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the-oblivious-writer · 9 months

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Let The Light In |2|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Two: Alamort

Summary: You've been struggling to sleep the past few weeks, a late friend of yours not leaving your mind and on top of that you get stuck with Tara for a group project

Warning(s): Swearing, mentions of death, grief and underage drinking

Notes: Was able to put some Sam appreciation in this chapter cause I love her sm, also I would like to clarify that in this au ghostface will not be making a return so dw worry about our girl Anika

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It’s been a long day and you were absolutely exhausted. You felt like you were going to pass out, you quickly changed into your pj’s and as soon as your body hit your bed you practically melted. Not too long after that you fell asleep, if only you would have enjoyed it.

—

Your right leg bounced as you stared at your phone, you bit on your nails and your younger brother gave out a huff. “Staring at the phone isn’t going to make him call. You’re just making the waiting ten times worse,” your younger brother said, taking the seat beside you. You sighed and rubbed your hands anxiously up and down your thighs.

“He said he’d call as soon as they were done. It’s been forever! Why the hell hasn't he called yet?” You knew the possible answer but couldn’t bear to say it out loud.

“I’m sure he’s fine, fighting ghost face doesn’t seem like a five minute type of thing.” You had gotten a call from Dewey earlier saying he was going to the hospital because ghostface was there and reassured he’d call you right after if he got back safely. If. You didn’t like that if he snuck in there. He talked to both you and your younger brother, it was like he was saying goodbye. As if he knew this would be the last time he’d talk to either of you. They must’ve arrived at the hospital because you could barely get a word out before he gave one last “Bye, I love you guys” and hung up the call.

You had thought about going to the hospital yourself but your brother was strongly against it. He blocked the door when you tried to leave, not wanting you to fall victim to ghostface. It had happened before in your family and he refused to let history repeat.

An hour later was when you found out. When you got the call you immediately took your brother and rushed down to the hospital. You felt numb as you watched Dewey’s lifeless body being covered by a tarp. I should’ve been there, you thought to yourself repeatedly. You looked over to your brother, his eyes never pulled away from the tarp that covered Dewey. He broke out into sobs as you held him close, still in shock that this was actually happening.

As soon as you and Gale made eye contact, she ran up to you and hugged you both tightly. You couldn’t stop thinking about how you just sat there, safe and sound in the trailer while Dewey was gutted in cold blood.

You woke up, covered in sweat. You rubbed your eyes before frantically looking at your surroundings. You weren’t in Woodsboro anymore, you were in your apartment in New York. You sat up in your bed while breathing heavily.

You’ve been having the same dream– or well, nightmare ever since Dewey’s passing. Your mind refused to let you forget the day you just sat there as the closest thing you had to a father figure was taken from you.

—

You were exhausted. You barely got two hours of sleep last night, constantly being met with the same memory. With Dewey’s death anniversary getting closer and closer, the nightmares were only getting worse. It was now five am, there was still a lot of time to pass before class started. You took a shower to wash off all the sweat you made from tossing and turning. By the time you finished getting ready it was only six am.

The rest of your morning was spent watching Brooklyn Nine Nine while enjoying a bowl of cinnamon toast crunch. You eventually left your apartment, making your way to your first class. Unfortunately, you had history which meant you were stuck with Tara once again.

No matter how many seats were vacant, she always chose to sit next to you. It put your teeth on edge but you knew she was doing it solely to piss you off. Goodness, she was annoying.

When you arrived you sat down and immediately put your head down. You almost fell asleep until there was a loud slam by your head. Tara had slammed down one of her books and sat down in the seat beside you.

Your head shot up as you rubbed your eyes. “Morning to you too, princess.” You mumbled, still rubbing your eyes in an attempt to rub away the exhaustion.

“You look like shit,” she commented, putting down her bag. “You don’t look too good either.” You were already growing even more tired due to her presence.

The rest of the class went on like this, Tara making a comment and you returning it. It truly wasn’t that much different from Woodsboro. Always picking fights and at each other's throats. But if you were being honest with yourself, it was a nice distraction. Guess she was good for something but you’d never tell her that.

You were writing something down when a crumpled up piece of paper hit the side of your face. You turned to give Tara a scowl before opening up the paper.

I need to copy your notes, the note read. You rolled your eyes and turned to Tara. She was still facing the front of the class, you turned back and wrote your reply on the piece of paper. You threw it to Tara before going back to writing.

Fuck no, why can’t you just write them on your own?? Tara annoyingly exhaled before aggressively writing something else on the paper. She chucked it at you and it hit you near your eye. You huffed and read the paper once again, I can barely understand the words coming out of his mouth on top of him talking too fast!

You sighed and rubbed your temples, your sleep deprivation was starting to catch up. “After class.” You mumbled in defeat. Tara took the victory until she got lost in her own head.

This wasn’t like you. Usually you’d give up more of a fight, she had noticed your drained expression when she walked in. She decided not to dwell on the topic too much, this was you after all. It wasn’t like she knew you knew you. Just enjoy the win, Tara she thought to herself.

—

After you finished all your classes, you finally got back to your apartment in one piece. Your eyelids were heavy as you fumbled with your keys. Eventually you inserted your key and unlocked the door, you could barely feel your legs as you walked inside and your brain was all foggy. You nearly knocked over a lamp when you walked in. Anika noticed this and immediately rushed over to your side.

“Shit, Y/N. When was the last time you slept?” You mumbled something she couldn’t hear before landing on the couch. You let out a long sigh and put your hand over your eyes to block out the light that was directly above you.

“This micro-sleeping crap that you’ve been trying clearly isn’t helping,” Anika sighed while putting a couple pillows behind you.

“I’m fine.” You murmured even though it was a blatant lie. “I’m gonna go make you grilled cheese and heat up the leftover tomato soup.” Anika stated before walking off to the kitchen. You had previously mentioned to her how that combo always made you fall asleep when you couldn’t as a child. Anika noticed how in the past few weeks, you’ve been losing more and more sleep. She was worried about you but also knew you were too stubborn to accept help.

Fifteen minutes later, she came back with a bowl of tomato soup with a diagonally cut grilled cheese sandwich on the side. “Eat.” You whined in response but Anika wasn’t having it. She forcefully sat you up and pushed the coffee table closer to you. “You’re eating. No complaints. You can’t just live off of Cereal and Ramen Noodles.”

You reluctantly brought a spoonful full of tomato soup to your mouth. “Says, who?” you mumbled with the spoon in your mouth. Anika only rolled her eyes and brought you a water bottle. Choosing not to argue any further, knowing she already won since you were eating.

You switched over to the sandwich when Anika sat across from you and asked,“Okay, what’s been going on with you?” She interrupts you before you can respond. “And don’t say ‘nothing’ cause it’s obvious it’s not nothing.” You looked back down the sandwich in your hand.

“I don’t feel like talking about it.” You answered honestly. Anika looked at you for a second before nodding in understanding. “That’s okay. But just know that I’m here for when you do feel like talking about it,” she put her hand on yours for a moment before getting up and walking to her room, knowing that you needed time to yourself.

You put down the sandwich and sighed to yourself. You stayed there on the couch for a bit, alone with your own thoughts. Each one telling you the same thing. You should’ve been there.

—

A few days have passed and a few weeks have passed since you’ve gotten a proper night’s rest. You were in history, Tara scoffed at a comment you made before you both heard the words “...group project. Pair up in two’s.” You and Tara looked around to see everybody else already pairing themselves off with other people.

And that was how you ended up at the Carpenter-Bailey residence. Even though you had insisted to your professor that you should work alone, he shook his head and told you that wasn’t an option. You made sure Tara knew you weren’t interested in starting the project last minute.

You sat down on their couch as you waited for Tara to come back from whatever it was she was doing. “Finally, let’s begin.” You said when she came back into view. “Still as patient as ever,” Tara quipped as she sat down a couple cushions over.

“Whatever, let’s just get this over with so I don’t have to be here any longer.” Just then Sam walks through the door, she kicks the door closed with her foot due to her hands being full from carrying groceries.

She looked up, unexpectedly to not just her sister but also you. Sam opens her mouth but before she gets a word out, one of the bags she’s carrying drops. You immediately get up to go help her. Tara furrows her eyebrows at your action.

“Thanks,” Sam mumbled as you both placed the bags down on the coffee table. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Tara, you didn’t tell me you were having people over.” She said, turning to her little sister as you sat down in your previous spot. “It was a last minute thing. We have a group project and unfortunately I got stuck with her as my partner,” Tara responded which pulled an eye roll from you.

“Love you too, Tar.” You quipped as you took out one of your notebooks. Tara elbowed you before continuing. “I’d introduce you but supposedly you two have already met,” Tara recalled that you’ve mentioned meeting Sam before.

“Yeah, I remember her now. She can stay, but if you go to your room make sure to keep your door open–” Tara blushed as you looked up from your notebook, moving your stare to Tara then to Sam then back to Tara.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Sam. Trust me.” Tara answered quickly. Sam looked between the two of you suspiciously. “Okay, but I still want the door three inches open.”

“Okay, okay” Tara sighed as she tilted her head back. Goodness, Sam could be so embarrassing sometimes.

A few seconds later, Sam finally left to put away the groceries. You bit your lip, trying not to laugh about what just happened. You found embarrassed Tara very amusing. “Shut up,” Tara said, elbowing your side again. “Let’s start, unless you plan to continue flirting with my sister.”

This caught you off guard. You turned your head to Tara and raised an eyebrow. “What?” Tara rolled her eyes, “I’m not stupid. You obviously like her and it’s so gross. That’s my sister, asshole.”

What made her think you liked Sam? Sure you noticed how she was tall, attractive and her arms- wait where was this going? Oh yeah, you did not like her like that.

“Tara, I don’t like your sister. Not like that.” She wasn’t meeting your gaze, choosing that the pages of her textbook were more interesting. “Sure. Can we just start? You were the one who wanted to get it over with.”

“Whatever.” You two started and throughout the duration you both argued over stupid things and chucked notes at each other as if you were still in class. After two hours, Tara started to get bored and hungry. You were in the middle of writing something when she let out a dramatic huff. “What now, princess?”

“You’re not the least bit tired or bored?” She asked, leaning back on the couch. You sighed and answered without looking up from your writing. “Tired? Yes, but that’s nothing new. Bored? It’s history. I’m not bored.”

“You always were such a nerd when it came to history. What was that thing you always said? Learn by making history or something?” You rolled your eyes, “You make history by learning history.” You finally looked up to see her slight smirk. She got the reaction wanted.

She always liked seeing you worked up. But specifically when it came to the things you were passionate about. Sometimes she would purposely miss-quote something from The Office or tell a historical event completely wrong just to get a reaction out of you.

You would furrow your eyebrows and get all grumpy and you knew she was just doing it to get on your nerves. And you had the same expression now as you did then. Tara took note of this and smiled to herself.

“I can tell you’re enjoying this very much.” You state before turning back to your writing. “Oh, very much,” Tara replied. As you were turned away from the girl and focusing on the project, Tara was still inspecting you. She noticed how you still held a slight furrow in your eyebrows while your nose was a bit scrunched up.

“You gonna keep staring at me, weirdo or continue working on the project?” You commented without looking up. Tara gets a bit flustered when you call her out. “Actually I’m getting something to eat from the kitchen…without getting you something,” Tara responded while getting up and walking to the kitchen.

“Oh, woman, why must you wound me?” You call out, your voice laced with sarcasm.

—

It was now ten thirty and you and Tara were at least ninety percent done with the project. You both decided to call it a night and just finish it up next time.

You let out a tired sigh as you closed all your books and placed them in your bag. Sam walked in and noticed you packing your stuff. “Hey, Y/N I was just about to order some food. Would you like to stay for dinner?” She noticed you hadn’t eaten anything since you’ve been over and barely touched your water.

“She’s goo-” Tara started but you interrupted her. “Of course! I’d love to, thank you.” Staying meant pissing off Tara and you were all for it.

“Great, any food allergies?” Sam asked as Tara glared at you. “Nope.” You answered with a polite smile, feeling the younger Carpenter burn holes at the side of your head. Sam nodded and walked off to her room. Tara then immediately smacked your shoulder.

“Ouch.” You let out with a deadpan expression. “Cry me a fucking river. You’re just staying to piss me off,” Tara accused, still holding a glare.

