving the loss of friends and family. The two could have been down there with them, celebrating the demise of the people who made their lives hell.

But instead, all Theodore Nott could think about is what should've been.

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gay-dorito-dust · 7 months

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Hey🤍 may I please request a fluff/romantic or Bi Han. I know a lot of people don’t think he is capable of being romantic but a girl needs some fluff for Bi Han please. Maybe something were he is sweet and caring only towards reader and everyone else he is normal Bi Han. Love your writing thank you🤍

This got shoddy at the end of the drab. 🦦

You were lost within your own head for while when Bi-Han had appeared at your side, gingerly taking your hand within his own, drawing a gasp from your lips as you felt his cold fingers intertwine with yours. ‘Bi-Han. You’re here.’ You breathed out, smiling instantaneously upon being greeted with the beautiful dark eyes of the man you had happily promised your heart to. Your grasped his hand tighter, almost as though you were checking if he was actually with you, rather then some illusion you’ve coincidentally conjured up.

‘Of course I’m here, little bird.’ Bi-Han told you whilst pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, letting them linger there for a while before pulling away to gently rest his forehead against your own. His eyes locked on yours, as though he were fearful to look away in the instance that you wouldn’t be there when he looked back. ‘For I could never be content as to keep you waiting for longer then needed.’ He adds as he took this moment to ingrain you eternally within his mind, so that he may never forget who he was fighting for, who he was carving a better future for and who he would vigorously defend till his last breath escaped from him.

Gods did Bi-Han hate being separated from you for long periods of time, truly believing that one day Kuai Liang and Tomas would try to enact revenge for his supposed betrayal, by taking away the one person who gave him true purpose in this life; you. However he couldn’t completely disregard his duties as Grandmaster, for it would be sacrilege. Bi-Han was forever grateful that you never held that against him, and instead fully understand that he couldn’t fully commit to being your lover when there was so much work yet to be done.

‘If it was for you?’ You inquired. ‘I’d wait for as long as I must to see my beloved home safe and sound. So you needn’t worry in keeping me waiting.’ You finished as you then softly pecked his plush lips, cooing softly once pulling away from him, enjoying how Bi-Han fruitlessly attempted in following after your lips. For a man as cold as ice he was quite warm and gentle, but you knew he was only like this for you and you often times felt spoilt by being blessed to see this side of him; The side of him that would constantly hold you face in between his hands when checking you for injuries, his thumbs stroking the skin of your cheeks with such gentleness, as though he thought you were going to break. You even saw Bi-Han during his most stubborn and his most angriest of moments and yet still you called him the most breathtaking man you’ve ever met because to you that was the honest truth.

‘I just don’t want to wish you being bored of me when I come home.’ Bi-Han admitted softly. ‘You deserve a man who is willing to be at your beck and call, to be with you from the early hours of morning, to the later hours of night. You shouldn’t have to settle for less because you feel as though that’s all there is going for you, and instead you should strive for more for you deserve more, way more then any man could possibly give.’ Bi-Han truly meant what he said, he truly believed that you deserved better, never to tolerate less, for he felt like he wasn’t giving you all that he possibly could and it pained him greatly because you’ve him so much throughout the duration of your relationship.

Bi-Han only felt as it was only reasonable to give you an out shoulder you feel as though you weren’t being valued enough, as he always tended to put you and your well-being first and foremost in just about everything. But you saw what he was doing almost instantly and you weren’t about to allow Bi-Han to make a offer a solution that’ll only end up hurting the both of you because despite his tiering duties as Grandmaster, he was a dedicated, loyal and caring lover. You couldn’t have to ask for a better man and never would for Bi-Han was it for you, he was the one.

‘Bi-Han.’ You murmured, taking your free hand to hold his cheek, stroking it reassuringly as you watched him visibly relax within your hold, moving his head to kiss your inner wrist. ‘To be bored of you would be like to be bored of living for while you are a very busy man, you are the most attentive, sweet, caring man I have ever met.’ You pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose before brushing your nose against his, breathing him in as deep as you could. ‘Not once have you ever made me feel less important or less valued. Never. You made me feel worshiped, you made me feel loved, you always found room for me within your busy schedule, and I could never find a appropriate way to express my gratitude to you but I hope to everyday.’ You concluded, hoping that you had gotten your point across that you weren’t going anywhere without him.

‘You don’t need to express anything to me, my beloved,’ Bi-Han reassured you, kissing your inner wrist once more. ‘For the sole fact that you still being here with me despite all my flaws is the biggest gesture I could have ever received and I’m eternally thankful that you haven’t yet given up on me. Do it should be me expressing my gratitude, not you.’ Bi-Han finishes. ‘There’s no need for that.’ You assured him. ‘You’ve done enough and you’ve just gotten back from a long mission. You must be exhausted and in need of rest.’ You then began to pull Bi-Han towards your shared bed by his arm.

Bi-Han wasn’t one to complain, as it meant he got to make up for lost time by laying in your arms and leeching off of your warmth whilst putting his aching body to rest, something his soul had yearned to do the moment he return to the Lin Kuei. ‘That sounds perfect, little bird. That sounds perfect.’

#mk1 #mk imagine #mk x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat x y/n #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat 1 x reader #bi han imagine #bi han x you #bi han x y/n #bi han x reader #bi han imagines #sub zero x reader

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soap-ify · 2 months

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AIM AT MY HEART | eros!john 'soap' mactavish x f!reader.

synopsis — while everyone celebrated love, you met a god. [3.5k words]

tw / cw — mdni 18+, lonely!reader, reader is bit of a loser actually, typical misogyny and objectification of women during that time (just briefly mentioned), spoiler alert soap is eros and is bit of a freak, little breast play, reader is said to be a virgin, cunnilingus, p in v. — please let me know if i missed any tags!

notes — after some research and finding like few different names for love festivals in ancient greece, i decided to stick with calling it the festival of love. this isn't going to be historically accurate or anything, just a silly idea i came up with for valentines. unedited.

It looked like the rain was your date for this festival, the cold droplets gently kissing your skin just the way a lover would.

Every street was simply bustling with people today, all trapped in their own little bubbles forged by them. Married couples and young people in love alike. Now was the perfect time to say that love was in the air. It didn’t disgust you by any means, no. You love love — you wonder if it’s just as dreamy as it sounds. To have someone to call yours, to be touched and to be heard. A feeling that your heart pleaded for, ready to pathetically beg for it even. You don’t see much of it on the streets though, so you wonder if it’s naught but a myth.

Loneliness can mess up with anyone. You were still unwed, always met with the disappointed stares of your mother and the unnerving promises of your father stating that he’d find a groom for you. Probably some old man.

So no, you weren’t disgusted by all the couples roaming around in this festival of love. Just envious, sad — even if some of the love they displayed might just be for the show. On top of that, no one was aware of the incoming rain. Though most were now sheltered somewhere or protected by clothed umbrellas, though meant for the rich. So here you were, strolling in these soaked streets uncovered. Hey, at least the rain was willing to give you some company.

Some people looked at you with a pitiful gaze through the distance. Most men walking in groups whistled at you, staring at you with the most vile eyes. Carnivores. All you could do was just sheepishly stare ahead, doing your best to not look down at the ground while walking and looking like some kicked-out puppy. Even though you definitely did feel like one right now. Fresh food for the predators in the open.

