#all I know is that u pay with coins

[gifti3]

I am not touching another time princess event for a month at least omg

#i know they need to make a profit but sheesh #ur doing all this stuff and then u see that uve barely made in progress in gathering the coins #even if u pay money it doesnt feel like a lot to me #time princess #dutp #this game makes u put in the work for these outfits lol

[popcat69]

Incorrect Tmnt quotes

Mikey: What does 'take out' mean? Donnie: Food. Leo: Dating Raph: Murder Y/n: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

Donnie: Favourite horror movie?

Mikey: It

Raph: Saw

Leo: Annabelle

Y/n: High School Musical. after watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

Leo: Croissants: dropped

Raph: Road: works ahead

Y/n: BBQ sauce: on my titties

April: Shavacado: fre

Mikey: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead

Donnie:

Donnie: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

Y/n: Change is inedible.

Donnie: Don't you mean inevitable?

Y/n, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

Mikey: Hey Donnie,

Donnie: Yes?

Mikey: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

Donnie:

Donnie: Where’s Y/n?

Donnie: April isn’t answering their phone

Y/n: I’ll call

Donnie: Casey and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

April: Hello?

Y/n: Top 30 reasons why y/n is sorry... Number 5 will surprise you!

Raph: Top 30 anime deaths. Number One: YOUR FUCKING ASS RIGHT NOW!!!

Mikey: I'm incredibly fast at maths.

Y/n: Alright, what's 30x17?

Mikey: 47

Y/n: That's not even close.

Mikey: But it was fast.

Donnie: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something?

Raph: Nope, absolutely not.

Leo: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through.

Mikey: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life.

Casey: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you.

Y/n: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome.

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*

Splinter: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.

Everyone:

Leo: ...I did. I broke it.

Splinter: No. No you didn't. Mikey?

Mikey: Don't look at me. Look at Y/n.

Y/n: What?! I didn't break it.

Mikey: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Y/n: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Mikey: Suspicious.

Y/n: No, it's not!

Raph: If it matters, probably not, but April was the last one to use it.

April: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!

Raph: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

April: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Raph!

Leo: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, person A.

Splinter: No! Who broke it!?

Everyone:

Raph: Splinter... Donnie’s been awfully quiet.

Donnie: rEALLY?!

*Everyone starts arguing*

Splinter, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.

Splinter: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

Splinter:

Splinter: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

'Can I copy the homework?'

Donnie: I can help you with it!

April: Yeah, sure.

Y/n: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Raph: lol nope.

Mikey: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Leo: *Read 5:55pm*

Leo: bitches b like “im baby” but have childhood trauma and neglect like wtf do u know about being baby u were forced to grow up from an early age anyways I’m bitches

Leo, driving y/n and April: So how was your day?

Y/n: We almost got surprise adopted!

Leo: What?

April: We almost got kidnapped.

Leo: Oh, okay.

Leo: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

#donatello x reader #donnie x reader #leonardo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt x reader fluff #mikey tmnt #2012 tmnt x reader #platonic tmnt x reader #raphael tmnt #tmnt #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt x gn reader #tmnt x reader platonic #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #turtle tots

[that-basic-simp]

Careful, I Bite

Mizu x Fem!Reader CW: Kind of citrusy. Possessive(?) Mizu WC: 1.2k+

Following Mizu's glares, they were all towards the men that were in this brothel. Again, why we were here, I don't know. It was Taigen's idea for some reason. And he was with Akemi. The woman he was supposed to marry was here in a brothel with other women. Maybe he did it to give Mizu some kind of nudge to find someone. Little did he know Mizu and I were together. We hid our relationship behind closed doors and away from Taigen. Away from others, too.

"Why are we even here?" I asked Taigen.

"See if Mizu can find someone that fits to his liking," Taigen said, his face a little flushed, clearly he was drunk.

I glanced over at Mizu, who was rolling her eyes, sipping at the tea in her hands. I shook my head and continued to drink my tea as well. There were other men who were eyeing me with some lustful looks. I moved closer to Mizu, who slowly reached underneath the table and placed her hand on my knee. She kept a close eye on the people here, making sure no one decided to pull a move on me.

"Hey, pretty lady," a guy walked over to me, trying to put his hand on my shoulder.

Mizu set her tea down and turned, grabbing the guy's wrist, pushing it away from me.

"Back off," Mizu said.

"Hey. I just want to show the pretty lady a nice time."

"I said," Mizu stood up, pushing the guy's shoulders. "Back off."

"What are you going to do about it, blind boy?" the guy back handed Mizu across the face, knocking the glasses from her face.

She turned her head to where the guy couldn't see her eye color. Reaching down, I grabbed the glasses from the floor, handing it to her. She nodded her head towards me, placing them back on before turning to face the man.

"I would advise you don't ever do that again," Mizu said.

"And I said, what are you going to do about it?"

Mizu reached down and grabbed the hilt of her sword, pushing the guard, popping it open, but not removing the blade.

"I don't think you'd want these poor ladies here to clean up blood," Mizu said.

"Do it," the man said. "You won't."

"Mizu," I stood up, placing my hand on her arm.

Mizu sighed and pushed the blade back into the sheath, stepping back.

"That's what I thought," the man said and walked off.

Mizu sighed and grabbed my wrist, walking off down a hall.

"How much for a private room?" she asked to the woman in charge.

"Normal price."

"Can you ensure that we don't get interrupted?"

"If you pay extra."

Mizu reached into her pocket and pulled out some coins, placing it in the woman's hand.

"All the way down the hall and to the left."

Mizu and I walked down the hall and she slid the door open. Stepping in, she closed the door, but she didn't face me.

"Mizu?" I asked. "A-Are you alright?"

"Taigen," she hissed.

"Are you upset that we're here when we're together?"

"Yes."

"Why don't we tell him that we're together?"

"I'd rather let him see it. Let everyone see that you belong to me."

She said it in a low and raspy voice, the voice she uses to disguise herself. A shiver went up my spine, causing the hair on the back of my neck and on my arms to stand up. Goosebumps appeared momentarily as she turned her head to look at me.

"U-Uhm, M-Mizu?"

Reaching up, she removed her glasses, a dark look appearing in them. They looked like the deepest depths of the sea with how dark they looked. It felt like I would get lost and drown in those waters. Drown in what Mizu was. Turning her entire body now, she grabbed my shoulders and pinned me to the ground. I was still processing what she said, but now this added another level to comprehend what was going on.

"M-Mizu?"

"Say it just like that, but maybe make it more of a whine. Or a whimper. I don't care," she said, tucking her head into the crook of my neck.

Her mouth pressed quick kisses against my soft skin. She reached up and moved my kimono aside a bit to reach other areas of my neck, such as my collarbone and shoulder. Before I knew it, those kisses turned into slight sucking. It was an odd sensation to feel as her mouth opened up, her tongue running up and down my skin before she closed her lips around my skin, sucking harder than before.

"Mizu," I breathed out, my eyes fluttering closed as my hips bucked up into hers.

"Not tonight, Y/N," she said. "Maybe when we're in a more private setting and it's just the two of us."

"Please, Mizu," I whispered.

"Yeah, ya like it when I kiss and suck your neck, baby?" she asked, sucking a bruise right in the middle of my neck. "You're mine. No one else's."

Hearing those words come from Mizu made something in my brain tingle, causing a fog to be cast down upon me. Like I was walking in the morning fog after a cold rain cooled down a hot summer day. My arms wrapped around her neck, my one hand digging into her hair, removing it from her ponytail. Her long, dark hair cascaded down upon us as she continued to kiss and suck at my neck. Her teeth finally grazed along my delicate skin. She nipped here and there before she reached the middle of my neck, a small sigh escaping from my lips.

"There we are," she said and harshly bit down.

I lurched forward, a moan escaping my lips as Mizu's teeth sunk into my skin, definitely leaving a mark. She pulled away, her tongue grazing across the area to soothe it. Going to the other side, she did the same and then down both sides of my shoulders. Finishing, she pulled away, some blood in the corner of her mouth. I looked up into those dark eyes of hers, finding a bit of a hungry, possessive look. I should have been scared, but it was Mizu. I trusted her and she knew I trusted her. And she trusted me.

"Gotta let these fuckers know who you belong to," she whispered huskily.

Another shiver went down my spine as she stood up, pulling her hair back into her ponytail. Grabbing her glasses, she placed them on her face and with her thumb, swiped away the blood that was at the corners of her mouth.

"You ok?" she asked.

I nodded my head, "Y-Yeah."

Extending out her hand, she helped me up and to my feet.

"Was I too rough, Y/N?"

"N-No, not at all."

"Ok. If I do get too rough, please tell me. I don't want to ever hurt you."

"I will, Mizu," I said, taking her hand.

We walked out of the room and headed back to where Taigen and Akemi were. Sitting down across from them, we went back to drinking our tea. Akemi took one look at my neck and then glanced over at Mizu, piecing the puzzle together. A sly smile appeared and when I found her gaze, she nodded, winking at me. I smiled, going back to drinking my tea.