“I’m neither confirming nor denying. But what I will say is that I enjoy getting you all worked up,” You replied with a smirk. You and Tara looked at each other, almost like you were in a staring contest.

“You know, you’re extremely infuriating.”

“Just for you, princess.”

Just then the doorbell rang and Tara got up to answer it. Sam came out of her room after Tara came back inside carrying the bags of food and walking over to the dining table to place them. You followed Tara and sat down after Sam and Tara did.

After five minutes of silence, Sam decided to try and make conversation. “So, Y/N,” You softly hummed and looked up from your food. “How’s college going?” Sam asked.

“It’s going.” You answered, pushing the food around on your plate. Sam nodded before asking another question. “So, you and Tara have history together?”

“Unfortunately.” Tara responded before you could. “She’s just a peach,” you added while giving a wry smile.

Then it got silent again. It was awkward, at least for Sam it was. You and Tara death glaring at each other from across the table wasn’t helping the tension. To be entirely honest, Sam wasn’t sure what to do. She knew you and Tara weren’t on good terms but she also knew you weren’t a terrible person. So, she had to be the bigger person and be at least decent to you.

You looked at your watch and put down your fork. “It’s late so I should get going. Thank you so much for dinner, Sam.” You started as you stood up.

“Of course, Y/N.” As soon as you left the apartment Tara went to scold Sam. “What the hell Sam?” Sam closed her eyes and sighed before turning her head to her sister. “Tara-”

“You seriously just let the most insufferable person to ever exist stay over for dinner,” Tara huffed while crossing her arms.

“You’re such a baby sometimes, Tar.” Sam said before getting up to put away her food. Leaving Tara to pout to herself. “I’m not a baby…” Tara mumbled to herself, her arms and legs were crossed.

“She’s just an ass.”

—

“Where are you going?” Anika asked as she saw you looking for your keys. “Out.” She rolled your eyes at your one word answer.

“Obviously but where? It’s Saturday, you should be taking that to your advantage and try to get some sleep,” your roommate elaborated.

“I’m fine. I had coffee—” You found your keys on the kitchen counter and grabbed them, “—I’m just gonna hang out with Henry. You wanna join? Henry said he doesn’t mind you coming.”

Anika sighed. “No, I’m good. I’ve got plans tonight.” She knew you weren’t going to budge no matter what she said. “But please, call me if anything happens. Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah ‘course,” you said before leaving and shutting the door.

It was supposed to be a quiet night that consisted of video games, drinks and food. That’s all it was…according to Henry. But when you walked in it was packed with people. You felt like the music’s volume would bust your eardrum and everybody was either knocking into something or someone.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope, you thought to yourself before turning around in an attempt to leave. But then a pair of hands gently turned you back around to face them. You were met with Henry’s face and he could tell you were not happy with him.

“Just hear me out!” Henry shouted in order to be heard above the music. You rolled your eyes at him before responding. “How do you expect me to do that with this music blasting?” You started, matching his volume. “You said it was just gonna be us, what the hell happened to the plan!”

“Jason’s apartment flooded and I had to take over hosting the party!” He answered, still seeing how pissed you were. “I’m sorry, man! This was a last minute thing, I’ll make it up to you! I swear!” You thought to yourself for a second before sighing. “Fine!”

Henry convinced you to stay by bribing you with drinks and that’s how you ended up hiding out in his room. Playing on his nintendo with a red solo cup on his night stand that you occasionally took a sip of.

While you were in the middle of beating Link’s ass the door abruptly opened. You looked up to find Tara who seemed to be flipping somebody off before turning to you. “Don’t.” Was all she said before collapsing on the bed, not far from your feet.

“Wasn’t gonna say anything.” You murmured before looking back at the nintendo. “You just did.” She responded in a muffled voice due to her laying down face first.

“What’s the matter, princess? Long night already?” You started, going against her wishes. She sat up, holding herself up by her arms. “Why do you care?” Tara narrowed her eyes at you as you simply shrugged.

“I don’t. Just��curious is all.” Tara crawled over to sit next to you, leaning her back against the headboard. As she started playing with her hands you looked down at them for a moment, noticing the scar on her left hand.

“What?” Tara asked with annoyance in her voice. “Nothing.” Was all you responded with before taking another sip from the red solo cup near you. Tara looked away and scrunched up her face slightly. As if silently scolding herself before speaking again. “Um, Sam told me by the way. What it is in a few weeks,” she started as you froze. You thought there’d be at least one person who wouldn’t bring it up.

“If you like– need anything or whatever, you can talk to me about it. Not a lot of people have been through what we have.” You continued to look down at the nintendo, you hated when people tried to comfort you. You hated feeling like the victim.

“Could you quit that?” Tara furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Quit what?” You let out a huff before answering her. “Quit being so nice to me. It’s weird. I don’t like it.”

“Would you like me to verbally harass you instead? Cause’ I’ll gladly do so.” Tara quipped with a deadpan expression. “Aww, there’s my girl.” You reached over and pinched her cheeks. “You’re an idiot,” she said as she shoved your hand away.

“But seriously, stop with this mushy shit.” Tara scoffed at you before responding. “It’s not my fault emotions make you uncomfortable.” It was your turn to scoff. “Accusations, false accusations.” You shook your head a little as you said this.

Tara noticed how you avoided the previous subject but didn’t say anything. Sam said she should try to talk to you about it. And that’s what she did, she tried.

A pillow flew to your face, “Oh, real mature.” You grabbed the pillow and threw it back to her. “I’ll remember that the next time your guard is down while I’m near a pillow.”

“Sure you will, Y/L/N.” Tara quipped. “You’ll see.” You continued as you started getting up. “Where are you going?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Why? You gonna miss me?” You remarked with a smirk. Tara rolled her eyes, “God, you couldn’t leave this room soon enough.”

“You love me.”

“I hate you.”

“Correction, you hate how much you love me.”

Tara threw a pillow at you again as you stood by the door, “Get out!” Tara shouted, trying to fight back her laughter. Geez, I’m tipsy, Tara thought.

Eventually you left the room and left Tara alone with her thoughts. She let out a deep sigh as she laid down on the bed. “She’s such an idiot.” Tara mumbled to herself. But something was different about this idiot. About her idiot.

But you were still an asshole, she reminded herself. No matter how cute you may be.

Oh.

Maybe she’ll keep that thought to herself. Whenever she had these thoughts about you she reminded herself about all the things you’ve done and said to each other. She still found you insufferable and incredibly annoying, that was a fact. That doesn’t mean she hasn’t ever noticed you being objectively attractive before. Objectively of course.

She knew she hated you, she knew she hated your smug attitude, the stupid remarks you threw and how much of a control freak you could be. Tara also hated how you could charm your way out of most situations. It was unbearable but also brought her satisfaction that she was the few people you couldn't do that with.

You were an intolerable asshole who’s always gotten on her nerves.

—

Monday came by quick, when you got to history you sat at your usual spot. You were met with a hungover Tara, unsurprisingly. “Two nights in a row? What a rebel.” You quipped as she groaned, rubbing her temples.

“You’re not helping.” She mumbled with her head down. You leaned closer to her and whispered, “Wasn’t trying to.” You leaned back in your seat and took out your notes.

“Alright!” Your professor walked in. “Let’s get started,” He said before loudly clapping his hands together which caused Tara to jump as her hands flew to her ears. You laughed a little which earned you a shoved from the younger Carpenter.

Class went on and you and Tara did your usual routine which consisted of shoving each other, making petty comments and note passing.

Once class was over you got up and closed your books and started to make your way to meet with Anika for lunch. You were only a few feet away from the classroom when you felt a light tug on your shirt. When you turned around you saw Tara.

“Yes, princess?” You asked, looking down at her. She looked kinda cute looking up at you. Over the years you noticed she had these puppy dog eyes without even trying. It’s even more amusing when she’s trying to be serious.

“I’m free tomorrow night if you wanna finish the project then.” She states, still looking up at you with those damn eyes. You nodded, “Alright, see you then.”

“No flirting with my sister though,” she said with an appointed look. “No promises.” You teased which got you a shove to the shoulder.

"Gross," Tara mumbled before walking away from you.

Guess you had to add “flirting with Sam” on the list of things that pissed Tara off.

-----------

A/N: If you'd like to get tagged in future chapters, lemme know in the comments!

#jenna ortega #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #scream #scream 6

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madschiavelique · 10 months

Note

Hi! This is my first request, sorry if it isn’t that coherent. Is it cool if I send a hurt/comfort drabble request with gn reader x Miguel?

Maybe something where an enemy takes advantage of Miguel’s lack of spider sense and is severely injured to the point where he can’t keep up his tough exterior anymore. He’d probably dread how vulnerable the situation made him and would want the reader beside him for the next mission, as some kinda filler spider sense after he recovers (or just has them there for comfort but doesn’t wanna admit it LOL)

hiya anon !! this was coherent don't worry hehehe

summary : miguel gets severely injured on a mission and wants you by his sides for all the upcoming ones

content warnings : blood, cuts, miguel almost dying (he doesn't dw), flangst (?), this turns sweet, no use of Y/N, gender neutral!reader word count : 2,2k

tag list : @fandom-ash

Miguel found himself alone on the field. This wasn't usually a problem, as the number of individual missions he'd carried out before forming his entire Spider Society was vast. It hadn't always been easy, of course, but he'd always managed to pull himself up, like a true Spider-Man would.

The rain clattered against the pixels of his suit, thunder rumbling between the dark clouds where skyscrapers sank like daggers into a black cotton belly.

He was out of breath, the anomaly he was facing was the typical weak point of his mutation: it was invisible, and extremely fast, which didn't help as Miguel's Spidersenses were profoundly insignificant, or even to put it simply: non-existent.

If he could get a visual on his target, everything would be perfectly fine. He could carry out his mission like the usual without a care. But invisible? That was undoubtedly his Achilles' heel in anomalies.

His hand was pressed against one of his bleeding sides as he stood breathless on a rooftop. The anomaly kept using its invisibility and speed to make unpredictable sprints to cut him from side to side.

He muttered an insult under his breath, his shoulders, arms and legs riddled with cuts of varying depths that were causing severe pain all over his body.

The anomaly was taunting him, laughing at one corner and then the next second calling out from another. The situation was becoming far too complex, and he could feel that the loss of blood from his body was starting to have an impact, weakening him enormously in this fight. It was more than a weakness actually, it was a real danger.

His eyes were looking in all directions, turning in on himself. Silence and the inability to know where his enemy was had never frightened him so much. He knew very well that the invisible things were just as dangerous as the visible ones, if not more so.

You don't always see love when it's coming, and you sometimes fail to recognise death when it arrives.

Call for help? Yes, perhaps that would be best, no matter how proud he was and how independent he wanted to be. Trying to regain a less shaky breath, he swallowed as he brought his lips to his watch:

"Lyla call the-" but he was cut off instantly by the anomaly that came at him in a flash, slicing into the back of his leg with such power that he fell to his knees with a grunt. The puddle into which he had fallen became darker, the red of his blood mingling with it under the light of one of the neon advertisements on an adjacent building.

He groaned in frustration, bringing the watch up to his mouth again.

"Lyla-" he breathed a little louder, but the anomaly cracked the silence with a high-pitched laugh as he cut into his back with a straight, deep line of his own.

Miguel arched his back, a growl mingling with a cry of desperation and terrible frustration as he lay on the ground.

Was it the rain, or was his vision becoming blurry ?

The anomaly materialised before his tired eyes, kneeling beside him, tilting its head to one side.

"All so," he laughed horribly, "big and strong and muscular." the anomaly grabbed his arm evilly, squeezing his hand over a cut that was burning hellishly, and Miguel let out screams through his teeth.

"But I'll tell you something, big buy," the anomaly said simply, moving a little closer to Miguel, who was beginning to find it harder and harder to stay awake. "In the end, we're all made of flesh that can be cut, and bones that can be broken."

He held up his knife, which the raindrops were cleaning of Miguel's blood, still glued to the blade. He then placed it against Miguel's cheek, his vision completely blurred.

"Lyla," he whispered, barely audible, using what little strength he had left to cry out for help.

He saw the knife rise, thinking to himself, this is it, it's over, he thought.

He murmured something, just something ? No, it was more important than that. He murmured your name.

He wanted, no, needed to see you now. Hear your voice, see you once more before… he just needed you by his side.

He felt so lonely.