Love. Such a familiarly foreign request. What must you do to get it, pray to the gods? Would Aphrodite listen, or Eros? Why hadn’t they blessed you yet? Taking a turn into the alley, you made the mistake of getting distracted by some plants nearby, instantly bumping into someone. “Oh, sorry, I-” Warm hands steadied your almost falling body, interrupting your apologies. You looked up to see blue eyes staring at you, the scrutiny of the stare making you feel as if he was opening you up like a book and reading everything within.

“Dinnae apologise, hen.” He let you go with a soft chuckle, an understanding smile lacing his lips. The slight amusement in his rough voice was enough to make your heart squeeze unintentionally, your throat going dry as you stared at him with wide eyes.

“Okay.” You dumbly replied and walked past him, not giving any of you a chance to make the conversation progress. How impolite. After all, what were you supposed to say to him? That you’re lonely as fuck and that his voice made you feel all funny inside? You mustn’t lust over a stranger. Probably married.

But oh, those blue eyes were now ingrained in your brain. He had looked at you as if he knew you, as if he knew of each of your flaws.

You missed the way he kept looking at your back while you walked away.

Sleep came to you a bit too easily. It was quite the odd occurrence, considering that you’d always be tossing and turning while staring at the ceiling creepily for a good half hour until you’d fall asleep.

A warm hug to your pillow and you were knocked out within seconds, drowning into slumber.

Darkness. That’s all you could see, that’s all what was within reach. You didn’t know if you were dreaming or not. What you did know was that you felt as if you were floating, higher and higher. Wait, were you dead?

You were just about to reach out to the blankness surrounding you when you felt strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you in. When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in your… bedroom? Bedroom for sure, just more dreamy. As if it wasn’t you who lived here. As if it were the room of the gods. The air seemed lighter, the colours more bright.

You tried to struggle against the strong grip on your waist, your back pressed against something strong. “Quit struggling, hen.” The growl behind you caught you off guard, causing you to go still. That voice. That voice. You remember it all too well, the guy you bumped into in the street earlier.

Once his grip on you loosened, you quickly turned around and faced him, finding him looking at you triumphantly, his body adorned in nothing but a white shawl that covered only one shoulder and his waist. His body was sculpted beautifully, muscles made to be caressed delicately. Perfection, that’s what he was. You caught a small glimpse of the wings on his back — mighty and fluffy. You nervously cowered, mind too overwhelmed to comprehend what was going on here. You were being touched by a stranger. Only tales by some women had warned you about the perverse nature of most men. It terrified you.

Your eyes darted over to the loose blindfold lowered down to his neck, and the set of bow and arrows laid down on your nightstand.

You didn’t know why you were so afraid to look into his eyes. It was as if looking into the eyes of god and being forced to acknowledge all your sins. Was he a god? Or an angel? He reeked of purity, of utter diviness that you couldn’t even dream to look at. Though here you were, being looked at by someone that just seemed so seraphic. It almost made you feel guilty.

“Who are you?” You blurted out, unable to hide the way your hands were trembling. You were forced to look up when you felt something cold gliding against your jaw, soon realising that it was one of his arrows, mapping out your face. Just the way an artist would with his muse.

He was silent for a while, simply observing you. Or maybe just thinking of what to answer you with. What should he tell you? “Ye can call me Johnny.” He finally settled on a name after some contemplation that thankfully went unnoticed by you.

“Johnny…” You tested his name carefully, your hands carefully reaching out to grasp onto his arms, not even realising that you were somehow sitting on your bed now. ”What are you, Johnny?”

“A god.”

And there it was again, that victorious grin. He was proud of the reaction he was getting out of you, the utter confusion and bewilderment etched on your face was nothing short of adorable to him. Poor, poor human.

“Ye looked lonely tonight.” He continued, leaning in closer, his presence seeming even bigger and more imposing than before. “Ye seemed sad. Like a wee lost chick. Made me feel somethin’, ye ken. Sadness f’ye, maybe?” He chuckled and shook his head, gently undoing the blindfold on him. His hands were soft yet rugged, holding yours with great care, gently tying the white silk around your wrists. Not too tightly, just firmly enough.

“Oh…” You weren’t sure why you weren’t struggling against the bindings. Maybe it was due to the fact that your brain had slowly comprehended who he really was. Arrows, playful, love. Eros. You didn’t know what to do, and you definitely didn’t know why you liked it. Gods above, you must be going insane. Wait, he’s a god too. Can he hear your thoughts?

“Yes I can.” He interrupted the raging storm of thoughts in your head with amused nonchalance. You could feel embarrassed heat creeping up on your cheeks, daring you to humiliate yourself further.

“Why is a bonnie lass like ye unwed?” The god cooed, his free hand still holding the arrow and gently tracing your jaw, moving down to the front of your neck, and downward to the neckline of your dress. He didn’t dare to stop there, moving the sharp point of the arrow towards your left breast, grazing against the soft fabric of your clothes. Shove it in, make me find love.

“U-Um…” Your words were caught in your throat, fingernails unknowingly digging hardly into his muscular arms. “I don’t know.” Despite how doltish that answer may have made you look, it was the truth. You didn’t know why you were some lonely maiden staring at the night sky every night, dreaming about the undying devotion you couldn’t reach for.

Johnny didn’t respond to that, satisfied enough to just stare at you. You soon realised that you didn’t feel creeped out by his gaze, you yearned for it. Attention for a god. Even if he viewed you as a lamb of some sorts, temporary affection was making you feel alive.

“I’m not gonna sacrifice ye or anythin’, hen.” He read your mind again, and he was enjoying it way too much. It made you feel a bit frustrated, a bit too desperate.

“Why am I unwed?” You shooted his question back at him, daring to meet his eyes. “My mother hates me and my father, he… Just why can’t I be one of the blessed?” You unintentionally hissed, met with nothing but a mirthful grin plastered on his lips. Would it be a sin to think of a god as some bastard?

“Ain’tcha clever for shootin’ my question right back at me?” He sounded almost proud at you, slowly putting the arrow down and easing you down to lay on your bed properly, putting your tied wrists above your head. You were being so easy for him too, despite the irritation adorning your face. Your body had been starved for this, for some touch.

You didn’t make any effort to stop him as his fingers skillfully undid your garments and teasingly began sliding them off, revealing more and more of you until you were all naked in front of him. A meal for the god. You weren’t worried about being touched like this, especially when you were still not taken. The cool air hitting your skin made your shiver, your legs rubbing against one another.

“I have never been… used before.” You didn’t know how to word it. Well, he probably knew anyway. That’s what was expected from a modest woman. Being innocent and a virgin until she was on her marital bed with her groom.

“Stop thinkin’ so much, hen.” He silenced you by pressing a chaste kiss on your neck, your lips letting out an involuntary whine. Heaven touched you from his lips, and you felt love for the first time.

“Poor ye, so desperate for affection.” You felt his stubble tickle your cheek as he whispered into your ear, the sensation making your body jerk slightly, your wrists lightly tugging against the silk binding. You felt so sensitive, being aware of everything going on while simultaneously being confused by this foreign feeling building up inside you.

“Don’t tease me…” You whimpered almost pathetically, wishing that your hands were free so you could run your fingers through his untamed patch of hair, or just caressed the slightly shaved sides of his head. “It’s not funny.”

“If ye say so.” He snickered, pressing kisses on your cheeks and the side of your neck, making you whine a bit at the ticklish feeling, blood rushing to your face as you squirmed under him. His large hands slowly begin to caress your torso up and down, fingers rubbing against the softness of your softness before sliding up to cup and size your breasts up, thumbs carefully touching your hardened up nipples.