"What's wrong?" Taigen asked.

"Nothing," we all said.

Taigen turned to face me, looking at the marks on my neck.

"How did you get those? Just now?"

"Yeah," I said, sipping my tea.

"By who?"

Mizu moved ever so closely to me, her arm wrapping around my waist. Looking in between the two of us, Taigen looked confused. Mizu, being Mizu, eyed him before tucking her face into the crook of my neck once more, biting down again.

"Oh shit," Taigen whispered.

#bes mizu #mizu x reader #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai

[ghouljams]

consider this... medieval!141

ghost who is a huge and intimidating knight for his gentle and kind princess

soap who is a thief who after he pickpockets you and accidentally stole a love letter you wrote to him falls for u

price who is the king who takes many women to bed but still hasnt found one for his heart but finds you who is absolutely not for his harem

i like history and beefy men so its a win win

God I have a medieval COD AU that I turned into original fiction and I am just... yeah. I'm gonna do something short for all the boys starting with Gaz since he got left out and ending with Ghost cuz he's my fave

Gaz is an advisor to the King, his quick wit and keen eye make him an excellent man to have on hand. He's always been more observant than is good for him, when he catches you pouring something into his evening drink he's furious. You're a favorite among the servants in the castle, a sweet little thing that he's had his eyes on and now your trying to kill him? You explain it's just a sleeping tonic, that you noticed he hasn't been resting well recently, but he makes you drink it yourself to prove you're not lying. You think maybe he knew what it was, the way his eyes follow the movement of your throat, the sly smile on his face when the tonic hits you drowsy. The soft kiss he places on your lips when he tells you how considerate you are, how good you are for taking care of him, more than makes up for his earlier anger. You're sent to bed aching for him.

Soap is a quick fingered rogue, more a mercenary for hire than a proper thief. Still, he has to pay the bills somehow and sometimes that means snagging a loose purse from a drunken noble. He spots you counting your coins carefully and slipping them into your pocket. He's careful not to knock you over when he bumps into you, conscious of his comparable size. When he catches you it's easy to pull your coins from your pocket, before sending you on your way. He pulls them from his pocket as he walks off, and finds smooth flat pieces of painted wood and rocks instead of metal. There's a crinkle of paper under his vest, and when he pulls it free it's a carefully folded love letter. Singing praises for the skilled fingers and pretty face of your favorite rogue, and warning him to keep those same fingers out of your pockets. Soap thinks he might be in love.

Price is a King, both lived and feared in equal measure. This is a throne that he's won, earned, not one that was simply passed to him. He's always ruled with the good of the people in mind, but that doesn't mean he hasn't enjoyed the benefits of rule. He tries to stick to widows and widowers, people that won't get him into trouble if they're found in his bed. Best not to bring anyone that might start having grand designs of marriage, or be considered "spoiled" after his nights with them. You're an emissary from a neighboring kingdom, quick witted, and not afraid to tell him your mind. You're only there to discuss trade, but he can't help trying to hold you in his keep a little longer. You're plied with wine and good food, your carriage is broken, your horses are sick, you're too hungover to leave. You take walks with Price and offer opinions on the state of his affairs, you find yourself drawn to him, waiting on his every touch. You can't help it if you wind up in his bed with a ring on your finger.

Ghost is your most devoted personal knight, and you are his dearly beloved princess. His every move is for you. His large hand closing around yours to help you out of carriages, help you down from horses, to offer stability as you enter ballrooms and rush up stairs. His touch always lingering, always just on the line of affectionate. He knows he shouldn't love you like he does, but he can't help it. You're always together, where you go he must follow. It's his duty, his privilege, his honor to be at your beck and call. Youve never said anything, but anyone can see you return his affections, of all the men that could escort you to events its always Ghost. The throne has stopped trying to set up meetings between you and potential suitors, it's pointless when Ghost is always there. Everyone assumes he's had you anyway. He hasn't, he would never deign to touch something as precious as you. Not that he doesn't want to, he fantasizes about it when he's alone, imagines all the ways he'd make you beg while he fists his cock, but he assumes that at some point you'll find a real match. Imagine how much it crushes him to hear you're getting married. Imagine his surprise when you tell him it's his wedding too.

#simon ghost riley #captain john price #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #x reader #cod x reader #gn!reader #except the last one thats #f!reader #because i love a knight and a princess #medieval au #ooh i love big strong men and castles and swords

[savorypink]

need late sias!alex as a barista and u as the annoying customer who comes in during closing time. he angry fucks you in the bathroom cuz u annoy him

“cuz u annoy him” makes me giggle, but here you are anon!

“...and that’s why I stopped paying my taxes!” 

You speak into your phone’s speaker, swinging the doors of the small cafe open. Caught up in a conversation over the phone, you miss the scowl on the barista’s face as you saunter towards the counter. The lights of your favorite coffee spot have warmly dimmed, the minimal lighting enhancing the coziness of the atmosphere. This lighting, however, is an indication that closing time is near. To the dismay of the night shift barista, Alex, you have always made it your business to show up right before the doors close. Your horrible timing isn’t entirely your fault, though; 1) you’ve got things to do, 2) the cafe has become rather popular recently, and your patience isn’t the best. Why would you want to wait in line? 

Your conversation continues even when faced with the barista, completely ignoring the chairs sitting on the empty tables, the lemon scent of cleaning products breezing past your nose entirely. The barista’s cute, large doe eyes look up at you from the counter he’s wiping down with a bleach-stained rag; he doesn’t seem happy to see you. 

“Hold on just one second...” you say to the barista and your rambling friend on the phone. Digging into your bra, you pull out the crumpled-up bills and coins for your usual drink, all in exact change. You hand him the money with a warm, lip gloss-coated smile. You’ll see if he’s worthy of a tip. 

“You know what to do.” You finish with a wink before he takes the money out of your manicured hands. Your perfume's pleasant candy scent lingers when you turn your heel to the tables behind you, dizzying and addictive to his nostrils, but he scowls as soon as you pick up a chair. Plopping down, you continue entertaining your friend on the phone, and you aren’t quiet about it.

“Yeah, I’m at the cafe now. It’s so cute!” you squeal. “You should totally hit it up sometime. Make sure the Elvis-looking guy makes your drink, though. He’s the best.” 

Your words wash away the barista’s annoyance as he prepares your drink, knowing your preferences like strings on a guitar, pure muscle memory. Your loud mouth quickly tarnishes this somewhat peaceful moment.

“It’s the ginger-haired girl you gotta watch out for. Ugh, she’s the worst! Can’t make a drink for shit. And guess what? I found a hair in my muffin! When I flipped out on her, she kept saying, ‘Calm down,’” You do perhaps your worst impression of the nasally lady, “and she was like, ‘Do you want another muffin?’ No! I want my money back, Ed Sheeran!”

Your friend on the other line laughs alongside you, a bubbly yet ear-piercing cackle that makes Alex almost crush the mixer in his hands. His brain bounces from wanting to hear your laughter again to shutting you up with a kiss. As your gums continue flapping, you allow your eyes to examine the barista behind the counter. His backside is as cute as his front, the lean muscle of his shoulders contracting under his white t-shirt, strong arms flexing as he scoops up the ice and pours it into the mixer. You put a gelled nail between your teeth as you watch him, shifting in your seat as your panties become uncomfortably wet.

“Hey! Are you still there?” Your friend calls on the other line.

“Yeah!” Your cheeks warm up at the interruption, “Like I said, make sure Elvis makes your drink. You’ll know exactly what he looks like. If his back is turned, just look for the one with the cute butt.”

Alex is thankful his back is turned, your words tinting his face a rosy red. The silver bell on the counter dings once your drink is prepared. You don’t bother putting the chair back as you approach the counter. You thoroughly look through the transparent cup, ensuring the amount of ice and the number of dried fruit is accurate; you have no notes. Taking a sip, you let the liquid linger on your tongue before swallowing. Cold, sweet, and punchy; you couldn’t ask for more. You reenter your bra, dig out some change, and place it into the tip jar near the register. Your sunny, warm smile conflicts with the barista’s snowy, freezing shoulder.

“Thanks, Alan!” 

“Alex.”

Your eyes dart to the pastry case behind him, a croissant drizzled with chocolate catching your eye. “How much for that croissant? It looks tasty…”

“For you? Free of charge.” He’s more concerned with getting you out of here before you give him gray hairs. 

“Wow, really?” you beam in amazement. “You’re so kind! Alan, you’re the best! You’re way nicer than that ginger chick who tried to poison me. Ugh, she doesn’t work here anymore, does she? So unprofessional. She’d be better at scrubbing toilets than making drinks.”

Alex smirks at your remarks as he hands you the pastry in a white paper bag. “You mean my boss?”

“That’s your boss?” You immediately take the pastry out of the bag, biting into the flaky treat. “She’s in the wrong line of work if you ask me!” 

“Oh, yeah? Do tell.”