He could’ve chosen anyone to be by his sides, heck someone was literally by his side at the moment and it was an anomaly, so he wasn’t exactly alone. But still, still, he wanted you.

The knife elevated, ready to strike him down, the sound of the anomaly’s laughter echoing in his mind in a numb way. And that’s when he saw a bright orange in the reflection of the bloody puddle, and lost consciousness.

He awoke in the infirmary, his eyes gradually adjusting to the whitish light. The aseptic air caught his nostrils, his lips were dry and a slight headache tugged at his skull.

He was lying on a stretcher in a position somewhere between sitting up and lying down. As he tried to straighten up, he was immediately stopped by an intense pain, and immediately tensed up.

"Hey hey hey, easy, easy."

He knew that voice, very, very well indeed. He opened his eyes again, slowly.

You were there, at his bedside, just above him to make sure he didn't try to get up again. He inhaled slowly, breathing hurt a little, and he wrinkled his nose in pain.

"How long was I out?" he asked, his first thought always remaining on the subject of organisation.

"Three days," you replied, standing next to him, arms folded.

"Three d-!" but the rise in his tone made his whole chest ache.

"Hey shh shh shh," you soothed, coming to rest your hand on his cheek to provide a point of anchorage for him in the middle of all of this pain.

"Three days," he breathes against your touch as he squirmed around trying to find a comfortable position without feeling like his whole body was on fire. "It's too much wasted time, I have to go back-"

"You're not going back anywhere for a little while, Miguel." you cut, voice calm.

"But I have to-" his breath came a little sharper.

"Miguel, you're not going to do anything at all except rest." you reiterated.

"Listen to me-"

"No, you listen to me," you interjected this time in a much less calm and more strict tone, which surprised him enough to stop him from continuing to fidget and breathe almost frantically. "You had a near-death experience, Miguel," your words were categorical. "And I refuse to allow you to not recover from that properly just so you can kill yourself at work instead, because... fuck, I was so scared." your voice had trailed off on the last word, broken.

Your eyes avoided his, looking up at the ceiling, biting your lip as your gaze fell back on the countless cuts he had strewn across his body. Your hand, previously on his cheek, came to rest beside him on the stretcher.

And you could feel his eyes on you, expecting your next words.

"When Lyla appeared to us... I had never seen her so serious and anxious at the same time. I have always seen her as playful and," a sigh, "sassy. But then, what she said made my heart drop," you admitted, looking him in the eye, trying to articulate.

A tear rolled down your cheek, and you immediately brushed it away, trying to pull yourself together.

"When we arrived, you were in an indescribable state, you were motionless... gosh Miguel I've never wished so much to see someone make just one movement," you breathed in, wiping away the other hot tears that wanted to flow further down your cheeks. "You can't imagine the relief I felt when they stabilised your state."

He looked at you, lips parted as he listened intently. And he thought of how he had wished you in death to bring him life and how you had wished him in life to stay away from death.

"I stayed, you know? By your side. Days, nights, whenever I could," you smiled, a small breath living your lips as you sniffed.

His heart was overflowing with emotions, all the sensations and thoughts that had taken hold of him during his confrontation with the anomaly coming back vividly to his mind, and yet he felt it all squeezed into his chest.

"I..." his voice grew small, and he swallowed to try and make his throat more cooperative to make the lump that was forming in it disappear.

"I thought... I'd never get to see you again," he admitted, inhaling softly.

His hand came to rest on yours, his fingers gently caressing your skin as you took it in yours.

"I..." his eyes were veiled by a curtain of tears that stung his nose, and he bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at your hands interlaced.

He thought back to the rain that kissed him goodbye, to the thunder that rumbled through the dark clouds as if to lecture him, to the feel of the sharp blade on his skin and the life that was gradually leaving him. But above all he remembered his vulnerability, and the possibility that this moment might be his last.

"It was so cold... I just," a tear finally rolled down his cheek, "I just wanted you to be here," his eyes returned to yours, "with me."

You could see it in his eyes, the fear, the dread that something like this could happen again. You bit your lip, your chin trembling as you gripped his hand a little tighter in yours.

"I need you by my side," he declared.

Your free hand gently wiped the tears from his cheeks, his lids closing.

"I will be by your side," you whispered, "I will protect you."

He breathed in gently, his eyes meeting yours again.

"From now on, everywhere I'll go, you'll go with me," he concluded, and you squeezed his hand in yours again.

"I'll go with you," you agreed, wiping the last tear from your cheek, the salts of your two cries combining on the back of your hand like an oath.

Miguel had recovered well. At first he'd inevitably flinched at the fact that he'd let everything be controlled by someone other than himself, but in the end he'd let it slide.

You came to visit him every day, not only to make your report but also simply to spend time with him. You always brought him empanadas from the cafeteria, knowing how much he loved them. It has to be said that if there was one thing you could often bribe Miguel on, it was empanadas. That and maybe stroking his hair...

When he finally came out of the infirmary, a tiny celebration was held. He didn't like the idea at all, but you knew deep down that the intention behind it warmed his heart.

Life went back to what it used to be, with of course a slight change that surprised everyone.

As agreed, wherever he went, you went. Every spiderperson in the Society had obviously noticed the sudden change. From one day to the next, Miguel couldn't go anywhere without you by his side.

You went on walks with him in the park, you would always eat with him at the cafeteria, you were in his office whenever he was, and it felt to most spiders now that you two would eternally be inseparable.

The time finally came for Miguel to go on a mission, where you would work with him to catch the anomaly but above all to lend him your Spidersenses, which were working to the highest perfection.

The portal formed in front of you, Miguel tensing slightly. You put your hand on one of his shoulders and he turned to you.

"It's okay, I'm here" you remarked.

This simple fact lifted a weight from his shoulders as if by magic. He smiled at you before you put your mask on, his own mask pixelating on his face, and you stepped through the portal.

You reached a rooftop, the gate closing behind you. Silence fell and Miguel tensed. He had no idea where the danger might be coming from.

"Hey, look at me," you said simply.

He turned to you, still as uptight as ever.

"Just breath okay?"

He breathed in gently, relaxing his shoulders as he listened, a little more reassured by your simple presence.

You waited patiently, not moving an inch. And what if you couldn't feel certain sensations either?

But he had nothing to worry about, because you immediately took him by the arm and drew him against the wall of the roof exit, pressing your body against his as next to you a kind of big multicoloured puddle burst violently onto the ground right where you previously were.

He was breathing heavily, his back pressed against the wall, while you were as calm as when you had arrived. His head turned towards yours, your two masked faces immensely close.

"I meant it when I said I would protect you."

He chuckled.

Wherever you go, I'll go with you.

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akystaracer22 · 3 months

Text

Distrust Fall:

A leap of faith gone wrong, an eternal promise kept eternally. No matter how long it has been some things never truly change.

Notes

How to fail a trust fall: Step one

Vaggie's relationship with Adam is very complicated, but at the moment there is a lot of animosity and it shows.

Adam is of the opinion that Sorry doesn’t mean jack shit if you make the mistake again, so he just doesn’t apologise because he thinks he’ll just fuck up again so there’s no point.

The hotel needs a licensed therapist at this point dear lord.

Alastor still isn’t over the whole “Radio is fucking dead” thing.

If there is one thing that Adam knows off by heart, it’s the names of animals scientific or otherwise. That was the guys job once upon a time and assuming he doesn’t know that stuff is the true quickest way to piss him off. He’s also really good with animals which pisses off Anthony because Fat Nuggets *likes* Adam and it drives the sinner up a wall.

Alastor and Lucifer are on the ground. Angel, Husk, Charlie, Vaggie, and Adam are on the roof.

Alastor was going to let him get a cm from the ground before catching him dw.

Lucifer used to be friends with Adam in the garden because I live for that sweet sweet friends to enemies tragedy.

Adam really does not like people staring at his face, it’s a mild form of scopophobia caused by his time in heaven with people always giving him shit for how he looked, particularly his facial features (Yes I drew on everyone calling him ugly and average on twitter and shit). He used the mask to get around it, that way people couldn’t actually see what he looked like.

This was originally 1260 but then I got an idea that blew this out by 500 words lol.

The graveyard with be elaborated on in a future connected one shot.

This is officially a fully fledged AU

Regarding Adam's claws, they're gold to combat the greyness of his palette, but also as a nod to Midas, the arrogant king who's touched turned everything to gold. Angelic blood is also gold so if you want you can interpret it as having blood on his hands.

Fingerless gloves because I thing they're neat.

I based Lucifer's wings off of duck wings!

Also Lucifer's angelic appearance was based on space. I heard Sera call Charlie "Daughter of the Morning Star" and I went feral.

He has a full shifting night sky in his wings, clothes, and hat.

Angels have white pupils now I don't make the rules.

References saved my life.

Word count: 1725

(Comic and fic under the cut! Click for better quality)

@irregular-child

Adam leaned away from the edge as the wind drifted through his wings, keenly aware of the fact that his wings wouldn’t break his fall and he did not in fact trust jack shit in hell to break it except the ground.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“I’m with princess perfect this is a fucking death sentence,” Adam agreed, a little reluctantly because it was still the princess of hell, “You’re trying to fucking kill me.”

Vaggie smirked, because of course she did because she was trying to kill him, he wasn’t that dense, and just shrugged, “I mean, worked for me didn’t it?”

“That wasn’t even a fucking trust fall that was to get you to fucking fly and you know it! Fucking bitch,” The first man scowled and tried to step away from the edge, the crack whore of an arachnid immediately shoving him back up, “Would you fuck off?!”

“Would you stop being a dick?”

“Would you stop sucking them?”

The white jumping spider stared at him for a long moment and Vaggie stepped away from him for once, great! Cool! One person was leaving him alone and soon a second one will!

Great! About fucking time they got the message-

-------]

Lucifer paced nervously around Dazzle’s statue; this was a terrible idea. Having Adam go through a trust fall this early was going to end in disaster one way or another.

The main issue being nobody liked Adam and wouldn’t care if he fell. Hell, Charlies girlfriend has already tried to kill Adam off for good multiple times since he got here!

This was going to be a mess; Alastor was supposed to be catching Adam but he was just standing there looking completely unprepared and-

“Are you going to get ready or not.” Lucifer snapped at the radio demon, wings flicking out behind him in agitation.

“Oh, I have no intention of catching him.”

Lucifer froze, his tail stilling before lashing behind him as he turned on the deer-eared sinner, “What.”

“You heard me.”

“Oh, I heard you alright, and I think you should try that again.”

“And why are you getting so worked up, hm?” The sinner hummed, sneering down at the king, “Last I checked, the first man was your enemy after he tried to kill your own daughter.”

“I-” Lucifer paused, then scowled because Alastor was right. Why was he getting so worked up over this. This was Adam they were talking about. Adam who was crass and rude and cold to everyone. Adam, who would rather sit in his room all day than even look at any of them. Adam who was…

“…Luci, do they all hate me?”

…

“I can see why they left me for you.”

…

“It is good to see you again my friend! Come, much has changed since your last visit!”

… Adam who was so much more than who he was now. Who was probably the only person left in hell that remembered Eden.

Damnit.

“That’s none of your business you son of a bitch,” The fallen angel snapped at the cannibal, eliciting nothing more than a growing grin from the bastard.

Not a day went by in hell where Lucifer wished that this wasn’t his circus and that the sinners weren’t his monkeys.

Someone screamed above him.

The seraphim whipped his head up, eyes widening as he registered Adam twisting the air as he was shoved off the roof by Angel Dust.

Fear struck his heart like an exorcists blade when the first man tried to use his wings to glide, only for a single wing beat to send him into a spiral hurtling towards the ground.

He caught Adams eye for a single moment before it was obscured by his good wing, the man was terrified. He didn’t know sinners reformed after death and despite it all. Lucifer would never wish someone to experience falling from their death after quite literally falling from heaven.

Not even on Adam.

Something in his heart spurred the king into action, kicking off the ground as his wings snapped open to catch the air. A single beat of his wings and he was already well off the ground.

Lucifer reached a hand up for Adam as the fallen angel reached out to him in kind, panic written across both their faces at the idea of a horrible accident.

Lucifer’s wings moved the air one more time and-

“And… you will catch me?”

Lucifer laughed softly, a gentle chiming sound from where he stood behind Gods first man. He was trying to show him a game Lucifer and his kin would play from time to time amongst the spires of heaven.

The game was simple, one angel was to stand up high with their wings folded and fall. Then the other angel was to catch them. It was supposed to build trust, not to mention it was a delight in and of itself.