Despite the way he clearly enjoyed teasing you, he handled you with an equal amount of gentleness. It was so considerate, something you hadn’t heard from the tales some of the women would tell you about men.

“How does it feel?” He asked you, his gaze almost warm.

“Good…” You replied weakly, unable to find your voice amidst all the emotions you were feeling. You leaned into his touch, eyes lazily half open, trying to admire his face properly. It felt like a crime to look at such beauty.

He leaned down and started pressing soft kisses along the valley of your breasts, feeling the rise and fall of your chest with every breath you took. Why must he kiss your body as if he was worshiping you? As if you were the god, not him.

His lips traveled down to your naval before finally reaching to between your thighs, his hands moving down to gently part your legs open, feeling them tremble slightly once his eyes settled upon your sweet cunt, already glistening with arousal. "Can I?" He asked, earning a shy nod from you.

"Yes..."

“M’happy my arrows never hit ye before.” He mumbled before pressing a soft kiss against your puffy folds, hearing the way your breath hitched. “Happy that nae one got to touch a bonnie thing like ye yet. All saved for a god, eh?” He sneered, his fingers gently parting your folds so he could properly look at your clit, pressing a kiss right on it.

The sudden sensation made you let out a soft moan, fingers trying to reach for the silk binding on your wrists. Sensitive. Sensitive yet so good. “Johnny…”

His breath alone continued to fan your cunt for a few seconds, his blue eyes looked up at you from in between your thighs before he dived in, his tongue licking a fat stripe. Your hips bucked at that, seeking more of this friction as he hummed at your taste, his tongue making contact with your clit and pressing against it, feeling the soft pulse underneath.

He had to stop himself from biting you, that’d scare you away. Maybe some other day. For now, his hands gripped your plush thighs firmly and kept them apart, feasting onto your cunt hungrily, drool sliding down his chin as he sucked and licked on your twitching clit, feeling it get swollen and all achy with need. You just tasted so good, better than all the things many worshippers would leave at the temple. He wondered if you’d be willing to be his forever, to let him taste you everyday.

It all felt so good and overwhelming, you could feel your eyes tearing up. He went on and on until you felt your orgasm crashing into you suddenly, a bit prolonged as he kept his mouth latched onto your cunt, feeling your hips buck needily, shaky mewls leaving your lips while he eagerly lapped up your release.

You collapsed back breathless, almost in daze, every inch of your skin tingling with the pleasure coursing within you. Your glossy eyes looked over at Johnny who had just finished lapping your cunt up, now proceeding to nip and suckle onto the plush of your thighs, making you writhe. “Next time, m’gonna make ye squirt all over my fingers.”

Next time? Fingers?

Hope bloomed in your otherwise desperate heart as you nodded hazily, soft pants leaving your lips after your orgasm subsided. You felt him climbing on top of you, the soft rustling of clothes making your fingers twitch, your eyes looking over at him through the semi blurry vision. The white piece of cloth he had been wearing slipped off him, falling down to reveal the entirety of him. Big, powerful. He was indeed a god, sculpted better than the statues. You didn’t want to imagine what he could do with all his strength.

Your eyes fell onto his left pec, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart twinge oddly. If you were to stab him with his own arrow, would he love you?

You did your best to not look in between his legs, somehow clinging to the thinning string of modesty.

“Ye’re makin’ me feel unattractive.” That cheeky pout on his lips made you huff softly, your face feeling too warm. Just when you were about to protest, he leaned down to press his lips against yours, silencing you with a kiss.

You felt as if you had sinned, while stepping close to Heaven at the same time.

You let him guide you, his lips parting against yours while you obediently followed him, finding yourself drowning into this kiss. He might as well swallow you whole now, you’d be happy.

One hand reached up to swiftly undo the silk cloth around your wrists, freeing you. You were quick to wrap your arms around his neck, clinging onto him for your dear life, feeling him trying not to chuckle against your lips.

“Look at ye, being so eager. S’cute.” He whispered once he broke the kiss, pressing down into you, making you feel his cock rubbing against your thighs. It felt big, ridiculously enough. You trembled anxiously, finally daring to look down, letting out a soft whimper when your eyes settled onto his cock. You both tried to grind against it and squirm away, your brain melted into nothing but a puddle.

Love — it was threatening to flow out of your chest. Pure, blissful. Your legs lazily hooked themselves around his moving hips, trying to pull him down for another kiss. He was quick to comply, feeling you moan needily into his mouth while he grabbed the base of his girthy cock, lining it perfectly in between your legs. “Fuck… Lemme just-” He knew he had to be extra gentle, he was huge. He carefully eased the the tip of his cock into your cunt, watching you pull away from the kisd and whimper, your warm walls greeding clenching around him, trying to suck him in.

“S’too much!” You whined and bit down onto his shoulder, not caring how hard you might be biting. Your fingernails dug into the firm muscle of his back.

“Ssh, ye can take it.” He hissed under his breath, pulling his face back so he could look down at you properly, one hand gripping the side of your hip while his other reached down to gently fondle your clit in between his fingers. The sudden jolt of pain and pleasure merging together made your eyes roll back, feeling him settle deep within your cunt, some of his cock still not fully in. He wouldn’t dare to anyways, he would never wish to hurt his precious human.

“Such a bonnie lass… Look at how I fit inside ye.” You just looked so perfect underneath him, as if you were made for him, to be filled by him and kissed by him. “Squeezin’ me so tightly, s’too big f’ye, eh?” You shook your head at that, as if you weren’t the one who was moaning about him being too big earlier.

He slowly begin thrusting into you, his heavy cock dragging against the sweet spongy spot inside you, stimulating it. You bit onto your bottom lip, muffled mewls leaving you while his fingers continued to steadily rub your swollen clit, not losing their rhythm. Not even a single halt — the continuous motions caused pressure to build up within you, your legs tightening around his hips.

He eyes moved down to where your body connected with his, aweing at the way his cock was stretching you nice and wide, making him twitch inside you. Fuck. He couldn’t have a mortal holding such an effect over him, but he was far too gone to even think about that anymore.

“Johnny-! Joh-” Your words drowned into your moans once you felt your orgasm hit you even harder than before, your body convulsing underneath him as you clenched hard around him, causing him to grunt. A pretty white ring formed on his base as he continued to thrust into you, The squelching sounds filling the room were obscene, and served nothing but to arouse him more. His grip on your hips tightened just slightly as he felt his own impending orgasm.

“Gonna fill ye up.” He gritted his teeth.

With one final thrust, he released his hot cum inside you, his thrusts not stopping, fully intending to make his cum stay inside you and not drip out. Your fingernails accidentally scratched onto his back at the sensation of being filled up, feeling all warm.

Your legs and arms loosened around him, feeling yourself slump into the soft mattress, all pliable and fuzzy. You panted softly, feeling all sweaty as you stared at him. His hands were quick to craddle your face, pressing a kiss on your temple.

“I might as well just keep ye now for myself, hen.”

You woke up with a jolt, sitting upright on your bed, your breathing laboured. Your inner thighs felt sticky, and your eyes drifted over to your nightstand, catching an arrow alongside a rose laying there.

Would it be possible to be impregnated by a god?

