#I have been working nearly nonstop for the last three days. I needed a break.

[ammoniteflesh]

fuckit, my pitch for how I would fix the present day segments of the Yellowjackets finale.

Keep the earliest scenes mostly unchanged except instead of going straight to the hunt idea we go to the ritual with the masks and the cards BUT whoever draws the queen just drinks the phenobarbital.

Lottie didn't actually poison any of the drinks - she's trying to find out if the Wilderness As A Force is real or just her psychosis by inducing a fake near-death experience in one of the other teammates.

Misty figures this out somehow and confronts Lottie, who explains her plan. Misty is down! She suggests that drinking not!poison won't be enough and convinces Lottie to go with the hunt plan.

In true Misty fashion, she also finds a way to non-lethally drug everyone except herself and Natalie (bc that would fuck with her sobriety!) to try and speed things along.

Van is the one to volunteer to shuffle the cards. She rigs the draw such that she draws the queen card - she's going to die in two months anyway.

When Van draws the queen, she chooses to submit. This throws Lottie and Misty - they weren't expecting anyone to choose that option! Their plan is off the rails!

Van admits to Lottie that there is still a part of her that believes and she is grateful to Lottie for letting her access that again. They get as far as putting a knife to Van's throat when Tai suddenly kicks off - except it's partially Not Tai, who has now broken into Tai's waking self.

There is a scuffle. Shauna is one of the first to turn on Lottie, to which Lottie bitterly reminds her of that time Shauna beat her to a pulp. The fake hunt swiftly turns into a very real one. Shauna, Tai/Not Tai, and Van are chasing down Lottie. Meanwhile, Misty and Nat are working together to try to put a stop to this.

Callie, Jeff, and the cops arriving happens more or less as it does in the episode, except Kevyn and Walter aren't here. Idk why and frankly I don't care enough to come up with something.

Callie and Jeff get separated. Jeff gets waylaid by Lottie's cult and winds up having a chat with Lisa while Callie wanders the woods looking for Shauna.

Callie's confrontation with shitbag cop guy happens. Except she's been hearing sounds from the hunt, so she's far more panicked. They get into an altercation. He shoots her in the leg, but she manages to steal his gun and kill him - the noise of the gunshots draws Shauna, Tai/Not Tai, Lottie, Misty, and Nat to their location.

Lottie jumps on this as an excuse to stop the hunt and save her skin: the Wilderness chose. In their drugged-up state, and out of a desire to dispose of the body, Shauna, Tai/Not Tai, Van, and Lottie cook and eat the cop's body - following the same rituals from the Wilderness.

Misty and Nat, meanwhile, attempt to get Callie away from all this. Nat out of concern for her safety and Misty out of a desire to remove her from the scene of the crime as quickly as possible. Callie is in shock and losing quite a bit of blood. In her weakened state, stumbling through the darkened woods, she makes contact with the Wilderness. Episode ends.

[midnightcreator12]

And We'll Keep Marchin On Chapter 9 - No Signal

AO3 Link

Sorry this is getting posted so late. I pretty much crashed after work this morning and slept almost all day. Enjoy.

---------------------

Donnie hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

He’d let Mikey drag him to bed in the hopes that he would either fall asleep first or get distracted long enough for Donnie to slip away.

Except, between one blink and the next, Donnie opened his eyes to see the light coming through the window had shifted dramatically and…Mikey was still on his shell.

He was passed out and snoring very loudly but he was still sprawled on top of Donnie.

…he must have fallen asleep shortly after Donnie did.

He sighed, shifting a little to see if it would dislodge Mikey.

The small movements didn’t even make him twitch.

Donnie sighed again, “Mikey, get off.”

He only got a loud snore in reply.

“You have three seconds,” Donnie warned.

More snoring and Donnie could feel Mikey's cheek rubbing against his shell as he snuggled further down.

“One…two…,” Donnie braced his arms under him and bucked.

Mikey yelped loudly as he was thrown off and Donnie did give a small wince in sympathy when he tumbled to the floor.

“Oooow, dude!” Mikey popped up over the edge of the mattress, glaring up at Donnie, “You coulda just woke me up.”

“Tried. But you sleep like the dead,” Donnie rolled out of bed, stretching his arms until all his joints gave a series of pops. “Now, if I could get back to work.”

“Seriously?” Mikey jumped up, going as far as to stand on the bed so that he could glare down at Donnie. “Dude, you’ve been going nonstop since we got here! Can’t you take a break and hang out with your favorite bro?”

Donnie patted his belt until he found his T-phone to check the time, “Considering you’ve been holding me captive for about five hours, I think that’s more than enough of a break.”

“No it’s not!”

Donnie huffed, shaking his head.

He didn’t know why Mikey was pushing this, he usually didn’t really care how long Donnie spent cooped up in the lab. Oh, he would come pester Donnie a lot but it was usually in efforts to slate boredom, not concern over how long he’d been awake.

Then again, everyone had been off ever since they left the city. But he could dwell on that later. For now, he’d lost enough time to his forced nap.

So he spun around before Mikey could pull out the puppy eyes and opened the door-

And nearly jumped out of his shell when he was greeted by a shrill beep from Scrap.

Raven was standing in the hall, Scrap skittering in circles around her feet, but she straightened when the door opened, hands folding behind her back, “Good rest?”

“The heck are you doing?”

“Dude!” Mikey scrabbled from the bedroom, shoving himself under Donnie's arm. “Aw man, I’m sorry, I completely forgot! I promise I didn’t mean to but Donnie was going all mad scientist on me and he realllly needed a nap-”

“I did not,” Donnie argued back. “And again I ask, why are you hovering in the hallway?”

“She needed help doing something with my phone!” Mikey explained loudly. “Something about range? Or was it with the TV dish? Uhhh, what did you need again?”

Raven snorted, reaching to ruffle Mikey’s mask tails before turning back to Donnie, “I’m hoping to establish a direct line of communication with the Paragon via your communication devices. That way Rook can give us a more accurate ETA and we can probably consult with Crow on Leonardo’s condition.”

Donnie frowned, eyes narrowing at Raven.

He hadn’t changed his stance. Like he told Mikey, they didn’t need to be bringing in more unknown factors in the already tumultuous situation. There were already so many things that had been completely derailed over the last two weeks, bringing in a bunch of unknown individuals could make things spiral more out of control.

Mikey finally managed to squirm his way into the hall so he could turn big, baby-blue eyes up at Donnie, “Come on dude, if we can talk to them, you can get to know Crow before he gets here to help Leo!”

…huh, Mikey made a good point there.

If they established a solid line of communication he could gather intel about this battalion before they arrived. It would mitigate some of the unknown factors…

Unless it didn’t and the person or persons just spun stories to placate him and lull him into a false sense of security, thus compromising their location again-

A loud snap broke Donnie's thoughts. Said snap had come from Raven’s fingers and she was frowning at Donnie, “Do you need more sleep there?”

“No, what? That isn’t…” Donnie paused. “That’s none of your business.”

“He totally does,” Mikey ‘whispered’ in that raspy tone that was not at all lowered from his usual volume.

“I’m fine!” Donnie snapped, barely resisting the urge to stomp his foot to emphasize his statement. “Now if you’ll both excuse me! I have work to do.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” Mikey lunged forward, hanging around Donnie’s midsection. “You gotta help Ray-Ray!”

Donnie sighed, pinching the bridge of his beak, “Mikey-”

“If I could interject,” Raven stepped over, tapping Mikey’s shell until he released Donnie. “You don’t trust me, that is fairly obvious. But if it gives you any comfort, Crow is very adept at giving field medical attention.”

“And that’s supposed to comfort me because-?”

“Because he can come down in a LAAT by himself, fix Leo up, give you what you need for post-op care and we’ll both be outta here. I’ll even get you a comm tuned into the Paragon in case something happens.”

Donnie frowned, crossing his arms, “I don’t care how good your doctor guy is, there is no way he could perform the type of surgery Leo needs in a North Hampton farmhouse.”

“Full disclosure, I’m not the medic, but I’ve been on cover duty with Crow enough to know a few bacta injections around the broken areas will be more than enough.”

Donnie’s spine went tense, “Bacta?”

“It’s a common gel-fluid. We use it for basically everything. I mean….Crow might want to do the tank but the injections work in a pinch.”

“See?” Mikey grinned. “They have magic medicine already!”

Donnie let out a low huff, gearing up to give a retort.

Only for the door next to him to open and Raph’s head to pop into the hall, glaring at the three of them.

Donnie froze because they had been arguing right in front of Leo’s room. He’d completely forgotten how squished together the rooms were here. Damnit, what if they’d agitated Leo…only, no, if they had Raph wouldn’t be at the door, unless he couldn’t calm Leo down. Why did he keep messing things up-

“Donnie,” Raph grumbled, voice thick in a way that only sleeping could bring on. “Help her send the stupid text.”

And then the door shut again. Likey would have been slammed in any other situation.

And Donnie was left gapping at the weathered wood.

“Big bro said you have to,” Mikey sounded far, far too smug.

Donnie wanted to snap back, even turned to do so while glaring at Mikey.

Only for him to grin and slip around Donnie, “Okay, you two have fun, I gotta make dinner!” And skip the stairs via vaulting over the banister.

Which left Donnie alone with Raven. And Scrap.

The bot trilled from his perch on Raven’s shoulder, antenna swiveling up and down. Raven watched Donnie, face not betraying anything.

She would probably tattle to Raph if Donnie didn’t help. And if she didn’t, Mikey definitely would.

He sighed, feeling the start of a headache behind his temples, “What, exactly, is it you want from me?”

Raven grinned, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out-

“The heck did you do to Mikey’s T-Phone?”

The device had been pried open, a piece of twine had been wound around it to keep the panel forced in place along with a long pair of wires that Donnie knew he hadn’t put there.

Raven at least had the decency to look sheepish about it, “Well….I don’t really have any other communication device available to me. I was hoping to use Mikey’s to establish direct contact but…hardware isn’t my specialty. I’ve always been more of a slicer.”

“Right, which explains why you sliced up one of my T-Phones.”

Raven frowned, “That’s not…look, I can put it back together when we’re done but I was hoping to use the signal from Scrap’s beacon to get a message to the Paragon. Maybe even a call if we’re lucky.”

“Sounds like you have it figured out,” Donnie huffed, turning and making his way down the stairs. “What do you need me for?”

Raven’s footsteps followed behind him, “I have the idea figured out, but I’d appreciate some help with the execution-”

“Why? Can’t you figure it out with your genetically enhanced brain?”

“No, that’s why I’m asking for your help?” Raven picked up her pace when they hit the ground floor so that she was walking next to Donnie. “Normally I’d ask Jackdaw or Commander Verd but…well, obviously they aren’t available.”

Donnie groaned through his teeth as he pulled ahead again to step outside, “What is with all the bird names?”

“Excuse me?”

He stopped on the lawn, turning and crossing his arms, “Crow, Magpie, Jackdaw, Raven? You’re all named after birds. What, did the Kamino-nans have a thing for birds?”

“Kamanonian,” Raven corrected. “And, no, actually. According to them I’m CT-five-eight-three-one.”

That made Donnie pause, “....what?”

“In the Kamino system, I am CT-five-eight-three-one,” Raven repeated. “But they can’t really stop us from naming ourselves or each other. Helped the Generals too…I think most of ‘em were uncomfortable calling us by numbers.”

“Wha-, okay, but-,” Donnie cleared his throat. “But birds?”

“General Ader likes birds.”

“...you all named yourself after birds…. because your boss likes birds.”

“Not all of us,” Raven huffed. “Just…a lot of us…we thought it would be a nice gesture.”

Donnie frowned harder, mind still stuck on the whole ‘my creators didn’t give me a name’ part of the conversation. He couldn’t really wrap his head around it. He named every invention he made, some very literally but he still named them, and those things were mostly inanimate objects. These Kaminonans created entire people and hadn’t bothered to name them?

Raven frowned up at him, then tipped her towards the house, “Sooo, are you going to help me or-?”

Right, “Well, since I’ve apparently been ordered to.”

“I mean, if you say no I can keep jabbing at it solo.”

Donnie scoffed as he started moving again, “You’ll break something…you’ve already broken the phone.”

“I can fix the phone,” Raven argued. 

Donnie rolled his eyes when they reached a ladder that had been dragged down from the hayloft and started to climb, “What were you trying to do anyway? Gut the whole thing?”

“While hardware isn’t my main focus,” Raven grunted as she climbed up after him. “I know a bit. I was trying to link it with the distress beacon, piggyback off the signal. But I’ve…not had much luck with th-”

Something thwacking on the ladder interrupted Raven.

Donnie’s head jerked down, searching for whatever had hit.

He spied a black hockey puck falling the the ground.

“Casey,” he muttered, scanning the yard for said human.

He spied him, a pretty good distance away, standing in the middle of the driveway and casually dropping another puck and lining up a second shot.

“What the he-,” Donnie yipped when the ladder suddenly shook, glancing down again to see Raven had jumped off. He watched, wide-eyed, when she landed in a roll, arm reeling back. Donnie just had enough time to see the puck in her hand before it was sailing back towards Casey and cracked loudly against his hockey stick.

The sudden retaliation clearly surprised Casey as well, because he yelped and stumbled back, tripping over his own feet before losing his battle for balance within a few seconds.

Donnie hissed in sympathy.

Raven stood back up and Donnie couldn’t see her face from up on the ladder but her body language screamed ‘very upset’ as she started walking towards Casey.

Curious, Donnie slid down the ladder and trailed after her.

Raven had adopted her ‘soldier persona’ again, as Donnie had mentally dubbed it. Her entire body went stiff, shoulders rolling back, jaw held up and tense. It was kind of weird, seeing someone that was a year younger than Casey loom over him, a foot tall bot warbling angrily on her shoulder.

“If you have an issue, I’d rather you tell me what it is Jones,” she snapped out.

Casey growled, scrabbling to his feet, “My ‘issue’ is that you’re here in the first place.” He tried to jab his stick at Raven’s chest but she batted it away.

Scrap warbled louder, looking a bit like an agitated bird as he shifted from foot to foot.

Raven moved a hand up to still him as she replied, “Well, I’m stuck here until someone from the two-forty-fourth shows up-”

“We don’t need help from some rando army of super soldiers,” Casey interrupted. “We were all just fine with no help from you or any other space weirdos.”

“If I had a choice I wouldn’t have ended up here,” Raven ground out. “But I’m here now and your commander has asked for my help-”

“Oooo, commander,” Casey mocked. “Raph’s throwing around some swanky title now? You talk him into that?”

“I don’t talk anyone into anything. I just advise.”

“Right, ‘cause you’re just a bunch of stuff some aliens threw in a test tube, right?”

Donnie winced at that. As much as he was with Casey in not bringing more strangers to the farmhouse he didn’t…really like all the jabs about Raven being made in a lab.

Raven didn’t seem phased by the comment. In fact, much to Donnie’s surprise, she grinned, “Stuff in a test tube? That’s all you got?”

The smile threw Casey off as well, because he stuttered over his words.

Raven steamrolled over him, “Buckethead, meat-droid, Republic dog, boy in white, carbon print, cheap knock-off, false Mando, tank bred, ara’gotenir, mindless mastiff, toy soldier. There isn’t a thing you can throw that I haven’t heard a thousand times over.”

Okay, Donnie…had not expected that.

Casey gapped for another moment, eyes wide, then finally seemed to find his voice, “You said your general fights Kraang, right?”

Raven hummed.

“So where. Have. You. Been?” Casey growled, getting right into Raven’s face. “Hm? If you're supposed to be fighting the Kraang, why aren’t you here at Kraang central? Why didn’t your general and your army buddies stop this entire invasion, huh?”

Now Raven drew back, barely at all but Donnie saw some of the anger suddenly leave her at Casey’s question, “I…I don’t know.”

Casey let out a small huff of a laugh, “You don’t know? My dad and sister are trapped in ground zero, one of my best friends is basically checked out and you don’t know why your super cool general didn’t bother taking a look down here? What, she too good for us?”

“No,” Raven snapped. “General Ader wouldn’t have just left your world at the mercy of the Kraang if she knew. We…we didn’t even know about this planet.”

Casey scoffed, “Sure, you didn’t know about it. Or maybe you just didn’t care until you needed somethin’ from us.” Casey jabbed a finger into her shoulder. “So you can drop that whole savior act ‘casue I’m not buyin’ it.”

He didn’t give time for Raven to reply, spinning on his heel and marching towards the barn, leaving Raven and Donnie to watch him from the driveway.

Raven heaved a massive sigh, shoulders slumping.

Donnie cautiously moved to stand next to her, “You didn’t know about Earth?”

“No,” Raven rubbed between her brows. “And based on what Mikey’s been telling me? We really should have. The Kraang seem to have a special interest here.”

“Oh, that’s probably because they technically created Earth.”

Raven paused, hand falling so she could give Donnie a look, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Well, the details are still lost on me but from what I’ve managed to piece together, Earth was supposed to be a second Dimension X for them. Probably to help grow their army.” And April was somehow very involved in that process but he decided against mentioning that.

Raven’s confusion only seemed to get worse at the explanation. Even Scrap was tilting his head like a baffled puppy.

“I…I need General Ader down here now,” Raven muttered, starting a brisk walk back to the ladder. “If they’ve been trying to build their own colonies she needs to know about it. And soon before they perfect the process.”

“Oh, okay,” Donnie jogged after her. “Uh, we don’t know if this is common.”

“They’re trying it once, they’ll try again,” Raven all but vaulted herself up to the roof. “And like Casey said, we should have been here to make sure the invasion never happened.”

Donnie hummed.

He didn’t…fully agree on that but…he wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t want a bunch of strangers to show up on the preverdiable doorstep but…he was curious how Earth had never come up with this general who was avid in fighting the Kraang.

So he didn’t say anything yet. Instead, he went to the jury-rigged contraption that had been tied to the house’s satellite dish. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but…a tiny silver stick-like device tied to the dish via more twine and with a few wires linking it to the dish’s internals wasn’t quite it. It looked messy, like something he’d turn out of his lab but with a little less rust. Well, and the child-sized raincoat being kept on the roof with a rock.

“What’s with the coat?”

“For when we’re done,” Raven explained as she settled down and pulled out Mikey’s T-Phone. “To cover all the exposed wiring and protect it from snow.”

“Your tech isn’t waterproof?”

“Mine is,” she tapped the stem of the dish. “I don’t know how much your tech is.”

“Right,” Another thing to keep an eye on then.

Donnie carefully looked over what had already been done. It seemed like Raven had hot-wired her signal into the conversion wire for the satellite, thus adding it to the signal that came to and from the TV.

Donnie held out a hand for Mikey's phone…then paused when he looked to the beacon again, trying to puzzle out the best way to hook into the signal.

Raven slowly reached towards it, tapping the side that had been opened up to let her improvised wiring in, “You should be able to just hook that up here.”

“Won’t that mess with the signal it’s already sending?”

“Shouldn’t,” Raven replied. “And when I did it earlier, Scrap confirmed that the signal was still broadcasting.”