Standing amongst the grasses of Eden, Lucifer saw no reason not to share this game with Adam. He’s already grown fond of the way that Gods creation would go out of his way to show the angel what he’d been up to since his last visit.

“Be not afraid my friend!” Lucifer’s wings spread quietly to punctuate his point, divine magic threading his words, The Voice ensuring that the first man would hear and believe him.

“No matter how far you fall, I shall always be there to catch you.”

Lucifer wrapped his arms securely around the fallen angel as his wings curled around wing and man alike, bracing himself as the added weight as they both fell together.

It’s funny, it reminded him of when Adam first fell, a fiery ball that could have almost been mistaken as a shooting star had Lucifer not known better.

They hid the ground with a slam and the fallen seraphim had to bite back a shriek as his wings took the brunt of the force. They’d be left aching for a while.

Lucifer grunted as he pushed Adam off of him, sitting up and folding his wings in, allowing them to slip out of existence while they healed, he definitely didn’t want to do that again.

He slowly got to his feet while the first man got his bearings, dusting himself off and rubbing his shoulders to try and alleviate the pain.

“Why the fuck did you save me?”

Lucifer jerked and looked down at Adam from where he was glaring up at him, a note of confusion held carefully in his gaze before it dropped.

“I-”

“Well, isn’t this quite a surprise!”

Lucifer’s expression shot into a scowl as he rounded on the radio demon very blatantly interrupting the moment. The bastard just grinned and stared down at the both of them.

From the corner of his eyes Lucifer noted Adam’s good wing hitching up instinctively to cover his face from the demons gaze before dropping.

Lucifer turned his attention back to the radio demon with a glare that could melt steel, “You were going to let him fall,”

“I was going to do no such thing,”

“You just said-!”

“I said nothing you just assumed I was going to do nothing at all!”

“Listen here you!” Lucifer was just off again by the main doors opening and the other’s all barrelling out at the commotion.

Lost in the sudden onslaught of attention and having to field Alastor’s snarky comments, Anthony’s suggestive remarks, and Charlie’s concern, he didn’t see Adam flee the scene.

It wasn’t until much later that he was able to recognize the first man’s absence, searching the hotel to see if Adam was okay.

He found him at the graveyard, sitting among the many tombstones for the exorcists slain in the battle that caused Adam to fall.

Lucifer paused at the entrance to the burial ground, watching Adam sit there facing away from him for what felt like an eternity.

Despite the dead being gone, the king of hell still felt like the exorcists weapons were pointed at him, a warning that if he made one wrong move they would rise from their graves to protect their leader, to avenge him, to strike Lucifer down in an instant.

The once-angel of the morning star carefully stepped away from the cemetery, making sure he didn’t break the silence. Even if Adam wanted to be disturbed, he wasn’t the right person to do it, not in this place.

Besides, he still had his own thoughts to sort through, like why in the name of the divine he saved Adam when he would have survived regardless. He would have been fine even if he did hit the ground unimpeded so why-

Lucifer grimaced as the answer stuck to him like a parasite, he knew damn well why he saved him. It was the same stupid reason he preened Adams wings for him, the same reason he treats the first man’s wing rot and the exact same reason he made that deal with Adam after he fell.

He was attached.

Stupids horribly foolishly, Lucifer still cared for Adam even after everything.

By the stars he beat Adam within an inch of his life! Adam tried to kill his daughter!

But emotions were hardly logical. They weren’t logical when he fell for Lilith in the garden and taught her and Adam both The Voice, they weren’t logical when he freed Eve, and they weren’t logical now.

Lucifer cared for Adam, even if by all logic he should hate the man.

“Dad?”

Lucifer looked up to meet his daughters eyes, a small smile letting her know he was okay, “Hey there Duckie.”

Charlie’s expression softened at the nickname even if he still looked concerned, “Dad… are you sure you’re okay?”

“If I’m not now, I will be, so stop worrying about little old me Char-char,” Lucifer chuckled, “However… Adams in the graveyard if you want to talk to him, he seems like he needs some company right now.”

He made his exit quickly after that, he knew what Charlie would do, it was in her nature to help people, it was what made her so special.

But Lucifer, he helped people once, and now… he had a new person he could help again.

And he might just know where to start.

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raz-writes-the-thing · 4 months

Text

Unbidden (Doctor Who One-Shot)

Dark!Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader 18+ (no smut) / requests are open

Summary: The Doctor's gone too far this time.

Fic type: thriller/horror- please note there are descriptions of gore, violence and dark shit. no smut. I mean it, this is dark. Please heed the warnings.

DW: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine @blueberry-sunshines @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @yeethaw13 @complimentary-breadbasket @thekirbishow @stilestotherescue @madspads @catlynharper@merrilark @jaziona92 @yeehawbrothers @mochabonesblog @iguirisu (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’re in shock. You must be. There’s no other explanation for the way you’re shrieking and laughing and crying all at the same time. You can’t even hear the noises coming out of your mouth- you’re just… distantly aware of the burn in your throat and the tears streaking through the grime and the muck and the blood on your cheeks.

It’s spotty. All over. All over you, all over him, all over the ground and the walls. Red, crimson Dalmatian patterns that in almost any other situation would look like a pretty art piece. It still was, you supposed.

And it was like he hadn’t even noticed your reaction, bringing the blade down over and over and over and over into the now corpses’ chest, blood splattering everywhere with every single movement he made. Each time the blade came down felt like a physical blow to your chest. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Gods, he must be twenty stabs in by now, there’s nothing left but a big gaping cavity that reminds you of something you’d see in a cheesy zombie movie where his ribcage and upper organs used to be. But this isn’t a two-bit movie full of laughs and cheap effects. This is real. You can smell it. You can smell the gore, the iron, the horror. You can fucking smell it. You didn’t realise stuff like this would smell.

It feels like an out-of-body experience as you tear your eyes away to look down at your hands. They’re shaking uncontrollably, and as he rips the blade out of the corpse again, another splatter of blood appears over your fingers along with a chunk of organ that could be anything from heart to lungs to a kidney. You can feel your eyes bulging. You still can’t hear anything. Not even a ringing in your ears or a bassy vibration. Not even the jack-rabbit pump of your heartbeat.

There’s just… nothing. You can’t hear anything right now.

Distantly, you’re aware of the Doctor slowing down and eventually coming to a halt, giving the corpse that had been a person some fucking semblance of peace, finally. Your gaze filters unbidden through your outstretched fingers to find him watching you, something dark and ravenous in his eyes that scares the absolute fucking shit out of you.

You stumble back and away from him when he makes a sudden move, blade dropping to the ground in a sticky clatter. He’s covered in blood. Head to fucking toe. His white button-up under his pretty suit is unsalvageable. It’s almost black with blood, and it sticks to him in a way that you shouldn’t be paying attention to right now. You’re pretty sure it might be your brain trying to focus on literally anything else but the reverse Pollock on the ground in front of you.

The Doctor is up and cornering you in seconds. You barely have a second to register it before you’re stumbling backwards and he’s pressing you into the wall. Your hearing comes back with painful clarity all at once, and the Doctor’s voice suddenly has sound to go with the movement of his lips.

“See what I do for you, love? Oh yes, all for you. You’re mine, darling, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You don’t mention how for a moment there you genuinely thought he was going to gut you, too. He’d probably like the sight of your organs slipping through your fingers, actually. He’d probably find it hot, and beat off over y- no, stop it.

He wouldn’t hurt you… right?

You circled his neck with your arms, feeling the drops of blood seep into your sweater and cling to your skin. He was still murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, and if you were elsewhere, you might actually find them comforting.

But all you managed to let sink in as your eyes watched the blood pool larger and larger around the body on the floor was that you were his.

And he would never, ever- let you go.

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ghostie-luvs · 11 months

Note

HIIII

so would it be okay if you made a yandere! hero x a villain! reader? Like a hero that’s looks like an absolute angel to the public, but when he sees the reader, he just turns into the villain. In private ofc!!

AND DJDNTJDKNR ITS OKAY IF YOU DONT WANT TO DW HAVE AN AMAZING DAY YOU WONDERFUL PERSON ☆

-🎀

Yandere! Hero x Villain! Darling <3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who debuted as a hero just after he graduated high school. He had always looked up to heroes and it was his dream to become one. He always liked the idea of saving a person and seeing the relieved faces all because of him.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who felt excited even though he was hurt while rescuing a civilian for the first time, getting them to safety and loving the “thank you’s” and smiles he received.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who feels accomplished the more he saves civilians and sends the more villains to prison, where they should be. You can imagine the surprise the night he fought a villain and did not even have the heart to do any damage to them.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who later in his debut, is known all around the country for the amount of innocent people he has saved. He is praised everywhere he walks and is always somehow there when villains seem to be lurking. The people all love him. How could they not? He’s so sweet, he saves everyone, and he’s rather good looking too!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who saved a civilian one night in the alleyways as he hears sounds of struggle, seeing the two figures as he throws his daggers, the blades pinning the culprit and into their flesh as a soft hiss leaves their lips, their eyes flickering over to his as the once trapped civilian thanks him and runs away.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who walks over to you, scanning you over as he takes in the blood trickling down your skin and oh…even under that disguise you sure are cute. He sees the way your lips form into a snarl and how you struggle against the blades, one in your side and the other trapping your suit to the wall behind you. Only a small laugh escapes him at the sight. Feisty too, huh?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who sighs as he frowns a bit, seeing the blood down your side and arm. In his sweet voice, he offers to help you out, only cocking a brow at your refusal but eventually you give in and now, here you both are, in his humble abode, where he’s stitching you up and bandaging you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who after that, lets you go and as a consequence, sees more of you often during those nights. During these many nights together, he’s gotten to know you..he might even say that he’s gained some…feelings? That’s absurd, he’s a hero and you’re a villain! He’s dedicated his life to locking villains up. And yet..he can’t do a single thing to you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who meets even your villain friends and..well, was invited to do what they do. With you, he’s learned so much..he’s felt more exhilarated during the nights together than when saving people. Of course, he wears a different disguise during these nights. He’s till the sweet, caring hero they all love during the day. But the night? My, he’s made a name for himself with you and your friends.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who, one night, while committing crime with you and your friends, sees your friend being just a bit more touchy while you were rolling your eyes and trying to leave the friends grasp. He didn’t say, but he felt a twinge of jealousy in his stomach as you two interacted.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who, as the night drags on, finally loses his patience, a snarl on his own lips as he ‘confronts’ the friend, trapping them to a wall as he pressed one of his blades to the person’s throat while the rest of the group walked on, and he threatened them. “Look, you may have known them longer. But you better fuck off, they’re mine. Got it?”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who mockingly smiled as the person nodded and he retracted his blade, walking off to catch up with you, wrapping an arm around your own waist as the person is left befuddled.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who realizes that maybe, the villain life isn’t so bad. As long as you’re by his side, that’s all that matters.

A/N: M so sorry for the long wait but I thank you for the patience!! I loved this idea and I loved how I ended it <3 I hope this was enough for you, darlin!! And also, welcome to my blog 🎀 anon! You are also a wonderful person!! In this, I’d say he’s a new yan and I’ll give him a name soon ! :) reblogs, comments, and constructive criticism (please tell me if there are any mistakes) are welcomed!!

more of my works :) Requests!!

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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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h0esbetrippin · 1 month

Text

Jegulus One-Shot

W/ background Wolfstar

Cw: head injury, blood, references to child abuse, heart monitor, fainting, infirmary, anxiety, (this gets super cute & fluffy w a happy ending dw!!!)

The steady beeping of the heart monitor, currently hooked up to an unconscious Regulus, was doing absolutely nothing for James’ anxiety.

He doesn’t know what exactly happened to him- well, he knows he kind of just… blacked out, based off of what a frantic Barty was yelling while absolutely tearing through the Gryffindor common room and up the boys dormitory’s for Sirius and James.

He doesn’t even remember what he was yelling, all he heard was “Regulus” “fainted” “hurt” “don’t know” and “help” and James and Sirius, always in perfect sync, ripped through that castle so goddamn fast James wouldn’t be surprised if they bent time itself. Because let’s be honest if anyone could do it, it’d be them.

Now, after nearly ripping the thick, wooden, infirmary doors right off their hinges (somehow), they sit in the two chairs next to the bed Regulus is laying in that Poppy had pre-prepared before their chaotic arrival.