#reader try not to be a hopeless romantic challenge : failed #we love to see it #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #cod x reader #rurufic

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lovedazai · 1 year

Text

1:04 P.M.

ft. jouno + gn!reader, hunting dog!reader

p.s.! this has been in my drafts forever omg…happy hunting dogs debut day to everyone with good taste !! kissing u hugging u etc etc !! ty to my love essie for helping me @haithamuse <3 stealing u from jouno for a sec, muah!

“who do you think you’re fooling?” jouno sighs, chin falling to the palm of his hand as his eyebrows furrow. “i can tell you’re exhausted.”

“i’m fine. i just haven’t had time to rest lately.” he can hear the pout in your voice and the light sound of wood hitting together from across the table; you’re fidgeting with your chopsticks.

“what about right now?” his hand falls to his lap as he straightens his posture, all too aware of the opportunity presenting itself. “it’s not like we have a mission.”

you and jouno were sharing lunch in the briefing room, consisting of only a large conference table and stiff office chairs. it wasn’t the best place to sleep, but he can’t ignore the sound of your muffled yawns anymore. you were so cute, trying to hide it from him, like he couldn’t see through your every movement.

“i don’t know…what if the captain sees?”

“i’ll keep watch,” he abandons his food to move to the seat next to yours, ignoring the stall in your heartbeat as he rests his hand on your head, urging you to relax against his shoulder. “stop making excuses and just go to sleep already.”

it’s quiet for a few moments as you sit still against him before you let out a little laugh, the sound pretty and soft in his ears.

“you’re being nice today, jouno.”

“i’m always nice,” he huffs, pushing the brim of your hat down, trying to ignore the feeling of you hugging his arm to your chest as you get comfortable. “i just don’t want you to…hold us back by passing out during training.”

it doesn’t take longer than a couple of minutes for your heart to slow down to a relaxed, steady beat, and he knows you’re asleep. just as he expected, you were exhausted.

he sighs, trying to remember the last time someone was so calm around him. the fact it’s you of all people makes something unfamiliar stir inside his chest. he’s so used to reveling in the agony of others, he almost can’t believe how much he’s enjoying this.

he’s always been a little more gentle with you, but he can’t help it. enveloped by the feelings and sounds grating on his senses everyday, you were always the one he sought out for a moment of relief.

he remembers the sarcastic “aww, how sweet,” you’d given him when he explained that you were simply less irritating to be around than everyone else, his way of complimenting you. the memory draws a small smile onto his face.

he wants to indulge in this moment and ingrain it into his mind forever. he doesn’t know when he’ll get the honor of being so close to you again. he wants to be greedy and stretch it out for as long as he possibly can.

except he can’t, because the door opens.

“oh, you’re here, jouno-san,” jouno digs his nails into his palms. of course, it would be tecchou of all people to interrupt this moment. “and…y/n-san, too?”

“don’t.” he grumbles through gritted teeth. he strains his ears, making sure you were still asleep, even if it meant tecchou’s annoying breathing was amplified too.

“don’t what?”

“don’t talk, don’t breatheーjust don’t be here! they’re sleeping. even you standing there is too noisy.”

he can sense the bothersome presence in the doorway trying to decide if he should get what he came for or leave. somehow, tecchou manages to make his mood worse by leaving; he closes the door a little too hard, and jouno frowns as he feels you startle against him.

“everything’s fine,” he says before you can ask. he pushes your head back to his shoulder with as much gentleness as he can conjure. “you can go back to sleep. there’s still a few more minutes before lunch is over.”

“mm,” you nuzzle into the fabric of his uniform. “‘m glad ‘cause you’re really comfy.”

“oh, am i?”

unfortunately, you’re already back asleep before he can milk anymore compliments out of you. comfy. no one has ever called him that before. he doesn’t know why anyone would’ve until now, but it makes his stomach flutter pleasantly nonetheless. if it came from anybody else, he probably would’ve scoffed.

he doesn’t know how long he sits there, simply basking in the feeling of being next to you. listening to the sound of your breathing and the blood in your veins felt so intimate, he didn’t even mind that you were drooling on his sleeve.

he’s so engrossed in you, he loses track of time. certainly the two of you will be late for training now, but he still can’t find it in himself to wake you.

he decides to wait until he hears the approaching footsteps of his co-workers when they inevitably search for the two of you to rouse you from your little nap. for now, he allows himself to savor the moment for a little longer. and maybe a little longer after that, too.

BSD MASTERLIST

#bsd x reader #jouno x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x you #bsd scenarios #bsd imagines #bsd fluff #jouno fluff #💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖

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flawdchaos · 1 month

Text

Cold Shoulder

Robert Rosenthal x Reader

Word Count - 1273

Based off of this request:

Hello! First and foremost ,I would like to tell you that I really enjoyed reading Spilled Drink and I would love to read the third part of the story. I was wondering if you could write a Rosie story, where he flirts with the oc but she is giving him the coldest shoulder ( something that he didn’t expect) . So he makes it his mission to make her like him. Thank you 😊

small authors note, it isn’t exactly like the request but i wrote this on my lunch break today and tried my best with the hour i had 🫠 i hope you still enjoy it

Rosie had never been so lost for words in his life. He had never been so blatantly ignored and he couldn’t figure out what he had done to deserve it. His entire flow felt off. He had seen her around Thorpe Abbotts for a while now, sharing glances and half hearted smiles but now - absolutely nothing. A cold shoulder couldn’t even explain her reaction towards him.

After being the only plane to return from their mission, Rosie and his crew were sent to the Coombe house to get some R & R and despite his best efforts to leave, he was made to stay. When he returned to base a week later, everything felt wrong - including her.

He was still frozen in disbelief, hard grip on his glass, when Harry’s hand slapped down on his shoulder. “Tough crowd, Rose?” Rosie let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding and nodded. “You have no idea, Cros. I don’t know what in the hell I did. I asked her for a dance and she all but ran away from me.” Harry turned his friend to face him. “Maybe she’s got a lover out there somewhere, fighting just like us.” The idea had crossed his mind but he couldn’t just ignore the smiles and eye contact they had shared for weeks before. It was possible he had read too far into her actions. ‘Maybe she was just being nice’ he thought, shaking his head and trying to take his mind off of the rejection. Clearing his throat he responded “Yeah, Cros, you’re probably right.” When his head hit his pillow that night the scene replayed over and over in mind, embarrassment coursing through his body.

Two days had passed since Rosie’s run-in at the bar and he would be lying if he said the memories of that night weren’t ingrained in his brain. He was pulled back to reality when the Colonel stepped into the hallway, beckoning him into his office. “How have you been, Captain Rosenthal?”

“Fine, sir.” he said. “I hope the flak house treated you and your men well?” All he could do was meet the question with a curt nod. It honestly hadn’t been what he wanted. He left when everything and everyone needed him and returned to the little semblance he had turned up on its head. The rest of the meeting eluded his mind, putting his brain and responses on auto pilot. Excusing himself and saluting the Colonel, he stepped out of the hut and urged his feet to lead him to the chow hall. All he wanted at that moment was a cup of coffee and a moment to clear his brain. A few steps distanced himself from the building before he caught a glimpse of her, leaning up against the women’s barracks with a cigarette loosely hanging from her lips, her hands busy repinning the fallen curls framing her face. He couldn’t see his own reaction but he knew he looked like he had seen a ghost. He stood, feet planted on the gravel for a good minute - debating his next action. He could continue to chow with his pride intact or take one more chance at catching the girls attention. ‘C’mon Robert. You fly damn planes into warzones. She’s just a girl.’ Fuck it.