Your mouth moves before you can detect the sarcasm in his voice. You’re oblivious to the flakes falling into your shirt, decorating your cleavage as you continue munching and talking. Alex second-guesses giving you a napkin before handing you a few from the dispenser. If he didn't, he’d have more reason to stare at your chest. Flakes and chocolate stain the corners of your mouth and lip, and he hates to admit it, but you’re looking very…cute.

“Anyway,” you finish, wiping yourself clean, “You should totally be running this place, Alan. It doesn’t hurt that you’re super hot, too. Just work on the resting bitch face, and you’ll be amazing!”

Your final comment digs painfully into his skin, and it’s a shame. He was starting to like you.

“You’re too pretty to be talking with your mouth full,” Alex crosses his lean arms over his chest. “ I could teach you proper etiquette if you’d like. I’m a tough teacher, though. Be warned.”

Offended, you blink wildly before smiling at the compliment he snuck into his invitation. You gladly accept.

“You think I’m pretty?”

---

The cold marble of the bathroom sink raises the tiny hairs on your skin. You claw at it to no avail, sheepishly bent over the sink with your thong and velour tracksuit pants hugging your ankles. The empty bathroom echoes a slapping sound, a mixture of wetness and the noise of your ass against Alex’s relentless hips. His cock drives in and out of you at a brutal pace; each thrust angrier than the next. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” his large palm comes down on your ass with a vicious spank. “Come on…you were mouthin’ off about a muffin just a minute ago.”

Your cunt gushes at his words, the tight walls of your core needily squeezing him in a vice grip. Lust clouds your brain, unable to form a witty comeback to his statements, your weak moans becoming a new language. Before you lay your head on the marble, Alex fists your hair in a ponytail, tugging you upwards to face the mirror. Ignoring the messy reflection, you allow your eyes to roll into your skull, heat beginning to pool in your stomach, his cock hitting the right spots repeatedly and harshly.

“We’ll figure out a use for your mouth in the next lesson. You're doing a great job at taking me, muffin.”

#mickey is typing… #alex turner fanfic #alex turner smut #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #so much fun to write! apologies for the wait!

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hey I was wondering if u could do 14 “ hey that was my slurpiee” with Jeremiah just some fluff with reader and him when he’s working 🤷🏽

Thank you So much u write so amazing

Second attempt with Jeremiah. I think I'm getting better!

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

After your first debutante lesson, you and Gigi changed and went to see Jeremiah at the pool. You had a big blue pool in your backyard — minus the annoying children splashing and screaming —, but you didn’t have a hot lifeguard sitting in his high chair. 

Gigi sat on her chaise, all wet from the pool, ready to tan for the next few hours. ‘’Would you fetch us drinks?’’ she asked, feeling thirsty. 

You nodded and lightly dried yourself to not slip on the poolside on your way to the snack bar. That would be embarrassing. 

‘’Thank you very much,’’ Steven said as he handed you two cherry-flavored slurpees. ‘’Don’t forget to tip your waiter.’’ 

You put a few coins in the jar to be polite, then went back to Gigi…who was flirting with Jeremiah. A part of you wanted to be mad at her for flirting with your crush, but everyone was flirting with Jeremiah since he started working at the country club pool. You couldn’t blame them, he looked like he came straight from Baewatch with his red swimming shorts and sunkissed skin. 

‘’I didn’t know you were working here this summer,’’ you heard the blonde say as you approached with the drinks. She was batting her eyelashes and leaning forward so her cleavage would catch his attention. ‘’Do you think you could give me swimming lessons? My breaststroke could use some perfecting.’’

Jeremiah smiled back, a bit uncomfortable. ‘’Eh, I don’t know. I only teach kids basic swimming, nothing too technical,’’ he replied, trying to maintain a professional demeanor despite the obvious flirtation. ‘’If you want, I could ask Randy if he can—’’ 

‘’I got the drinks!’’ you announced, relieving Jeremiah from Gigi’s flirting. She was your best friend, but she was a handful sometimes. Especially when she was in a flirty mood. You handed her her cherry-flavored slurpee. She took it with a smirk, still engaging Jeremiah in conversation.

Unfortunately for her, Jeremiah’s attention had shifted to you. ‘’Hey, I heard you were learning to surf,’’ he said, a smile lighting up his face. ‘’I've been surfing for years. If you ever want some tips or go together, I'd be happy to show you the ropes.’’

Your heart skipped a beat at his offer, and you couldn't help but feel excited. You nodded, taking a sip of your slurpee before replying. ‘’I caught my first wave two days ago. It was so exciting! I lost my balance three seconds after though…’’ 

Gigi shot you a glance, seemingly annoyed that you had shifted the focus away from her. Nevertheless, she continued trying to get Jeremiah's attention. ‘’Oh, I wanna surf too! Maybe you could teach us both?’’ She raised her eyebrows suggestively, trying to turn the situation into something more flirtatious again.

Jeremiah chuckled, trying to handle the attention from both you and Gigi without being rude to the latter. ‘’I’ll have to check my schedule—’’ 

‘’Jeremiah!’’ a loud voice called out from the snack bar. ‘’I don’t pay you to flirt with the club members!’’ his boss continued, catching him past his break time. ‘’Break’s over!’’ 

Jeremiah nodded. ‘’Well, I gotta get back to my lifeguard duty,’’ he said, excusing himself. ‘’Talk to you later.’’ He leaned to take a sip from your slurpee, his striking blue eyes catching yours as he drank, taking a purposely long sip.

You felt a rush of excitement and nervousness from the lingering eye contact, holding back a smile.

‘’Hey, that was my slurpee!’’ 

Jeremiah shrugged with a small mischievous grin, then made his way back to the lifeguard chair.

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1  @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight  @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti​ @lomlolivia​ @5sosbands​ @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @a-band-aid-for-your-heart​ @gilbertscurls​ @brandirouse86 @leilani-nichole

#jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher imagine #jeremiah fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty imagine #jeremiah fisher fanfic #jeremiah fisher x you

[jiminrings]

fifth wish

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 18k

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook reminds you that love is unfair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook’s parents aren’t too bad.

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

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

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

“Jungkook badly needs an intervention.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Mrs. Jeon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook needs someone stronger than him.”

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

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

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

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

.

.

.

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

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

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

What’s more surprising is that you agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe Jungkook does have qualms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

( ♡ )

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” 

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. You look absolutely spent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-“

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

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

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

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

“Nah. Don’t want to disturb the guy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’d you wish for?”

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

“To break up with you.”

.

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook’s perfume irks you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay maybe I do care a little.”

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

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

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

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

“Next,” Jungkook grumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

( ♡ )

Jungkook knows to himself that he’s insufferable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Your fights are public knowledge.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do, but I don’t carry coins.”

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

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

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

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

.

.

.

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

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

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

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

“Do you regret being my handler?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You still have that crush on him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s soft.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook doesn’t immediately get a response back.

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

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

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

“We’re going home.”

“I don’t-…”

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

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

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

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

“For you to unclench.”

( ♡ )

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

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

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

“He told me to unclench.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey, you’re rich. We’re also rich.”

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

“MRI scans. Don’t forget MRI scans.”

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

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

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

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

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

“A little.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, we can do that.”

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

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

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

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

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s grandmother has a farm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t want to.”

“I hope you fall off then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t hate me.”

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

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

“What do your lips taste like?”

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

Jungkook kisses you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For us to never see each other again.”

( ♡ )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seokjin saw this coming.

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

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

“Open the laptop.”

“What?”

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

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

“Jin?”

“Open.”

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

And this time, Seokjin knows to protect you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“TMI.”

Seokjin groans but still listens anyway.

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

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

“Mhmm.”

“Have the two of you been talking?”

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

( ♡ )

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook feels uneasy.

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

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

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

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

Until you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For all your wishes to come true.”

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

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

( ♡ )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where the hell have you been?”

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

Why would Jungkook wait for you to come home?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where. Were. You.”

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

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

You narrow your eyes at him.

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

“Don’t shut that-…“ 

…door.

( ♡ )

Jungkook can’t handle it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the actual fuck?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I go out there in two minutes!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you to go home.”

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

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

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

“Jungkook.”

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

“Jungkook, stop.”

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

“Jungkook I said-…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then how do you mean it?” 

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

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

“I don’t know, that’s the thing.” 

Jungkook’s frustrating.

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

“That’s always the thing with you.”

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

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

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

“I’m the worst person I know too.”

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

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

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

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

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

That’s it.

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get out, Jungkook.”

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

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

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

“I wish you’d leave me.”

Jungkook doesn’t.

He shows up on your next fight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile.

Ah, you don’t look like you hate him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile warmly, head tilting in wonder.

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook.”