Said bot beeped in agreement.

Donnie hummed to himself, carefully attaching the wires where Raven had pointed and turning on the phone.

While he knew no one else used it, Donnie had programmed all the phones to trace certain signals. Mostly ones related to police scanners and Kraang communications but adjusting the parameters was easy enough, especially when he was sitting right next to the source.

He waited a few moments after adjusting before opening a new text chain and sending off a quick message.

‘Hello, this is Lt. Raven’

If the Paragon was able to receive text messages, it should go through and they should hear back relatively quickly.

But a minute ticked by in silence. Then two.

And only Donnie’s message sat on the screen.

Frowning, he rechecked the signal parameters and sent a ‘hello’.

Once again, nothing.

Raven’s leg was starting to bounce against the roof tiles, fingers tapping an erratic rhythm on her other leg as she watched Donnie give up on texts and just make a call.

There wasn’t even a ring, just a series of beeps that Donnie recognized as meaning ‘no signal’.

“Our tech may not be compatible,” he muttered to himself. “Or the T-Phone isn’t powerful enough to make contact.”

Raven sighed, rubbing a hand down her face, “Damnit, was hoping to get an ETA.”

Donnie hummed and disconnected the extra wires from the phone, flipping it over so he could put everything back in its proper place, “Seems like.”

He knew Raven’s team was coming, whether he liked it or not. But it also seemed like they had no way to predict when they would show up.

Heck, they couldn’t even really predict if the beacon was even reaching its destination and not just firing signals into the void.

It only added to the unease itching under Donnie’s shell.

[ejzah]

Can you do a fanfiction about the Densi are on protection detail for a high profile man, but he starts putting the moves on Kensi and maybe tries to take it a step too far, but Deeks comes to her Defense.

A/N: This on took a bit of work since I don’t think Kensi typically needs much defending.

***

Just In Time

“Agent Blye, did I mention I have a villa in Acapulco?”

“You did.”

“You should visit sometime. The weather’s beautiful and the food’s out of this world.”

“I don’t get a lot of time off.”

“Well, maybe you can make an exception. For me.”

Deeks rolled his eyes, tuning out Kensi’s reply. Damian Whitehead had been hitting on Kensi pretty much nonstop since they’d taken custody of him four days ago. Formerly a high priced thief, Damian now was waiting to give testimony against several of his wealthy clients. In the meantime, he, Kensi, and Deeks were holed up in a hotel suite (part of Damian’s requirements) until he was called to testify in three days.

The FBI was originally supposed to provide protection, but then asked NCIS to step in last minute. Deeks understood why approximately five minutes after meeting Damian. The man was more conceited and annoying than just about anyone Deeks had ever encountered. Oh, he could be charming, but he assumed the world revolves around him.

Figuring Kensi could use a break, Deeks popped his head into the small sitting room where Damian insisted on spending the majority of his time. Since Damian seemed less demanding in her presence, Kensi had taken on the role of his primary guard.

“Hey, how you guys doing?” Deeks asked, catching Kensi’s eyes. She looked relieved by the intrusion.

“Fantastic,” Damian answered, flashing Kensi a flirty smirk. He was sprawled out on an overstuffed chair, designer suit jacket carelessly tossed on the ground. With his perfectly styled black hair and too white teeth, he looked ready for a GQ shoot.

“Sweet. You know, I was thinking you might be getting a little antsy in here, Damian. You want to visit the gym? It should be pretty empty right now.”

“Actually, I’m a little hungry. Are you hungry, Agent Blye?” Damian asked considerately.

“Eh, I can always eat,” Kensi said with a shrug.

“Wonderful. There’s a French restaurant about 20 minutes from here—”

“Yeah, I’m afraid the governments not going to spring for that,” Deeks interrupted dryly. “Your choices are still Chipotle, pizza, or Subway.”

“Ah, it was worth a try. Then what will it be, my dear?” He turned to Kensi expectantly.

“Yeah, we’re definitely having Mexican,” Deeks predicted, grinning when Kensi briefly glared at him.

“Hush.”

“So you want your usual?”

“Yes, please. With extra guacamole,” Kensi requested. Deeks then turned to Damian, who inclined his head towards Kensi.

“I’ll have what the agent’s having.” Somehow he managed to make the simple statement sound slightly dirty. Apparently Damian wasn’t nearly as savvy as he thought, if he hadn’t picked up that Deeks and Kensi were together by now. Or maybe he simply didn’t care.

“Alrighty then, I’ll be back soon,” Deeks said, noticing that Damian only had eyes for Kensi as Deeks walked out the door.

***

Deeks got back to the hotel about 30 minutes later, a bag of burritos, chips, and drinks in one arm. The sitting room was unexpectedly empty when he walked in, but he heard the murmur of voices coming from the direction of the bedrooms.

As he started unpacking the food, Kensi’s voice rose sharply.

“Mr. Whitehead, you need to move back,” she said firmly, her tone dangerous. Deeks knew that voice. He was across the room without even thinking, reaching for the doorknob as Damian replied more quietly.

“Kensi, I can do things for you that can’t even imagine. Clothes, food, cars. I can give you anything you want.”

“This is your last warning: let me go,” Kensi all but growled.

Deeks smacked the door open, his nostrils flaring as he took in the site before him. Damian had Kensi backed up against the dresser, one hand braced on the surface as the other cupped her jaw. Kensi glared back at him, her hand drawn back in a fist.

“I suggest you listen to her,” Deeks drawled, casually leaning in the doorway. Damian, , but covered it well, not stepping back. “Cause you’re two seconds away from needing a full-body cast.”

“This doesn’t concern you,” Damian said pompously, though after a second look at Kensi, he eased back slightly. Kensi pushed him back, fury and disgust in her eyes.

Damian gave her a look of surprise, then turned to Deeks with a look of disdain.

“I knew you were jealous, Deeks, but I didn’t realize you’d stoop this low. When are you going to face the truth that you’re just not good enough for her?”

“First of all, you’re a pompous idiot. Secondly, the truth is we’re married, and I would never be jealous of someone like you.” Damian’s eyes widened almost comically at Deeks’ revelation, gaze flitting back and forth like he couldn’t believe it.

“You two are married?”

“Yep.”

“Third, if you ever even think of laying a hand on me again, I will break your jaw. Or maybe your arm,” Kensi added, moving to stand next to Deeks. Wordlessly, they took each other’s hand.

“And I won’t stop her,” Deeks promised darkly.

“You can’t threaten me,” Damian protested, trying to laugh it off even as fear entered his eyes. It might have had something to do with the way Kensi was still glaring at him while casually clenching her fingers.

“No, but I can defend myself.” Kensi gave him a pleasant smile that would have freaked Deeks out if it was directed his way. “You can still testify with a broken arm.”

Damian swallowed visibly, fear evident in his eyes. Straightening his jacket, he muttered something under his breath, and shoved past them, sending Kensi a last glare before he swept.

“Well, I guess you lost a fan,” Deeks commented. He glanced down at Kensi. “Are you ok?”

“Of course,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “But thank you for stepping in because it probably would cause a lot of paperwork if I beat up our witness.”

“Mm, well there’s still time,” Deeks commented darkly.

“Fortunately, I don’t think he’ll be trying anything else.” Kensi patted his back. “C’mon, we’ve got three more days to make this guy absolutely miserable.

***

A/N: Not sure about the ending. I think Damian deserves worse than he got. I hope he doesn’t seem too over-the-top.

Thanks for the prompt!

[renewherself]

A Silly Sign from the Universe

I've been having a bad year. I quit my job in 2022. It was a dead-end job with long work hours, shit pay, and nonstop stressful assignments with constantly changing goalposts. But it was still more or less a stable source of income. I spent all of 2023 trying to find a new job and failing. I've seen so many headlines about writers being laid off. The percentage of job listings for writer positions that are for writing AI content keeps going up. I only have enough money in my bank account to pay for half a year more of living expenses. I wasn't able to renew my health insurance for 2024. Productivity is difficult when I have to fight everyday against the debilitating effects of untreated depression. I'm constantly on edge, not knowing when my flatmate will get sick of me invading her apartment and kick me out. I feel like I lost a month working on a friend's academic project that can't even make the claim that it'll pay me in exposure. My flatmate tested positive for COVID last week and I've been holed up in this room to avoid being infected by her if I'm not already and to avoid infecting others if I already have been. Neighborhood friends dropped by today to drop off food from a New Year's Eve brunch and to wave at me from a safe distance while I collected the bag and I nearly burst into tears because it was a precaution I would have taken myself if they hadn't, but the experience of seeing them so put-together and happy from afar was too much for me and made me feel even more isolated and alone.

Earlier today, I thought to myself sourly that when midnight rolled around, I would likely be stuck doing exactly what I had been doing this entire last week, this last year: scrolling through job ads and wrestling with code someone else had broken and expected me to fix for no compensation. And that would be how my new year started, colouring the rest of the year to come.

I finished coding early. I finished scrolling through job ads early. I booted up critically-acclaimed MMO Final Fantasy XIV to do my chores a.k.a. try to level Monk up to 70. I had had a large mimosa, the ingredients for which had been in the care package from earlier in the day. I was very tipsy and worn-out and couldn't bring myself to even care about trying to do my rotation correctly. I go through the daily roulettes. Lost City of Ampador (Hard) for the level 50/60/etc roulette. Nice. Shisui of the Violet Tides for the Leveling roulette. Nice. Labyrinth of the Ancients for the Alliance Raid roulette. Well, at least it's not Syrcus Tower. Trial roulette. The queue pops instantly and it's an ongoing duty. I blink. Enter and it's The Chrysalis. Three DPS and a healer. No tanks. Ah.

I stay. It turns out on the last attempt someone disconnected right before the part where you're supposed to use a Limit Break to burst down an add before the party wipes to meteors, leaving the party without a Limit Break. A healer joins. Then a tank. I wonder aloud whether the queue would send me back to this instance were I to leave and requeue as a tank. The Samurai in the party says they'll give it a try. They leave. A different DPS and a tank immediately join. RIP Samurai. Your sacrifice was unnecessary but appreciated.

The trial proceeds uneventfully until the boss is down to about 15% health. One of the other DPS members starts casting the Limit Break, presumably not realising we were going to need it shortly for that one add. The Red Mage and one of the tanks scream in horror. Then, miraculously, the would-be Limit Breaker and herald of our wipe actually reads chat and cancels the cast in time. A collective sigh of relief is heard. We get sucked into the vortex, the add spawns, I get to use the Limit Break on it and punch it into oblivion.

The duty concludes. A round of GGs is had, I wish everyone Happy New Year, and then I exit the duty and realise it is indeed the new year, the clock having ticked over roughly some time while we were panicking about a possible wipe. Someone has said the word "fullerene" in the group chat and summoned me from the void. I unleash my unholy wrath upon them and they bid me return to the vessel from whence I came, whether it be a lamp or a bottle. I respond, in part as a morbid joke I expected only myself to be in on, that I would return to the uterus. They say no, you can't do that, and I am flummoxed by the uncharacteristic abruptness. I wonder if my clandestine moment of dark humour had been caught.

A few minutes later, I remember the name of the trial I had been in and revive the earlier conversation to joke that that way the vessel I had been in and to which I would now return. I pause as a memory stirs. A post had come out of my Tumblr queue two days ago. Something about a chrysalis. It talked about how it is a long painful process, the process of healing. How the caterpillar tucks itself into a cocoon when it finally feels safe enough to do so and must first dissolve into a disgusting slurry in order to metamorphose into what it was meant to be.

I start crying.

[blackbird-brewster]

Okay since everyone wants a full account of the night I met Doom Them -- here we go. Strap in, this one is so wild. I'm changing everyone's names, obviously.

To set the scene, it's September 2017. It's only been three months since the worst trauma in my whole life occurred. I am A Wreck. I'd gone back to nonstop drinking to try and cope. (Not the answer, but all I had at the time).

My flatmate, let's call her Lisa, just got back from a three week trip to the US. She decides to have some people over at our flat to celebrate. I pre-game before people get there, so I'm fairly smashed before I even meet anyone.

One guest is Doom Them, who knew Lisa back when they were teens but they lived in separate places throughout their 20s and Doom Them had only just moved back to our town. Lisa thought me and Doom Them would get along (she was right, considering Doom Them and I have been together nearly seven years now 😍)

The other two main guests are M (a very newly out trans woman) and her gf of five years, Carly. Now, it needs to be noted that Carly is straight, her partner just came out as a trans woman and that's causing some obvious questions between them in terms of their sexualities.

There were a couple of other friends who popped by for a drink through the evening, but I think the vibe was SO uncomfortable, people didn't stay long. Which was very valid tbrh.

Did I mention I'm Drunk? Like Drunk to the point my ADHD is making me do what was essentially a one-act-play reenacting the recent traumatic events in my life. I'm telling these three strangers my entire life story in the middle of our tiny flat's living room. (To this day, Doom Them teases me for that night bc they saw me being So Much and apparently sat in the corner going 'What is wrong with this Leo?' -- I am NOT a Leo. lmaoooooooo)

Doom Them finally cuts and runs, understandably. This leaves, me, Lisa, and this couple with their Ongoing Problems. M gets upset about something and goes to Lisa's room, who follows after her to go talk to her.

Now, it's just me and Carly in the living room. We have the lights off, the fireplace is filling the room with warmth and light. I'm Very drunk, but this woman only had like 2 drinks max. We are sharing our life stories to each other and she tells me she's worried about her relationship with M, because if M is a woman, does that now make Carly a lesbian? As someone who has identified as every letter in the alphabet soup through my many years, I'm end up having to explain Queer 101 to this woman.

We also talked a lot about astrology and I, being the nosey person I am, asked for her chart details so I could have a glance. I give her my first thoughts as I looked it over and she LEGIT meets my eyes with a soft smile and says "No one's ever seen me the way you do...." Honestly, she had probably been hitting on me before that point, but I am slow on the uptake when sober, doubly so when drunk. But that moment was directly ripped out of fanfic, so I finally recognise it, and the way she's looking at me starts throwing up Red Flags. I was like 'Hm, okay. Maybe it's time for me to go to bed.'

Carly abruptly says, "I'm going to break up with M."

I'm like, "Okay????????? Not my business. I should really be going to bed I have work tomorrow."

So I go knock on Lisa's door, where she and M have been hiding for probably 2 hours now. I tell Lisa I need to get to bed and I'm giving her the widest 'HELP ME' eyes I can muster.

I go to get ready for bed, M comes out to talk to Carly -- THEY ACTUALLY BREAK UP. Five years they've been together and they break up at 2am in my living room. I come out of the bathroom to find Carly sitting on my bed.

"I broke up with her. But I'm pretty sure I'm a lesbian and I think I'm falling for you," she says.

I am like mentally screaming. My life was ALREADY a shit show at that point I was trying to keep my job, trying to heal after The Trauma, and I was kinda half-dating this other girl I worked with. The LAST thing I need is some woman who met me TONIGHT being like 'I love you even though we just met and also you made me a lesbian'

Because M and Carly didn't drive to ours (I think they took an Uber or something), Lisa decides they should stay the night. (Thanks bitch 💀) And considering we only have two beds and we don't even have a couch, there's not many options for how that would play out.

Carly ends up sharing my bed, she's like cuddling me and holding my hands and asking if she can kiss me. I AT LEAST have the wherewithal to be like 'No, absolutely not a good idea right now.'

I am LEGIT trying to sleep because I have to work in like four hours at that point. I'm basically PLaying Possum, laying very still with my back turned and eyes squeezed shut just PRAYING I'll fall asleep. All the while, NONSTOP she's cuddling around me and whispering how much she likes me and how she's never felt like this before and how she's falling in love with me and wants to be with me --

IN MY OWN BED. WHERE I CANNOT ESCAPE HER. One of the longest nights in my entire life.

When I wake up after my 2 hours of sleep, I am SO happy to find I'm alone. There's a note on my dresser, on top of the paper is Carly's ring. A ring she'd showed me the night before and said she's never taken it off in 12 years since her sister (who I think had died) gave it to her. Yet, there it is on my dresser.

The note was the same things she'd kept me up all night with. "Never met someone like you. I think I love you. I want to be with you" sort of stuff.

I don't have time to dwell on this, because I had to go open the store. Lisa was already gone when I got up too because she worked at like 6am, so I never saw her in the mornings.

I'm at work that day and Carly texts me (I apparently gave her my number in my drunken wisdom):

She says (and this is direct bc I just dug through old messages for this authenticity): "Came out to a coworker via Facebook and my mom in person. Honestly, thought she'd kick me out. M is moving out today. Just wanted you to know. I think you'll make an amazing (misgendered term related to The Trauma) and I want to be with you but to take it slow. You in?"

I IGNORE the text for a multitude of reasons. So a couple of hours later SHE FINDS ME ON INSTA and starts DM'ing me there too. She tells me that what happened with us the night before was totally fine, because as it turns out, M tried to sleep with Lisa too. So it was basically fine for Carly to go after me cause her gf tried to cheat on her at the same time! (WTAF)

I again, ignore these messages. That night I get:

"here if you need to talk. I don't want to be anyone's therapist but I think we connected the other night. also I think I could be hypomanic right now or maybe I've just been abused. No pressure as to whether you reply. We don't really know each other. Sorry if I pushed the boundaries last night."

She ended up getting help for her mental health and when she got out of hospital, she text me to apologise. I returned her ring.

We never saw each other again.

Seven years ago, a hot goth walked into my flat for a small get together my flatmate was having. The other guests present that evening were a couple who had been together 5 years at the time.

That fateful night saw that couple break up, because one of the women decided (after only four hours of knowing me) she was in love with me instead of her gf. That was the most wild and uncomfortable social gathering I had ever been involved in, which is really saying something if you know any stories of me in my 20s.

Anyway, all of that is beside the point. Because although the sapphic drama was buckwild, I cannot even remember the name of the woman who professed her love to me.

What I CAN remember is the hot goth, who mostly watched in silent horror as the night unfolded, and yet still decided to be friends with me afterwards. And to this day, they're still my best friend, but around here they're known as Doom Them, my partner and love of my life.

It took a whole load of courage to keep hanging out with me after THAT party was your intro into my wild life. I'm so glad you did. You're my everything, baby. 🥰😌

Happy seven years of knowing each other 😍

[jamesbuchananxsteviegrant]

I Pick the TV Show, Rogers Shuts His Cake-Hole | Bucky x Steve x Reader (Angst, Fluff)

Category: Angst, Fluff (Suggested) Age: 14+ Trigger Warnings: none, other than the standard explicit language Ship: Bucky x Steve x Reader Summary: Steve Snaps At Reader When He’s Stressed, Resulting In Her Being Very Upset Request: "can u write where steve/bucky is overwhelmed with something and when reader asks to help or is telling them to relax they snap at reader and reader is hurt which makes them feel really bad afterwards. thank you sm. i love ur writings. and this is anon right? is it alright if u dont post my response if its not anon? im sorry. thank you so much. ur blog always pictures great stucky imagines. 💗💗💗" Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 2,488

---

A given, the super-soldier had been on nonstop missions for the last month or so, but she thought she was helping him feel better, not making him feel worse.