He stopped in front of her, her gaze still on the ground kicking around the loose gravels.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Rosie softly spoke, lightly clearing his throat. Her eyes slowly raked up the body standing in front of her. Her mouth slightly fell open and the cigarette threatened to fall from her lips. She remained silent although her eyes were darting around.

“I know, uh, I know I spoke to you the other night at the bar. I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just -” he took a deep breath before continuing. “It’s just, I’ve seen you around for weeks now and I’ve meant to say hello or wave - or something - but I don’t know. Would it be stupid to say I was nervous?’ she still didn’t speak but a small shake of her head to signal ‘no’ was enough for Rosie to keep rambling. “I know it probably sounds stupid. I go thousands of feet in the area in a big metal box and fly through battlefields but I can’t even speak to a pretty girl.” He shook his head, letting out a small laugh.

“You think I’m pretty?” his heart almost jumped out his chest as her timid voice broke through the silence. He could feel the heat rising to his face.

“Uh,” he laughed awkwardly ,”Yes ma’am, yes I do.”

They still hadn’t made direct eye contact yet but her feet had stopped scuffing at the patch of grass growing by the side of the barrack building. A hand appeared in her vision, waiting for hers to connect. “I’m Robert Rosenthal but please, call me Rosie. Everyone else on this base does.” Their hands intertwined and he took control of lightly shaking them up and down.

“Y/N Y/L/N but everyone just calls me Y/N.” For the first time in this whole interaction Rosie watched as a small smile had slowly worked its way onto her face.

“Well, just Y/N, I’m on a mission for a hot cup of coffee. Would you like to make the hike with me?” A slight nod of her head had his feet moving once again. He was dying to ask more questions, to pry into her life and truly get to know the girl walking beside him but the last thing he wanted to do was scare her away.

“Can I admit something to you, Rosie?” Her voice breaking the silence almost made his entire body freeze. “Of course, Y/N.”

She took a breath before stopping dead in her tracks, Rosie doing the same but a few steps up ahead. ‘Oh God, this is it.’ is all he could think. He hung his head preparing himself for the blow of disappointment he was suspecting.

“I got worried about you. Last week, you know?” she admitted, sheepishly. “Everyone saw you land, including me. I was selfishly happy it was you. I wanted to tell you that when I saw you next but the next day on my walk to work, I didn’t pass you like I usually do. I didn’t see you the whole week and I think, in my mind, I kinda expected the worst. Seeing you in that bar last weekend I,” she took a moment, seeming to try and collect her thoughts “it was like seeing a ghost.” It was her turn for the heat to rise to his cheeks.

Rosie didn’t know what to say. He was at a loss for words. In all of the scenarios he had dreamed up in his mind that was never one of them.

“You thought I died?” he asked, dumbfounded. She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.

“I didn’t know your name. You and your whole crew disappeared. I thought asking people about you would be a sore spot.” she admitted. “So, you don’t hate my guts and never want to speak to me again?” For the first time ever, Rosie heard her laugh. Like a true, doubled over belly laugh.

“Hate you? God no. I guess I was just waiting for the right moment to talk to you. I thought I had waited too long.” He shook his head at the girl. “You didn’t.” he said. “It seems like we have some catching up to do.” she nodded in agreement before he spoke again. “You still wanna get that coffee?”

Author’s note: Hi friends, another Rosie fic for y’all ♥️ I hope you enjoy this. It hasn’t been proofread/double checked at all so pleas disregard all of the little mishaps here and there.

#masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #anthony boyle #anthony boyle imagine #gale cleven #john egan #masters of the air imagines #robert rosenthal #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal imagines

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jiminrings · 2 years

Text

fifth wish

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 18k

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook reminds you that love is unfair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook’s parents aren’t too bad.

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

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

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

“Jungkook badly needs an intervention.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Mrs. Jeon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook needs someone stronger than him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What’s more surprising is that you agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe Jungkook does have qualms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

( ♡ )

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do.”

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. You look absolutely spent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-“

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

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

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

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

“Nah. Don’t want to disturb the guy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’d you wish for?”

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

“To break up with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook’s perfume irks you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay maybe I do care a little.”

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

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

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

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

“Next,” Jungkook grumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

( ♡ )

Jungkook knows to himself that he’s insufferable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Your fights are public knowledge.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do, but I don’t carry coins.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you regret being my handler?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You still have that crush on him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s soft.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook doesn’t immediately get a response back.

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

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

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

“We’re going home.”

“I don’t-…”

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

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

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

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

“For you to unclench.”

( ♡ )

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

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

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

“He told me to unclench.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey, you’re rich. We’re also rich.”

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

“MRI scans. Don’t forget MRI scans.”

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

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

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

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

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

“A little.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, we can do that.”

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

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

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

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

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s grandmother has a farm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t want to.”

“I hope you fall off then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t hate me.”

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

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

“What do your lips taste like?”

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

Jungkook kisses you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For us to never see each other again.”

( ♡ )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seokjin saw this coming.

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

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

“Open the laptop.”

“What?”

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

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

“Jin?”

“Open.”

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

And this time, Seokjin knows to protect you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“TMI.”

Seokjin groans but still listens anyway.

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

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

“Mhmm.”

“Have the two of you been talking?”

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

( ♡ )

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook feels uneasy.

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

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

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

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

Until you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For all your wishes to come true.”

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

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

( ♡ )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where the hell have you been?”

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

Why would Jungkook wait for you to come home?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where. Were. You.”

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

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

You narrow your eyes at him.

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

“Don’t shut that-…“

…door.

( ♡ )

Jungkook can’t handle it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the actual fuck?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I go out there in two minutes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you to go home.”

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

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

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

“Jungkook.”

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

“Jungkook, stop.”

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

“Jungkook I said-…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then how do you mean it?”

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

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

“I don’t know, that’s the thing.”

Jungkook’s frustrating.

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

“That’s always the thing with you.”

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

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

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

“I’m the worst person I know too.”

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

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

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

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

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

That’s it.

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get out, Jungkook.”

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

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

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

“I wish you’d leave me.”

Jungkook doesn’t.

He shows up on your next fight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile.

Ah, you don’t look like you hate him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile warmly, head tilting in wonder.

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook.”

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

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

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

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

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

#and how r we feeling :O lmk best friends thank u <3 #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts jungkook imagine #jeongguk imagine #jeongguk oneshot

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scribble-dribble-writes · 9 months

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It's new, the shape of your body

It's blue, the feeling I've got

It's a cruel summer

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Your eyes fluttered open, it took you a while to recognize your surroundings. The school nurse came into your line of sight with relief on her face.

“Oh good, the IV has worked. She must have just been dehydrated.”, she stated.

The last thing you could remember was Ken running to you, his arms encasing around you to prevent your fall but as you rubbed your forehead, you were sure your low sugar levels had contributed to having a hallucination.

“But it also looks like a common occurrence. All the girls have complained they’ve lost sleep and in most cases, can’t dream.”, she went on to explain. You hummed in response, you haven't been able to sleep well too.

Hopefully it wasn’t another virus because you couldn’t afford to take days off. Melissa’s house needed to be maintained and renovations were expensive affairs. She had come to see you as her own daughter and therefore bequeathed everything she owned to you.

You weren’t worthy of her kindness, you were a nobody and yet she made a way to look out for you even in a time she would not be here. So you just had to live up and work hard to feel worthy of that love. Thinking about her made you feel sad but then in a way, it would make you feel better.