Honestly James had nearly forgotten about Barty until he ran in a few minutes ago with Pandora, Dorcas, and Evan. James distantly thinks that once Barty got James and Sirius on the way first he doubled back to grab the rest. He refrains from tackling him with a hug once he realizes this- that he knew to get to them first just incase they knew something they didn’t. Barty knows he’s close with Regulus, but he knows Regulus opens more to James and that sometimes Sirius knows his little brother better than he knows own self. Barty’s a dumbass, but he’s a damn smart one.

Sirius has been quiet, a faraway -almost cloudy- look in his usually bright eyes. Regulus gets that look too, James knows. It’s when they get lost in their head, revisiting the sickening horrors House of Black gave them.

James doesn’t ask Sirius, he knows Sirius will say when he’s ready and that definitely won’t be around other people that isn’t only James himself or Moony.

Since Sirius isn’t actively losing his shit, that tells James Regulus will be fine, at least physically.

After an hour passes, Moony comes in with a quiet “hey,”. With just a glance at Sirius he steps right next to him, smoothing a hand down the back of his head and back. Sirius doesn’t answer, continuing to look at his brother with the same look in his eyes. Remus must’ve intuitively sensed this because he leans down a little to look at his eyes, and knowing the look too well, he looks up to James.

It clicks, then. With all the anxiety and swirl of thoughts so loud and fast he doesn’t even know what he was thinking he realizes, just from one look from moony, he does know what must’ve happened.

“Fainted-” “-don’t know-” Barty had said

Because he’s seen it before.

With Sirius.

It started to happen right before Sirius ran away-

He’d showed up on James front step at 3:28 am, James’ll never forget it.

He’d read in books of a characters “blood running cold” or “blood turning into ice” and he thought he understood what that meant, until he realized he didn’t, because then, right then, in that moment, he understood.

James thought he died in that second. Maybe a piece of him did. Because despite all of this happening in a split second, he knows a piece of Sirius did too.

Blood was coming out of places he didn’t even know blood could come out of yet, he was bleeding out of his fucking tear ducts. Not to mention his ears. And mouth. And nose. And the slashes all over his body. He fainted once he registered he was with James- just collapsed into him.

Effie had said his head had trauma from the extensive use of “crucio”, and would likely experience fainting spells for a while.

And he did for months, even now he does- every now and then.

So- Regulus. Fainting. Randomly. No visible wounds.

Oh, Regulus. His “baby”. He feels his heart crack right into a million pieces.

He had told James they don’t touch him, that he knows how to play their game better than themselves. Sirius said this too. And obviously, James has seen him without clothes on, he never had any injuries like Sirius use to get after breaks.

Not anymore, it seems. Something must’ve happened. Maybe someone ratted their relationship out? Millions of possibilities run through James’ mind but he cuts them off.

For now, he’s okay. Thats priority. Getting himself worked up won’t help Regulus.

And no matter what James isn’t allowing him to go back there. Ever. He knows nobody in this room is-

“Reggie?!” Sirius whisper yells, shooting up from his chair and holding his face gently in his hands.

Regulus slowly blinks awake, face soft- usually only a face James sees- instead of his usual scowl.

“Sir’us?” he slurs in a whisper tilting more into his big brothers palm to slowly blink up at him.

“Hi, yeah I’m here”

Regulus nods.

“ ‘s ‘ames?” He whispers, everyone is dead silent so they can hear him and also because everyone who isn’t Sirius or James has never seen him so vulnerable. It’s a little funny, James thinks. They’re drinking it in.

“I’m here, reg” James whispers back, also getting up, to run a hand through his black curls.

Regulus slowly turns his head- still in Sirius’ hands- to the other side to now blink at James. Probably trying to see him properly.

“Oh,” he breathes out, as the heart monitor which was previously beeping rhythmically, immediately speeds up.

Everyone collectively sucks in a breath to not burst out laughing- which Regulus is oblivious to as he tilts his head up and over to look at the heat monitor.

“ ‘s that?” He whispers to Sirius

“It’s your heart monitor, Reggie. It’s your heartbeat” he says tightly, trying to contain the giggles that slip out of his as he says it.

It takes a minute for Regulus to process what Sirius said and what it means, flicking his eyes to James who’s desperately fighting a smile, but once he does-

“ ‘s wrong.” He grumbles out, snatching his wand from the bedside table to blast it, surprisingly quickly for someone who just woke up from fainting.

“Reg!” Sirius laughs out which just makes everyone burst out laughing. Because of course Regulus would do that even in his current state.

While everyone laughs James pressed his forehead to Reggie’s temple, still giggling. “Hi, baby” he whispers into his ear just for him to hear, because James knows even if Regulus denies it, he loves it, if the pretty blush that spreads across his cheeks and nose and the way he gets all soft and shy is anything to go by every time James says it.

As James presses a quick soft kiss to his temple as he pulls away, and as regulus tries, but fails, to glare at him with the blush James loves so much and the smile tugging at his lips, while their friends all are laughing around them oblivious to the little moment they just had, he knows they’ll all be okay no matter what.

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agreyraincloudd · 1 year

Note

Could you do a Sihtric x reader with the promo “don’t act like you don’t know I’m in love with you” ??? ❤️❤️❤️

Sihtric x Reader

Prompt 22. "Don't act like you don't know I'm in love with you"

Words 1.6k

Season 5 spoilers

Thank you to @mrsaugustwalker who also requested this I hope you like ittt

Lots of you requested this with Osferth too but I felt it just fit Sihtric more and I have loads lined up for our baby monk dw

Finan and Uhtred imagines are on their way too you thirsty people

It was Aelfwyn and Cynlaef’s wedding day and your face ached with the pain of smiling so much. You were close friends with the late Aethelflaed and had sworn on her deathbed to protect and guide her child as if she were blood, a task you were willing to die for. Following the battle of Bebbanburg and the safe retrieval of your Queen’s daughter, you returned to Mercia before a Dane messenger sent word of your Godchild’s nuptials. A horrid storm in the midlands had kept you on the road longer than anticipated causing you to miss the vows but as you rode into Bebbanburg, the night creeping in, you realized the festivities had only just begun.

The city glowed bright with the amber of bonfires and lanterns, tables lined the courtyard piling out from the ale house and the streets were filled with people dancing in arms while others raised their tankards to the happy couple laughing besides who you recognized as Lady Aelswith and her son King Edward. You swallowed, your throat grew tight as you were reminded of your lost friend, how happy she would be at the sight of her family together, her daughter happy.

“Are you going to stay up there all day?” You looked down from your horse at the voice. Sihtric stood tall, his fingers clasped around your horse's bridle as he pulled you to a stop. Seeing him now made a flood of emotions drown you in seconds. You knew him well having fought beside him many a time. You could recall every moment you spent standing watch with him while Aethelflaed and Uhtred reunited and you could almost recount the various drunken nights Finan had shoved you into him at a table or in an Ale House, but how those evenings ended were left a blur in your memory.

“I’m trying to consider whether you’re all real standing before me-” You pulled your leg overs your horse and slid down. Both of you knew you could easily manage such a task by yourself, but it didn’t stop Sihtric bringing his hands to your hips, helping place you on the groun as you slid down. Your eyes met his, your expression untelling. “I feel as if we should all be ghosts by now”

He laughed and as if realizing his hands remained on your side, he took a step away and tucked them behind his back.

“You know we’re all too hard to kill”

“Oh I know” Your face was growing warm as he kept that stupid smirk on his face.

“Y/N” A drunken voice bellowed from the otherside of the courtyard.

Finan.

Both you and Sihtric turned as you took a step past him.

“Trust me, I’ve tried to kill you all many a time now”

Finan strode over to you, the ale you presumed he drank offering a more loose and smiley warrior as he met you half way with a hug.

“You’re late. A certain someone hasn’t stopped asking for you all day” He pulled back and attempted a wink.

“Aelfwynn? I tried to send word I’d be late”

Finan laughed as he looked behind you, smothering his smile with his ale cup.

“Yeah-sure”

You went to question who he was on about when Sihtric shoved his way between the two of you.

“Come, I’ll get you a drink. You’re already several behind”

“I can see that”

Sihtric led you through the crowd and with a few stops in between to reunite with friends and congratulate your Godchild, you finally made it to a barrel. The cold liquid rushed down your throat and it felt as if the ale had breathed a relief of life back into you as you looked over the crowd.

“It’s nice isn’t it?”

“It is Uhtred”

The Lord engulfed you in a strong hug that squeezed you into a laughed. You had grown close with him over the years and a strange bond had formed from your protectiveness of Aethelflaed and the loss of both your friend and his lover, only your joint memories left standing.

“You look well” He smiled as he held you back to fully take you in.

“I am. But of course the last time you saw me I was caked in blood attempting to help retrieve your homeland”

“And for it I am eternally grateful”

You both smiled as you looked upon a dance circle formed around the biggest fire.

Aethelstan had his arm looped with Aelfwynn as they circled each other through laughter. Their grandmother stood beaming at them from the edge of the crowd. Finan and Cynlaef’s were doing a similar sort of movement but it resembled more of a strange stumble of drunken old men as they danced. And then your stomach dropped. Sihtric became clear in the firelight, a woman you didn’t realize with her hand in his as she tried to teach him the steps.

“You should dance with him” Uhtred took a gulp of his ale as you both watched, your arms crossed.

“He is already dancing”

Uhtred chuckled “So go and take him. He is yours, is he not?”

You choked on your drink, attempting to cover with a laugh.

“He is not. What makes you think that he was?”

“You are in love with him and he is you”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not-”

“I can see it with your eyes. The first moment you saw him all those years ago in Wessex, your heart burns for him”

You tried to act nonchalant “My heart does not burn-”

“You can lie to me Y/N but I can see it. The way you search for each other during battle, how he stays close to your side whenever he can, how you look at each other. You both breathe for one and other Y/N. It is about time you saw that”

You shook your head.

Uhtred sighed loudly, smiling in disbelief.

“Why is it Saxon women always give such retaliation to the confession of men? My friend is in love with you, you know that. He has told you many a time-”

“You are both fierce warriors but it seems your bravery falls short when it comes to words Y/N”

Those drunken nights at the ale house.

You scoffed. Questioning your bravery? You’ll show him.

You chugged the rest of your drink, slamming the cup down on the barrel behind you.

Uhtred smirked. You took the bait so easily.

The ale led you through the rows of people as you joined the clearing around the bonfire. You made your way over to Sihtric but changed in the last step, linking your arm with another man as you spun.

“Lovely to see you again Pyrlig”

The monk laughed at the sight of you.

“Y/N my God’s child. I’m glad to see you have safely returned to us once more” He laughed as you both changed directions and spun away.

“Good to see you too Father”

Pyrligs smiled as he looked over your shoulder.

“I’m afraid for my safety you must change partners”

Your brows furrowed as you turned to where he looked over your shoulder.

“What-”

Sihtric appeared once more behind you. He stopped short before linking his hand with yours, pulling you against his chest.

“I didn’t know you could dance?” You laughed but his face remained void of tells as he looked at you.

“I don’t but-” God’s the way his hand slid down your back, pulling you closer. “I will dance if it means no one else will get a chance with you besides me”

“You so suddenly want to dance with me?”

He notched his head to the side trying to hide a smirk.

“ Don’t act like you don't know I'm in love with you”

You froze.

“Sihtric”

He pulled his hands out of yours, snatching the ale of some bystander, downing the liquid.

“Why do you never answer me back when I say such things?” He questioned, his eyes saying far more than his forced smile did.

“Every time you have confessed you have been drunk. How am I to believe your word?”

He pulled you out of the way of the moving dancers.

“Because you make my mind fog. Every time I look at you it’s as if the words melt away in my mouth. I do not know fear of battle or blood” You moved further through the crowd until you both stood under an archway separating two buildings. -”But every time I have tried to tell you how I feel, I get swallowed by this this breathlessness. But it turns out drunken me forgets all about that when he sees the way you look at him”

You tried not to smile, taking a step toward him.

“And how do I look at you?”

“Like you love me too”

You responded with your lips on his. The kiss was desperate and breathless. His hands fell down your sides and held you tight as he walked back against the wall. Your fingers curled into his hair as you moved.

“They're kissing” A cheer sounded. You broke the kiss to see Finan with his arm around Uhtred as the two of them raised their cups, the rest of your friends joining in with laughs as they looked upon you and Sihtric.