“Would you like anything to eat, Stevie? You’ve barely moved all day.” (Y/N)’s voice is small. Quiet.

She’s leaning through the door of his study where he’s sat putting together his mission reports from the last three or four missions he’s been out on.

He shakes his head but doesn’t even turn to look at her.

Sighing, the woman walks further into the room where her boyfriend is slouched over the desk.

“You gotta take a break, Stevie.” She whispers, resting her hands on his shoulders.

She notices the way they tense up, but he still remains silent.

His fingers continue to write up his report on the laptop.

“I’m worried about you, Stevie; talk to me.”

“I’m busy, (Y/N).”

“I know you are, baby, but you’ve gotta look after yourself too.” She attempts, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. He pulls away.

The woman furrows her brows.

“Steve, please, you’ve got to-”

“(Y/N), just stop!”

The shout is sudden and it makes her flinch back away from the man as he turns to face her.

“I’m fine, alright?! I don’t need you babying me all the time!”

She doesn’t respond for a second, surprised at her lover’s outburst.

He says nothing more, simply turns back to the laptop and continues typing away.

“Steve, look how stressed you are. Can you please just-”

“STOP! Okay?! Just stop! Leave me the fuck alone while I finish these neverending mission reports. For once in your life can you just understand that not everything is about you?!”

(Y/N) swears that being shot in the heart wouldn’t hurt half as much as the words that just came out of the man’s mouth.

Her mouth opens and closes as if searching for the right words to say, but that hurt.

Is she really that bad? Is that the truth behind all of this? That she’s clingy? Thinks everything is about her? That was never her intention. (Y/N) is well aware of how important being an Avenger is. Hell, she is an Avenger, for Christ’s sakes.

She says nothing more and leaves the room.

She can’t even decide if she feels sad. No. She’s not sad, she’s not angry, she’s not… anything.

Numb.

Naturally, her feet lead her to their room. Steve’s room. They all basically share the super soldier’s abode since they all got together, but right now she doesn’t dare open the door.

Doing a full one-eighty spin, (Y/N) takes herself back to a place she barely touches anymore. Her room.

It’s pretty empty. Most of her clothes are in Steve’s room, in her own walk-in wardrobe. Her bed is perfectly made from the last time she slept in here - maybe a year ago?

The woman walks around her bed and straight onto her bedroom balcony, overlooking the lake at the back of the compound, and stays there. For three-hours. Until Bucky comes looking for her.

He came home from his mission about thirty-minutes ago only to find their shared room of Steve’s empty. He searched just about everywhere, completely clueless.

“FRIDAY, where’s (Y/N) and Steve?” He finally gives in.

“Captain Rogers is in study five, and Agent (L/N) is in her private quarters.”

Now that makes the brunet furrow his brows.

Why would (Y/N) be in her room and not his or Steve’s?

He prioritises finding (Y/N) first, knowing Steve will be writing up mission reports, no doubt.

Despite them being together for over six-years now, he hesitates when reaching for the handle of her bedroom door. Instead, the man opts to knock.

No answer.

“(Y/N)?” Nothing. “Doll, it’s me; can I come in?” Nothing.

Bucky tries the door handle and finds it unlocked, yet still hesitates.

“Baby?” He calls out. Again, nothing.

He’s cautious now. Scared.

Her room looks as untouched as the last time he saw it, which was a few months back when she was after one of her plushies.

“(Y/N)?”

It’s when he feels the chill of the midnight winds ruffle his hair that he realises her balcony doors aren’t fully closed.

Striding straight over, his eyes widen at the sight of his girlfriend curled up in the corner of the outdoor area, crying.

“(Y/N), baby, hey, what’s wrong?!”

Bucky immediately drops to his knees in front of the woman, reaching for her hands and gently tugging them away from her tear-stained face.

“(Y/N), doll, look at me.” His voice is gentle. Soothing.

She does almost instantly but her sadness stays.

“What happened, baby? Are you hurt?”

The fear and sincerity in his voice is enough to prompt the woman to shake her head. Yes, she’s hurting emotionally, but he needs confirmation that she’s not dying.

The woman immediately sees the relief take over his features, but he’s still concerned.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

Her eyes stray away from his, not wanting to tell him what’s got her so upset.

“Hey, no, look at me, baby,” He whispers, hand lightly grasping at her chin to raise her face back up to his. “What’s got you so worked up, (Y/N)?”

Another shake of her head as she tries to escape her lover’s hold.

“Baby, please, you’re scaring me.”

Her face contorts into something close to heartbreak as she wants nothing more than to reassure the man in front of her.

“It’s okay, Buck.”

“It’s not okay! Doll, I haven’t seen you cry since Stevie nearly died on that mission in Ohio like two-years-ago! Talk to me.”

She takes a deep breath and wipes her face of the shedding tears.

“Do you want me to get Stevie?”

The question is innocent and makes sense, but her eyes widen and she shakes her head desperately.

“No! No, please, no.”

That truly makes the super soldier concerned.

“Doll, please can you tell me what’s happened?”

Never in the last eight-years that Bucky and (Y/N) have known each other has she been so reluctant to see Steve.

Another sob escapes her and it’s breaking his heart.

“Baby, please.”

“Steve got mad at me, alright?!” She manages an attempted shout. “I just wanted him to look after himself.”

“What happened? What did Steve do?”

He’s concerned. Massively.

“I was trying to get him to eat; he hasn’t eaten properly in so long. He’s so overworked and he’s hung up on all these mission reports. He told me that not everything was about me - shouted at me; told me to stop.” She’s whimpering and sniffling again now. “Please get him to eat something, James.”

That last sentence is the one that crushes him. She’s upset, yeah, but above all that, she’s still worried about the blond super soldier.

“Come on, baby, let’s go to our room and get into bed, yeah? I’ll go and speak to Stevie.”

Her eyes meet his and she looks scared, but the ocean blue gaze that he returns makes her bound to his every command.

The woman nods.

“Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

With the help of the Winter Soldier, (Y/N) manages to stand up, letting him lead her out of her private room and into their shared one of Steve’s.

“Here, let’s get you into your PJs, yeah?”

He doesn’t leave room for negotiation as he helps his girlfriend strip out of her casual dress and into one of his oversized t-shirts.

“You get snuggled up in bed, doll. I’m going to go and get Stevie, okay?”

He hates how she looks nervous at the mention of their other lover’s name.

“He loves you more than words can describe, baby girl, I promise you. He shouldn’t have lashed out at you, I’m gonna talk to him, okay?”

A hesitant nod and forced smile is enough for now.

“I’ll be back shortly, I promise.” He leans over and gives the woman a kiss on the lips, leaving her with one of her favourite shows playing on the TV.

“Bucky,” Her choked up voice calls out just before he leaves.

The man turns from his place in the doorway.

“I love you.”

The smile that takes over his expression is contagious.

“I love you too, baby girl. More than anything.”

Despite his reassurance to the woman, he’s pretty damn pissed for a number of reasons about Steve losing his cool with their girl. Reason number one being, how dare he? Reason number two being, he knows better than to overwork, yet here we are.

Bucky doesn’t even knock once he approaches the glass doors of the study where Steve is sat typing away on the laptop.

The blond doesn’t even glance up to see who entered. He barely heard the door open which enrages Bucky further.

The brunet slams the lid of the laptop shut without saying a word, prompting Steve’s head to shoot up, glaring daggers at whoever has interrupted him.

“What the fuck, James?!”

That makes Bucky really get annoyed.

“Are you serious right now, Rogers?”

“I’m in the middle of about seven different mission reports, Buck, I’ve gotta finish them.” The man sighs, going to open the lid of the PC once more, only for Bucky to hold it down. “James, seriously,”

“No. What you need to do is explain to me why our girlfriend has been crying for the last God-knows how many hours?”

That makes Steve snap back to reality.

“What? (Y/N) has been crying? Is she okay?”

Bucky literally rolls his eyes at that.

“Are you fucking serious, Steve?” He repeats, Steve looking confused, expression contorting as he realises that his boyfriend is seriously angry at him.

“Bucky, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

The Winter Soldier’s head lolls back as he groans in frustration.

“You seriously have no idea?” He asks, rhetorically, watching Steve look almost scared. “Do you often shout at your girlfriend and forget it happened?”

Cap’s eyes widen at that, and he visibly gulps.

“What?”

“She came in here to make sure you were looking after yourself, which you weren’t, by the way, and you tell her that not everything is about her?! Are you fucking stupid, Steve?!”

He remembers it all too well in that moment, turning his head down to avoid the frustrated glare of his male lover.

“No. No, you don’t get to look away from me. Look at me.” Bucky demands, watching the blond super soldier reluctantly do so. “I come home from my own exhausting mission, search for (Y/N) for thirty-minutes, and find her crying her God-damn heart out on the balcony of HER room; not our room, Steve, no. Her room.”

Steve’s heart shatters and his eyes widen once more.

(Y/N) hates staying in her room. She’d always be in his or Bucky’s without a doubt.

“I- Buck-”

Bucky shakes his head and stands back upright as Steve is lost for words.

“I’m not mad at you, Steve. I get it, you know? You’ve been overworking for the last month, I know you’re stressed, but fuck, baby, you can’t hurt her like that. Do you know how much my heart fucking shattered when I saw her curled up in the corner of her own God-damn balcony?! It tore me apart. She hasn’t cried since you nearly fuckin-” Bucky chokes on his own word as he walks away from his lover.

“I’m sorry! Buck, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have let Fury send me on that many missions, I- I should’ve said no. I’m sorry.” Steve attempts, standing up and following the brunet, turning him around to face him once more.

“It’s not me you need to be apologising to, Stevie.”

Captain America nods and leans up to press a kiss to the man’s lips.

“I’m sorry, James.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and forces a smile.

“I forgive you. Of course I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it, but I swear to God, if you hurt her again…”

Steve is already shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t dream of either of you getting hurt. Where is she?”

“Our room.”

He nods and begins heading toward the woman to which he owes more than he can give.

The door is half ajar when Steve gets there, he slowly opens it to reveal his girlfriend in all her glory, curled up under their Captain America themed duvet - which Sam bought the trio as a joke last Christmas. Her face is clear-as-day red from her earlier upset, and it breaks his heart.

The man knocks gently on the day as if not to startle the poor girl.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He offers a solemn smile when she turns to see who’s there.

He hates the way he can see her hesitation to speak to him as opposed to her usual squeal of his name, arms opening wide to welcome him into her cuddle-fest.

“Hi.” She manages, forcing her own smile.

There’s silence floating between them, the only sound being Jensen Ackles, in his role of Dean Winchester, talking a load of nonsense about pie on the TV that’s streaming Supernatural.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Steve manages, taking a step toward the bed. “Nothing can excuse the way I yelled at you, and I’m so sorry for that, but, sweetheart, trust me when I say I didn’t mean it. I was so stupidly stressed, and I should never have let it get to that point.”

She nods, truly believing his words, but it still hurt.

The blond sits down on the edge of the bed, not daring to cuddle his girlfriend until she’s comfortable.

“I love you so much, (Y/N) (L/N).”

A bigger smile taints her lips at that.

“I love you too, Steven.” Her voice is barely a whisper but he hears it clear as day.

“Can I hold you?”

(Y/N) smiles and shakes her head as if he was being silly.

“You never need to ask permission for that, Stevie. No matter what.”

With another sad smile, he pulls the woman into his arms and holds her tighter than ever before.

“I’m so sorry, my love.”

“I forgive you, but no more missions for a while.” She whispers.

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky’s leaning against the doorframe, watching the interaction. He took a detour to Tony’s office and made sure to give the billionaire a piece of his mind about making sure Fury didn’t have Steve on any missions for a long time.

“Is this the last episode?” The brunet speaks up, stripping himself of his clothes as he enters their room properly.

“Yeah.” (Y/N) nods.

“I still think we should watch Vampire Diaries instead.” Steve chuckles, mirroring Bucky’s actions.

“I pick the TV show, Rogers shuts his cake-hole.” (Y/N) teases, mocking a line from Supernatural and snuggling herself in the middle of the bed, sandwiched between the two super soldiers - where she belongs. “I love you both.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

“Love you always, doll.”

TAGS

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SFW Only Tag List: @piper-koko-barnes-rogers

[harry-writings]

Bothered

- A blurb in which somebody flirts with Y/n for the first time, and Harry lets jealousy get the best of him

This is a little Drive Me Wild extra for all your valentine’s day needs!!! I hope you enjoy :) 

Masterlist

-

“Tequila, please. The best one you’ve got!”

Open bars at work parties are an absolute lifesaver.

Harry and Y/n have been nonstop on their feet since three, wearing their sunday best, talking to all the higher ups and other officials at the firm with as much professionalism as possible. And though it was certainly a nice break from the work setting, it was still a lot for the both of them to keep up with.

It’s nearly eleven now, the party near its end and the exhaustion finally settling in. But Y/n wouldn’t ever dream of passing up unlimited free drinks whenever offered (neither would Harry, but getting her home safe is his biggest priority). Besides, she needed to take the edge off, somehow.

The bartender smiles at her, his eyes looking at her up and down very briefly before making her drink.

She’s humming softly to herself, her fingers tapping against the bar, the palm of her other hand resting on the back of her neck and she looks around the venue, admiring the architecture and the chandeliers that hang from above her.

“How long have you been working for them?” The bartender asks as he slides the shotglass to her, to which Y/n smiles.

“Almost three years! It’s been really good to me so far. I must say, though, it gets a bit stressful and there are a handful of times we end up having to take our work home. But I’ve met some of the best people through the company, so I can’t complain much! Especially when this is the only job I’ve ever considered staying at for so long.”

When the bartender doesn’t answer, yet rather just stares at her with amusement and endearment in his eye, Y/n starts to get nervous.

She considers diverting her attention back to Harry and moving on with her night as if she hadn’t spoken a word at all, but she’s never been the kind of person to walk away from an uncomfortable silence. And most certainly, she has never found it in her will to escape somebody’s pressing and persistent stares.

All of it just makes her so anxious.

So, as an attempt to calm her nerves, Y/n throws her head back as she takes her shot of tequila, her nose scrunching and eyes squinting as it burns down her throat and settles in her chest.

“What about you? How long have you been working as a bartender? I’ve heard it’s a lot of work, remembering all the recipes and stuff. Whenever I went to university, I would go to bars and get drunk by myself and watch how fast all the bartenders made drinks. I found it mesmerising, really. Like an art, almost. A sport, too, I suppose, given how much you all have to think and act quickly yet unmistakably.”

Harry smiles softly to himself, a bittersweet feeling bubbling in his chest as he listens to her get caught up in her rambles.

She doesn’t do that much with him anymore, not in the way she used to. And it isn’t because she’s lost any trust in him, or because she loves him any less — rather, it’s because she trusts and loves him so much more that she doesn’t feel the need to fill any gaps or spaces between them anymore.

He doesn’t make her nervous.

She doesn’t need reassurance with him because she already knows how madly in love they are with one another and how they are undeniably bound to spend the rest of their lives together. The silences they share are comfortable for her, his simple presence enough to make her feel at ease and loved and respected without him having to constantly remind her.

And surely, Y/n still chews his ear off here and there, but he only ever wants more of her.

It’s a disease, his greed and longing for her. She is so enough yet so not enough at the same time, it kills him to think about it, but only in the best way possible.

But the smile and the admiration die down nearly instantly when Harry’s eyes catch the way the bartender looks at Y/n, and the way he straightens himself before her, and the way his bottom lip tucks between his teeth ever so slightly.

Harry crosses his arms at this, watching the way another man is drooling and fonding over his Y/n and not at all trying to hide it. And the sad part is that he can’t even blame him for it — how could he? He had done the very same thing for nearly two years straight.

So he suffers with it in silence.

“My goodness, I do love me a woman who can carry a conversation.”

Harry’s eyes squint over at him, his arms still crossed over his chest, his fingers twisting as he watches him blink flirtatiously at Y/n and the upward twitch of his lip whenever she flips her hair over her shoulder.

She only ever does that when she’s sweating, he knows this because she’s his girlfriend and he knows her more than he’s ever known himself. He also knows that Y/n thinks too lowly of herself to ever consider one’s kindness as flirting.

And though Harry wouldn’t dare to dream of changing anything about her, he does wish, just this once, that she’d see it.

Y/n blushes at his comment, but only because she doesn’t know what to say.

“Can I have another shot, please?” She asks as a form of distraction, but in such a sweet manner the bartender barely seems to notice. “I never get to go out to drink much nowadays, with work and all. So, I’m sorry if I order too much. Large groups of people aren’t really my thing. Not that I hate people, or anything. I guess they just make me nervous.”

And as the bartender pours her shot glass full of tequila, his eyes don’t make the slightest move to leave her. He’s gawking, looking smug as if he could ever stand a chance.

Y/n pretends not to notice.

“Look, I close down the bar in an hour. And since large groups of people aren’t really your thing, why don’t I take you somewhere nice —”

“Oh...”

“— just you and me, so I can have the chance to get to know you more? Maybe in more ways than one, if I’m lucky?”

Oh, fuck no.

Flirting is one thing, but listening as some stranger talks about wanting to have sex with his girlfriend is something entirely different. Especially when she hasn’t done anything other than be nice and considerate towards him.

He’s taking advantage of her kindness.

Harry can’t hold himself back anymore.

“Excuse me?”

And curse his fucking natural lack of emotion because it was supposed to sound threatening and protective, but rather, it must have come off the way any other customer were to grab a bartender’s attention because he looks over at him with a tight and strained smile, clearly laced with annoyance, with not a hint of suspicion.

“Yes, sir, what can I help you with?”

Harry clenches his jaw and nods his head, his gaze falling to the top of the bar as he tries — really, really tries — to keep himself together instead of knocking this poor bloke’s teeth in.

The urge is there, but he could never scare Y/n like that, or sacrifice his job for satisfaction’s sake — he was lucky he didn’t jeopardize it when he landed a solid right hook on his coworker a few months back. But to make such a rude, blunt, disrespectful comment to his girlfriend is too much for him to process.

But it’s not all anger. There’s something else there — something else brewing and swelling inside of him that’s never been there before. He can’t identify it no matter how hard he tries.

“It would help me tremendously, actually, if you were to stop asking to sleep with my girlfriend right in front of me.”

It’s silent for a moment, the air thick with tension as the bartender looks both between Harry and Y/n, Y/n and Harry. He looks weary of it, as if it were so impossible for her to ever be seen with somebody like him.

“You’re with him?” He asks Y/n, as if Harry’s word wasn’t enough and it nearly throws him off the deep end.

Y/n’s eyes blink with confusion and shock as she tries to adjust herself to her surroundings. Everything happened so quickly to her, she feels like she can’t keep up.

Harry senses this — he senses her uncertainty and uneasiness and takes notice in the way her fingers begin to grip at her shot glass a bit tighter. Confrontation and arguments are not Y/n’s strong suit and in the hands of either one, she is defenseless.