That in Barbie land, everyone was sheltered from the experiences that occur here. But as you fell back into the pillows, feeling a little frail, you also enjoyed the fact that you could feel these emotions completely. So your eyes began to tear up and you let them fall down your cheek.

“You need to take a break, dear.”, the nurse placed a loving hand on your shoulder.

But could you take a break?

After all the work you put into yourself and still not feeling quite whole, to think of yourself as an individual, you were still questioning your own value, even here.

“It’s sweet how your boyfriend stayed by your side even while managing the parents who wanted to meet him.”, she said as she discharged you.

“I don’t have a –

“Is she alright?”, you heard him as he stormed into the room with worry ingrained in his eyes.

“She is. Just needs a lot of rest and care. Which I assume you are going to see through?”, the nurse gave him a knowing smile as he nodded his head with a solemn resolve.

Your legs felt wobbly and needed support to walk around, you had taken care of yourself. And yet you weren't sure how you ended up in this situation. The nurse placed your hands in his and as he took it, he took up your bag to sling it over his shoulder, collected the medical papers and thanked the nurse. All of which you were truly tired to do.

You waited till you got to the corridor but until then you couldn’t help but look at him. It was uncanny, the resemblance, but he felt like a whole new person. He was secure, stable and mature in the way he held himself. You were sure this wasn’t the Ken you had known.

“Look, sir. I think you’ve got me mixed up with someone else.”, you came to a stop in the empty corridor.

“Your name tag says ‘Castilian Ryder’ and I don’t know anyone by that name.”, you narrowed your eyes at him, trying to validate the doubt you felt.

“I don’t like to use my first name here but it’s me, Brie.”, he said with a sense of unbelief.

Could you have really forgotten him?

“It’s Ken, from Barbie land.”, he stepped closer to you, to whisper.

He still smelled like the sea, even in a dingy school corridor in a metropolitan city that smelled like tarmac. You wanted to lean closer, to rest your head on his chest, to admit you were tired of running but maybe he was just this happy because his dream had come true. You had seen a newspaper clipping of him and Barbie, here in Los Angeles that many let it pass as a funny incident but you knew it was him. Maybe he was here, settled in life with his girlfriend and is just being nice because he had known you once.

Having experienced this world, you quickly learnt it was very difficult to trust men and their motives. They played sweet to turn out sour, their words sound like honey until you give in to their charms and then every single one of them that you’ve met so far finds a new way to let you down or betray you. All while finally stating that you weren’t enough.

You stepped away from him but his hold around you was firm, he held you up as the medication began to wear off.

“I can take care of myself from here. Why don’t you go back to where you came from?”, you peeled away his fingers from your waist, somehow even after all these years his touch burned your skin.

“And stop telling everyone you’re my boyfriend.”, you pointed a finger at him as you took the papers from his hand.

“Only someone who knew you well enough could sign the papers for your treatment. That’s why I lied.”, he replied and it stunned you.

He didn’t feel like he was from Barbie land, he held himself like a real person.

“So you can lie now?”, you scoffed and took your bag as you watched him furrow his brows in confusion.

“What?”, you snapped at him.

“I just thought at the very least, we would still be friends.”, he said but his eyes softened with sadness.

“Sorry, Ryder. You’ve just been lying to yourself.”, you turned away from him and it felt good to be mean. To have the power to hurt him. So you used it.

But it didn’t seem to stop him. He caught up to you.

“I need to get back to work and I also need you to leave me alone.”, you said without looking at him.

“The school’s closed, it’s 5pm and your staff were dismissed by this man called Sam.”, he narrated to you with his hands held behind his back.

You had missed the whole event?

Panic began to set in, this was not good, you pushed open the doors to only be proved right, the sun had set and no one was around. Except for a man leaning against the streetlight.

“You told me you could handle it.”, he spoke to you.

“You got me to trust you with this event and then, to get out of it, you act sick.”, Sam began his tantrum and you didn’t have the time for it.

“You didn’t tell me we had this event in the first place.”, you lashed out to which he pursed his lips.

“Excuses, excuses, excuses. That’s all you’ve been saying since Melissa passed.”, he flailed his arms about.

“I expect my staff to be put together. To not be tardy and all you’ve been doing is just that.”, he yelled.

“Somehow feeling the fatigue of being worked overtime is my fault?”, you argued to which he folded his arms and shook his head as though you’ve done a grave mistake.

“Maybe I need to cut back a few of your shifts.”, he tilted his head and you couldn’t push past that. This was his way of putting you in place because he had the power to do so.

“No, I’ll pull myself together.”, you said through gritted teeth which eased Sam.

“Good girl.”, he scoffed as though he was elated by the act of making you feel small.

“However, the school wants us to cater their lunch and maintain the cafeteria. I’m busy with handling the business side of things so you’re in charge of this venture.”, he said in a matter of fact tone.

You wanted to say no, that running the restaurant and the school order who be the death of you but he sensed it.

“And before you say no. Either take it up or you’re fired.”, he said it without feeling, with no empathy and there was nothing else you could do.

You agreed and he left, leaving you bear the weight of your decisions again. Maybe you should have just stayed in Barbie land, instead of thinking this place would be any different.

“What an idiot.”, Ken chuckled behind you.

“You still haven’t left?”, you turned to him with a scowl, not wanting to cry in front of him.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”, he said softly as he walked up to you, to take your bag and belongings.

You felt lighter and oddly consoled. To know that atleast one person could see through Sam’s cruelty.

“You have your own car?”, you smiled as you sniffled.

“Sure do.”, he winked as he held up his keys that where held together in a horse keychain.

His vehicle came into view and it wasn’t like what you had thought he would own. It was a regular sedan that had a few areas where the paint had worn off but the smile on his face as he unlocked it made you feel guilty. For having tried to hurt him before.

It looked like he had been here for a while, he put his phone up after entering your address into it. His taste in music was more nuanced and it amazed you that he even knew the lyrics well enough to sing to Taylor Swift’s songs. He was a whole new person, one you were only getting to know now.

You searched for signs, a ring on his finger, a picture in his wallet, the wallpaper on his phone, anything to confirm your thoughts on him having a life with Barbie. He couldn’t exist without her.

As he pulled up into the carpark, he snapped his fingers as though he finally had made a connection.

“All this while, we’ve been neighbors.”, he said with surprise.

He held up his phone to show you where his home marker was on the map and it was astonishing. He was in the apartment block next to you. For a brief second, his eyes caught yours and you could sense he had more to say or that he wanted to.

“Brie.”, he began with a serious tone and in the vacuum of his car it felt as though he was about to say that the world was about to end. But he sighed to remove his keys to then say,

“So you have your own dream house?”, he smiled and that brief moment was lost.

“I do.”, you said.

“but its not dreamy.”, you gave him a tired smile.

“Is it girl’s night, every night?”, he asked quietly, his eyes finding yours even in the dark and the only revelation from this was that you couldn’t erase him from your memories. Even after all this time, that connection you felt with him didn’t fade.

You shook your head to his question, it was hard making friends outside of work.

“I’m sorry.”, he said. His hands now gripping the steering wheel, he looked away.

“For hurting you. I didn’t know what I was doing before but I never wanted to hurt you.”, he continued and you could feel your heart in your throat.

“You don’t have to be nice to me, but I know how it feels.”, he said with a sad smile and distant eyes.

“It feels good to finally be able to inflict the same pain you felt.”, he reminisced to when he took over Barbie’s dream house.