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

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

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

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

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

#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

[jaegersdevil]

boyfriend!eren headcanons pt.6

surprise i know u missed him

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 / masterlist

bf!eren lives to be a complete and utter menace (but we already knew that)

adding onto drunk bf!eren from previous parts, you will literally have to chase this man down the street before he takes a sip of water. he is cheeky and the biggest pest ever, but when you bribe him, he succumbs (even though you never go through with the bribe)

drunk bf!eren sings his heart out to mr. brightside. i will not be taking criticism at this time thank u

bf!eren stands by the notion that hangovers are a myth, even when his head is in the toilet bowl and he can't move for a whole day (maybe 2)

bf!eren has no personal space at all because he shows his affection in weird ways ok (will bring a chair into the bathroom while you're showering just so he can talk to you.....)

bf!eren panics when you use his full government name & whines about it until you call him baby :/

bf!eren absolutely 100% hates the silent treatment (so if you use it on him, use it wisely)

bf!eren knows he looks hot with his hair tied back, but sometimes he wishes to shave it all off....... you threatened to leave him if he did so, and you never heard him complain about his hair again

bf!eren gets pissed when you don't give him a kiss before you leave. he gets all yappy and bratty and so fucking annoying that you just have to kiss him stupid on the mouth for like half an hour 😐 (works 9/10 times)

bf!eren always stands in front of you on escalators (so he is there in case you fall :/)

bf!eren does NOT like pancakes. serve them to him and he will summon the devil and make you suffer a crazy death (his words not mine ok)

bf!eren sends you the most heartfelt messages 😍 (e.g. i wanna put you in my pocket and eat you like some m&ms 😘☝️…… if i were a kangaroo, i’d put u in my pouch 🦘🥰) 🤔

bf!eren is not afraid of most things, as we know, he is quite reckless, fearless etc etc. EXCEPT of you when he leaves his underwear on the bathroom floor (he learnt quite quick to not do that. walk him like a dog, girl)

bf!eren pays crazy attention to you. he is very very observant and probably knows you better than you know yourself

bf!eren who, when you take him on a date to those cute arcades, is insanely competitive. he needs to win those shitty games. he believes you are very capable on your own, so he will not half-ass something so you can win (you are the air-hockey champion in the relationship, and no matter hard he tries, eren will always lose). but he spends all his coins on a claw machine because he won’t let rigged games beat him (spoiler: he wins. “never back down, never what?”)

bf!eren wears his cap backwards when he is having a bad hair day (don’t mention it to him or he will pout, unless you want him to, then go for it)

bf!eren kisses you sloppily everywhere he can (in a public setting) after a day of classes where you haven’t seen him. he gets clingy and will NOT remove his hands from you

this one is a little shorter i hope that is not a problem 🫵

#eren jaeger #attack on titan x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jeager imagines #eren jeager x reader #eren yaeger imagine #eren yaeger x reader #attack on titan imagine #eren jaeger imagine #eren yeager x reader #boyfriend!eren #eren yaeger headcanons #eren jaeger x you #eren jeager headcanons #— ann writes!

[roguerogerss]

Take Me To Church

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

W/C: around 3.7k ?? (i’m too lazy to check)

Warnings: SMUT!! (literal porn with a tiny bit of plot if you squint), oral sex (f receiving), loss of virginity, some weird religious stuff (this is actual filth).

(IT HAS BEEN A WHILE!!! promised this a few days ago and it’s not brilliant BUT i’m getting back into this because i love love love writing tommy. pls keep in mind that this is literally pure FILTH and nothing more, i am but a simple being. love u stick around for more tommy sooooon!!!)

**

The Garrison was busier than usual, you supposed because it was a fine Saturday, but it seemed that every man in Small Heath was swaying drunk before you. You didn't mind the busy shifts, in fact, you almost enjoyed them. The men got drunk much quicker on Saturdays, meaning most of their money had made it's way into your pocket as tips by the time five o'clock rolled around.

You'd taken the time during a quiet spell to open the small coin purse that you carried with you and dump its contents onto the counter. Three pounds already, your entire monthly rent paid for in just under 4 hours of work. You smiled to yourself, knowing you'd only be given more as the night went on.

"Y/N." You heard a familiar voice from behind you and felt your stomach flip itself over. He was either going to berate you for counting your tips on shift, or you'd put something through the books wrong, he sounded even sterner than usual.

"Mr Shelby." You turned around, a smile on your face. You enjoyed his presence, you couldn't lie, something about the way he intimidated you excited you at the same time. "Can I help you?"

"Don't call me that." He sounded angry with you, frustrated, even, something that he never was. His brothers joked that he had a sweet spot for you, the pretty barmaid from the Garrison, the book keeper for their business. You hoped they were right.

"Whisky?" You asked, holding up a crystal glass and cocking your head to the side. You were sure he wasn't just here for a drink, but, then again, you weren't at all sure what else he needed.

He shook his head no. "Come with me."

You felt yourself almost shrink away from him, now feeling more intimidated than anything else. "Where? I'm working Thomas."

"Your work can wait for me." He turned to walk away, expecting you to follow, but he knew that you weren't as easy as that. You were going to give him a hard time of this.

You stayed put, scraping your tips from the counter and into your coin purse. "And are you going to pay me for my time? These men are paying good tips, Tommy-"

"I don't bloody care." He turned around, you'd definitely struck a nerve of some kind. His next steps towards you had you gulping in what could've been fear, or excitement. "I don't care what these men are giving you, Y/N. You come with me, when I ask."

"Yes, sir." You smirked. Thomas bit down on the inside of his cheek. You knew exactly what you were doing, he was convinced.

He shook his head, pulled his cap back on, and walked away, with you in tow. When you got outside, he waited for you, passing you a cigarette and even lighting it for you when you placed it between your lips.

You walked side by side, in silence, through the alleys of Small Heath, smoking together. Everyone who you passed either acknowledged Tommy in a passive way - "Evening Mr Shelby." - or turned their heads away and moved swiftly out of his line of sight.

Tommy led you through the gate to the Chapel, and your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to decipher what he was doing. "The Chapel?" You asked, passively. Tommy simply grunted in response, holding the door open for you.

You crossed yourself as you entered, something you'd been taught to do as a child and that had become a force of habit over the years. Thomas smiled to himself as he watched you.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" You turned to him as you reached the pews, arms crossed over your chest in that cocky way that he so hated but loved at the same time.

"Sit down." He paid no mind to your playful manner and gestured to one of the rows. You did as he said, but apprehensively, watching him all the while.

"Have I done something wrong, Tommy?" You asked as he sat down next to you. You could feel your heart pounding, and your regular playful nature with Tommy seemed to be gone, replaced by pure nerves.

His face seemed to soften slightly upon hearing you sounding nervous. He wasn't used to this side of you, your usual temperament being smug and sarcastic. "No. No, you've done nothing wrong."

The Chapel went silent for a moment, and you simply stared up at the large, stained glass window before you. You'd practically grown up here. Every morning before school, your mother had taken you and your siblings to morning prayer, and every Sunday you'd attend the services, entire family dressed in Sunday best dresses and suits. You'd stopped coming at sixteen, when your siblings had all moved away from home and it felt more depressing than anything to do the things you used to do together as children.

Religion was a taboo subject for you, having grown up Catholic and realised as a young teenager that you didn't agree with the teachings of the Church, and so the old Chapel both held a place in your heart and a feeling of resentment in your bones.

"Then what is this about?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, the silence becoming too much to bare. "Why am I here?"

"Well, you grew up a good Catholic girl, didn't you?" Tommy was smirking, an odd sort of smirk. You found yourself looking puzzled, but nodding your head anyway. "Then you'll know that a Chapel is where people come to confess."

"And what would I have to confess?" You thought that maybe he was accusing you of something, and you found yourself scrambling to think of anything you'd put through the books wrong. You figured it could very easily have looked like you were stealing from him, had you not accounted for money lost or spent, and your heart started pounding again.

"It's more what I have to confess." Tommy shifted slightly in his seat. If you didn't know him well, you'd assume he was acting rather calm for apparently being in the middle of a confession that required a visit to a Chapel, but the way he was wringing his fingers, the way he was shuffling around in his seat, you got the sense that Thomas Shelby could even have been anxious.

"Oh." The word almost fell from your mouth, quiet, but loud enough to have been heard in a silent Chapel.

"You remember when I hired you as bookkeeper of the company, yes?" It was a rhetorical question and you knew that, so you didn't speak, or nod, you just hung on his every word, intrigued, excited, "I wasn't completely honest with you about the reasoning behind that. I told you we needed a bookkeeper, but I lied. Arthur had been doing it for years before I asked you to help us out, and his adding up isn't great but he got the job done."

"So why did you hire me then, Mr Shelby?"

"I told you not to call me that. Does something to me.” He said it so nonchalantly, but with a hint of something that sent a chill down your spine. You found talking with him electrifying. "I hired you because I'm selfish, really."

"I don't think I'm following." You were playing dumb, now, not entirely sure on what he meant but having much more of an idea than you were letting on. You supposed some part of you thought deep down that there was no way that what you were imagining he meant could've been true.

"You haven't noticed, have you?" Tommy watched you intently, the look from earlier still plastered across your face, confused, naive, "The entire male population of Small Heath practically worship the ground you walk on. And I've never blamed them, really, figure a woman like you should be worshipped, but I'm a jealous man. Having you work for me meant I'd always have you, and other men would leave you alone."