“Is my word not enough for you?”

The bartender lifts his hands up in defense, his eyebrows raised as if somehow proving a point he’s clearly been missing. “Can’t blame me for assuming she’s single, you’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.”

Harry’s hands turn to fists, his jaw clenching and eyebrows twitching as he hears him speak all the words he’d rather die than hear spoken again.

How a complete stranger can cut a wound so deep within him is unfathomable, but here he is, bleeding out with all his insecurities and flaws and weaknesses along with it. And it pains him. It hurts and if one more wrong word is spoken, he’ll fall victim to all the darkest parts of himself.

He can’t risk that, not around Y/n.

“I would highly suggest you stop talking now —”

“You aren’t even interested in her! I gave her more attention in the last ten minutes than you’ve given her all night!”

“Hey.” Y/n cuts in with pouted lips, her face fallen as her voice quivers at the argument brewing in front of her. “That’s not true. He — he’s been beside me all night. I thought it was — I thought it was obvious.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore. We’re going home.”

Harry’s tone is unlike anything she’s ever heard. It’s stern, harsh, laced with impatience as he stands from his barstool and scrambles to gather her belongings.

And Y/n’s at a loss, just standing against the bar helplessly, looking at Harry with tearful eyes and shaking lips. He has never been this angry at her before and she doesn’t know how to fix it. Talking was what got them into this mess, she’s sure talking won’t get themselves out of it.

But it doesn’t hurt to try.

“Wait, H. I’m sorry, I —”

“That’s enough, now. We’re making our last rounds and then we’re going straight home.”

That was the first time he’s ever interrupted her.

-

It isn’t until Harry starts the car that Y/n breaks the silence.

“H, I didn’t know he was going to ask me out on a date.” She speaks with a voice small and shoulders slumped as she tries desperately to fix all the trust she has broken. “I was just trying to be nice and —”

“Not now, Y/n, please.”

She realizes the severity of the situation when he doesn’t call her a pet name.

Her eyes fill with tears, fully aware that even when he was most upset with her, he never interrupted her while talking or avoided her gaze like it was the last thing he ever wanted to see. He’s doing both right now and to say that it hurt her is an understatement.

He’s sick of hearing me speak. He’s angry at me for talking too much to everybody and not noticing the consequences. He’s tired of listening to me make excuses for myself when I’m never going to change. He doesn’t want this anymore.

Her mind can’t help but to think such things, and though deep down in her heart she knows he’d never feel that way towards her, words of her past can’t help but torment her in the heat of this moment. Because this is so different than how it usually is with him, and it all started with her.

Harry can feel how much of a toll his words took on her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He is feeling so many things, and processing so much, he feels like he’s lost himself. All sense of everything else had left him the second the bartender spoke the words he always feared to hear.

You’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.

He knows it isn’t true, and he also knows she knows it isn’t true, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

To know other people see it that way devastates him. He doesn’t date Y/n to look uninterested in her, or bored of her, or tired to be with her — he dates Y/n because he wants to show her off, desires to make her and everybody else see how in love with her he is, to make it known she never has to walk this world alone.

To know he has failed to do that simply by being himself is a lot for him to take in.

He sighs, ripping off his glasses so his other hand can rub at his burning eyes before settling the both of them back on the steering wheel, his gaze still set on the windshield.

“I’m sorry for not letting you finish talking, twice now. It wasn’t right and I know what that does to you. And I’m not angry or upset with you, either. I’m just — I’m just not in the mood right now, alright? I need some time to think.”

Y/n nods, fearing that whatever words she chooses to speak will only make it worse.

Neither of them talk the rest of the way home, but that doesn’t mean Harry doesn’t reach his hand over to her thigh to squeeze at it three times, as if to tell her he loves her.

-

It isn’t until they make it into their bedroom that Harry starts to let it all out.

He’s pacing, his hands fidgeting with his clothes and running through his hair, his eyes wild but still refusing to look at her, muttering curses under his breath but nothing directly towards her just yet.

Y/n’s standing by the dresser, taking off her remaining jewelry and allowing him his time to dwell on his feelings. He needs this. She knows she’s the only person that he’ll ever show this kind of emotion to — he couldn't even show it to himself — so she listens, smiles sympathetically at him here and there, refusing to leave his side until this is all figured out.

He huffs before letting out a sickened laugh.

“Who the hell does he think he is? Telling me I’m not interested in you. I can’t be walking around kissing and hovering and touching all over you at a work party, I respect you too much. But he wouldn’t know a damn thing about that, would he?”

He throws his suit jacket down on the bed, only allowing himself one beat of a moment to shake his head before his hands start to fidget again, pacing around the foot of the bed to try and understand his primary emotion.

He feels a million and ten different emotions scrambling within him at once, he can’t make sense of them. Whether he’s angry, or sad, or hurt, or insecure, or humiliated… he doesn’t know. It all feels the same yet all feels so different. He is utterly lost in all of them.

“Then proceeds to have the nerve to say he’s given you more attention than I have. What the fuck does that even mean? All he does is serve you two drinks and speak one sentence. I give you all my time, all my company, all my attention, and somehow he thinks he’s better for you than me?”

And it hits her.

No wonder he’s been acting so different towards her and so quiet despite him not blaming her for what happened — he’s jealous, which is the exact reason he doesn’t have an understanding with it.

She’s his first girlfriend, and until now, there had never been any reason for him to feel this way.

But as sick and twisted as it sounds, Y/n’s heart warms at the thought of it. Because never once has someone ever had a problem with letting her go. Her loss never affected anybody around her, and so nobody had ever feared it.

To know that out of all people, it’s him who does, means everything to her.

She hums at him, an all too knowing smile on her face as she makes her way to her frantic lover, who stills when he notices her closeness.

Her hands rest at his chest, rubbing at it over his dress shirt, just the way he likes. It reminds him of the night of their first date — when she gave into her cravings and put her hands nearly everywhere they could touch — and so she always goes back to that very first moment.

It never fails him.

“It’s okay, lovebug.” Y/n smiles softly at him, her voice even more soft and tender than usual as she tries to get him to relax.

Her hands slither down the hem of his trousers, her fingers resting just above the swell of his bum and pulling him in closer to her. And he wraps his arms around her shoulders, a heavy sigh leaving his lips before bringing his chest toward her cheek for it to nest in.

“Don’t let somebody get the best of you. Especially when they don’t know anything about you or me or our relationship. We know what we are and what we have, it doesn’t matter what he thinks is better for me. I have what’s best. Forever.”

He sighs, the weight of the night lifting from him slightly, but not enough.

He rests his chin on the top of her head, his eyes on the verge of being soaked with tears. Because though he knows her words to be true, he just can’t seem to shake what’s rattling in his bones and picking at his skin.

He wants it all to be okay, and it almost is, just not fully. And it’s killing him from the inside out.

“It’s a new feeling for me.” Harry confesses sadly, trying to think of the right words to say to explain what’s burning in his chest. “It hurts me to feel it. I’m so comfortable and confident in you and yet somehow I can’t — I can’t stop thinking about you and that fucking bartender and him touching you and making you laugh and —”

“You’re jealous.”

She pulls away from him slightly, her eyes looking up at him softly and sympathetically. He gives into her gaze for only a beat longer before looking away from her again, unable to take it.

It all makes sense — the unfamiliar feelings, the scrambling of emotions, the sensitivity to the words that had been spoken about him. His relationship had been threatened for the first time since it started, how could he not be?

“Of course I’m jealous. Which is absolutely horrible because you look so pretty yet it hurts too much to look at you.”

She chuckles, a playful smirk on her face as she reaches her hands up to his cheeks. And she turns his head to the side, forcing his eyes to look into hers as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbones.

Even like this, he is the most perfect man she’s ever seen. She has loved this person longer than she has loved anything else, how he could ever feel jealous of anybody is absolutely beyond her. He is all she will ever need, and everything she will ever want.

He is the only person that has ever deserved her.

“Baby, you have nothing to be jealous of. I don’t think, since the moment I’ve laid eyes on you, I’ve ever bothered to look for anybody else.” His breath faults, then, his heart dropping as if it were falling in love all over again.

And just like that, the hurt is gone.

“I’m yours, H. I have always been yours.”

He wants her to keep going, so instead of answering, he taps the back of her thigh twice. He’s never done so outside of sex, but he needs her all over him, holding him, hanging onto him. He needs it now more than ever.

She giggles, understanding exactly what he wants before jumping up until her legs are wrapped around his waist and her arms are looped around his neck. He catches her instantly, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck and kissing at the exposed skin.

She loves how much her words have an affect on him.

“I love you so much. I always will. No matter how many sleazy men ask me to sleep with them.”

He whines, lifting his head from her shoulder before looking at her with sad eyes and pouted lips at the subtle reminder that somebody else thought of her that way. Only he has, only he can, it doesn’t matter the circumstance.

She’s his.

She smiles down at him with a small blush on her cheeks, her arms unwrapping from his neck so her hands can grip his face again.

“I sleep with you. Every night. In more ways than one.” She kisses at his lips. “Cause I’m lucky.”

And for the first time tonight, he smiles. And as if that wasn’t enough for her, he laughs too — quietly, breathlessly — his hands rubbing all along her lower back and her thighs.

“Hmm... I am lucky, aren’t I?” Harry hums in bliss, his eyes looking at her fondly as she hangs on his neck in their home and it doesn’t get better than this. She had a man practically drooling on her lap and yet she’s here, with him, loving him, choosing him, just like she always has. “I do have the prettiest girl in the world. And the sweetest. And the strongest.”

“Too bad you couldn’t be bothered.” She teases, a smirk on her lips before her tongue pokes out to run quickly against his closed lips.

He lets out an almost sinister laugh, rumbling so deep in his chest she somehow manages to feel it in her legs.

“Why don’t I show you how bothered I am?”

[starshapedkookie]

Southpaw

pairing: jungkook x female reader (ft. a little sprinkle of namjoon)

genre: childhood friends to lovers, boxer jungkook, college/frat au

includes: swearing, angst, mentions of blood and violence, pining, smut (public/private, unprotected sex, hair pulling, jungkook is big guys, duh), alcohol, smoking weed, jungkook seems like an asshole but he’s really not, OC having a crisis every two seconds, some fluff here and there as well, also this takes place over many months just saying if time gets confusing

premise: Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.

word count: 30k (she’s a monster sorry guys) 

quick note: this is my first story back in a year(?) give or take some weeks!! kind of nervous to post & not sure if my writing has declined in anyway but nonetheless here is the beast that has been sitting on my computer since April 2019!! quick disclaimer I don’t know much about boxing so if I get stuff wrong - I apologize!! please enjoy & let me know what you think ❤️happy 7 years BTS!

recommended songs for reading: pray (JRY, RuthAnne), mushroom chocolate (6lack, quin), hallucinate (dua lipa), wus good/curious (partynextdoor)

_____

The evening was slow—after all, it was only a Wednesday. You had just finished serving a table of two—a young man and young woman—presumably on a midweek date. You didn’t recognize either of them which wasn’t surprising considering the campus grossed about 20,000 people. You began to wipe down tables out of boredom, glancing at the clock every two minutes hoping it would jump to when your shift was over in forty-five minutes. Thankfully, you didn’t have much work to do when you got home, but you are wishing to get in bed before 10:30 to get a full eight hours of sleep for your lectures tomorrow—something you had not had in about two months. Most days, like today, you were running on five hours of sleep and five cups of coffee. It wasn’t healthy, you knew that much, but it’s how you had to live your life. Your schedule was too demanding to hit the snooze button multiple times. You had shit to do—and getting your degree was the top priority.

“Y/N,” your coworker, Mark, called your name from behind of the counter.

“Yeah?” You respond.

“Will you come help me clean this out?” He asks you and you nod diligently.

“Of course,” you say, dropping your current task of wiping already clean tables. Mark was the one student that worked here you could stand to be around. He was very much like you in the sense that school came before anything—he too was on a full academic scholarship. He worked here before you, but he made you feel the most comfortable out of everyone. You would consider him a close friend at this point.

The espresso machine was a pain in the ass to clean and did call for two people most of the time. Besides, you would rather smell the remnants of coffee beans than the harsh chemicals of bleach gliding across a table.

“You have much work to do after your shift?” He asks you.

“No, thank god,” you shake your head, “I got most of my shit done between my classes today. You?”

“I have to write a ten page paper by midnight,” he sighs, “And guess how many pages I have started.”

You give him a short glance, “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say zero.”

“Damn right,” he smiles. A short silence between you two ensues before he speaks again, “Oh! Did I tell you I’m graduating early?”

“What? Really?” You look at him and an excited grin plays on his face. “When?”

“Yeah, I spoke to my advisor this afternoon and turns out, the classes I’m taking this semester is all I need for my degree,” he speaks with a relieved tone.

“Wow, that’s awesome,” you say genuinely, “I wish that was me,” you give out a small chuckle.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to keep stressing over this hell-hole,” he laughs, “The sooner I get out of here, the better.”

“I feel you on that,” you say, “I’m proud of you nonetheless, you’ve worked your ass off dealing with this scholarship.”

He gives you a small smile in return but it’s broken by the bell ringing from the door, signaling a new customer has decided to come in. Your eyes break from Mark’s and glance over to the door, your head doing a double take.

Your mouth goes dry when you see them—more specifically—him. 

No, it wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him, but you couldn’t remember the last time you had seen him outside of a frat party on the weekends. And truly, it was your first time getting a good look at him in awhile. You felt nervous—though you had no reason to be nervous. You had known him since long before your days as university students, but since you weren’t plastered in this scenario, looking at him seemed more like a chore than ever.

“You want me to get their table?” Mark asks you and you look back at him.

“No, I got it,” you say, throwing down the cleaning cloth, wiping your hands on your apron.

The small group of boys are too busy in their own conversation to see you approaching them. You clear your throat before grabbing some menus off of the podium.

“Hey guys, welcome,” your voice breaks their conversation. The three men your age turn to you all at once and a small smile erupts from one of them.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you worked here?” Taehyung—another person you knew all too well—smiles and speaks brightly

“Yup,” you say simply, “Just been here a little over a month,” you explain pressing the best smile you can muster up. “C’mon, I’ll get you seated and get your order in.”

You lead them towards the back of the small restaurant, seating them in a booth. As they follow you from behind, you can feel their eyes burning into your back and you feel like screaming at the top of your lungs. They sit down and you pass out the menus.

“What would you guys like to drink?” You ask, putting a hand on your hip.

“I’ll take a coke,” Hobi—you remember his name easily as you see him around in a few of your classes.

“Coke as well,” Taehyung says.

“Jungkook?” His name rolls off your tongue and it sounds foreign. You couldn’t remember the last time you had said it, let alone to his face. His brown eyes meet yours and he clears his throat.

“I’ll just take a water,” he finally speaks, his gaze breaking just as fast as it met yours.

“I’ll get those right out,” a grimace spreads on your face and you turn on your heels to fulfill their drink orders. You hadn’t expected the encounter to be so awkward and have so much tension—but what did you expect?

Your relationship with Jeon Jungkook was a strange one to say the least. You had known him longer than anyone you associated with—you meet each other at the tender age of eight in elementary school. You remember that day so vividly.

You had been assigned a seat right beside of him the first day of school. He kept his eyes away from you. Being the energetic child you were, you were expecting him to introduce himself but—he never did. It actually took being in school a whole week to get him to talk to you. You nudged his arm with your elbow and his eyes meet yours for the first time. You smiled at him, “I like your shirt,” to which he responded a small, “Thank you.” He picked at his nails and you smiled at him again, “I’m Y/N,” though he would already know that sitting beside of you. “I’m Jungkook,” he spoke again with a shy smile. That day would change both of your lives—all thanks to you and your mouth that couldn’t shut the hell up.

Four years later, at the age of twelve, Jungkook was your best friend. For four years, he was the one person you had came to all about your problems—he as well. The two of you would complain equally about school, he would complain about his older brother picking on him, you would complain about your younger sister bothering you nonstop—the two of you were more alike in more ways than you could imagine. Despite getting older and more different, you and Jungkook shared the same friend group. You had met a girl named Kim Jennie during a pre-algebra class and Jungkook had met a lively kid named Kim Taehyung—no they weren’t related but you often joked about it. It was nice having another close friend instead of just having Jungkook—especially a girl. You and Jennie had more in common than you and Jungkook and Jungkook and Taehyung and more in common than you two. But—the four of you clicked and you spent nearly everyday with each other.

At sixteen, a lot of stuff had changed. Yes, you, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jennie had all remained best friends, but high school was definitely not the same as middle school. You and Jennie joined the tennis team, Jungkook and Taehyung joined the soccer team—Jungkook also joining the baseball team—which kept the four of you more separated than you would have liked. The four of you all sat together at lunch each day, but as each day passed, something felt different with Jungkook. And then, halfway through your second year of high school, the news broke that Jungkook had a girlfriend—a cute girl named Yuna—who was actually older than him by a year. You felt indifferent about it. He didn’t speak to you as much as he used to and he would ditch you, Jennie and Taehyung to hang out with her. It didn’t bother Jennie or Taehyung as much as it bothered you—but then again—you had known him since you were eight and it felt weird not being Jungkook’s number one girl. You hated to say it—but you were jealous and you had no idea why.

Two years had passed, the four of you all eighteen and fully legal now. It was the end of your last year of high school and you could not be more ready to leave. Growing up through high school together, the thought of all of you going to the same university was a dream. The four of you were excited to move on to new things. Jungkook and Yuna had broken up a few months prior, not being able to work through the distance of her being away at college. Jungkook soon started molding back to how he was before—texting you throughout the day, complaining, just being Jungkook—you were happy, happier than when he was with Yuna. It was May when you had received the news that you had been offered a full ride academic scholarship. You cried and cried tears of joy—finally busting your ass for so long had paid off. Jungkook was so proud of you, though he didn’t outwardly show it, the way he looked at you when you had told him was all you needed. Taehyung suggested it—a small celebration of sorts for you—a.k.a. the four of you getting absolutely plastered in his basement. Taehyung had managed to steal some alcohol from his parents and before the four of you knew it, beers had been downed and half a bottle of tequila had been drank. You were laying on the floor, giggling at everything Jennie did, dancing around the room with a bottle of vodka in hand. Jungkook had laid down beside of you, his eyes boring deep onto you. You crane your neck and give him a small smile, not realizing how little space was between the two of you. Jungkook supports himself on an elbow and it was then you had realized how handsome Jungkook had actually become. He spent so long away from you when he was dating Yuna, you didn’t realize how much he had grown into his features. That night—was singlehandedly the best and worst night of your life.

You had no idea what came over you, but you stood up throwing out your hand for Jungkook to take. He grabbed it with no hesitation, him towering over you as your chests touched and it was the closest the two of you had ever been. Jungkook had looked over to Jennie and Taehyung, still drinking and acting stupid, before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the closest bathroom and shutting the door. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you grip his shirt tightly. The next few moments are a blur—Jungkook kisses you—actually kisses you. He gripped your waist tightly, pushing you against the door. A small whine emitted from your lips as he pulled away and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He kissed you again, pulling your thigh up to rest in his hand. This was wrong—so wrong in so many ways. But neither of you stopped until a bang from the other side of the door broke the steamy makeup session.