The man before you buried his head in the side of your neck in embarrassment before trying to shoo off the others. It was only when Hild appeared, ushering her boys away, did they all disperse leaving you in the arms of the man you loved.

“Have you really loved me since Wessex?” You looked up at him.

He went to deny the accusation when he realised it was a lost cause and smiled, red blushing his cheeks.

“Since the very first moment you pointed your blade at me when we met”

“And everytime after?”

His lips met the skin of your throat, moving down. “I love you more and more”

#sihtric the last kingdom #sihtric x reader #sihtric imagines #sihtric #sihtric tlk #finan the last kingdom #Uhtred #uhtred x aethelflaed

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jujutsubaby · 2 months

Text

after hours (part 7)

☆ pairing: toji fushiguro x afab!reader, satoru gojo x afab!reader ☆ summary: time to face the music, even if you're hungover. and by music...it's the missed calls and texts and from toji. what could he possibly want? ☆ tags: modern au, academia au, babysitting au ☆ warnings: mentions of alcohol, food poisoning, sexting, slight dubcon, dirty talking ☆ a/n: another longie (7.8k+ words SORRY) but i hope you guys enjoy the foreplay. y/n is about to be dicked down every day like good for her!! but also!! wish that were me! 🤭 next one will be filled with smut so dw u horndogs!! also i'm unsure when then 3sum will come but i'm thinking in like SOON in like...10ish parts (i hope not more). i want to slow burn lead up to it and hint it more before actually writing about it LOL (also ik it sounds like a taco bell commercial in the end its not ok i just love taco bell!!!) 🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤

the soft morning light shines through curtains you forgot to close last night, and the harshness of the sun causes you to stir in your sleep, waking you harshly.

your heart beats fast and you open your eyes and are unable to move a single limb on your body. panic sets in, only to dissipate seconds later as you find a rather tall lump of a man’s leg trapping you in the corner of your sofa.

ugh, how did i get here? why is it so bright? why does every inch of my body hurt? oh god, i’m about hurl.

you barely hold back dry heaving in your laid down position. your head is pounding and you don’t like how empty your stomach is right now. why do my legs hurt? i feel like i can’t feel them anymore. oh, right.

the large shape of a man who’s body is halfway strewn across yours, satoru, is now constricting the blood flow to your legs, and you know you have to do the daunting task of waking him up.

“psst, satoru. wake up.” you lightly pat his unruly head of white hair, but with no success. you start hitting his head harder, as you quickly start to lose more feeling in your legs, until you practically are shouting his name, swatting his head and kicking his torso. satoru abruptly wakes and turns around the small sofa, which actually has no room for turning, so he actually ends up taking a small dive into the hardwood floors of your living room.

satoru lets a groggy yet painful groan. “what the literal fuck, y/n?!” his words are almost incoherent with sleep laced between them as he rubs his arms that took the brunt of the fall. “as if my head isn’t aleady fuckin’ killin’ me.”

you groan out in pain. “my legs were being suffocated by your large body!”

none of you answer, and continue to lay still in your respective positions for what feels like hours, until your headache becomes almost too unbearable to withstand.

“satoru~” you whine out. “m’head…it hurts so much, i feel like i’m gonna die…” you turn your body as slow as you can to the edge of the couch to see satoru’s face. his eyes are still closed, but scrunched, and his hand is resting on his forehead.

“it’s called a hangover. get in line, stupid.”

“don’t call me stupid right now, satoru. i’m in pain!” you cry out, your fingers doing their best to sooth your pain by rubbing harsh circles on your temples.

satoru slowly sits up without looking at you, grabs a decorative pillow from the chaise of your couch, and immediately face plants on to it on the floor, effectively falling asleep once more. you think that’s not a bad idea, now that you have more space, and close your eyes and force your mind to concentrate on anything but your throbbing head.

okay, so we got back from the barcade. me and satoru…we…kissed. we definitely kissed. i remember that. and then? did we have sex? no, that doesn’t like us - neither of us are keen on having sex drunk for a variety of reasons besides the obvious ones.

your thoughts slowly drown out as you find yourself falling into a second deep slumber.

the second time you and satoru wake for the day is the most disconcerting: a loud, high pitched scream.

you wake up with your heart pounding so hard, you think you’re dying from cardiac arrest. satoru thinks he threw up in his mouth from how fast he stood up with a headache. both of your eyes look at the direction of the scream and see a horrified and bewildered shoko staring wide eyes and slack jawed at you. wait, why isn’t she looking at my eyes? she’s looking at my…oh my god!

you look down and see your bralette lightly torn up and your titties completely exposed and you immediately turn to look at satoru (who’s alternating between staring at your eyes and your tits). and then back at shoko.

oh? oh. OH. OH! it fucking hits you like a ton of bricks and your hungover brain immediately goes into panic mode, shoving all signals of hunger, pain, and soreness aside.

“sh-shoko, it’s obviously not like that. this is actually so funny, you know…” you do a failed attempt at a lighthearted chuckle and fumble around for a decorative pillow until satoru hands you the one he was sleeping on.

“yeah, it’s not at all what you think it is. i didn’t…i didn’t even know she had boobs until like…right now. i swear, it’s not-” satoru bumbles, also going into damage control.

“save it. i don’t care. not right now, when i’m too hungover,” shoko says, closing her eyes and raising a hand up as she bolts to her room and closes the door.

you figure you do the same and hastily get up and grab satoru’s hands. the two of you stumble your way into your bedroom and lock the door and catch your breaths.

“ohmygod this is so embarrassing,” you say whisper, not wanting shoko to overhear your conversation. you start rubbing your temples again as satoru face plants, again, on to your bed. he doesn’t respond to you so you join him and push him to his back and try to get his attention. his eyes are still scrunched closed and he lets out a groan.

“satoru, do you even know what happened? shoko probably thinks we had…ugh i can’t even say it!”

this makes him open one eye to look at you and cock an eyebrow. he lets out a laugh, which makes you let out laugh (against your will). you playfully hit his chest but he intercepts your wrists with ease and pulls you on top of him so that your sitting up on his torso while he’s laying down.

this feels nice but…you know deep down you two should probably address the elephant in the room. you uncomfortably clear your throat and he opens his eyes. “maybe we should talk about last night…” you say with a sigh.

“what’s there to say? there’s nothing wrong with two friends kissing,” satoru says cheekily, his voice still slightly deep and groggy. kinda hot.

his response puts you at ease, and your fingers start toying with the buttons on his shirt (not in a sexual way, but in a ‘this feels nice to fidget with so i don’t have anxiety’ kinda way).

“yeah, but maybe we should…i dunno…talk about it?” you question, avoiding eye contact with him.

“like?”

“like, i dunno…” you start to chicken out before forcing yourself to say what you really want to say. “i dunno…are we only gonna kiss each other from now on? because i kinda still…wanna kiss toji…” your voice becomes barely audible near the end.

satoru stays quiet for longer than you anticipated, and you’re about to step off him to throw up in the bathroom before he finally responds with a resounding hum.

“yeah, i don’t mind. if i’m being honest…with us having school and work and all…it might be hard to make this an exclusive thing. and also…i know mia was a bitch to literally everyone but…god…” satoru sighs deeply. “her ass was insane, i’m sorry!”

you laugh wholeheartedly and grab a nearby pillow and hit his head softly in jest. you should’ve known someone like satoru, someone as horny as satoru, would not want to be tied down during grad school just yet. a sense of relief washes over you as you feel grateful that satoru has always matched your wavelength since high school. you start to think of the second elephant in the room. what will we tell shoko? and suguru? and utahime and literally all of our friends? there’s no telling shoko hasn’t already told utahime…

“also…maybe we should keep this between us…for now. especially after…” you trail off, deep in thought about the prospect of your friends finding out.

“yeah, that sounds like a good idea…” satoru says, smirking slowly. “definitely because of our friends but also…it’s always fun to have a sexy secret with someone.”

“shut up!” you give him a smack across the chest, before thinking. i mean, it’s not like you hated kissing him. and you didn’t hate it when he played with your titties. “maybe…i mean…maybe we can still, you know, fool around still?” you say shyly.

“maybe we can fuck too if that’s something you’re down for?” satoru says unabashedly.

you lean your body down, pressing against him, and bring your lips inches from his lips, before saying you’d like that a lot. he closes the gap and starts kissing you deeply, just like the night before. satoru’s hands move up and down your hips, leaving no part of your torso untouched. your hips buckle into his and starts grinding against his already hard member. your skirt from last night has already risen up, so the cool metals of his belt are grinding up and down your clothed core, making you squirm and moan into his mouth.

satoru breaks the kiss and you whine at the loss of contact. your lips immediately latch on to his neck, leaving small wet spots all over.

satoru groans. “fuck, need this off.” he puts his fingers around the waistband of your skirt and shimmies it off of you, leaving you exposed in your thong and have ripped bralette.

your hands immediately get to work and unbuckles his belt. your hands fumble as you unzip his pants and slide them halfway down, his erect clothed member coming into view. satoru lets out a throaty breath as you start palming his hard member and leaving kisses from his neck down to his happy trail. before you’re able to start kissing below the belt, satoru pulls your head up via bunching up your hair into a makeshift ponytail and starts to kiss you as he sits up.

“maybe we should take this into the shower…” he mumbles in between kisses. you nod and break off the kiss.

“what time is it?” you say, as you look around for your phone. you find it only to see that the battery is completely dead. frowning, you get up to charge it before continuing your activities with satoru.

“jesus, it’s 11 in the mornin’” satoru says, sounding slightly flustered. “fuck! i’m gonna be late for a lab meeting!” he says, as he starts to put his belt back on.

you frown. “so no shower sex?”

“i promise you, i want nothing more than to fuck your brains out in that shower.” satoru scrunches his eyes, and you wonder if he’s in genuine pain over the fact that he can’t. “but i unfortunately told nanami i’d personally talk to professor masamichi about his referral.”

“since when do you care about holding up your end of the bargain like that?” you say, cocking an eyebrow. you’ve known satoru for years, and you don’t think he’s ever showed up to a professional meeting on time, nor did he ever care to follow through with requests given to him by his peers.

“yeahhh, i know but nanami said he’s gonna send a deep web hitman for me after tricking him into my party and forcing him to be on my pool team…soo…”

“you’re so insane.”

“i think i’m going insane forfeiting pussy to go to a lab meeting, alright?”

you laugh softly. perhaps it’s probably a good time to let satoru go so you can begin your day. you have a laundry list of things to get done that thinking about it is enough for you to feel sick (showering, studying, talking to shoko without satoru there, and more things you know you’re forgetting). “well, thanks for offering anyway,” you say.

“c’mere,” satoru says, holding out his arms to you. you melt into the hug he gives you and look up.

“still seein’ you for study group later?” you ask him, recalling you, nanami, and haibara were planning to do some studying for your final at the university library later this evening.

“oh shit, yeah. gotta clean up the aftermath of last night at my place and then i’ll be there,” he assures you, before grabbing his phone. you quickly put on a pair of pajama shorts and replace your torn up bralette with an old sleeping oversized tee and lead satoru to the doorway of your apartment. you wave goodbye to him, and prepare yourself to have a potentially awkward conversation with shoko after what she saw this morning.

you scurry to shoko’s bedroom and knock twice on the door, and shoko immediately opens it and lets you in. you give her a pouty look, internally apologizing for the sight in the morning. it’s not necessarily that she saw you topless (you guys are roommates and nip slips happen), it’s more so that you were topless with satoru.

“glad to see you finally wearing clothes, you slut,” shoko says tiredly. you can detect a slight joking tone in her voice and it relaxes you immediately. you sigh softly.

“listen, shoko.” you start but hesitate. you want to tell shoko what really happened last night, but you remember you’re the one who didn’t want to tell your mutual friends about you and satoru. shoko and you have been best friends for so long and you can’t bear to lie to her or keep something from her. no literally, you tried to in the past but she saw through you within minutes and you ended up divulging everything to her. you figure now is no different, and you also trust her not to tell suguru or anyone else.

shoko snaps her fingers at you. “hello, y/n? where’d ya go?”