But seeing you here, knowing the reason behind why you left, he lacked the courage to tell you the truth behind why he was here. Looking into your dark eyes even for a second reminded him of what he had done. It was unfair, to just come in, to state his business and in the desperation of clearing his name, to take you back. It had to be your choice, he was only the messenger. What you choose to do, was up to you.

“So if you don’t want me around. I understand.”, he said finally, and embraced the uncertainty. Saving Barbie land was important but then so were you.

You didn’t know what to say, in all your time here, no one had given you a choice. You were at a loss for words because this wasn’t what you had expected, for him to not attach himself into your life.

“Thank you for saying that, Ken.”, you felt the anxiety wash away as you pushed back your hair. To say his name after so long, felt good, felt like home.

“I just need a little time.”, you replied sinking into the seat.

“To process all of this.”, you caught his gaze as he nodded sweetly.

The blue of his eyes still held that glimmer, his smile, still perfect that it made you jealous even in a world that was imperfect and harsh, he wasn’t touched by it. And as you stayed in that second, forgiving him was easy. Because his actions were never done with the intent to be malicious. It still however didn't change you fate though.

He wasn’t yours, but you wished for it nonetheless.

---

Let me know if the tags are working!

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#barbie movie 2023 #barbie movie #barbie #ken barbie #ryan gosling ken #ryan gosling #ken x y/n #ken x you #ken x reader #ken fluff #ken fic

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tainted-liquor · 8 months

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Grande Jeté⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

Hobie Brown x BlackFem!Ballerina!Reader Tws: BADDDD British, light swearing, Ingredients: Sugar, Kisses, and a lil bit of smiles! (fluff) W/C:950 A/N: Heyyy! pls forgive me bro I know 0 Londoners, n I have no idea how to write their accent lol. BEAARRR WITH ME😭

Hobie never expected in his life that he would be in this predicament. Here he was, sitting alongside Gwen as she eagerly ranted to him about her 'older sister' being in this dance. She spent about two days convincing Hobie to go with her, saying that he would be supporting an aspiring artist. "It's about to start!" Gwen cheered silently, clapping her hands quickly before pointing to the red curtains ascending upwards. "There she is!" Gwen whispered as she pointed towards your flexed form, spine curving upward as your back leg extended out behind you as your arms create a sleek invisible line between the tips of your fingers and the bottom of your toes.

He was absolutely enchanted. He had never seen someone make ballet look so sacred in his eyes, brushing off the silly dance as a bunch of jumps and turns. He watched as you slowly began to break free from your frozen stance, moving with such calculated precision and absolute elegance. It was like he was watching the performance through a tunnel, eyes glued on you and you only as you pirouetted with such grace it put every princess in the world to absolute shame. He had heard from Gwen first-hand just how painful it was to do ballet, but watching you twist and turn on the very tips of your toes put everything into perspective. In his mind, you were a precious dove ghosting the surface of the water with your pretty pink pointe shoes.

"Gwendy, you said this's one of your mates, right?" He asked, eyes still absolutely glued to you. Gwen gave him an overjoyed nod, clearly biting back the loudest scream of approval she's ever given. "Introduce me later, yea?" He mumbled as he watched you shoot Gwen a rather smooth wave, disguising it within your movements to not stray from your routine...Man, you were good. You looked absolutely bewitching as your melanated skin shone under the spotlight, your movements remaining soft and delicate whilst carrying yourself with such poise. If Gwen would've told Hobie about you earlier he would've bought the damn tickets himself.

When up on that stage, you always felt free and liberated. You spent all of your life in a studio, accepting every drop of boiling-hot criticism with cupped palms, watching as it burned and seared your skin and leave its metaphorical mark that manifested in the form of experience. You incorporated the elegant style of dance into your everyday life, weaving the very threads of its history into your personality and wearing it like a proud necklace. For you, dancing was your very being. You spent countless nights banging shoes on your walls, patching up your battered and bruised legs countless times until only a ghost of feeling remained in the tips of your toes. You've learned to crawl, then stumble, then walk, run, and finally jump all in the span of over 10+ years.

You followed the inaudible signals in the ever-so-soothing piano, utilizing the cues that you had ingrained into the back of your mind as you assumed each and every position and pose. You were in a fuck ton of pain, and you were out of breath, but what's a little bit of hurt compared to a dream 10 years in the making? When the curtains finally closed after everyone took their final bow, the roaring applause made everything worth every single twinge of pain. You eagerly ran off the stage, enveloping Gwen in a tight hug as she introduced you to the incredibly tall and lanky man next to her. The clash between the two of you was starkly obvious, with you being dressed in shades of pink, ivory, and soft beiges that complimented every aspect of your outfit.

"'Ey there, I'm 'Obie" he stated as he gave me a small smile, extending his hand towards me gently, to which I gladly accept. Truth be told, I didn't understand half of a fuck of what he just said. I pulled a smile and nod and used context clues to fill in the gaps. "That's a nice accent...where you from?" you asked with a warm smile. He gives a light chuckle before answering with a small "East London. You were really great out there, by the way. Kick n' prance queen!"

"Thank you! You should drop by my studio sometime, you can watch me and Gwen practice for future shows or just for funsies!" I exclaim with a light giggle. I scanned over Hobie, making a mental note of his rough and sharp look that contrasted with my very being. He reminded me of a black swan, gorgeous and elegant in his own way, but almost twice as intimidating. I wouldn't be lying if I said I truly loved the difference in our aesthetics.

"I tried, but he says that he doesn't-" Gwen begins, with Hobie quickly silencing her by just straight up grabbing her mouth. "Yea, I'd like that. I'll see you la'er then!" He grins as he slowly drags Gwen away, giving you a small wave and a goofy grin as I disappear backstage to change into some normal clothes and deconstruct my makeup.

"You didn't tell me that was the gyaldem you ran wif" Hobie chuckled as he shot Gwen a playful glare. "Well, I TRIED. But you started going on about how you," She dropped her voice an octave, linking a synthetic British accent to her every word. "Don't believe in paying to watch performances!" She teased. Hobie only rolled his eyes, pretending to brush off the matter. But in reality, he couldn't wait to see you again and watch you dance in all your glory.

"So...when's she dancing again?"

#across the spiderverse #atsv #into the spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #hobart brown #we die like men #east london #spiderpunk x reader #spider punk #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you

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aajjks · 10 months

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Dark Knight feeling, Die or Kill (m)

A collaboration based on fictional iconic superhero characters, with the bts members; with a twist of obsession and desire, you won’t be able to escape, no matter how much you try, who’s going to save you from them? hint: no one.

written by: @justanotherstarlightmonger

member: seokjin

character: silver surfer

synopsis: Kim Seokjin, the silver surfer, finds his heart of titanium swaying for the first time in millennia, for Reed Richard's prodigy apprentice, who unfortunately calls the planet his master wants to devour, home. Caught between a life long oath to an intergalactic planet devouring fog and the all encompassing obsession the surfer developed with OC, Seokjin will fight tooth and nail to have it all.

release date: [TBD]

written by: @bighitfics

member: yoongi/suga

character: captain america

synopsis. “You’ve been asleep captain yoongi, for almost 22 years” yet I wasn’t surprised by the revelation not one bit just disappointed and perhaps a tad bit disheartened.

The only thing that came into my mind at the moment was her.

My Y/n.

The one thing in my life that kept me going.

The one stability that I had.

The girl who believed in me when the world stranded me.

The girl I’d fight hell just to hold in my arms.