That night changed everything between you two. Neither of you talked about it ever again. Despite being so drunk to the point of blacking out—you remember every detail—and so did he. That summer, you and Jungkook grew apart. And it was the worst thing to ever happen to you.

Now, at twenty-one, almost through university, you had interacted with Jungkook only a handful of times. You had studied together a few times your freshman year, but after your first year, you could count on your hands how many times you had seen each other. Most of the time, only seeing him at parties with other girls hanging off of him. It was painful to see. Even after 3 years of a drunken kiss in Taehyung’s bathroom, it hurt more than ever to see Jungkook with other girls—but at the same time you didn’t care. You had moved on and so did he. You two were now strangers but your life was good—you didn’t need him like you used to think. And he seemingly didn’t either.

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” Mark nudged you out of your obnoxiously long reverie and you jumped out of your skin. “Are you okay?” He asks.

You look down and realize that you haven’t taken the three of them their drinks, the ice now watering them down to shit.

“Y-yeah, I’m just tired is all,” you begin to pour out the drinks to get new ones before Mark stops you.

“Here, I’ll handle them,” he says, “You can go home early, it’s fine,” he smiles.

“A-are you sure?” You ask him, not wanting to leave him by himself.

“Yeah, it’s about closing time anyways. Just head out, I’ll close,” he nods with a smile and you can’t help but to throw you arms around him.

“Jesus, thank you. I promise I’ll make it up to you one day,” you tell him pulling away. You wash your hands quickly and throw off your apron.

“Get home safe,” he says and you tell him the same before grabbing your bag. You glance one last time to the table in the back and unexpectedly, Jungkook is staring at you. It makes your breathing hitch and you turn around on your heel quickly, not wanting to linger on his gaze longer than you need to.

_____

The weekend comes slower than you would like, but it’s Friday which means one thing—time to go out and get a much needed dose of social life. You and Jennie had found yourself at the Beta Tau Sigma crush party at their fraternity house that evening.

“Here you go, m’lady,” Namjoon comes into your peripheral vision, handing you a drink he specially made just for you.

“Thanks,” you give him a small smile. You take a huge gulp without hesitation—you trusted Namjoon with your life. Not only was he on academic scholarship too, he was also the president of this fraternity which meant if he didn’t act straight—he would face serious consequences. The mix of brains, being ridiculously handsome, and being in a fraternity was a recipe for disaster—he was your type—bonafide. You were his type too which is maybe why the two of you clicked so well, particularly in bed.

“My feet are fucking killing me,” you groan glancing down at your heels, rolling your eyes in the back of your head. Namjoon throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

“At least you look hot as fuck,” he lips brush against your ear and you give him a glare.

“Isn’t hot kind of a degrading term in today’s world?” You press.

He narrows his eyes at you, “Fine—you look beautiful, cute, sexy—is that better?”

“Much better,” you nod playfully and Namjoon gets bold—pulling you even closer to him for a small peck on your lips. Eyes linger on the two of you but you couldn’t care. So many girls would love to be in your position and you feel lucky to have captivated Namjoon at least for now. Besides, he was good at fucking and you needed stress relief, as did he.

Unsuspecting, Jungkook waltzed his way into the room and he immediately stops when he sees the sight of you and his older brother Namjoon. He had heard rumors about the two of you, which he brushed off—you would never go after someone like Namjoon—oh who is he kidding? You and Namjoon are the same person and it kills Jungkook inwardly. The way Namjoon is nuzzled into your neck and the way you're smiling, giggling to every word he says, makes him feel uncomfortable. You looked so different at parties than how he saw you a few days ago at your work. Your legs looked sexy as fuck in your short black dress, your hair flowed down beautifully as opposed to being thrown up, the way red lipstick painted your mouth made him semi hard. Jesus, how after all this time, does he still think about you like this?

Your eyes break away from Namjoon and your smile falls when they meet a familiar set of doe eyes from across the room. Your breath hitches and Jungkook looks so handsome you want to die. His dark hair is slightly parted, his button up is undone at the top, and his legs fulfill his pants better than any guy here. He downs two shots, not breaking his gaze from you. You feel intimidated by his gaze and presence, despite having seen him at these things multiple times. The only difference is that now—he’s giving you some attention that you weren’t ready for.

Your gaze breaks away from each other when a group of loud boys—including Taehyung as well as Kai, another brother within the fraternity—come rushing into the room, hauling a keg in tow.

“Hyung! Come on,” Taehyung teases drunkenly as they set down the keg. There are many hyung’s for Taehyung in the room to not have specified which one he was talking about, until he deadpans on Namjoon. “Namjoon-hyung, come on!”

Namjoon begins to shake his head in protest, “I’d rather not,” he puts his hands up, keeping his distance from Taehyung, “Gotta keep an eye on this one tonight,” he nudges you and Taehyung’s eyes widen when her realizes it’s actually you, standing beside of his older brother.

“Y/N! Hey! What’s up! Didn’t expect to see you here, especially with this one again,” he narrows his eyes to Namjoon.

“Hi Taehyung,” you give him a small smile.

“Do a keg stand with me?” His eyes bulge out like a puppy dog and your own widens in shock at the question.

“Oh no,” you protest, looking up at Namjoon, “Last time I did a keg stand was freshman year and I said never again,” you explain to him. He gives you a pout.

“Fuck,” Taehyung says, “Well who is gonna do this shit with me then?” He sounds impatient and frustrated.

“Get Jungkook too—he’s been looking over in this direction for too long, give ‘em something to do,” Namjoon says and you look up at him. Did he notice Jungkook looking at you? Shit.

“Hell yeah, that little shit will definitely do it,” Taheyung smirks and yells for Jungkook to come over. Jungkook is preoccupied with a girl before Taehyung breaks his mojo from across the room. Jungkook sees Taehyung and you standing together and he furrows his eyebrows. He excuses himself from his pussy date for the night and saunters his way over towards your direction. You keep your eyes anywhere but Jungkook as he approaches you.

“Hey hyung,” Jungkook greets Namjoon, “Y/N,” he says slowly and you tense up. “What do you want Taehyung?” He spits out. He’s clearly buzzed as the attitude coming off of his tongue is stronger than usual.

“Do this fucking keg stand with me pussy,” Taehyung presses and Jungkook scrunches his nose.

“Fuck no,” Jungkook responds and Taehyung rolls his eyes.

“Come onnnn,” he drags out, begging his life long best friend to do it.

“Absolutely not, I’ve done it once and I said never again,” Jungkook says and your eyes nearly pop out of your head. Taehyung looks at you and Jungkook and shakes his head.

“I swear you two are the same person in a different body, it’s weird,” Taehyung says, “Your loss,” and Taehyung is soon leaving your side to find someone else to do his proposition.

Jungkook is left standing in front of you and Namjoon in an awkward silence.

“Don’t forget, you’re on clean up duty Jeon,” Namjoon raises an eyebrow at the younger man.

Jungkook groans, “Fine, whatever hyung,” his words run together as he gives you a final glance, “See you later Y/N,” is the last thing he says before he walks away to find the girl he was smooching up prior.

Namjoon gives you a weird look before you are furrowing eyebrows at him, “What?” You ask.

“What’s up with you two?” He asks motioning over to Jungkook.

“What do you mean?” You gulp down your drink hoping to hide the nervousness in your tone.

“Didn’t you two use to be like, best friends or some shit?” He asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “Yeah, when we were kids,” you chuckle.

Namjoon doesn’t seemed convinced, “I remember you two hanging out a lot during Jungkook's freshman year here, what happened?”

You shrug once again, “People grow apart,” you answer simply, not wanting to go in detail how one kiss basically ruined whatever your friendship was with him. Namjoon suddenly smiles, a dimple showing in his left cheek.

“You know he talks about how hot you are? Not all of the time, but I’ve heard it before,” he laughs and you freeze in your spot.

“What are you trying to prove by interrogating me Joon?” You say with some attitude. That was the least thing you expected to come out of his mouth.

“Hey, I’m just asking questions!” He defends himself, “I just didn’t know if something happened between you two—like you dated or something and shit got weird, I don’t know… just curious,” he chuckles a bit.

You eyes widen and you feel yourself getting warm, “Oh no, we never dated or…anything like that…” you trail off. “We’ve just grown apart, we’re too different now.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at you, “According to Taehyung you two are the same person.”

You glare at him, “Get me another drink,” you shove your cup into his hand and see laughs at you before sauntering away for a few seconds. He comes back with a full glass and you down half of it in a few seconds.

“Ew,” you scrunch up your nose. Nice, you think to yourself.

“Maybe you should talk to him? I’m sure having an old friend is nice every once in awhile,” Namjoon continues, clearly interested in your history with Jungkook.

“I have Jennie,” you answer, “Besides, conversation goes both ways. If he really wanted to be friends again, he could talk to me.” You knew that answer was stupid. Jungkook didn’t even speak to you when you were younger. You were the one that initiated the friendship, not him, and you knew that.

“Whatever you say space cowboy,” Namjoon draws out and you give him a glare.

“Did you just quote Kacey Musgraves?” You ask with a small smile on your face.

“Fuck yeah I did,” he smirks, “She’s a gay icon are you kidding me, I’m obsessed with her.”

“Joonie, you’re not even gay,” you laugh.

“So? I love anyone who supports gay rights! Don’t discriminate my quotes!” He defends himself and you cannot help but laugh at him.

“Let’s go dance,” you grab his hand and pull him out of the kitchen onto the main dance floor. Namjoon was perhaps one of the more attractive people you’ve met here in your four years. He oozed sex appeal and charisma, which is why anytime he wanted to hang out or take you to a party—you obliged. If it meant getting in his bed at the end of the night, wearing the heels was worth it.

Namjoon puts his hands on your waist and the two of you dance to music in the crowded dance floor. Namjoon grabs a bottle of liquor from one of his other brothers who you have never met before and the two of you share a nice gulp of the cheap—but very strong—vodka.

You haven’t had too much to drink but you know if you drink anymore, you will not make it back to your apartment. You push the bottle away from you and turn to face Namjoon. His brown eyes stare into yours with a glassy, tipsy appearance, and he smirks at you.

“What?” You question him as his grip gets tighter on you.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you looked hot,” he says smoothly and you roll your eyes yet again.

“How sweet,” you grumble, biting down on your bottom lip. Without a warning, he leans in and pecks your lips gently. The alcohol in your veins surges through you as you lean back in and close the gap. Even in your heels, you still have to crane your neck some to fully reach his stature. His hands grip your waist tightly and you tug at his light brown locks, pulling him impossibly closer to you.

He presses himself into you a little bit harder and you can tell he wants you, his hands gripping one at your waist and the other one in your hair. Everything around you goes blank was it only feels like the two of you in the room together. Unfortunately, your moment is ruined when someone bumps into the two of you, knocking you apart. Namjoon steadies you and he glares at the two girls that ran into you.

“You want to get out of here?” Namjoon says into your ear, his breath fanning over your neck sending chills down you body.

“Yeah,” you nod a little too excitedly and he grabs your hand pulling you away from everyone. Namjoon is taking you up the stairs before someone calls out your name.

“Y/N!” You turn around in Namjoon’s grip to find Jennie holding onto the railing of the stairs, swaying back and forth drunkenly.

“Oh god,” you mutter.

“Is she okay?” Namjoon asks as he follows behind you back down the stairs. No, in fact, she looks terrible.

“Jennie, what’s up? I thought you were with Suzy?” You ask her and her face scowls.

“I was, but then… he showed up,” Jennie says, knowing exactly who she is talking about, “And he brought another girl with him! Y/N, what’s wrong with me? Am I not good enough for him?” Jennie is rambling as tears began to flow down her face. You look at Namjoon as he assesses the situation.

“I-I can get an Uber for her, if you’d like?” Namjoon offers and you nod.

“Please?” You beg and Namjoon grabs your hand squeezing it reassuringly before walking away to get the car.

“Jennie, come on, snap out of it,” you tell her and she continues to sob in your arms.

“Y/N, I don’t get it, I love him and he says he loves me but he does this shit all of the time,” she rambles.

“I know, I know,” you try to calm her down, “Jennie your drunk right now, but you’re so much better than him. I know you don’t realize it, but you are—“

“He makes me feel like shit,” Jennie sighs and you cradle your friend. Unfortunately, Jennie doesn’t have the best taste in men and she finds herself stuck in toxic situations she can’t get out of. You wish you could help more then you do but when Jennie is drunk, it’s hard to get anything through to her.

“Come on, let’s go to the bathroom,” you pull her up before she starts fighting you.

“I don’t need to use the bathroom though,” she pouts.

“Well, you might, let’s go,” you manage to hold her up and get to a bathroom in a hallway that isn’t too crowded. You reach for the handle only to be disappointed that it’s locked. Great.

You beat on the door with your free hand, “Hurry up in there! I have a crisis hanging off of my arm!”

“Hey, don’t call me that you bitch,” Jennie frowns and you roll your eyes, knowing she won’t remember any of this in the morning. You beat on the door again and again and again and finally, someone unlocks it and opens it fully.

The sight makes your eyes widen and your body heat up on fire. In front of you stands Jungkook against the counter zipping up his pants and the girl he was with earlier standing from her knees, wiping her mouth with a smirk. She leaves the bathroom, leaving you standing there with Jennie alone. When his eyes meet yours, his face goes ghostly pale. His mouth parts open and he feels like crawling into a hole to die.

“Y/N, Jennie?” Is all that comes from his mouth.

“Move Jungkook,” you say sternly and he moves to make room for you two in the bathroom.

“Uh, do you need any—“

“Leave Jungkook, I don’t need any help,” you say frustrated at the sight you just witnessed. You don’t know why you felt angry at him. You knew that he slept around like most fraternity boys—but to see him after getting sucked off in a bathroom—was new territory. Not only did it bring up the memory of you and him back in Taehyung’s bathroom all those years ago, it made you physically sick to know that you were just a pawn for him then. Who are you trying to kid? You were nothing to him. Once he figured out what his dick was used for, that’s all he cared about. Christ, you say to yourself, fuck him.

Jungkook leaves the two of you alone and within seconds, Jennie is over the toilet hurling her entire stomach up. You hold her hair back as she heaves into the toilet, trying not to gag yourself.

“Y/N,” she mumbles, “I don’t feel good.”

“I know, just keep it in the toilet please,” you say looking away at the sight.

Thankfully, Namjoon appears at the door. “The Uber is here,” he announces.

“Come on, we’re going to get you home,” you tell her, wiping her mouth with some toilet paper.

“Home?” She asks, “Thank god.”

Namjoon grabs her other side as the two of you carry her outside into the fresh air. You have to admit, the fresh air as sobered you up slightly. You spot the car waiting up front and Namjoon opens the door for Jennie.

“Thank you so much,” you tell Namjoon as he helps Jennie into the car.

“It’s seriously not a problem,” he smiles, “You should go with her,” he suggests and you feel your heart drop.

“A-are you sure?” You ask, subtle disappointment in your tone.

“Yeah, it’s fine—we’ll pick up another time,” he gives you a wink and you smile back.

“Okay, thanks again.”

You load into the back of the Uber with Jennie and you just pray that she doesn’t hurl in the car, for the sake of you and the Uber driver’s car. You were not about to pay the $200 fee for puke in the backseat. 

_____

The next morning comes all too quickly in your deep sleep. When you wake up, you are not expecting Jennie to be in your bed with you. You had nearly forgotten she refused to sleep in her own bed last night, therefore you having to give in to her wishes of sleeping with you. Thankfully, you don’t feel like you have too bad of a hangover. For Jennie though, you know she will probably be in bed all day with a bottle of Tylenol at her bedside.

You check your phone and your eyes nearly burst from your head. It’s 1:07 PM.

“Fuck,” you groan to yourself. You did not need to sleep this late considering you absolutely needed to study for your exams on Monday. Not only was it an exam—it was your midterm exams in your human sciences and financial analytics classes, two classes that were kicking your ass. The longer you laid in your bed, meant the longer you were losing time to cram in your studying. You swig the sheets and blankets off of you to find yourself still in your party dress from last night. You grab a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt from your wardrobe before heading to the bathroom.

Your appearance makes you shudder when you seeing yourself in the mirror. You didn’t even take off your makeup, mascara and lipstick stains spread out on your face. Now it was time to really pray that you wouldn’t breakout from the old layer of foundation on your face. You grab a makeup wipe to get the gunk off of yourself before you step into an insanely hot shower.

You manage to shower quickly, scrubbing your body and face off of any stench left of you from last night. You step out, moisturizing each crevice that you can reach before you throw on your clothes. You feel 200% better now that you have showered and you can hear footsteps coming down from the hallway. Jennie appears at the bathroom door rubbing her eyes harshly.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” you comment and she stretches out her limbs, her dress hiked up far up her legs where her underwear is showing.

“Ugh!” She groans loudly, “My head is pounding. What the fuck happened last night?”

“There’s some medicine out in the kitchen,” you say as you follow her out into your living room and kitchen area. She goes immediately to the medicine cabinet and downs two pills with ease.

“Where are you going?” She asks as you began to gather up your school work into your book-bag.

“I have to study,” you tell her and she closes her eyes again, the sun being too harsh for the light.

“It’s Saturday Y/N,” she says obviously.

“I know,” you zip up your bag, throwing it over your shoulder, “But I have two midterms Monday—I can’t make below a B or I can get in trouble with the dean,” you explain and she nods, her sleepy gaze staring at you.

“Well, have fun. I’ll be here—dying,” she grins and you salute her off, leaving your shared apartment to go to the campus library.

The library is only about a ten minute walk and thankfully, not many students are flocking to the location on a Saturday afternoon. You assume that everyone is either hungover like Jennie or just don’t give a shit enough to come out and study.

You grab a coffee from the small coffee shop outside the library before you go in, sit down, and get to work on your studying. You turn on your classical music radio as you take out out your printed slides, notes, and textbooks. As strange as it is to say, as much as you hated studying—it’s where you felt the most comfortable. You knew you were smart and you knew school was your strongest trait—everyone knew that about you.

You go through each chapter of your human sciences class, writing and rewriting notes on new sheets of a paper. You make flashcards as you go along. You answer the obnoxiously long quiz questions at the end of your textbook as you go along. 

Thankfully, you haven’t had any distractions and before you know it, it’s been nearly two hours since you first sat down. Your coffee is now cold but you don’t care as you need the caffeine to keep you going. You are about to pull out all of your analytics material before suddenly, a coffee cup in placed on the table in front of you. You look at the source and look back down until you look up again. 

“Jungkook?” You ask pulling out one of your earbuds. His face is tired, the bags underneath his eyes prominent. He’s wearing a gray tracksuit, his hair messy underneath his somewhat contained beanie.

“H-hi,” he says simply, “Can I sit?” He asks referring to the chair across from you. You nod as he slings his backpack off and into the floor as he plops down in the chair.