“i hooked up with satoru last night.” you say quickly, praying she doesn’t ask you to say it again.

shoko is silent and you cannot read her face for the life of you. “okay, it wasn’t even a hook up, i dunno why i said that. we just made out and like sortofmadeittosecondbasebutit’snotthatserious-”

your rambling is interrupted by shoko’s laughter howling across the room. shoko tries to calm down and collect herself. “wow, i mean, i sort of clocked it because of how you were this morning but oh my god? like it finally happened?”

you plop down on her bed next to her and shake her to make her stop laughing. “shokoo~ stop it! i was really horny last night, okay!” you’re scrambling to defend yourself from this blunder.

“yeah, but him? kinda…embarrassing, no? i mean i know he’s hot, like even i can attest to that but gojo is like…hot and insufferable…like i’m happy for you but at what cost to you?” shoko explains as she wipes away tears from her eyes from laughing too hard.

“i know, it is embarrassing and i dunno what i see in him but…when i see him…shoko,” you start rubbing your temples as you feel your headache coming on again. “i just wanna fuckin’ jump his bones, dude.” you think you hear shoko mumble something about how she cannot stand straight people. she has a point.

“so what now?” shoko asks, getting up from her bed and grabbing her scrubs from her closet, slowly getting ready for her shift at the hospital.

“well, for starters, you cannot tell anyone because we said we would keep it secret so you gotta pretend you dunno about this.” you go on to tell shoko about how you guys would continue to fool around casually. “it’s because we have so much going on and you know…i still wanna kiss toji.” wait, toji. toji’s text? did he respond. how could you have forgotten something you were obsessing over the whole night yesterday?! it finally hits you that satoru finally took your mind off of toji for a while, and that he could’ve finally messaged you back this morning.

shoko mulls this information over for a bit, and you already know what her next question is. “can i tell utahime? pleeeaaassseeee!” she whines.

“if you tell utahime she might actually kill me in my sleep.” you say exhasperatedly.

“no, no she won’t. she might want to take you for a psych eval or something but that’s it. she might throw up too, i guess. and she might cry for you. and she-”

“okay, i’ve heard enough.” you stop shoko, getting up from her bed and heading back to your room. before exiting shoko’s bedroom, you quickly give her permission to tell utahime but no one else. it’s quite pathetic how fast you run to your desk where your phone lay charging. your practically jumps out of your chest as you see 5 missed text messages from toji:

toji: Holy fuck, pumpkin 🥵 your titties are so fuckin insane. im so fuckin hard right now.

toji: Wyd tn?

toji: You’ve made me so hard right now n someone’s gotta help me fix this mess. Im bout to beat myself off to this pic fuck

toji: [1 Photo]

toji: [1 Video]

you open the photo he sent and gasp. it’s a photo of him in front of his mirror, shirtless, and him holding his clearly erect member, except it’s barely peeking through the granite counter tops of his bathroom. you open the video and see it’s a video of him…oh my god, it’s a video of him touching himself? you’re appalled and turned on because he looks so good in it and you wish it was you getting him off instead. you check the timestamp, and you’re embarrassed to realize he sent this around the time you were having your heavy makeout session with satoru or around the time you passed out shortly after.

the video continues to play as you strip yourself completely, creep to the bathroom, and turn on the shower. as you wait for it to get to the temperature you like, you continue to watch the video of toji stroking himself, and your hand automatically guides itself to your already wet and throbbing core. just knowing toji recorded this for your viewing pleasure (and it was indeed an immense pleasure viewing it) turned you on so much that you felt near your climax already. you start rubbing harsher circles on your delicate bundle of nerves, until you’re unable to hold back any longer. the sound of the shower blocks out your throaty moans, and you end up coming undone around the same time as toji does in the video. you breath heavily as you see white streaks painting toji’s shower, not dissimilar from your location.

through heavy breaths, you quickly send a picture of your fingers resting and covering the bare “v” on your body. this time, you immediately get a response.

toji: Fuck pumpkin, you left me all alone last night and now you do this?

immediately you respond back, biting back a smile.

y/n: you’re the one who left me hanging all day :( i had to cum all by myself just right now looking at your video daddy

you hit send and it’s been only 10 seconds before you see that toji is ringing you. you let it ring a little bit longer, not wanting to sound desperate for him, even though you totally are. “hii toji~” you say sultrily.

“pumpkin, you better come over tonight.” toji’s husky voice sends shivers through your spine, and you have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes in pleasure. god, this is just what his voice does to you? you want him bad.

“hmm, why should i? i’m hurt after you ignored me all day, toji.” you try to sound strict and upset over the phone but it’s hard when your body is already ready for another orgasm.

“aww don’t gimme that,” toji coos. “i’ll take care of your pretty little puss- oh whoops, megumi is here, but you know what i mean.” you can hear him smirking on the other line and you almost get second-hand embarrassment from him almost saying a bad word in front of megumi.

“how can you take care of me when you don’t even respond to my texts?” you whine. “go fuck the other girl you were fucking last night instead of me.” oh wow. you don’t know where that came from, but the hangover you have right now is making you feel brattier than usual. and you actually do want to know what he was doing (or who) all day yesterday, even if it makes you a hypocrite since you were with satoru last night (and this morning).

you hear toji roar with laughter, a little too much in your opinion, and you pout. where does he get off laughing about how he ghosted me last night? “okay, if you must know…megumi got himself some classic food poisoning from the parent-teacher conference.” though the parent-teacher conference feels decades away, your heart drops for poor megumi and you gasp. “calm down pumpkin, he’s fine now so don’t worry. his friends just made him eat somethin’ weird on the playground, i think.”

“oh my god, toji!” you say horrified. “okay, i’m coming over tonight with some soup. and not for you okay, for megumi.” who are you kidding? you’re also partially going so toji could fuck your brains out but you’re not about to give him that satisfaction.

“whatever you say, pumpkin. see you at 6:30? i’ll make dinner.” ugh, he always knows what to say to sound so romantic and you fall for it all the time. plus, seeing a domestic toji in the kitchen…god you can’t even think about it because you might end up screaming at how horny you might get.

“see ya, daddy.” you say jokingly. toji and you say goodbye and hang up. you quickly shoot a text to your study group quickly making up an excuse as to why you can no longer come. while nanami and haibara respond in the group with thumbs ups, satoru messages you privately.

satoru: wtf i didn’t know fucking you this evening was still on the table?

you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. what the hell is he on about?

y/n: what r u talkin about u weirdo

satoru doesn’t respond, and you’ve been wasting so much water already having an entire phone conversation with toji and, admittedly touching yourself that you might as well get in. the hot shower envelops your sore body, and before you’re able to fully wet yourself, you hear the ding of your phone. you really shouldn’t…but you were never good at controlling yourself. you quickly open the shower and bring your phone in, shielding it from the water.

satoru: u obvi cancelled to see toji im not stupid

y/n: no comment

satoru: cancel on him i promise u baby i will fuck u better and harder tn

your eyes widen at the offer. you recall a couple nights ago refusing a similar offer he texted you, but this time felt more serious. you want to see toji, but you also want to see satoru. you’re about to mull over the options before an image of a sick megumi pops into your forehead, and you immediately know you have to go to toji to at the very least see megumi and maybe read him a couple bedtime stories and help him with some missed homework.

y/n: toji’s kid got food poisoning :( i feel like i should go see him but…let’s link tomorrow?

satoru: he’s using his kid to get pussy that is insane. but yes ok fine cya -_-

you chuck your phone outside the shower, and close your eyes. you try to think of things that don’t involve sexy moments with satoru or toji…or satoru and toji and instead think of how much extra studying you have to get done tonight since you’re opting to go to see toji. as always, you fail to think of anything else.

the timer for the soup you’re making for megumi beeps and you turn it off hastily, determined to finish up one last problem set before going to the kitchen. through some miraculous intervention (and advil), you were able to hunker down and solve through the problem sets you were supposed to solve with your study group and prepare a simple chicken soup for megumi. after five minutes, you check your work hastily, before deciding it’s enough for you to get full marks and sprint to the kitchen, which now smells like chicken stock and veggies and you hum. you’re excited for megumi to try the soup your mom had made for you whenever you had food poisoning.

you go back to your room and finish packing your bags and picking your outfit for the night. since you’re just staying indoors with toji, and the weather says it’ll be a pretty warm evening, you opt for your comfiest pair of fleece shorts and a well loved collegiate sweatshirt. you’ve perfected the art of a “no makeup” makeup look throughout the years, so you’re able to get by with just throwing your hair in a messy bun and calling it day. you quickly grab a large to-go soup container for the soup and pack your bags to head to toji’s place.

you hate feeling like a child but just merely thinking of seeing toji after him being so distant with you yesterday has your heart doing cartwheels like you’re in fifth grade with a crush. you’re also excited to see a domestic toji in action in his fancy kitchen. maybe a bit too excited, you think, as you feel the wetness pool around your core. god, snap out of it already! the night hasn’t even started yet.

you drive into toji’s 4-car driveway, only to see toji’s garage door open. huh, that’s weird. you normally park in his driveway (he’s asked you to so you’re not left walking to your car during the late nights when you babysit) so you pull up anyway, despite the confusion. you see toji’s head peek through the garage door inside and he looks…oh, he looks kinda upset. you’re about to get out of the car and meet toji but he starts to walk towards you, his face only softening a tiny bit, which is unusual. oh, something must’ve really annoyed him.

you open your car door and get out halfway to talk to toji. “hey toji, you okay? what’s wrong?” your voice is laced with concern. once toji gets within arms length of you, you reach up and start rubbing his chest in an effort to sooth him.

toji grunts, and quickly leans down to peck your lips. “sorry pumpkin, megumi just told me he signed up to bring brownies for his soccer potluck early tomorrow morning. n’ they gotta be homemade.”

you furrow your brows even more in confusion. you know about the monthly potlucks megumi has with his soccer team on the weekends, but there’s usually some silly theme to them (last month’s was barbie themed so everyone had to bring in something pink). you guess this time around the theme is homemade meals and treats. “what’s the issue? there’s still plenty of time to grab something from the store…”

“the issue is i wanted to use that time to cook something nice for my son’s insanely hot babysitter, y/n.” toji replies bluntly.

“ohh~” it came out of you by accident, and you’re a little embarrassed as you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “th-that’s fine toji. you don’t need to-”

“i wanted to…and then i wanted to eat her pussy for dessert.” his eyes darken and he smirks coyly. toji pulls your body closer to his and leans down to give you your first proper kiss of the night. your arms wrap around his neck, which he uses as a signal to deepen the kiss by inserting his tongue into your mouth. you allow him and his tongue wastes no time exploring every inch of your mouth. you find yourself moaning into the kiss softly and tugging on his hair, until you hear megumi yell for toji from the garage. you both immediately snap back into a respectful distance apart.

“daddy, i’m ready to go.” megumi says, his voice slightly tired. you grab your bag and soup container from your car and walk inside the garage to greet megumi, who’s eyes beam when they see you. he runs to you for a hug, which you gladly return with one hand.

“hey there, kiddo. heard you were sick last night,” you say pityingly.

“yeah i ‘frew up because yuji and nobara dared me to eat some weird smelling cheese from the cafeteria.”

you make a disgusted face. “megumiii, you have to stop doing stuff because you think it’ll make you look cool. it’s just gross.” you stand up and turn to toji. “i made him some chicken soup, it’s still warm so be careful but i think it might help him out.”

toji thanks you and takes the soup and your bag from you. he tells you to wait out here with megumi while he quickly puts it inside the fridge. you turn to megumi sympathetically again. “how are you feelin’ now, bud?”

“i’m totally fine now!!!” he says very energetically, doing various dramatic stretches to supposedly “prove” that he was all good. “but…daddy’s mad because now he has to make brownies instead of dinner for us.”

“daddy will get over it, don’t worry.” you wink to megumi. “i’ll put in a good word for you. maybe i’ll even help you bake some brownies, kay?”

megumi’s eyes light up at the sound of baking a sweet treat with you, and it melts your heart. “really?! you mean it?!” you nod in response and give his cheeks a friendly pinch, causing him to laugh.

“what’s going on, you guys talking shit about me?” toji walks into the garage, and you finally get a proper glimpse of what he’s wearing: loose slim fitted grey sweats and a skin tight compression shirt (that perfectly shows off his toned chest), which he’s currently covering up (to your dismay) with a black fitted quarter zip. it almost makes you forget about how he swore in front of megumi. almost.

“toji! don’t say that word in front of your son, oh my god.” you playfully chastise him as you pretend to cover megumi’s ears.

“fuck, my bad. megumi, don’t say what i say.” toji says without a care in the world.