"Why wouldn't you just ask me to be yours?" Your heart had resumed it's pounding, the sound of blood rushing in your ears, you were sure Thomas could hear it, too.

"I said I was a jealous man, not a simple one." You were suddenly feeling the burn of Tommy's eyes on you, the intensity of his stare, right into your face, as though he was trying to see into your mind.

"You could have any woman you wanted, Thomas Shelby, if only you'd ask." You were smiling now, a small smile, and so was Tommy, something that you'd come to notice, he seemed to only do around you.

"But I don't want just any woman, do I, love?" Tommy was impossibly close, now, face just inches from your own, breath hot against your cheeks. His hand wandered from his lap to your thigh, and your breath hitched when the rough pads of his fingertips found the exposed skin not covered by your skirt.

"So, you want me, Mr Shelby?" A subtly sultry whisper, evoking a wanting sigh from Thomas' lips. He let his eyes flutter closed for a second as you watched, his dark eyelashes settling on flushed cheeks, so, so close to you. You thought you might've been the luckiest woman in Small Heath at that moment.

Without another word, without warning, Tommy's lips came crashing onto yours. Rough, open mouthed, your hands roaming the back of his neck, his inching their way past the threshold of your skirt.

You'd heard the rumours around town, from women who'd been with your boss intimately. You couldn't lie and say you hadn't thought about it, God, you thought about it, and your expectations of Thomas were high.

"What do you want, love? Tell me what you want me to do." He was looking you dead in the face, and you could feel your cheeks burning red.

You looked around apprehensively, at the empty Chapel, the very public Chapel, and then back to Thomas, "Shouldn't we go home? Do this some place private?"

"Do you want me or not?" He was blunt about it, but your answer came quickly, with barely a thought behind it.

"I want you, Tom."

"Then we'll do this where I say we do this, pretty girl." He kissed you again, "Now, tell me, what do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me."

"We'll get there, sweetheart. I'm a bit of a gentleman in bed, though. Not gonna rush this." His hand wandered, until he was touching you over your underwear. You mewled at the feeling, "Do you want me to touch you there, eh? Is that where you want me?"

"Fuck, Thomas, yes." The sound of your moans echoing through a Chapel was something you'd never have expected to hear.

"Good girl." Tommy's hand traveled further up, into your underwear, long fingers making you bite down on your lip to suppress a whine. "So wet, all hot and bothered for me. And in a Church, God, what would ‘Our Father’ think if he could see us now?"

He was grinning, looking up at you with hungry eyes as you wiggled your hips closer to him, wanting him to do something, anything, to stop teasing you and just give you what he knew you wanted. "Please, Tommy."

You found your hands reaching for his crotch, but he swatted you away, "I want this to be about you, not me."

Tommy’s eyes met yours, one of his hands holding the back of your neck, keeping you looking directly at him. “Tell me, love, have you done this before?"

"Fucked in a Chapel?" Your sarcasm had Thomas in a chokehold, you knew he loved it.

"You know what I mean."

"And you want honesty from me?" You swallowed hard when he nodded, “No. I haven't."

"And you're sure you want to?" You nodded your head yes, well aware of what you wanted from Thomas Shelby since the moment you met him. “Use your words, sweetheart."

"Yes. I'm sure. Thought about it, Tom."

"Thought about me, have you?" The grin on his face had your head swimming. He knew what he was doing, too. “Mm, tell me what you've been thinking about, darling."

"I've heard you give women you sleep with quite a time. Lizzie told me down at the wash house that you were...good with your mouth." You couldn’t meet his eyes after saying that, making an effort to look anywhere else, his tie pin, his shoulder, but he placed a single finger under your chin, lifting it just enough that you couldn’t fight from looking at him anymore.

The corners of Thomas' lips turned up, "You want me to prove it to you?"

"Yes. Please."

He nodded, and gave you a gentle push backwards, encouraging you to lay down. You obeyed, and he sent one last look at you, eyes piercing, a silent question of "are you sure?". You nodded, knowing somehow that, even although he could be cold, he'd take care of you.

And then his head was under your skirt, and your underwear had been practically ripped from your body. His hands guided your thighs to rest on his shoulders, and then moved to grip your hips tightly, thumbs rubbing small, soothing circles into your skin.

As soon as he started his assault, you were gasping and whining without a care. Lizzie tended to lie, exaggerate the time she had in bed with men in town, but, God, was she right about Thomas Shelby.

"Tom, that feels so good." You let your head fall back against the wooden pews, focusing on how his tongue felt as it pressed against you, gentle strokes over your clit, and then diving between your folds. Your hands reached for the back of his head, holding him in place. He smiled against you, he knew you were reaching your high already.

"You're close already, sweetheart. That good?" He kept going, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter by the second. You felt completely comfortable with Tommy, something you'd never had with anyone else, the reason you were only now letting a man take your innocence.

"I've never done this before." You breathed out, not even entirely sure what you meant but assuming that Tommy got the message. He hummed against you, earning a whine from the back of your throat. "Tommy, I think I'm about to-"

"I know you are, darling. Come on then, let me hear you." One of his hands reached further under your dress, under your bra, and you felt his fingers tweaking your nipple. You came totally undone, then, the warmth in your belly too much to handle.

Your orgasm came over you with a scream, had you biting down on your hand to quiet yourself down. Tommy was grinning now, listening to you was like heaven to him, knowing that he'd made you feel so good that you were screaming for him.

“God, could listen to you moan forever, love.”

When you were done, Tommy lifted his head from under your skirt, lips and chin glistening with your wetness, "You liked that, didn't you pretty girl?" He used the side of his hand to move the hair that had fallen into your face to the side.

You nodded, not quite meeting his eye, almost embarrassed by how obviously you'd enjoyed yourself. "I'm not done." He added, matter-of-factly, "You said you wanted me to fuck you."

You nodded again, "I do."

"You're certain?" He was serious, something that he was all the time with everyone else, but never so much with you.

"I'm certain, Tommy." And you were, so, so certain.

He nodded to himself, looking down, hand rubbing the back of his neck almost apprehensively, "I've never taken someone's virginity before."

You giggled, a surprised, giddy laugh, “I don't believe that for a second, Mr Shelby."

"I'm serious." You could tell he was. You didn’t understand how that could’ve been the case, you were almost certain that any young woman in a fifty mile radius would beg Thomas Shelby to take their innocence from them, “I'll be gentle with you, alright? You tell me to stop and I'll stop."

You'd never expected Tommy to be such a gentleman in bed, as he'd told you earlier, but you believed every word he said, comforted by his hand on your cheek and the way his eyes were trained on yours. "Okay. I trust you, Tom.”

"Okay." He was kissing you again quickly, again, laying you down, hovering over you this time. He didn't wait long before unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers.

You reached out, lips still attached to his, to palm him through his underwear. You almost gasped out loud when you felt him, so hard for you. You heard a groan rise from the back of Thomas's throat as you touched him, his kisses becoming even more hungry for you.

You reached into his boxers, pulling out his hard cock, and pumped him in your hand a few times. He pulled away from you enough to let out a few small moans, and then took himself in his own hand. "You're sure, yes?"

You nodded, "I'm sure."

Tommy placed his arm by your head, resting on it as he lined himself up. He gave you one last look of approval, and found nothing in your eyes that made him think you weren't being truthful, and then he guided himself to your entrance, pressing in slowly. He closed his eyes as he felt you, he was convinced that this was what being in heaven felt like. How long he'd wanted you, how long he'd had to watch other men pine over you, and you were finally here, moaning for him, letting him take your virginity.

"Jesus, fuck." He mumbled to himself as he bottomed out, forehead pressed against yours, chest to chest, watching you pant and whine beneath him. "You alright, darling? Can I move?"

"Yes. God, Tommy, please move." You clawed at his back, and he pulled his suit jacket off, leaving him in nothing but his shirt and unbuttoned trousers, and his bicep cuff.

His thrusts were gentle at first, asking you every now and again if you were okay, but his pace soon picked up when he realised how much you were enjoying this. He was pounding into you in no time, having your screams and moans echo through the Chapel, mixing with his own. He figured that no amount of prayer that could go on the next morning would compare to the holiness of the sound of your pleasure.

He could feel you clenching around him, hot and wet and so tight, and he felt himself nearing the edge knowing that you were close too. "Tommy. My God, I'm going to come again."

"Come for me, love, I'm right there, too." He picked his pace up even more, wanting to drag this out for you, make you feel the best you'd ever felt. "Wanna hear those pretty sounds, darling, come on."

His words and the way his face was screwed up in pleasure was enough for you. Your walls clenched around him, and you moaned his name loud enough for the entirety of the town to hear you, and he couldn't hold on any longer either.

He released inside of you, a hot rush that somehow had you feeling even better than before, his forehead rested on your collarbone.

You stayed there, laid like that, him still inside of you and breathing heavily against your skin, for a few minutes, just enjoying how eachother's bodies felt, now. Tommy eventually sat up, and took your hand to help you do the same, zipped and buttoned his trousers, and picked his jacket up from the floor.