“Hi,” you speak lowly. There’s tension between the two of you. It’s uncomfortable. You hate it, almost as much as you hate the sight you saw last night. “What’s up?” The question is simple, but forced.

He shrugs, “I dragged myself out to study despite my busting headache,” he says scratching the back of his neck.

“Jungkook in the library? To study? Did I hear that right?” You ask and he laughs slightly.

“Yup, unfortunately you did,” he answers before letting out a sigh. “I uh, got you this,” he slides the coffee cup over to you and you furrow your brows. You face heats up. Why would he buy you a coffee? The time Jungkook bought you something was a card and flowers the evening of your high school graduation, why the hell would he buy you a coffee?

“Thanks,” you laugh awkwardly grabbing the cup from him. You take a sip from the cup and realize it’s exactly how you like it. Three creams, an espresso shot, and a dash of vanilla flavoring. “How’d you know this is what I like?” You ask.

“Uh, you told me a few years back,” he says shy, his gaze ripping away from you. “I assumed it was the same, thank god,” he laughs trying to lighten up the mood.

“Thanks,” you repeat, unsure of what to say.

“Uh, how’s Jennie this morning?” He asks you with a genuine concern. You look from him, not being able to hold his gaze without burning up.

“She’s fine,” you say, keeping your eyes on your notes and hands in front of you.

“That’s good,” he says awkwardly. His leg is bouncing uncontrollably underneath the table and he feels like he needs to throw up.

“Why did you buy me this?” You ask him. He wants something, you can feel it.

“Um, no reason, I-I just saw you h-here and I know how much you love coffee,” he stumbles over his words and you meet his gaze again, before giving him a glare.

“Hm,” you mumble.

“Listen Y/N,” he starts, sounding more clear of his words, “I know we don’t really have a relationship anymore but, I-I just wanted to apologize to you about… the bathroom… last night,” he sighs and he hangs his head down for a second.

Your expression is blank and you shrug your shoulders with a small head shake, “Don’t worry about it.”

He nods slowly before a silence falls between you two.

“Listen, um I really have to get back to studying for my midterm tomorrow. Thank you again for the coffee,” you say with a small smile, trying your best to be cordial with him.

He nods getting ready to stand up but he stops abruptly, “What are you doing this week?”

The question catches you off guard.

“Oh, um,” your mouth is dry and it’s hard to find the words, “Probably studying, working, I don’t know,” you shrug again.

“Well uh, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up?” He bits his lip nervously, “We haven’t hung out in awhile, I thought maybe we could catch up?”

Awhile would be an understatement. The boy and you exchange another glance before you begin to nod hesitantly.

“Sure,” you answer simply.

“Cool,” he responds, “You still have the same number?” He asks. The question is weird. How is it that your best friend of so many years has to ask if your number is the same?

“Yeah,” you nod. He nods too, saying a quick goodbye before you watch as his built frame disappears into another corridor of the library, your eyes lingering a little too long on his built frame. What the hell was that?

_____

On Monday, both of your exams go a lot better than you were expecting them to. Your human sciences exam had already been graded and you made a 94 which in turn meant you were over the moon. Now you could only hope for that in analytics.

You know sat across from Jennie at one of your campus’s sandwich shops eating a late lunch.

“I don’t even know why you stress so much about your grades Y/N,” Jennie says, “You always end up with an A.”

“Jennie, I worry because if I don’t get A’s I can get kicked out of the honors program, you know this,” you say with pointed eyes, “Besides, I made a B in that business statistics class I had my freshman year, I’m still pissed about that!”

“Boohoo, I got a C minus in that class,” Jennie rolls her eyes, “All I’m saying is, you just need to loosen up. I know school is stressful but I know that you have to be going crazy.”

“I am going crazy Jennie,” you whine, “I’m just glad we don’t have much longer,” you sigh heavily.

“You and me both,” she adds, “I’m sorry I interrupted your stress relief the other night,” she says.

“What?”

She laughs, “You almost got dicked down by Namjoon and I ruined it,” she pouts and you giggle at her.

“It’s fine,” you shake your head, “He said we could pick it up another time.”

“Good, his fine piece of ass is something you gotta keep,” she smirks. Suddenly, your phone makes a ding on the table and you grab it quickly. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the text message.

[3:32 PM Jeon Jungkook] hey do you still want to do something this week?

“Who is that?” Jennie asks you.

“Uh, nobody,” you shake your head putting the phone back down.

“It most definitely is not nobody—your eyes are huge,” she points out. Dammit.

“Um,” you start, “Well last week at work, Jungkook, Taehyung, and their friend Hobi came in later at night,” you tell her, “And it was awkward and then I saw Jungkook at the party on Saturday.”

“We see him all the time at the parties we go,” she shrugs.

“I know, but then he came up to me in the library the other day…and bought me a coffee,” you finish.

Jennie’s eyes widen. “What?”

“I know right,” you say.

“Wonder what he wants from you?” She purses her lips.

“He asked if he wanted to go out this week,” you shrug, “He said we haven’t in awhile and he wanted to ‘catch up’,” you say.

Jennie’s eyebrows furrow. “Hm,” she mumbles, “Well are you going to?”

“I don’t know,” you tell her honestly, “I think I’ve seen enough of him to last me awhile.”

Jennie grimaces at you, “Come on Y/N,” she says, “You and Jungkook used to be inseparable, I don’t even know what the fuck happened to you two.”

“We just grew apart Jennie,” you tell her.

“Friendships like you and Jungkook don’t just ‘grow apart’,” she uses air quotes.

“Believe what you want,” you mutter, picking at your food suddenly not feeling too hungry.

“Why wouldn’t you go? There’s nothing stopping you is there?” She presses.

“Not exactly, but… I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” you mumble.

“Y/N, he’s your oldest friend,” she says, “You’ve known him longer than anyone else here, I know that you miss him as your friend,” she goes on.

“I don’t know Jennie, we’re not the same people we used to be. We’re not compatible as friends anymore, it’s weird.”

“How can it already be weirder than it is now? It’s weird as fuck that you two grew up together and don’t speak to each other anymore. I’d say go, just hangout, who knows what might happen,” she reasons and you cannot help but agree with her.

You don’t say anything else as you pull your phone back out.

[3:38 PM Me] Yeah I’m free tonight if you want to do something!

_____

Jungkook picks you up at seven on the dot. You feel nervousness settling in your stomach and you suddenly care about your appearance. When you open the door of your apartment and welcome him in, you have to tell yourself to keep your mouth closed.

He’s dressed in a sweatshirt and ripped jeans but he looks…so good? You hope you aren’t overdressed in your dress and denim jacket and he smiles when he meets your gaze.

“Hey,” he greets you and you welcome him into your apartment—a place he has never been.

“Hi,” you say grabbing your keys from the kitchen. “Jennie!” You shout and she emerges from the laundry room

“Yeah?” She stops dead in her tracks when she sees Jungkook. “Oh, hey Jungkook.”

“Hi,” he smiles.

“I’ll be back later,” you tell her, “What are you doing tonight?”

“I have to write a report and I guess I’m going to do your laundry since you’re lazier than shit,” she presses. You throw up your middle finger and turn to Jungkook.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

_____

“Where are we going?” You ask him as you make your way outside, keeping a relative distance between you and him.

“You hungry?” Jungkook proposes, almost with a playful tone.

“Mhm,” you mumble, looking down at the ground as you walk. This was weird… so fucking weird. The last time you and Jungkook had hung out was around two and a half years ago—not even shitting. You wonder if he still liked the same things, had the same hobbies, ate the same food, but you were completely unsure of yourself in this circumstance. The nervousness hasn’t settled in your stomach and your mind wonders if he’s nervous too.

“Alright, c’mon,” he says and you meet his gaze before he changes direction with you in tow.

It’s not even a five minute walk—mind you, in silence—until we reach the place Jungkook had led you to.

“Really Jungkook?” You raise an eyebrow at him as you step into your all too familiar work place.

“What?” He laughs, “The food is good,” he continues.

“I’m starting to think you brought me here for my employee discount,” you press to him and he tilts his head.

“You have an employee discount?” He repeats, “Good to know,” he chuckles and in turn, you return a small laugh, feeling a little more comfortable.

Mark isn’t working tonight, but unfortunately, a girl named Kyla is and you absolutely despise her. Her biggest personality trait is just being a bitch—a bitch for no reason! Sure, you can have your bitchy moments but you’re not going to be a bitch to someone unless they deserve it.

“Y/N… Jungkook,” Kyla says slowly, looking between the two of you. “Just sit wherever you like,” she says. The restaurant is free real estate as you two are the only ones here.

You choose a booth, sliding in on one side, Jungkook on the other.

“Do you know her?” You ask Jungkook once she walks away from your table.

Jungkook looks pale, “I’ve met her, once or twice,” he says and it’s all the confirmation you need to understand that means he’s fucked her once or twice.

You don’t say anything else as you look through the menu, already knowing exactly what you want.

“When did you start working here?” Jungkook asks you.

“Oh, about a month ago,” you say. He already knows that. I guess you and Jungkook are really too that point, huh? Small, dull, repetitive conversation?

“How did your exams go?” He asks, chewing on his bottom lip. He’s nervous—you can sense it.

“Better than I thought,” you answer honestly.

“Hm, let me guess—you thought you did terrible but ended up getting an A,” he reads you perfectly.

“Hey! I don’t think like that,” you say even thought you know that is a fat lie.

“Come on Y/N, you’ve been that way since we were fourteen. Lying sends you to hell you know,” he raises an eyebrow at you and you look away from him to suppress your laugh.

“Fine. I got a 94 on one of them, I don’t know about the other one yet,” you tell him.

“See, you’re a genius,” he says and you shake your head.

“Most definitely not,” you say.

“I was always so envious of you growing up, you just sat there in school and you just… got it,” he says remembering back to your younger days, “All of us were jealous of you,” he adds.

“I can guarantee nobody was jealous of me Jungkook,” you give him a grimace, “We all were stupid in our own ways, maybe you more than anyone else,” you decide to pick on him since you’re feeling more relaxed as the conversation keeps going.

“Hey, no need to shit on me like that,” he gives you a pout.

Your phone suddenly vibrates against the table. It’s probably Jennie, you think to yourself as you flip the phone over. To your surprise, it’s not Jennie—It’s Namjoon.

[7:28 PM Kim Namjoon] hope you had a good day

[7:29 PM Kim Namjoon] mine would be a lot better if you were sitting on my cock right now

Your eyes widen and you flip the phone back over with a slam to the table. Jungkook looks at you curiously.

“Whose that?” He asks.

You want to lie, but Jungkook can tell when you’re lying. “Just Namjoon,” you tell him, “He was asking about some homework.”

Jungkook nods slowly before chewing on his bottom lip again, “You and hyung are good friends?”

Your face drops and you don’t say anything.

“I’m just asking since I’ve seen you guys together at our parties,” he adds while clearing his throat.

“Yeah, we’re friends,” is all that comes from your mouth. Jungkook’s eyes are hard to read but you can tell he knows you’re not saying what you’re actually thinking. What he wants you to do is be honest with him and tell him that yeah, you and Namjoon fuck from time to time, but of course, he doesn’t get that answer.

About twenty minutes later, Kyla is bringing your food.Your stomach growls as the scent of the food comes into your nostrils. The two of you begin eating, keeping some small talk between the two of you.

“Are you still a business major?” You ask him as you chow down on your French fries loaded with ketchup.

Jungkook scrunches his face up, “Hell no,” he shakes his head.

You stop your chewing momentarily, “Oh,” is all you can muster. “I’m sure that went over well with your father.”

Jungkook gives you a short glance, a smirk across his face, “It went as well as you can imagine.”

Growing up, Jungkook was expected to go to college, get a business degree of some kind and him and his older brother were to takeover his father’s company by the time he was 30—you would know, Jungkook would secretly complain to you about nonstop as teenagers.

“What are majoring in now?”

“Photography and film,” he answers boldly.

“Oh, wow,” you tell him, “That’s a big move.”

“I’d rather die than being forced to do something I don’t want to do, that’s no way to live life,” he munches on his burger, his eyes looking straight into yours.

“How’s Taehyung?” You ask him.

“He’s good,” he laughs a little bit, “Would you believe it if I told you he has a girlfriend?” He cocks his head slightly.

“Taehyung? And a girlfriend?” You say in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he chuckles, “It’s weird though, he won’t introduce me to her, hell he won’t even tell me her name.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “That is weird,” you pause, “Maybe he thinks you’ll steal her,” you smirk jokingly. 

Jungkook shakes his head, “Taehyung’s got more game than I do, trust me,” he says with a laugh. 

“I’m assuming you don’t have a girlfriend?” You ask him nervously, biting down on your bottom lip.

Jungkook stops eating and rolls his tongue on the inside of his cheek, “No, I haven’t dated anyone since Yuna really.”

The confession surprises you and you somewhat don’t believe him.

“Why not?” You press.

He shrugs, “Just haven’t found anyone I like I guess, like, really like, you know?”

You nod understandingly. Before Namjoon (whom you aren’t even dating) you had dated this guy for awhile and he was nice but you were bored as fuck in that relationship. Thankfully, you moved on from that onto better things.

Once the two of you finish your meals, Jungkook pays before you can protest and you leave the restaurant around 8:30 PM. You shove your hands into your jacket and walk along beside of Jungkook, lazily kicking rocks when you come across them.

“So, what did I do to deserve a free meal and a coffee from Jeon Jungkook in the span of two days?” You look up at him and he glances down to you quickly.

“I said I wanted to catch up, how else was I supposed to do that?” He smirks and you hit his arm playfully.

You don’t say anything so he continues.

“I don’t know, it’s just when I saw you last week working, I hadn’t seen you in so long… let alone speak to you,” he pauses, “It made me realize that I miss our friendship, I missed us…” he trails off, looking straight ahead.

“Why didn’t you reach out sooner?” You ask him seriously.

Jungkook hesitates some, “You could have reached out too, the phone works both ways” his words are unexpected, harsh. And they somewhat hurt.

You don’t say anything again, feeling a sting in your chest.

“I didn’t mean it like that Y/N,” Jungkook say, stopping his path to stand in front of you, “It’s just… we haven’t spoken in so long. I feel like you’re a completely different person ever since we got here to university. I don’t know what happened—“

“You don’t know what happened?” Your tone is sharp. “Are you stupid Jungkook?”

He looks taken aback, “W-what?”

“When we were eighteen and you fucking kissed me that’s what happened and that’s when shit changed Jungkook, don’t act like you don’t know,” you sound angry to which, you are. Talking about this gets you riled up.

Jungkook lowers his head, “We should have talked about that, I know but—“

“But what Jungkook? It ruined our friendship and you know it.”

“I ruined it?” He now sounds pissed off. “What ruined our friendship was you acting like I didn’t exist once we got here to college. You blew me off and blew me off time and time again,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I tried to maintain this friendship and you know it. If that stupid, fucking, drunken kiss bothered you that bad, you should have been a big girl and told me.”

You feel frustrated and you feel tears are threatening to spill out of you. You want to comeback with something, but you know he’s right. He did try and you were the one to put distance between you both.

“I-I,” you start but no words come out. “I’m sorry Jungkook. It’s just when we got here, things got more complicated and more stressful, and I couldn’t afford distractions—“

“So I’m a distraction now?”

“What? No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” you shake your head in protest.

“So, hanging out at fraternity houses every weekend, getting hammered with Jennie every weekend, smoking pot once in awhile, and fucking Namjoon isn’t a distraction? But your best friend of fourteen years is a distraction?” Jungkook’s words come out in a frenzy and you feel slightly attacked.

“Excuse me what? Jungkook no—“ you stop yourself from speaking. You know he’s right but that doesn’t give him a right to attack you like that. “So, what’s your excuse then for not being the bigger person than, huh? Getting sucked off too many times in a bathroom and you realized you don’t need my attention anymore? Huh?”

Jungkook’s eyes darken and you can tell he’s pissed off.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He asks you.

“Jungkook, you’re my oldest friend—“

“You don’t treat me like it—“

“Well neither do you,” you back go back and forth with each other. You’re frustrated. Angry. Sad.

Jungkook is fighting a battle in his head. “I’m sorry okay,” he says, “I think we both can admit we’ve acted shitty to each other.”

You look away from him staring aimlessly at your lap, “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Neither should have I,” he says. “I just wish you had told me about that stupid kiss, we could have talked through it Y/N. I wasn’t thinking back then.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

Jungkook’s eyes look panicked and he scratches the back of his neck.

“I had a stupid little crush on you at the time okay? And alcohol doesn’t help, it only intensified my feelings.”

“What?” Your mouth drops agape at the confession.

“I know, stupid right,” he shakes his head, “Fuck I wished we had discussed this sooner because this is so embarrassing,” he laughs while shaking his head.

You’re in disbelief. Jungkook liked you? How did you not know? It makes your insides tingle at the thought, but you know you shouldn’t get excited so you drown out the feeling deep within you. 

“Well, that was years ago,” you tell him, “All we can do now is look ahead,” your breath is uneven and shaky.

“You’re right,” he mutters, “I really am sorry Y/N, I-I just want you as a friend again—“

“I forgive you Jungkook. And I’m sorry too.”

What Jungkook does next is unexpected but all too familiar. He grabs your chin and squeezes it in his hand. You swat him away with a laugh as he pulls you in by an arm. You oblige his movements and rest your head on his shoulder as the two of you keep walking. There’s something oddly intimate about this gesture. And the whole atmosphere has changed but you like it—it feels… like home.

“Can I ask you something?” You mumble.

“You just did,” he laughs and his chest rumbles underneath you.

“Shut the fuck up,” you lean up from him with a smile, “Namjoon said you talk about me a lot…?” You trail off your question. You could be sneaky if you really wanted to be.

“He did?” Jungkook panics. Fucking Namjoon, he thinks to himself. “W-what did he say?” He stumbles on his words.

“Just stuff,” you respond hesitantly, “He may or may not have said that you called me hot.” Jungkook freezes beside of you.

“Fucking hell, I’m gonna kill hyung,” he mutters underneath his breath, “Look I’m sorry okay—I was really drunk and I saw you at one of our parties in this short ass dress and fuck, yeah I said you were hot—I’m sorry okay? I know that’s so fucking weird jeez, I’m sorry—“

“Jungkook it’s fine,” you laugh interrupting his rambling. “It’s not weird, I just wanted to know whether or not Namjoon was feeding me shit.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” He asks and you can sense that he is very embarrassed. “I told you, I’m not good with my alcohol.”

You shake your head, “I mean, you’re pretty hot too if I say so myself,” the words tumble from your mouth and you actually want to crawl in a hole and die. Did you just say that?! Jungkook looks at you as you turn your face away from him. Fuck, he thinks to himself. He glances down your body and notices the cleavage coming through your dress and the way you hair is pulled to one side. Fuck, he thinks again, yeah, stupid little crush three years ago my ass.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice his quiet, serious.

“Of course,” you look up at him with a concern face.