“shit!” megumi says out loud, and he’s about to say another word but you give him a disappointed glare, which makes him immediately stop saying more alleged swear words. “to be fair, i learn most bad words from nobara. she knows soo many…” okay, you need to dissect that later with him.

you notice toji reaching for his car keys and you start protesting. “wait, toji, i can drive us. my car is already open and in your driveway anyway…” you’ve never driven toji anywhere, and it’s kind of exciting to potentially have that opportunity now. toji seems to hesitate for a bit, purely out of ego of letting the girl he’s sleeping with drive him somewhere, but acquiesces. you give him a bright smile before taking megumi’s hands and heading to your car. you get him seated in the backseat of your mini cooper, and megumi marvels at being inside your car for the first time.

“woah! this car is so small and tiny and fun sized!” he says while laughing, and you ruffle his hair. finally, the first person to ever say something nice about the size of your car!

you shut the door and see toji already on the passenger side furrowing his brows while looking at your car. you know this look. you’ve seen this look on satoru and suguru, and any guy who’s over 6 feet tall and is riding in your car for the first time.

“pumpkin, i am not gonna fit inside here. let’s just take my car.”

“don’t be dramatic, you’ll fit. everyone fits inside this car. now get in.” you huff, already getting settled inside and putting on your seatbelt. toji get into the passenger seat, and the sheer weight of his build causes the car to shake. he adjusts his seat and tries to get as comfortable as he can. you see his legs are bent in uncomfortable angles as he puts his seatbelt on.

“this is the last time i’m getting in your tiny ass car, y/n. i feel like i’m about to die.” oh he called you by your name. he’s definitely hating this but…he did ignore you the whole day yesterday. sure, megumi was sick but it would’ve taken 10 seconds max to say that through text.

you start to back out of his driveway and drive to the nearby target. “you’ll get over it. also, i was thinking…” you make eye contact with megumi from the backseat and give him a wink and he returns one as well. “maybe i can help megumi with baking brownies, too. and maybe we can just order takeout instead? spend the rest of time helping megs get his rest for tomorrow?”

you bite your lip and turn to face toji during a red light. you hate to sound cocky, but you know he can’t resist you when you’re looking at him like this, and you’re right. toji obliges, but swears he’s going to pay for dinner regardless, and you don’t object.

megumi fills the car ride with random tidbits and stories from school and his sick day yesterday while you and toji entertain him. throughout the ride, toji alternates between holding your free hand and rubbing circles on your thighs while you drive, which you make a mental note of telling him not to do because it definitely distracts you from the road.

at target, the three of you grab ingredients for the brownies pretty quickly, before getting in a moderately long line. while waiting, your eyes wander and see the cutest black lace bralette (pretty similar to the one satoru destroyed last night). you really want to check it out, so you quickly tell toji and get closer to inspect it. the beautiful lace designs are just so your style, and the price range is perfect, too. you make another mental note to come back and make satoru buy it for you.

“like what you see?” toji’s voice startles you and you turn around quickly, and feel the heat rise to your cheeks. “i think you’d look sexy in it, for what it’s worth.”

“th-thanks, toji. i might get it later…”

“you should get it now. i’ll buy it for you. after all, your bralette got ripped last night, right?” what. the. fuck?

the color drains from your face and if you weren’t feeling hot before, you sure are burning up right now. your throat feels dry and you start stuttering. “wha-what are you talkin’ abou-”

“the one that…god what was his name? satoru? yeah, the one that satoru ripped, right?” toji is fully smirking amusedly now, and you look like a deer caught in his headlights at his mercy.

“h-how do you know th-that?” you say, your eyes widening at your (slutty) night out being caught by toji.

“oh, sorry, i thought you knew. i called you last night, pumpkin, remember?” toji inches closer to you and his pupils dilate. your breathing gets more erratic and heavy. what? no he didn’t. or did he? oh my god. it hits you that you answered his call via your body movements with satoru and you didn’t know. and you didn’t bother checking your call logs this morning because there was no missed call from toji since you technically answered it. oh my god.

“you made me so fuckin’ hard with that pic of your tits, y/n. i had to call you to help me get off, but it seems like you were too busy getting off too.” toji’s lips are inches from your ears, and you can feel his breath as he whispers in your ear, and it makes your eyes roll far back in your head. “i can’t lie, pumpkin, your moans while he was playing with you…” toji groans and you dare to look down his hips to see a tent forming in his gray sweats, making your breath hitch. “it made me so fuckin’ turned on that i just had to touch myself to it. but don’t worry, you didn’t miss much. i sent you a full video of it, too.”

you have to bite your lip hard to prevent yourself from moaning in the middle of the women’s section of target out of all fucking places, but you let out the tiniest whimper that only toji can hear.

“don’t worry, pumpkin. i’m not mad you were with someone else. you’re such a needy slut who needs to be taken care of, and when daddy can’t help, you have to find your own way, isn’t that right?” he grabs your jaw roughly and forces you to make eye contact with him. “answer me, pumpkin.” he says more forcefully.

oh, you are so finished. you are done for. your panties are a complete mess and you wish you had brought a second pair with you because they are just ruined. you swallow before answering toji with a shaky “yes daddy.”

toji releases your jaw, but not before giving your lips a quick peck that leaves you wanting more. way more. he squeezes your ass, which you don’t expect and let out an unfortunate and embarrassing squeak, causing a handful of people nearby you guys to turn around and wonder about the noise for half a second. toji grabs the bralette and heads back to the line where he made megumi wait with the cart. you take a moment to yourself to process the information toji revealed and get your breathing under control before heading back. you feel like maybe you should be upset about this, but…it’s just turning you on? those forbidden feelings you’ve been having about satoru and toji taking you at the same time are bubbling to the surface with toji’s confession, and you force them down unsuccessfully. toji’s a fuckin’ freak but that just turns you on even more.

in the car, you’re still unable to properly hold a conversation with megumi and toji properly because of how flustered you are. you crack a window open, and you bite your lips so hard that you’re sure you bruised them when toji places his hand on your thigh again. a mangled moan gets stuck in your throat and you cough quickly to cover up any suspicion.

“s-so, what are we gonna do for dinner? t-takeout? where?” you stutter, quickly trying to regain your composure.

“i want taco bell!” megumi yells excitedly from the backseat.

“megumi, y/n is our guest here. we can’t just take her to taco bell. think of a nicer place than that. what about panda express?” toji turns around to chastise megumi, but his hands are still firmly gripping your thigh.

you cough again and wish you had a bottle of water to help your dry throat. “i love taco bell! let’s go, it’s okay, toji.” you press to start the car ignition, and ride to taco bell is anything but silent, with megumi talking about the countless items he wanted to get from taco bell, and toji dissuading him from doing so.

“even if you’re feeling better, why in the world would you want to eat a chicken crispanada? who even told you about that?” toji asks exasperatedly.

it’s probably yuji, he’s always eating something weird.

“yuji told me about it.” megumi says without missing a beat, causing you to smile. by the time you pull up to the taco bell drive-thru, toji has talked down megumi to reduce his never ending list of taco bell items, but not by a lot (“he’s a growing boy!” you told toji).

toji does the honors of remembering everyone’s orders and responding to the cashier when he asks what the order is. “yeah, uh, hi, can we get 5 crunchy tacos, 1 mexican pizza, 1 chicken crispinada…”

“CINNABON DELIGHTS!” megumi interrupts from the backseat.

“yeah, uh, the 12 pack cinnabon delights…” toji looks over at you to get your order. you whisper to him you want a crunchwrap supreme and he frowns when that’s the only thing you want. “you gotta have something else, pumpkin…” he encourages. you know you probably should, but there’s no way you can eat as much as him and megumi, which makes you hesitate.

“i just don’t think i can finish another thing by myself…” you say quickly, knowing the cashier might be getting annoyed at how long it’s taking for you guys to order, but toji doesn’t seem to care.

“we can split some nachos, yeah?” toji squeezes your thigh reassuringly, and you smile and nod.

“yeah, and maybe a nacho bell grande? that’s all for us.” the cashier sounds bored and he tells you guys the total and asks you to pull to the front. in the front window, the bored cashier’s expression immediately changes when he looks at you…wait. not you.

the cashier immediately straightens up and adjusts his shirt. he looks almost nervous as he reads out loud the order you guys have, but stutters every time he looks up and makes eye contact with…toji. he stutters out the total, and toji smirks at him while he takes out his wallet and pulls out his card, passing it to you to pass to the cashier. the cashier hesitates to run his card, and it looks like he’s deep in thought before he starts to speak, this time more confidently.

“um, actually, sir, we’re having a new promotion if you’re interested…”

toji hums in response. “and what’s that?” he asks it so sensually that you have to do a flabbergasted double take between the two of them. is this what you think it is?

“you see, the meal’s on the house…in exchange for your number.” the cashier coyly returns a smile to toji, not breaking eye contact with him, and as a result, totally ignoring you and megumi in the car. you sneak a glance behind you at megumi and you’re surprised to see him looking completely bored and unamused by what’s happening.

“gimme a pen and the receipt and you got it, sugar.” toji’s response is a bit too quick for your liking, but you’re still in shock as a quickly jots down his digits before handing the receipt back to the cashier and pocketing his card. the cashier winks at him as you drive up to the second window for your food and toji looks completely unphased by what just transpired. you turn to look at him incredulously, with wide confused eyes and your dropped.

“what…was that?!”

“jealous? don’t worry about it, pumpkin. not the first time someone’s asked me my number for a free meal.” he chuckles, still nonplussed about the entire interaction.

you shake your head, baffled. “w-what? so you’re telling me multiple are just? into you like this? also i’m not jealous!”

toji shrugs and grins. “guess so. i mostly care about the free meal, and currently, my eyes are for you.” he assures you by squeezing your hands quickly and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

you laugh at how absurd it is. no way he’s flirting with cashiers for a free meal. you make a mental note to tell shoko about it later, even though you know it will just fan the “toji doesn’t have a job” flames even more. “oh my god, you’re a slut! you, like, just give it up real easy, huh?” you tease, but you make sure to mouth the word “slut” so megumi can’t hear the foul language.

“you’re one to talk,” toji says, and you both laugh as you get your food and drive home quickly before the food gets cold.

at toji’s place, toji helps set the dinner table for megumi, while you offer to start on the brownies since you weren’t as hungry. toji sits at the dinner table with megumi, and you both entertain him and his jokes and stories as he eats his dinner hungrily. after a particularly disgusting story about yuji eating a worm on the playground (“this is why you’re getting food poisoning so much, megs!” toji says while you chastise him once again about the dangers of peer pressure), you can feel megumi’s voice get lower as he gets more tired. it makes sense – he had a rough day yesterday, and so he’s more tired today.

“someone’s sleepyyyy” you sing and lightly tease megumi, as you fill up a cup of water for him.

“i’m not! i’m very awake and i can watch-” megumi is interrupted by his own yawn which he fails to hide from either of you. “i can watch some tv. i need to watch more euphoria…” he pleads.

“what is this show you’re watching?” toji questions, looking at megumi quizzically as he starts throwing away trash from megumi’s dinner. your eyes widen and before megumi answers, toji cuts him off. “doesn't matter. no tv for you because your body needs to recover and you need to sleep early tonight.”

megumi pouts so hard that tears begin to brim his eyes. “but this isn’t fair,” he whines.

toji picks him up with one arm with ease (did his biceps get even bigger?). “tell you what, you go to sleep early, and let me and y/n bake your brownies for you. and i promise you i’ll let you have a brownie for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

you shoot toji a frown. you always try to prep some overnight oats or pancakes or something more balanced for megumi to have in the mornings after you leave, but you know toji has to lose some battles to win some to avoid a crying temper tantrum tonight. toji shrugs as he looks at you and throws the remaining trash away, as megumi immediately cheers up hearing about his impending brownie breakfast.

toji turns to you. “gonna put him to bed, be right back, pumpkin.” he gives you a quick wink which sets your heart ablaze, thinking about what the rest of the night will hold. your dinner is probably cold but you don’t care as you’re back in the target clothing section, toji’s words sending a chill across your spine and drying your throat. you both haven’t gotten alone time since then, and, as much as you hate to admit it, you feel yourself getting wet through your panties.

you take a seat after setting out the ingredients for the brownies on the granite counter, and have to cross your legs to prevent your thoughts from getting too dirty too fast…

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