"Is that why you brought me here?" You asked quietly, small smirk decorating your lips.

"Yes." He was very matter of fact when he said it, shrugging his jacket on and not even looking at you.

"You brought me to a Chapel, knowing you were going to fuck me."

"Thought it'd be a nice bit of scenery." He raised his eyebrows at you, and you snorted at him.

"You're an ass." You noticed a small, genuine smile make it’s way onto Thomas’s lips. You wondered how on earth he felt the same way about you as you did him.

He turned to you, and quickly placed another kiss on your lips. Not a sexual one, or a hungry one, he didn’t want anything more, it was just a kiss. “Good enough for your first time?"

"Certainly lived up to Lizzie's talk about you." You joked. "Of course it was, Tom. Thank you, for being so gentle, too."

“That’s alright, love. Told you I’m a gentleman in bed, didn’t I?” He stood from his seat, held out his hand to you, and helped you up onto shaky legs, “Come on, I’ll take you back to my place, you can get cleaned up.”

You walked down the aisle of the Chapel, back to the door, and Tommy pulled out his box of cigarettes, lighting one for each of you as you walked across the Chapel Yard.

“You know, I really wanted those tips at work.”

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

[beanlot]

okay hear me out- cowboy!ellie x fem!reader having *cough* raunchy sex uhm i just. i needed to share these art (not by me btw!) to u aka my all time fav au! writer and yes u can do whatever u want with that prompt ;) i'm just sharing cuz i don't wanna be alone on this 🤭

rdr!ellie?

if red dead was a lesbian porn game, it would have its perks - discrete and secretive sex, if you’re into that. but i’m gonna try and maintain some realism and sadly declare that it’s the 1890s and homophobia is lividly prevalent, hence said discrete and secretive sex. and with ellie’s.. not so ladylike shenanigans, she’s gonna raise a few eyebrows.

you’ll meet on a tuesday night shift at the bar, and at first, it’ll be just another evening frothing root beer and artificial laughter to camouflage snide remarks on why you aren’t married yet. ellie blends with the maelstrom, you won’t notice her until she’s directly infront of you, jagged scars that slice through her eyebrow.

just some whiskey.

and she’s gonna be pretty reserved, tactical with her eyes when she clocks what a god damn showpiece you are. there’s some moments where ellie maintains her jagged character, dry and insensitive - but there’s some moments, like these, where maintaining that character leaves her stomach curdling.

so she’ll pay extra than what’s needed, sliding over two quarters.

oh, it’s only one o-

i know. one for the whiskey and one for you.

and maybe it’s not essentially unorthodox for you to get tipped, but being tipped by a woman? what was usually plain sailing and rather satisfactory as sliding an extra coin into your palm becomes dithering, a dilemma of whether or not to accept - which solves itself when she walks off without a thank you.

you’re wondering where does the raunchy sex start; it kinda starts when you realise she isn’t just some hallucinogenic succubus bandit waiting to claw at you when you’re most vulnerable, although rationally, that’s what it’s gonna fucking feel like. she’ll be sat down, creased maps against the oak and eyes that should be thinking logically.. but just can’t resist the temptations of looking at you, but in particular, your left hand.

it kinda starts when you realise she’s checking if you’re married.

to abbreviate an extensive romance story,

you’ll subtly invite her in during a snowstorm. and let me just say that this ellie has a thing for thigh-riding, the kind where you’ll be kissing at eachother’s lips as you sit on her lap, losing rhythm because her salacious fingers are guiding your hips back and forth into her. but in terms of vulgarity, i don’t think this ellie would be super experimental just yet; she wants to appreciate you for the fine woman you are, and if that means warming up to the burliness of her thigh against your clit gets that message across, then so be it.

but despite that, this ellie wouldn’t particularly be so vanilla either - she’s still a little bit of a lovemaker, it’s just that this is one of the au’s where i could see her being more dominant presenting. fingers not so timid to part your legs against her thigh, gliding so silkily through your slit, a tone of velvet that whispers what a beauty you are against your cheek. her firewood scent whisking with the kerosine of your bedside lantern as she’ll undress you bare.. and sorta just, lay back and enjoy the show.

gorgeous girl, letting me see you like this.

that’s it, very pretty.

you’ll go to slide the beige suspenders off her shoulders, and you want to do more - but shit’s getting super sensitive as you rock against her waist, your hands quivering against her breasts. she’ll whisper that she knows, her fingers doing the dirty work that you’d seemingly been anticipating for too long; manipulating the fabric so teasingly that your thighs can’t help but start to tremble - clit scorching with agonising vim when you see her abdomen, pearly scars faintly residing against the muscle.

does this excite you?

another undone.

you won’t be able to answer, the sweltering so damn near that it paralyses your body, only instinctive thrusts against her skin that leave you pathetic and nodding breathlessly.

and then another undone.

the precise line of her breasts only slightly visible - she knows you’re close by how impulsively you grind against her, with dilated pupils dazed and so gravely out of character.

but the night’s just starting.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #the last of us #ellie the last of us #tlou x reader #howdoesellie

[yoodokjas]

everytime i reread and cry over the world of zero arc i try to look on the comedic side and analyze how baffled the constellations must've been over dkos 😂😂 cuz like NOBODY was claiming him, the demon kings didnt know who he was, nothing definitely comes up if you look him up, even outer gods were piping in like 'who tf is this??' the idea that these constellations were tearing their hair out as this broke guy keeps giving away information and treating probability like shit and facing no consequences for it (that they know of) yet remained anonymous all the way to the end of the scenarios is such a slap on the face XD

i wanna know how stressed out the big nebulaes were trying to get ANY info on this guy like. imagine the three sisters trying to get a read on him and getting zapped lol it just fills me with joy after the hundreds of chapters of kimcom fighting against these guys and now 51 is in the same playing field but definitely not on their side so he gets to pull the carpet out from under them without even revealing himself ✨✨ and all it took was several fingers, limbs, and getting statistically smaller each time ✨✨ we love a king that slays 💅💀 (himself)

GOD THE WAY I CACKLED AT THIS 😭😭😭 world of zero CAN be a romcom if you squint enough

dkos waving at swk: heyyyy hyungnim

dkos waving at uriel: im an archangel too btw

dkos waving at demon kings: im a demon king. once upon a time used to rule over the 73rd demon realm. it doesnt exist yet, dw abt the details

dkos waving at outer gods: you wont believe this but im one of u as well (somewhat) i take the form of a good looking squid. i have pictures to prove it

god the way he was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. the way he didnt offer yjh anything (coins) but information to the point where yjh himself had to pay for the midday tryst that they shared. he was so broke and So Lazy cuz he could just snap his fingers and his bag wouldve been filled with coins 😭😭

dkos descending to help yjh destroy the absolute throne and have the constellations be in awe/afraid of his strength >>> not to sound like a redditbro but he was the goat™ fr

I'd want to see olympus papyrus and vedas try and force a prophecy on him now 🤨🤨

#ask #orv #kim dokja

[actualbird]

have you noticed that time’s antiques has a CRAZY amount of ceiling lights? and whenever luke is there every light is on? his electricity bill must be absolutely crazy. not to mention he has a literal DARTBOARD in his detective office. this has led me to realise that not only is his taste in clothing questionable but his interior design skills are also bizarre

omfg yes YES luke's interior design tastes are BIZARRE and hes a WEIRDO (affectionate)

i now feel possessed to screencap everything in his building that i am either baffled by or want to point out because i found it cool. buckle up, i (as always) have a lot to say

so let's go on a tour of luke's home

FIRST FLOOR: THE ONE FREE OF MOST SIN BY VIRTUE OF BEING AN ANTIQUE SHOP

a lot of my confusion here can be waived since it's an antique shop and those are meant to be crowded and kitschy and maximalist, thats their whole Thing and i love that. like, the lights, which uve already commented on, there are SO MANY but theyre charming to me here because it fits, this disparate chaos but still emanating warmth

tho that being said ive noted down some bits that do still pique my interest

EXHIBIT A: antique cash register. given its placement on the counter/main table, i assume it's used for actual business and not an item for sale. of course, it could just be for display, but im jarred because it's right next to the High Tech Touch Screen. do people in stellis even pay with cash anymore? they seem to be hugely digital even in currency. it'd be funny if this thing WERE used for actual business and it's filled with all of luke's loose change and coins that he has trouble getting rid of so he instead foists them off to unwitting customers

EXHIBIT B: my only real complaint for this portion because how can any customer get to those drawers, theyre BLOCKED BY OTHER STUFF

EXHIBIT C: alright antique TV but i cant tell if it's just showing a random VHS tape or if it's doubling as luke's CCTV camera display. cuz it kinda looks like CCTV display of a road. which, honestly, is pretty cool!! it's a fun marriage between old tech and new. this is something im less confused by and more just something i wanted to point out cuz it delighted me to think about

SECOND FLOOR: NOT NECESSARILY CONFUSING BUT GOD IT IS SO MESSY IN HERE LUKE LET ME IN HERE I NEED TO CLEAN THIS ROOM

EXHIBIT A: certificates!! this is cool, i wish we could see them clearer. i guess these could be luke's PI certification though maybe one of them could also be his master's degree? which would be odd to have displayed in a detective agency given his degree is in bioengineering but itd be funny to match vyn who has his Two Doctorates on display in his office HAHA

EXHIBIT B: luke, please tidy up

EXHIBIT C: door with 221 B on it which i think is super cute. hes such a nerd hes just got that blatant sherlock reference in his literal detective agency office, so everyone who walks in will know that he is not only a detective, but also a fanboy. im not sure if this door is what leads to his third floor home but itd be SO LOVELY if yes!!