“You can’t tell anyone—not even Jennie,” he says, his voice low. You give him a confused look, but nod anyways.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him. He bits at his lip, feeling uneasy.

He takes in a deep breath before exhaling, “When I changed my major a few months back, my parents threatened to cut me off—“

“Whoa, what?”

“And they’re still threatening to if I don’t get my shit straight.”

“Jungkook, I don’t get what you’re saying? Have you done something?” You ask him, feeling already too uneasy about where this conversation is going.

“No, I haven’t done anything—that’s the problem. I haven’t proved to them that I’m worthy for them to keep paying for my school. I haven’t proved to them that I can get a job somewhere. My grades aren’t proving anything to them.”

“What are you gonna do if they cut you off? You can’t pay for this shit-hole by yourself—they know that.” You notice the way his jaw is grinding and his breathing is shaking.

“Please don’t get mad at me,” he mumbles quietly. Oh god. “Recently I started taking up, um… boxing,” he says, unsure of his words.

“…Okay?” You say slowly.

“I’ve been fighting, like underground fighting,” you almost don’t hear him, but then you do, and you want to laugh in his face—but he’s being serious.

“Fighting? Jungkook what the fuck?!” You push yourself away from the comfort of his side, “Are you crazy?!”

“I’m getting paid for the fights—if I win at least,” he tries to sound reasonable but to you, you want to scream at him in anger.

“Jungkook, are you fucking kidding me? You’re fighting? Instead of finding a real job?”

“Y/N you don’t understand—I make thousands of dollars for one fight—it’s my best chance right now.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you shake your head, pulling your hands through your hair in frustration, you cannot believe this man right now.

“What are you going to do about school then? Huh?” You press him.

“I-I was hoping you would help me, at least try to tutor me,” he says hesitantly and your stomach drops. You don’t say anything for a moment, unsure if you want to scream or cry at him.

“So this is the reason why you wanted to rekindle our friendship, so I could be your fucking tutor?”

“What no—“

“Are you fucking kidding me Jungkook? I cannot believe you right now,” your voice is getting louder by the minute. You start to walk away from him back to your apartment by yourself, unable to even look at him right now.

“Wait—no, please Y/N,” Jungkook runs to you, grabbing your hand and pulls you back to him, “I know this is all bad timing but I really did miss having you as a friend and you’re the only person, I could tell this to, at least for now,” he quickly explains.

“What, so you want me to help you through school while you get the shit knocked out of you for money?” You ask him, “Jungkook I don’t want to see you go through that, you have to find another option,” your eyes are pleading with him. His grip moves from your hand to your waist which causes your heart to race irregularly.

“Y/N, please I know it’s not the best but it really is my best option. I need someone there for me and I need that person to be you,” his face is too close for comfort and you back away from him a few inches.

“Jungkook, I don’t know,” you shake your head.

“Please, Y/N, I’m begging you,” he says again.

“Have you told anyone?” You ask him.

“Aside from you, only Taehyung knows—and Yoongi, he was the one to introduce me to it.” Yoongi—a name you’re not familiar with.

“Fucking hell Jungkook,” you lean your head back, trying to contain your emotions.

“Please you can’t tell anyone Y/N, I can get in serious trouble by obtaining money this way.”

“Yeah because it’s fucking illegal,” you spit at him. You find his hand to grip a little too tightly and you want to scream at Jungkook. How could he be so stupid? And how were you going to let him be so stupid?

“I’ll help you with school Jungkook, but the fighting… I don’t know,” you tell him, “You know I’m not going to be okay with that.”

“If you makes you feel any better, I haven’t lost. The most I’ve walked away with is a few scraps and bruises on my arms,” he tries to lighten up your mood but it doesn’t work. “I promise I won’t get hurt, I know what I’m doing,” he nudges you trying to loosen you up some. He hands end up grabbing yours, intertwining them tightly.

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep Jungkook,” you tell him and his face falls again. Both of you look at your intertwined hands. “At least promise me you’ll be careful,” you plead him.

“Of course. I promise,” he says giving your hand a squeeze. Without warning, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly. Your hands snake up against his neck and pull him close to you as well.

His scent is all too familiar and it scares you that you’ve missed out on him growing into the handsome adult he is now. And now, you have to fear for his wellbeing. Fuck. Jungkook pulls away from you and your faces meet a little too close for comfort. His nose brushes against yours, his eyes burning holes into you.

“I’d trust you with my life Y/N,” he speaks again, “And I’m trusting you with this.”

Your breath hitches as his nose brushes yours again. Fuck, you think to yourself. You bite your lip, knowing that you wold absolutely die for this boy and it takes all of you to grip his shirt and push him away from you. You feel less suffocated once your space is empty and Jungkook’s hand stays in yours as he walks you home. It’s a good thing, you think, that you’ve had a stupid little crush on him too or you would most definitely not do this shit for him.

_____

“So,” Jennie says slowly, “How was it?”

You hadn’t even walked into your apartment five feet before Jennie is rushing questions onto you.

“Um,” you pause, taking the time to take off your shoes, “It went... well,” you say, unsure of your words. Did it go well? You weren’t sure considering the two of you were in an argument nearly the whole way home.

“Well?” Jennie asks, curiosity dripping in her tone, “I need more details than that. What’d you do? What did you guys talk about?”

“Um, we just kind of caught up on things,” you knew you had to tread your words lightly. “It felt pretty normal.” You add at the last second, giving her a weak smile. She narrows her eyes at you.

“That’s it?” She somewhat frowned.

“What did you want me to say?” You give her a laugh as you begin to walk back towards your room and undress into your sleepwear. She follows your footsteps closely.

“I don’t know! I was just expecting more, more from you! You seem awfully quiet,” she says plopping down on your bed that she is oh-so accustomed to.

You look through your drawers and pull out a big t-shirt and slip it over your head. You turn to Jennie and give her another pathetic attempt of a smile.

“It’s just weird okay,” you tell her, climbing onto your bed with her, “This was the first time we’ve actually hung out by ourselves in years and I don’t know, it was good, like we picked up where we left off you know?” You knew that was a complete lie but you needed to get Jennie off your case or you were afraid you would let your worries slip.

She lets out a sigh, “I guess so. I do think about high school sometimes and we really had it good… the four of us,” she smiles fondly thinking back to simpler times.

“Yeah… we did,” you agree staring up at your ceiling.

“How’s Taehyung by the way? Did Jungkook mention him?”

You give a glance at Jennie and she’s looking at her overgrown nails. “He’s good, Jungkook said he had a girlfriend which surprised me.”

“Hm,” Jennie shrugged, “Interesting.”

You furrowed your eyebrows while looking at her. “Interesting?” You found her answer odd but she brushes it off.

“Yeah, well I have homework to do that isn’t gonna do itself unfortunately,” she stands up from your bed, “See you in the morning, goodnight.” She throws you a quick wink before she leaves, shutting your bedroom door behind of her.

You let out a sigh of relief when she leaves. As happy as you were that you and Jungkook reconnected some tonight, the uneasiness in the pit of your stomach was keeping you from focusing on the good. You couldn’t believe what Jungkook had gotten himself into. Boxing? For money? You knew Jungkook never had much common sense but this takes it to another level. You now knew one of his deepest secrets and not only could that seriously backfire on you if something went wrong. He said he trusted you with his fucking life for Christ’s sake. Who says that to someone they’ve barely spoken to in two years? Someone who is desperate, you think.

You grab a book from your nightstand for one of your classes and flip to your last read page, trying to rid your mind of Jungkook getting the shit beat out of him. And as much as you read your book and your eyelids fall sleepy, you manage to barely sleep that night, as images of your old friend are burned into your brain.

_____

It wasn’t long after your first meetup with Jungkook that he started asking for tutoring help. Jungkook knew your schedule was busy and he didn’t want to pressure you into anything, but the more you were around Jungkook, the more desperate you were to help him. You have known him for so long and despite all your differences, he truly was and will always be one of your best friends. And best friends helped each other. Right?

“Hey—sorry I’m late,” you meet Jungkook in the back of the fourth floor of the library after your last class of the day. “I had a question about my lecture—“

“Y/N it’s fine,” Jungkook says softly, not looking up from his paper, “Don’t worry about it.”

You set down beside of him and begin to take your belongings out of your backpack and you notice Jungkook has already begun some work himself.

“How was classes today?” You ask him opening up your laptop. You give him a glance and he’s focused on the problem in front of him.

“It was alright, I slept through my first one at ten—“

“What’s that?” You ask as you let your eyes focus a little too close on his face. A cut lined across his jaw and up towards his left ear and you felt yourself begin to panic.  “Jungkook what—“

“Don’t worry about it,” he’s being cold and distant and you don’t like it. You look down his arms and onto his hands and notice some cuts and bruises there too. That’s when it hits you.

“Jungkook did you have a fight recently?” You keep your voice low so no one else could hear. He visibly tenses up beside of you and he adjusts his beanie on his to try and cover his ear area.

“Yeah,” he says simply, his eyes not looking at you one time, still focusing on the paper ahead.

“Jungkook,” your tone is deep and not happy, but you suppose there isn’t much you can do in this situation. Curiosity got the best of you and you ask, “What happened?”

“Let’s not talk about that okay?” He turns to you fully and you inwardly gasp, seeing that his right eye is half blacked behind his glasses. You feel sick to your stomach and your mouth parts. Again, you don’t say anything and just give him a nod.

The rest of the tutoring session with him goes smoothly and Jungkook has significantly picked up his understanding of his classes in a short amount of time, but in the back of your mind you wanted to scream. Scream at him. How could he be doing this to himself? He first told you he was fine. He sure doesn’t look fine. It’s getting close to 7 o’clock when you tell him you have to go get ready for your shift at the diner in an hour.

“We can pick up again whenever you need to,” you tell, “And text me if you have any questions.”

“What are you doing this weekend?” Jungkook completely ignores your sentences and you turn to him, trying not to stare at the faint of blue under his eye.

“Um, I have another shift tomorrow that starts at 7,” you tell him.

“Can you get off?” He asks almost nervously as the two of you begin to leave the library.

You chuckle, “Probably not, why?”

“Well, Taehyung and I are having a small get together at our apartment and I wanted to know if you and Jennie wanted to come?”

He sounds genuine and you know it could be fun and a little different from the chaotic frat scene that you’re used to.

“Sure, I’m sure Jennie will be down,” you give him a smile to which he returns one for the first time tonight. “If I can’t get off work I’ll just come after my shift.”

“Sounds good,” he says and you are about to part ways before he grabs your arm to stop you, “Thanks again Y/N, for helping me out,” there’s a glimmer in his eyes.

“No problem, it’s what a friend would do right?” You give him your best smile although it feels weird saying that. His face drops in the slightest way.

“Yeah…” he trails off, his hand trailing down your arm before letting go, “See you soon?”

You give him a nod, “See you soon.”

_____

Your shift at the diner tonight was being particularly slow for a Tuesday and you found yourself aimlessly making lattes for yourself every thirty minutes. You were slightly jacked from the caffeine but you knew you would need it once you went home to finish off the load of your homework for the night. Bedtime as of right now was looking to be 3 AM, possibly 4. Mark is once again working with you tonight which makes it all the more bearable, but the more you stand behind the counter, sipping your coffee, the more you realize you do not want to waste tomorrow night working.

“Hey, Mark,” you say and he looks up from his book.

“What’s up?” He asks, his eyes focussing on you.

“Would you care…. to possibly… take my shifts this weekend?” You ask slowly, dancing around the topic. His eyebrows furrow and you could tell that is not what he wanted to hear from you.

“I mean… I don’t care to, but can I ask why?”

Shit. You couldn’t say it was to go to a small party. That would be an automatic no.

“Well, I’ve been tutoring someone recently and it's taken away from my own study time, so I really need all weekend to catch up on all my shit,” you say smoothly. Not a complete lie, but he didn’t need to know you would be catching up on your “shit” tonight and not this weekend.

“Yeah, sure whatever,” he waves his hand off, “Just be sure to tell our manager before you leave.”

“Right… thanks Mark.”

“That means you owe me a shift in the future,” he says pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah, read your fucking book.”

_____

Friday was a blur. You went to sleep around 3:45 AM. Had to wake up at 7 AM for your 8 AM lecture, dragged your feet to your other classes, barely had time to eat anything, only consuming coffee to suppress your appetite in the afternoon, and now that you were home you couldn’t wait to lay in your bed for a few hours.

Jennie didn’t have classes on Friday’s—fuck her—so she had been chilling all day when you burst through the door exhausted.

“You look horrible,” she said as soon as you flopped down on the couch beside of her.

“You don’t have to tell me that,” you groan covering your eyes.

“Well you better get rested up before tonight,” she says.

“What’s tonight?” You mumble, nearly drifting off to sleep right then and there.

“Jungkook invited us to his apartment, that’s what you said last night,” she gave you a funny look before shaking her head.

Shit. You had forgotten about that throughout your drowsy state all day.

“Yeah, right,” you pause, looking at her through the crack of your arm, “Wake me up at 7 to get ready.” You stand up planning on taking the fattest nap of your life.

“I-I captain!” Jennie says sarcastically and it’s the last thing you hear before passing out on your bed, not even bothering to put a blanket over you.

_____

Jungkook and Taehyung’s apartment isn’t far from yours. You wouldn’t say the exterior is nicer than yours, but the abundance of buildings shows that their community is much larger than the one you and Jennie share.

“This is right?” Jennie asks as you knock on the door heavily.

“Yeah,” you say, faintly hearing music from the other side of the door.

The door swings open and to your surprise, it’s Taehyung.

“Jennie, Y/N!” He smiles widely at the two of you before ushering you in. “It’s been wayyyy too long! You guys want a drink?”

You take a second to look around their apartment, not seeing Jungkook anywhere. There’s about two dozen people here, some playing pong, others sitting around the living area. You knew Taehyung was feeling a little drunk despite it being only 9 from the way he grabs a couple cups, the entire tower of them falling over.

“How have you guys been?!” Taehyung pours some cheap tequila into your red solo cups and hands them over.

“Good, what about you?” Jennie smiles to him and Taehyung pours another shot for himself.

“Fucking great,” he says before putting his cup out. The three of you bump cups and down the tequila, a familiar burn hitting you instantly. It’s oddly reminiscent, the three of you drinking alcohol like there are no problems with the world.

“Where’s Jungkook?” You ask, giving another glance around the apartment, only recognizing some of his frat brothers, but him still not to be found.

“He went to get more alcohol and some other things,” Taehyung says, pouring another shot for the two of you. “I heard the two of you finally got over your bullshit?”

You furrow your eyebrows and Jennie laughs. “W-what?” You have to laugh too, “Bullshit?”

“You know, how the two of you acted like neither of you existed? God it was so annoying hearing that little bitch talk about you constantly,” he rolls his eyes dramatically and Jennie eyes you suspiciously.

“Uh, yeah—“ you were unsure of what to say, “Heard you have a girlfriend now?” You change the subject quickly and Jennie raises her eyebrows at Taehyung.

“Really?” Jennie says almost passively. Taehyung doesn’t glance at you, only looking to Jennie.

“Yeah,” he says, “C’mon, drink your shit. The night is young and you guys need to catch up!”

“Or you need to slow down?” You offer and only giggles again. You down another shot and at this pace, you’ll be passed out by 11, Jennie by 10. You’ve always handle your alcohol better than her, but a shot every two minutes will do anyone in.

The three of you talk aimlessly, somewhat of an unresolved tension between Jennie and Taehyung that is impossible to avoid until you get some more alcohol in you. You’re about four shots of Jose Cuervo in and sipping on some type of seltzer when your phone buzzes in your hand.

[9:46 PM Namjoon] hey, wrud tonight

[9:46 PM You] at a friend’s place tonight, wbu

Your eyes are having trouble to focus as the alcohol begins to settle in your system. You remember vividly how you barely had any food today and you know you should stop drinking otherwise you might puke everywhere.

[9:48 PM Namjoon] damn, missing you. I believe you still owe me a rain check

You laugh at your phone.

[9:48 PM You] soon, I promise lol

“Jungkook! Fuck yes my brother!”

You instantly look up from your phone and see Jungkook walking through the front door, a case of beer in one hand and a brown bag in the other. He smiles as he sets down the case and bag of liquor as his brothers crowd around him to grab a can.

Do you go up to him? Yes, are you, stupid? But shouldn’t he look for you? What are you twelve?

Your internal monologue is interrupted when Taehyung pulls you over to Jungkook with a small push.  

“Hey Y/N,” Jungkook smiles, grabbing a beer for himself. He’s wearing a hat to cover his forehead.

“Hi,” you smile and he gives you a small, somewhat awkward hug.

“Glad you could make it,” he says, the bruises on his face from the other day already looking a lot better.

“I was not going to spend my Friday night at the restaurant,” you laugh, trying intensely to focus on his face and not zone in and out as you tend to do drunkenly.

“Jennie here?” He asks.

“Yeah, she’s uh,” you pause, actually not knowing where she went. “Oh, she’s playing pong with Taehyung.”

“Come on then,” he reaches out his hand, “Let’s play with them.”

“Jungkook I’m terrible, you know that—“

“I never said you were good, but for old times sake?” His brown eyes bore into yours and you give in, nodding your head and settling your hand into his. His hands are warm—always have been. Slightly rough and calloused but smooth—what the fuck, stop it!

The four of you, girls verses boys, start a new game of pong and you’re sure Jennie is just as bad as you. That’s evident when Jungkook and Taehyung lob four in, one after another. You’re lucky you get one in their cups. Jennie, too drunk at this point, can’t even throw straight. The whole sight is very funny as the four of you laugh like you’re the only ones in the room.

“Come on Y/N!” Taehyung yells, “I knew you were ass but really?!”

“Me! What about her!” You defend yourself as Jennie throws a ball at Jungkook’s head.

“At least Y/N can aim!” Jungkook laughs, defending you as well, rubbing his head from the plastic impact.

The game ends with Jungkook calling island and you don’t even care at this point. Pong was and never will be your favorite. Flip cup was your speciality and even Taehyung knew that. You find yourself sitting with Jungkook on their couch, legs tucked underneath you, watching at Taehyung and Jennie take on another round of pong with Jackson—a fraternity brother—and his long time girlfriend—Mina, maybe?

“Are you even drunk right now?” You deadpan Jungkook with your eyes and he gives you a small smile.

“Nah,” he says, “You are though,” he says pointedly drinking from his beer.

“Hey—“ you point, “Only a little,” you whisper close to his ear and he laughs at you again. “You sir, need to drink.”

Jungkook shakes his head before standing up, your eyes following up his jeans to his t-shirt clad chest. Has he always looked like this? You grab onto his extended hand and he leads you away from everyone and your heart rate quickens. Where are you going? What’s he doing?

To your relief, he takes to the small outside balcony, sliding the door nearly closed as you step out. There’s two other people out here smoking cigarettes that greet you and Jungkook curiously. You have seen these boys before, but you know they don’t recognize you. They obviously think you’re some random girl Jungkook has invited but—if they only knew.

The fresh air feels nice, but you can feel a chill running down your spine and you watch Jungkook’s frame go to a dark corner of the balcony, bending down to pick something off the ground.