I close my eyes and all I could hear was her sweet voice sobbing and begging me to return back.

Then the crash happened and the rest is history.

The defeat and acceptance of never seeing her again for the sake of others still fresh in my memory.

Where’s she now? Still living in illsan? Does she know that I’m here….that I’ve been found? Would she be waiting like she promised?

“You’re gonna be okay?” the guy asked while I looked around the city that had so sense of familiarity still trying to find some sort of relevance to ease my mind but it was utterly useless because everything was foreign as though I’ve been transported to a different planet.

“Yeah I just…I had a date.” I answer him.

release date: [TBD]

written by: @bahbah-bee

member: hoseok/jhope

character: Batman/Bruce Wayne.

synopsis. Billionaires don’t develop attachments. Superheroes don’t make deals with villains. This was something ingrained in Mr. Hoseok through experience. Gotham didn’t need to know the truth about Batman, and in return all the dealings of the underworld were taken care of. It didn’t matter if people got hurt, as long as justice was served. At least, that was until he met you.

release date: [TBD]

written by: @ratherbefangirling

member: namjoon/RM.

character: black widow

synopsis. Namjoon was stolen from his birth parents by the agency. Since then he's learned many different things, lived many different lives, felt many different things. Black Monster. The best of the best. That's what everyone knows him as. Is it too much to ask that someone knows his name. Is it too much for the extraordinary to ask for the ordinary. It might be, but black monster always gets his way no matter what.

release date: [TBD]

written by: @pynkgothicka

member: jimin

character: scarlet witch

synopsis. Jimin has kept up your fantasy-esque life up for all you can remember. So why is that idyllic life showing cracks all of a sudden?

release date: [TBD]

written by: @bebejungkook

member: taehyung/V

character: Angel (x-men)

synopsis. To everyone in the city, Kim Taehyung is a mutant and the heir to the Kim fortune, helping keep the city safe and secure. But to you, he is your guardian Angel, saving you from harm and gifting you with wisdom. You go to him for guidance and comfort, how could he say no to his sweet and innocent little dove? His heart beats for you only and he would do anything to protect and keep you safe, after all he is your guardian angel.

release date: [TBD]

wrïtten by: @aajjks

mëmbër: jungkook

chàracter: Spïder-Mân

synöpsïs. He wöuldn’t lêt you cräwl äwäy from him, you bëlongêd to him.

fïc téäsër: xx

rëlëäsë dätë: [TBD]

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gothriotgrrl · 2 months

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One of the things that is really infuriating me about so many of the "takes" on Katara in NATLA is how most of them are opposing each other. The same people who are complaining about her not being motherly enough are the same ones who are complaining that she's too "subservient". First of all, I don't actually see her do what anyone tells her to do for no other reason than they told her to do it, because that's what subservient means. Everything she does, she does for a reason and the show SHOWS us that.

Also, the original show did not present her motherliness in a positive light, it was a coping mechanism for trauma that the other characters acknowledge was a coping mechanism for her trauma, but still took advantage of because it was essentially her taking on all of the responsibilities without being asked so they didn't have to. And then she would, rightfully, get annoyed when everyone treated her like a doormat and yell at everyone. But when she tried to break out of that motherly role, she was punished by the narrative. In the third season, she literally gets arrested the one time she tries to allow herself to be as irresponsible as everyone else is being. And while people I've noticed are annoyed that they removed her yelling and her anger, when she yelled in the original show, the narrative tended to frame her as being "hysterical". They literally animated her in a way that makes her look unhinged. In the new show, her anger is still there it's just significantly more subtle so she's not framed as "hysterical".

The truth is that, while Katara is a character that has a lot of potential, and has very specific character traits, the original show did not always know what to do with those traits. Nor did it know how to have her exist in an episode without those traits being punished in some way by the narrative, or being presented in misogynistic ways like having her just generally be punished because she is the love interest of the Avatar. (Like the episode where she is literally buried alive in front of Aang, and after she is "unearthed", no one, including her, cares about what she went through, she only cares about Aang.)

The new show is trying to take the foundation of Katara's character, remove the inherent misogyny (and fetishizing racism) that was ingrained in her character presentation, and give us something more solid. Is it perfect? No. But it's a hell of a lot better than the original.

#atla #atla live action #avatar: tla #netflix atla #netflix avatar #katara #natla positivity #natla

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decadentpostnachos-evil-twin · 2 months

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See a more or less short rendition of my experiences when I first read the acotar series (Three years ago?) beneath the cut. I purposefully misspelled some names, I don't feel like getting death threats from obsessive stans tonight. Bisou x

The funniest thing for me is that I started reading acotar spoiled and biased. I got the recommendation from TikTok, and everyone there was raving about Fey/sand and hating on Tamlin. So naturally, I started acotar being prepared to hate Tamlin and yearningly wait for Rice sand to make an appearance.

How the tables turned with that.

First of all, I was whipped for Lucien the moment he first appeared. (I have also been in the Eris corner ever since...2021? Or so, when there was literally one piece of writing for him and that was some headcanons. Anyway.)

Secondly, I folded for Tamlin too, against my expectations when hearing people say he was a nasty abuser and Rice sand is the feminist king. Like, I was prepared for Tamlin to be the biggest prick, and then he came along with lines like "I play a mean fiddle" or "I love you, thorns and all" and writing Limericks to help Feyrug learn to read, and he was fumbling so bad, it was just absolutely cute.

And when Rice sand made his first appearance, I was underwhelmed. At that point, I had only heard people sing praise about him and how perfect he is, and he was just the prick I expected Tamlin to be.

Utm was disgusting, and fundamented my dislike for Rice sand because he was giving Sex offender in the worst way possible.

Acomaf came along and I was kinda happy to have things "back to normal". And then everything went to shit, Tamlin was completely disregarded and vilified, as was Lucien. And Feyrug began sucking Rice sands dick. I was so disappointed, and I clung to any crumb of Lucien and Tamlin I could get, especially after the Summer Court debacle and the CoN whore thing, because that was just disgusting.

Acowar sold my soul to Eris, to the point of no return. I was an Eris girl before that, but after? Altered my brain chemistry. There's hardly anything he can do at this point to make me not like him. It also festered my hate for the Ic even more, and I began to really despise Feyrug too. I wanted to burn the book when Rice sand was resurrected, because I had hoped that he'd just stay dead atp.

Acofas was a train wreck and the only good things about it were the one appearance Eris and Lucien had each. The rest was either cringey or anger inducing, or both combined. My villain origin story.

Acosf... I hate how she treated Nesta. My girl deserves better fr. I despised Cassian's povs, except for the ones where Eris was present. (Duh) Once again, only a few good things about this book. Those being Eris, Lucien and the Valkyries. The pregnancy plotline sucks ass, and if I see one more Rice sand lover saying Eris is misogynistic for saying Morningan dresses like a slut while defending Rice sand for the shit he pulled with the pregnancy because "he just wanted to protect Feyrug" and still calling him feminist, I'm going to have an aneurism.

I went into this series biased. I literally hadn't even opened the first book and already thought Tamlin sucks and Rice sand is the greatest salvation. It was deeply ingrained in my mind before I even read the series. And even then, I came out hating Rice sand and his AA circle of life and loving everyone the popular narrative told me to hate. So no, I'm not delusional for liking the characters I do. People who blindly stan the Ic just lack reading comprehension or the will to think about what they are reading for more than five seconds because there's nothing more they want to know than the length of bad imitation Batman's cock.

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