EXHIBIT D: luke, please tidy up

EXHIBIT E: peanut's bird perch!!!! this is endearing to me because it looks like such a....such a Gym Flavored Bird Perch kjhJHVSDFH LIKE it's made of metal and chains and not at all like most bird perches u'd find that are usually a wooden or more natural design. this is a bird perch for birds that work out. maybe luke made this for peanut himself to get peanut to exercise. peanut is offended by this. peanut perches on it regardless

EXHIBIT F: luke, please tidy up and god if u keep missing throwing trash into the trash can just moVE THE TRASH CAN CLOSER TO UR DESK

EXHIBIT G: luke, please tidy up

EXHIBIT H: luke, please tidy up

EXHIBIT I: luke, please tidy up

EXHIBIT J: luke, please tidy up

EXHIBIT K: dartboard!!! which u mentioned. i like that it's here in the detective agency office floor because i get to imagine luke stumped on a case and then playing some darts to help himself refocus <3

THIRD FLOOR: LUKE PEARCE, I HAVE A LOT OF QUESTIONS

EXHIBIT A AND EXHIBIT B: okay my question here was gonna be "hoop lights?? tiny ladder????" but i answer it myself in a post wayyy wayyyyyy back where i talk abt how i think these interesting furnitures are there for Peanut Pearce Enrichment. it simply makes no sense if i dont assume this, but that aside, it's endlessly endearing to me to think that luke has fashioned a bunch of his living space to give joy to his emotional support birdson. imagine peanut hopping up that tiny ladder! or flying thru one hoop light and perching on another! avian paradise :D

EXHIBIT C: luke's palette bedframe....god this thing drives me nuts. it's not BAD but what gets me about is that it seems like such a stub-ur-toe hazard, a bruise-ur-lower-shin hazard, and a tripping-over-this-corner-that-sticks-out-and-is-on-the-path-of-foot-traffic-otw-to-the-kitchen hazard. the clumsy will be HARMED!!!!! LUKE, WHY WONT U GET A PROPER BEDFRAME!!! OR AT LEAST FIX THIS BEDFRAME TO BE THE EXACT SIZE OF UR BED SO IT ISNT THAT MUCH OF AN INJURY MAGNET JKAFVAJHFVA im on my knees....

EXHIBIT D: why on earth does he have a whole cupboard filled JUST with camera lenses. wait brb //asks a friend who is has a professional photographer dad............ok nvm hes off the hook for this one, apparently this is normal for photographers. im simply diagnosing luke with dedicated nerdery once again then. i love him dearly.

EXHIBIT E: HE WAS A GAMER BOI, SHE SAID SEE YA L8ER BOI!!!!! man peep all them games!!!! and his consoles next to them!!! i hope luke plays matches against other ppl and that hes Fucking Terrifying to other players. i know we've seen him game with mc and hes mostly adorable, but when hes gaming against non-mc individuals......i hope luke pearce is accidentally going Raven Mode against some random 13 year olds in apex legends or something. just because itd be so damn funny.

EXHIBIT WE'RE SAVING THIS FOR LAST: this is the most baffling to me among all the things in this whole building. it's a....trash can? but Not. it's a large trash can shaped container used for containing things, which, okay, that could work. but luke is using it to contain MAGAZINES????? AND ROLLED UP PAPERS?? im speechless. that is simply the most non-intuitive container to go for when thinking "hm, where should i put these objects made of paper, a material famously known for their flatness" aND HIS CHOICE OF CONTAINER IS A CYLINDER ?¿¿?¿??¿????LUKE!!!!!.

luke is a strange little guy. hes also the epitome of cluttercore. im obsessed with everything about him.

#i love him ''zak u roasted his house for a thousand words'' that is part of Loving Him #asks #anon #tears of themis #luke pearce #tot luke #xia yan

[aiiviiloo]

first time meeting gilbert blythe x fem!reader

warnings: none really i hope u like it i suck at these hihohohiohio

the wind blew calmly outside of the café, a laughter of small children getting heard as they played.

it was a calming nature for priscilla who sat at a table with a small muffin and tea in front of her while her hand held a book. emma, by jane austen.

a small pling of the bell over the door made its sound as the door opened, a boy walking inside. the shop owner who was wiping some empty tables greeted the boy, making him nod curtly at her.

the boy's eyes shifted around and he made contact with the girl, his eyes looking down at the book.

a small smile came onto his face as he read the title. it had been one of his father's favourites.

"excuse me, miss." he said, loud enough for the girl to notice him but not loud enough to disturb others.

y/n looked up, her thumb resting between the pages as she closed her book.

"can i help you, sir?" y/n asked with her very noticable british accent.

"may i sit with you? i noticed your book and remembered it to be my father's favourite before he passed away." the boy answered her question, nodding down at the empty chair in front of priscilla, who nodded with a smile with no bother.

the boy sat down, taking off his hat and placing it down on the table.

"may i ask your name?" he asked while y/n put an actual bookmark between the pages to be able to close the book completely.

"y/n. y/n l/n. and your name?" y/n told the boy, who was fixing his fluffy dark brown hair. 

"gilbert blythe. i must say, y/n is such a pretty name." gilbert complimented, making y/n smile softly at the boy in front of her.

she whispered a small thank you, not noticing the stare gilbert had on her as she looked down. a small piece of her brown fringe fell down, making her hurriedly slip it back behind her ear.

"did you father read anything else of jane austen before he passed?" y/n asked, trying to not offend gilbert.

gilbert, who wasn't ready for a new question, was taken aback slightly but he composed himself and nodded. 

"he was quite the reader and read a lot of books, but no books touched him as jane austen's did." he answered, his eyes watching how y/n took a sip of her tea, her eyebrows showing interest in gilbert's conversation.

"your father sounds kind just by his choice of reading." y/n said with a small smile on her face, watching as gilbert's slight smile turned into a knowing smile as he looked down, reminiscing about memories of the past.

"he was." gilbert answered shortly, looking up with slightly teared eyes. "i'm sorry, for tearing up, we barely know each other." he muttered, drying his eyes.

"oh, i'm so sorry, did i offend you? i did not mean to." y/n hurriedly tried to apologise, standing up from her chair to crouch down in front of gilbert while taking out a napkin for him to use.

"you didn't offend me, not at all, you did quite the other." gilbert sighed, looking down at priscilla's worried e/c eyes with his hazel eyes. tears pooled in his eyes as he thought of his father.

y/n handed him the napkin while looking at him with a sympathetic expression.

"let me take you on a walk, mr blythe, to freshen your thoughts, perhaps?" she offered, standing up straightly while wiping some dust off of her blue dress.

gilbert smiled and nodded, standing up from his seat after he dried his tears.

he grabbed his hat, slacking it down onto his head.

"let me pay, for your kind behaviour of such terrible of mine." gilbert obliged, taking out some coins for the shop owner to take. he handed the owner the money while thanking for the service.

y/n let him, shrugging her own coat on before walking with gilbert out from the café, of course with her book in her arms.

the pair was met with a comfortable spring wind fly against them as they got outside to the streets of charlottetown.

gilbert handed his arm for priscilla to hold, making her chuckle.

"what a gentleman you are, mr blythe." she joked while holding his arm gently before they began walking towards a small park.

a comfortable silence swept over them as they walked around in the park where trees began to blossom but it got interrupted by gilbert himself.

"may i ask where you are from? i have not seen someone in my age here in charlottetown." he asked y/n who turned to him slightly with her head.

"i'm from a town in england called brighton. i'm here to take my last year of school before college, which i wanted to take here on prince edward island. but that makes me to ask how old you are." y/n explained to gilbert who now understood the accent.

"i'm sixteen, and i guess you are also sixteen." he concluded and y/n nodded at his guess.

"i'm going to a school in avonlea, since my mother has placed our residence there." y/n continued, making gilbert's eyebrows lift.

"so you're the new people who moved into the old house." gilbert muttered, more to himself but y/n heard so she hummed in agreement.

the pair sat down on a white bench with a silence over them.

"i'm sure the girls in the school will like you. you seem like one they would like." gilbert claimed, making y/n look at him.

"is that a compliment or is it negative?" she chuckled, making gilbert grin.

"that depends how you think about it." he answered, smiling at the beautiful girl in front of him.

y/n smiled as she looked down into her lap, her eyes drifting to the watch gilbert wore around his wrist. she read the time and gasped slightly.

"oh, dear, my train leaves back to avonlea in fifteen minutes!" she quickly began, standing up to shake gilbert's hand. "so nice to meet you, gilbert and i hope to meet you again, maybe in school?" she continued.

gilbert let y/n shake her hand while smiling softly. 

"it was nice meeting you too, y/n. i hope you will find it comforting in avonlea before the school term begins." he told y/n who nodded and continued shaking his hand, not noticing that she didn't stop.

seconds later y/n quickly pulled her hand back ith an awkward chuckle before she bid gilbert goodbye as she rushed away out from the park to the train station, leaving a giddy gilbert behind on the bench.

#gilbert blythe #anne with an e #gilber blythe x reader #anne with an e x reader #gilbert blythe x fem!reader #gilbert #fluff #awae

[dinaanana]

Them with a Teenager Reader:

Synopsis:How would They Act around Youngest member of their Organization

DoA X Teenager!reader (Platonic!)

Fluff/Crack

Written by a minor.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

( Pretend your Ability is Telekinesis)

Bro you're Annoying This Rat and It's so funny

Fyodor and Sigma are your Targets literally

You Get bored? Uncle Fyodor is there😍

You get Bored of Annoying Fyodor?

Auntie Sigma Is there 😍

(You barge in His Sky casino and Literally Scare everyone Away He chased u with a Mopper He also yells at u to stop Eating Casino coins or whatever they are called)

Anyways..this Isn't Abt sigma so

One day in DOA you were sitting on A couch Scrolling down your Phone on tiktok

You get bored And u Get an Idea!

You stand up From the couch and Went to The Crusty Rats Basement just to See him in His discord mod ahh sitting Infront of 100 Computer Screens

You lifted ur Fingers up And Made The mouse He was clicking on float above his Head.

He raised his brow and Didn't even Bother looking Behind him ''(Name)... give it back.''

''no you discord moderator lol'' You Cackled

''What the hell do u even do Sitting Infront of 100 screens doing Nothing'' you sigh

''Ohhhh Perhaps You Play Roblox?!''

He Sighs And grabs The mouse from ur Hands

''If so Whats Your Use-''

He closed the Door Infront of you.

Bonus

If you are a High Schooler he helps u Out with ur Homework And U get the top scores I mean this man Smart asf

Sigma

Omg.

He's done With you

You Literally Barge Into His Sky Casino Yelling And scaring literally Every worker and customer Away

He drags u away in his Office just to Scold u You hear Nothing cuz u Were wearing Airpods.

He snatched them Away from u and Almost broke it You Hit him..

He had a huge ass Bump on his Forehead after that for like 1 week (Nikolai made fun of him and praised you)

He thinks Maybe ur demonic Behavior is because of Ur Puberty since ur Still a teenager or? does this dude even know What puberty is? did he even hit it himself? Idk

All aside you Guys Are besties (He doesn't Approve that) ''What is Bestie?'' He asks and u explain it

''oh ok .um Betsie..'' ''Its bestie Sigma'' you Sigh

''oh''

He orders Some Food and Drinks for u When ur Hungry and you don't Pay ofc It's his casino He owns everything duh

You drink Iced coffee With him everyday You order Funny Straws To drink the coffee with

You even drink hot Drinks With a straw (I do that lol) He looks at u With Surprised face ''umm (Name) They don't drink Hot drinks with a Straw..''

''They don't? I do..''

One Time u were Trying to drink ur Hot chocolate with a Straw It was really hot so u tried to swallow it Slowly U ended up swallowing the whole Thing and Ended up Burning ur tongue and Choking

He panicked and almost fainted when u Almost died.

U help him out With his paperwork in his office too when he's too tired

You Draw on them Aswell☠️ he scolds u For it but u don't care.

Nikolai Gogol

You Two are the silliest😍🥰

Both of u are crazy Maniacs (You are a Criminal Aswell)

You pull Pranks in sigma really often and he falls for it everytime

He Sometimes Sends u Yourself to Annoy sigma and Fyodor Because They don't Lash out On you like they do with him so..

U guys Also steal Things 🥰

You want new Iphone 16? let's go steal it

You want new Clothes? his Cloak is Right here

You want new PC? Just borrow it from Fyodor he has like 100 And Giving u one won't hurt Right?!

(y'all Steal it anyway and get away with Teleporting Away)

You guys Also Play Cards like Uno, Poker etc. with sigma ofc

Once you two were in Sky Casino and Got Bored so You suggested to play Mafia

''But we are 3...'' Nikolai makes :( face

''Dont worry,'' You stood up from the chair And Went Outside for a bit

You forced every Single one Of Customer and Employee of Sky Casino to play Mafia with you

And they did

Y'all made A bet whoever wins Everyone Gotta buy Them Food and Drinks for free

You won

You literally ate every Single Food and drink (Except alcohol) That existed and was made And you were full for 3 days straight .

Remember The scene when Nikolai was Cosplaying policeman ? Yeah U Were there too Wearing Same Uniform Like him Going out chasing People scaring the Dogs Off

You bumped into some 500 pound Man and He yelled at u And Insulted you

You kicked him in Balls and made him collapse and You got the crowds Attention

''How many Pounds Are you?'' You asked With a closed eye Smile At the man who Trembled with wide eyes

''like 500 Pounds No?'' You laughed

''Then I'll shot u 500 times in the head.'' Your smile dropped and Looked at him with full on serious mode.

And you Did shot him 500 Times you don't know because you didn't care To count.

U earned Gasps from the crowd

''Ate 😍😍''' Nikolai Clapped

And the Police Arrived (The real ones)

bowed like they do at the end of the Theater Yeah Infront of the crowd and teleported away with Nik.

#bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #nikolai gogol #sigma bungou stray dogs

[leviathism]

hey can i request going to arcades with mammon?love him so much!!!hope u have a nice day!!!

mammon x gender neutral reader

Mammon had been getting into serious trouble lately.

The witches had been up Lucifer’s ass for the past two months after Mammon had stolen their jewelry, several items of Satan’s and Levi’s had gone missing causing chaos at every dinner since then, and to top it off: a local casino blew up. Exploded. It was all over the Devildom news, and Lucifer had crushed his mug full of coffee in his tight grip when he had seen it.

In a desperate attempt to save Mammon’s life, you promised Lucifer you’d take care of it.

So you brought him to the arcade. In your head, you could tie the threads together to relate it to a casino. It made sense to you. It was paying money with no guarantee of winning or making money back. Some arcades even had those coin pushers.

But Mammon didn’t seem to appreciate your efforts in helping him. He looked quite unimpressed as he stood at the entrance, holding his cup filled with fake gold coin’s unenthusiastically.

“This is dumb.”

“Mammon…” You watched as his gaze flickered down to the coins.

“Ya can’t even scam people with this! It’s so unrealistic!” He picked one up and crushed it easily between his thumb and pointer finger. He rolled his eyes and threw it behind him.

You frowned. “I payed real money for those coins, y’know.” Mammon frowned right back, crossing his arms over his chest. You watched as the cup tilted and almost expected him to spill coins all over the carpet.

“Ya should’ve just lemme hang over the fireplace,” he grumbled and walked past you. “It’d be better than treatin’ me like a kid.”

You sighed. “I’m not treating you like a kid. I thought this would be fun!” You walked up to him, grabbing his arm to make him look at you. “C’mon, just try one game with me and see if you like it or not.”

“This ain’t… This ain’t an alternative to gambling. There’s nothin’ gained.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” You smirked, watching him look over at you in confusion. “One, you’re literally on a date with me. Nothing’s gained?”

Mammon sputtered, shoulders jerking in shock. “That’s—That’s not what I meant, I—”

“Two, there is something to be gained.” You pointed over to the front counter, where the items were displayed. “See that teddy bear? Do you know how much money you could sell that for?”

Mammon looked over, eyes wide before he saw it was just a plain brown teddy bear. He scowled. “Stop jokin’ around.”

“I’m not!” You grabbed his shoulder and shook it. “How much is some weirdo demon freak willing to pay for a teddy bear that the human exchange student won at an arcade? Imagine if one of those human collection people find out.”

Mammon faltered long enough for you to grab his arm and lead him to Skee Ball. You slapped his shoulder. He shot you a look. “…Fine.” He made sure you could hear the reluctance in his voice but as he began to play you could see how he started to get into it.

He groaned when he missed and tightened a fist when he scored. You laughed. He just couldn’t resist.

You snapped him out of his momentum when you laughed, and he ended up missing the next ball. He looked over to you, embarrassed. He crossed his arms over his chest. “They’re not all that fun.”

“Oh yeah? Race me?” You gestured to the games in the back with the wheels.

Mammon looked over and you saw how his eyes almost sharpened. Demon things, you guessed. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders back. “…You’re so gonna lose.”

#obey me x reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x you #obey me fluff #obey me x gn!mc #obey me x gn!reader #obey me x y/n #obey me #mammon x reader #mammon fluff #mammon x you #mammon x gn reader #mammon x mc #mammon x gender neutral reader