“What are you doing?” You ask him and he turns back to you and you send some interesting paraphernalia in his hands.

“Not in a drinking mood tonight,” he says, his eyes leaving yours before focusing on the small glass bowl in his hands. He starts to pack it and you’re watching his every move closely. You never knew Jungkook to be a stoner, but the way he packs it quickly and begins to light it, tells you otherwise. He inhales through the end of the bowl deeply, exhaling once, before quickly taking another hit.

“Goddamn,” you laugh and he starts to cough a little bit, a small laugh coming from him.

Jungkook begins to walk back to the corner before you grab his shirt to pull him back.

“You heard of sharing is caring?” You say and he shakes his head.

“No, you’re drunk, you don’t need—“

“I want too,” you say. You hadn’t smoked in awhile, but you knew you could trust Jungkook. “Come on, I’m fine.”

Jungkook hesitates a little before he holds out the bowl. You take it and hold is securely between your lips. He lights the underside and you inhale deeply. The balcony begins to smell like weed, but it doesn’t bother you, it never has. You exhale and give him a small smile. He puts the illegal substances away and stands beside of you on the balcony.

“Alright, that will be five dollars,” he says and you turn to him, your mouth agape.

“Five dollars a hit? Kiss my ass,” you say and you suddenly begin to feel the effects of the marijuana, which makes you giggle a little too long.

“How was your day?” Jungkook asks you and you nearly feel like you could fall asleep.

“Exhausting,” you mumble, “I got like four hours of sleep last night and one of my professors had the audacity to tell me that my answer was wrong on my homework when literally five other people had the same answer and got it right. And then I had coffee as my meals and had a busting headache until I took the longest nap of my fucking life—“

“Slow down,” Jungkook interjects with a laugh, “Too much information that I’m not processing right now.”

You let out an “ugh” before saying, “I’ve had better days for sure.” You leave it at that. “What about you?”

He smiles before turning to you completely, “I’ve had better days, better weeks for sure.” He almost sounds annoyed now, like something is deeply bothering him.

You let a pause presume between the two of you, unsure of what to say. You know you shouldn’t bring it up, but you can’t help it. The bruises on his face, the cuts on his hands—you needed to know what happened to him. Despite your intoxicated state, you could form sentences and think pretty clearly and you weren’t letting Jungkook out of your sight without explaining himself.

“Jungkook,” you say in a whisper, looking around to see if the other guys had left. They had. “Are you gonna tell me what happened to your face?”

He looks down, almost embarrassed. “There was a fight on Tuesday,” he stops when you furrow your eyebrows at him.

“Tuesday?!” You half whisper, “What the hell are you doing fighting on a Tuesday? Jungkook you said—“

“It wasn’t an official fight Y/N,” he interrupts you, “I was fucking jumped with one of my friends,” he says and your eyes widen. You feel your head spinning and your mouth goes dry. From the weed, alcohol, or the conversation? You’re not sure.

“What?” You ask, worry filling your tone, “Jungkook what the fuck! You said you had this under control.”

“Keep your voice down!” He scolds, “I do have it under control, although you can’t really control when you get jumped.”

“W-why? Who would want—“

“His name is Eric. I beat him at the last real fight and I guess he’s a sore fucking loser. He wants a rematch and everything, said he was injured before the fight, so he sent some pussies to jump my friend Jimin and I.”

The information being taken in wasn’t something you wanted to hear. Was this stupid underground boxing that serious? And how stupid could Jungkook be to continue to do this?

“Well you’re not gonna fight him again,” you pause. He doesn’t look at you. “Are you?”

“There’s a lot of money on the line,” he says.

“Jungkook you’ve got to be joking.”

“I’m not Y/N,” he turns to you again, his body now closer than before. His knuckles gripping the railing are pale and cracked. “If I win this fight, I won’t need anymore money before the end of the year. Hell, I’ll probably even have some left over.”

“Okay? And?”

“Then I can be done with fighting,” he sounds genuine but insincere  at the same time. This greatly improves your posture and you feel your heartbeat calming down.

“B-but I figured you would need more money? Your parents Jungkook?” You stumble over some of your words.

“Y/N you don’t understand the money within these things, it’s insane. Trust me, I’ll be set with money for awhile. I just have to win that fight…”

You want to protest him. Tell him he shouldn’t do it, that he should find a normal job, get away from that stuff—but you stay silent. Jungkook always will be as stubborn as you and he seems to have made up his mind about this fighting stuff awhile ago. At the end of the day, whatever happens to him, isn’t necessarily your business.

“You know I’ll never agree with this,” you shake your head, looking down at Jungkook’s hands. They’ve relaxed against the railing and time has slowed down significantly. Every blink of your eyes seem to last 5 seconds and Jungkook could say the same thing.

“I know,” Jungkook steps towards you, overlapping one of his hands with yours, “But like I said, I trust you and you should trust me,” he almost sounds desperate. “Look at me,” he whispers and you slowly turn your head up. Your noses are nearly touching and you can smell him, your vision clouding in the dark.

“Do you trust me?” He asks quietly, licking his lips and you swallow, trying to find your breath.

You nod your head slowly, “Yes.”

You don’t know who leans in first, but when your lips meet, it’s like a siren goes off. The scene feels all too familiar. His lips are soft and they feel just like you remember. He’s gentle with you, his left hand holding your waist to pull you towards him, your bodies flush together. One of your hands finds their way to his hair and you pull him down closer to you. This feels good, really good—but isn’t this wrong? You two have just rekindled your relationship and you two didn’t even last four weeks before you two are snogging—the very reason your friendship became weird in the first place all those years ago.

You try to pull away, “Jungkook—“ he closes the gap once again and it’s like a drug—touch is like heroin in your veins. Both of you are hungry—hungry for each other. You’re not sure when, but you find yourself backed into the wall of the dark-side of the balcony. The door isn’t in view so anyone inside couldn’t see what was going on right now thank god.

“Y/N,” the groan sends your body into overdrive and he begins to trail his lips down your neck and you’ve pulled him so close to you there is barely room to breathe. It’s gotta be the alcohol—or the weed—or just Jungkook—but you’ve never wanted anyone more in your life. You squeeze your thighs together to find some unrelieved friction and Jungkook senses what you’re doing. He stops you, forcing is own leg between your crotch and you subtly moan.

“Fuck, shh,” Jungkook scolds and it makes you laugh as you check if anyone is coming to the door.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and he closes the gap between you again, covering your mouth gently and you genuinely feel butterflies in your stomach. Jungkook’s hand trails from your waist down to the front of you jeans and you pull away suddenly, “Jungkook w-what are you doing?!”

“Do you want me to do this?” He sounds mischievous as he pops open the button to your pants and you can safely say you never thought you would be in this situation with Jeon Jungkook of all people, but you are not about to stop him.

You kiss him this time, pulling on his hair, eliciting another delicious groan from him. His hand makes it way to your center and you shiver in the cold, his hands warm against your underwear. He rubs you through the material, once, twice, three times before he moves aside the fabric—the wetness covering his fingers instantly. You look towards the door again nervous that someone might walk out here and see the two of you compromised—you would die. Especially if it was Taehyung or Jennie.

“Quiet, alright?” Jungkook whispers and you nod biting your lip as he enters a finger into you. You close your eyes, mouth falling open. Your breathing picks up as he enters a second digit. His fingers are long and calloused as you noticed before but it feels so good. He brings one of your legs around his waist so he can get deeper into your center and a small, squeaky moan escapes from your mouth. Jungkook shuts you up by kissing you again and he begins to move his fingers in and out, curling them in all the right places, sending you into a silent mess.

You and Jungkook shouldn’t be doing this—not here, not right now, not ever. But you’re not doing anything to stop it. Neither is he. Is this suppose to be happening then? No—definitely yes. Wait, what? Your brain is so foggy you can’t even think straight.

Jungkook has added a third finger and it’s becoming harder and harder to stay quiet. Jungkook’s face in the crook of your neck, your neck in his—it’s all a little too intimate but it’s hot and heavy and it feels so good. Jungkook begins to use his thumb to find your clit, which he does with no problem—rubbing there and still moving in and out of you. Goddamn, he knows what he is doing.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna—“

“Shh,” he says, “Bite me, anywhere,” he says and you do as he says, your teeth clamping down onto his shoulder as you feel yourself falling off the edge. Your orgasm comes in a huge wave and it’s one of the best you’ve had in a long time—your body is shaking and you whimper into his shoulder, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Jungkook lets you finish before he pulls his hand out of your pants, letting your leg drop. You two stare at each other for a couple seconds, unsure of what to do now. You knew that Jungkook was hard in his pants but you weren’t sure if he wanted you to do anything about it. Should you ask? No that’s fucking weird. Well it’s fucking weird you just let your best friend of a billion years to give you one of the best orgasms of your life.

“Um,” he speaks first, “We should go back inside,” he says.

You nod, “Yeah, we should.”

You follow closely behind him as he slides the door open and you step back into the much warmer apartment.

“Y/N! Jungkook! What were you guys doing?!” Jennie pops out of nowhere until she steps back, “Fuck never mind, I can smell it,” she laughs, her eyes looking between the two of you. “What’s wrong with you two? Are you fighting again? Jesus fucking—“

“No, we’re fine, just high,” Jungkook gives her a reassuring smile and she nods absentmindedly. She is very drunk and then two of you might have to go home sooner than later.

“I need to call an Uber,” you say grabbing your phone from your pocket.

“I can drive you guys if you want,” Jungkook offers and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Absolutely not, you’re high.” You say pulling up the app on your phone.

“I’ve driven high before it’s not—“

“Jungkook, no,” you somewhat snap at him. This kid really knows how to grind your gears. “Thanks for inviting us, I just don’t want Jennie to do something she regrets tomorrow morning.” You try your best to lighten to mood but it’s not helping. As much progress as you and Jungkook had made the past few weeks, that all feels gone now. There’s heaviness with you and him and you hate it.

“Just let me know when you make it home?” Jungkook’s eyes are hard to read. He looks worried, anxious, high obviously, and other potential obscurities.

“I will, I promise,” you give him a smile and he returns one weakly. You look over your shoulder to find Jennie practically draping herself all over Taehyung. Fuck. “Jennie! Come on! We’re leaving,” you stomp over to the two of them and Taehyung doesn’t seemed bothered by Jennie throwing herself at him at all. If anything, they both seem to like it. “Jennie, quit, he has a girlfriend. Taehyung, you have a girlfriend,” you narrow at the both of them.

Taehyung laughs very drunkenly, “You’re right, come on Jen,” Taehyung pushes her away slightly and she stumbles over her feet.

“Our Uber is almost here,” you tell her and she nods.

“Sounds good,” she gives you a thumbs up. 

“Help me walk her Tae?” You ask and he nods.

As you and Taehyung have Jennie up around your shoulders, you look around the apartment to find Jungkook to tell him bye, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

_____

It had been exactly one week since you’ve seen Jungkook. Since he was fist deep into your vagina, pleasuring you with at least 20 people in the room next to you. It has also been the last time you spoke to him. He didn’t reach out for any tutoring this week which was odd—as the two of you set a schedule for it a few weeks back. You were worried. You knew you should reach out to him and talk about what happened—but something was holding you back. You didn’t want to talk over the phone. It had to be done in person and it just had to be done. You didn’t want to lose Jungkook a second time to another drunken mistake.

Mistake? Since when was it a mistake? Was it a mistake?

You had no idea.

It’s why you’ve found yourself at Jungkook’s apartment a week later, waiting for someone to open the door. You wait patiently and no one answers the door. You’re about to give up when a voice startles you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

Taehyung appears to your left and you jump.

“Shit Taehyung,” you hold a hand over your chest, “I’m sorry, I-I was just wondering if Jungkook was home?”

Taehyung adjusts his backpack. He must be getting back from class. “He’s probably at the gym.”

You nod slowly, “Alright, thank you.”

“No problem,” he says and you’re about to walk away and he stops you again, “Everything okay?”

You open your mouth and close it again, “Not sure,” you tell him honestly. He nods without another word, seeming to understand where you’re coming from.

If your assumptions were right, Jungkook would be at a gym about ten minutes from campus, one he frequented as a freshman all that time ago. You wanted everything to be okay, but now, you were sure you have done fucked it up once again.

The gym isn’t crowded and you don’t recognize any cars to be Jungkook’s so your mood begins to dampen as you walk towards the front door. The bell rings and you probably look like an idiot walking in with jeans and sandals, but your eyes ignore the stares as you try to find Jungkook. You walk through the gym towards the back, your neck craning each direction to find him. It smells of sweat and grit, something you haven’t done too much of lately. You’re about to give up until you reach the back, where a cracked door leads into another section of the gym. You open the crack slowly and the sounds of grunting and hard hits fill the room. You stop in your place as your eyes land on Jungkook, downing boxing gloves, a pair of shorts, and nothing else. You gulp.

He’s hitting a heavy bag hard and fast, his movements halting only for a split second before he strikes again. He’s dripping in sweat and you gulp again. Should you interrupt? He’s definitely not expecting you therefore you probably shouldn’t barge in but you’re already here, so what are you supposed to do?

“Come on Jungkook,” another man’s voice comes into play. You’ve never seen this guy with mint colored hair. “Throw a southpaw, let’s go!” 

Jungkook’s stance quickly changes and he’s throwing his right arm and then uppercutting his left arm with all of his weight. 

“Nice Jungkook,” the voice says again. Jungkook steps back with a smile on his face, looking behind him. 

“Hey,” a different voice yells over and you stop to see who it is. A guy slightly shorter than Jungkook appears in the crack of the door, a wide smile across his face.

“Good news, fight is set,” the guy smiles, although his smile reads less than enthusiastic. You notice some bruising along this guys arms, a large scrap on the side of his face. This has to be Jimin, the other guy that was jumped with Jungkook. 

“When is it?” Jungkook breathes heavily, his hair sticking to his forehead as he tries to push it back through his gloves.

“October thirteenth,” Jimin says, “A Friday.”

Jungkook laughs, “A fucking Friday the thirteenth? How cheesy could they get?”

You swallow harshly. October 13th was a less than three weeks away. You’re sure they are talking about the fight with the guy named Eric that Jungkook mentioned.

“I know right,” the nameless guy says, “But I’m sure you’ll kick his ass once again, waste of your time.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice Jimin,” Jungkook sounds annoyed and you’re starting to wonder if you should have came here at all. 

“Come on, let’s do some more sets,” the other guy says says, patting Jungkook on the shoulder.

You take in a deep breath, hoping that this doesn’t backfire. You take your chance and open the door to the room as if you just showed up. Jungkook, Jimin, and the third guy turns to you.

“Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking confused, “What are you doing here?”

You glance around the room awkwardly, “Uh, I-uh, went to your apartment to see you if you were a-and Taehyung said you were here, so,” you sound like a babbling idiot.

Jungkook’s eyes soften and it’s hard to not stare below his neck, but somehow you manage.

“Jimin, Yoongi this is Y/N,” Jungkook formally introduces you, “She’s a friend.” A friend. That hurt more than it should have.

“Hi,” Jimin gives you a sweet smile and he seems like a person Jungkook would automatically gravitate towards. Yoongi stays quiet. He’s definitely not someone you would strike as Jungkook’s friend. 

“Sorry if I’m interrupting—I didn’t know…” you trail off, feeling more than awkward in this situation.

“No worries,” Jimin shakes his head, “We were almost done anyways.”

Jungkook’s eyes haven’t met yours since you’ve walked in. He’s staring at Jimin and knowing Jungkook, he’s going to try and leave as soon as he can.

“Wanna meet again tomorrow?” Jimin asks towards Jungkook as he packs up his bag on the floor.

“Yeah, sure,” Jungkook mutters, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. “I’m gonna stay here for a little longer though.”

“Alright,” Jimin says, “It was nice to meet you Y/N.”

You smile to him, “You too.”

Jimin and Yoongi leave the room and the silence is suffocating. You cross your arms around your chest feeling vulnerable and insecure. You look at Jungkook and he’s staring at you now. He looks away from you before turning back to the bag, lining up to strike it again.

“Jungkook,” your voice interrupts his chance to punch. He pauses with one more glance to your frame. You begin to walk closer to him wanting to get this over and done with. “What’s wrong with you?” You ask.

Jungkook looks down, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters and you nearly jump out of your body when he begins to strike the bag in quick, calculated motions. The bag moves backwards with each punch and his face tenses up, his mind clearly on one thing and one thing only. You exhale deeply, trying to stay calm. If that’s the way he’s going to play—you won’t keep your cool for long.

“Jungkook, stop,” you raise your voice over his movements and he suddenly quits, looking up at you again. “Don’t do this right now,” you say stepping closer to him again.

“What do you want Y/N, I’m busy alright,” he scoffs, stepping away from the bag, turning fully to you. You wish he didn’t look good drenched in sweat but it was hard to stay focused when he was looking like that.

“You know exactly what I want. You haven’t spoken to me in a fucking week Jungkook,” your words are fiery despite your cool demeanor.

“Is that really that big of an issue? We barely spoke for two years until recently,” he sounds annoyed, but also timid—you can sense something is bothering him.

You frown, “Yeah until recently because I thought we moved past that.”

He doesn’t say anything. And that’s what boils your blood. Tears are threatening to spill from your eyes—not from sadness, but frustration.  

“So is that it? I let you finger fuck me and now I don’t mean anything to you anymore?” Your words are seething and once you say this, Jungkook’s face softens that slightest bit.

“What? No Y/N—“

“Then what the fuck is wrong with you? What have I done?!” It takes all of you not to breakdown right there. You just got Jungkook back. You couldn’t lose him a second time.

“Y/N listen,” Jungkook takes off his boxing gloves, throwing them in the floor, “You haven’t done anything alright. It’s just—complicated,” he shakes his head, stepping closer to you. He tries to grab one of your hands but you pull away from him.

“No, no you don’t get to do that,” you say, “What happened to communicating Jungkook? Wasn’t that our issue all that time ago?”

He looks down and back up. You really wish he would put a shirt on. “I know, I know…” he wanders off, “If I could tell you I would, but I’m just under a lot of stress right now and—“

“Then tell me what’s wrong,” you don’t want to interrupt him, but you feel like you two are going in an endless circle. Jungkook steps towards you once again and this time you don’t back away from him.

“Look, I’m sorry alright. I shouldn’t have cut you off this past week—I just thought it would clear my head,” he says. With hesitation, he grabs your wrists gently, “That was stupid I get that okay? I’m sorry, especially after… what happened,” he says and you can tell he means it. Jungkook is a genuine person, you can’t argue that.

Your face warms up and you feel almost embarrassed. Were you overreacting?

“I just don’t understand,” you mutter, “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions but Jungkook, you’re worrying me. I don’t know what’s going on with us and this whole boxing thing is keeping me awake at night.”

He intertwines your fingers together and it’s comforting. Comfort you’ve been missing ever since a week ago. “Y/N, please just trust me okay? If I can get through these next few weeks I’m set and I promise you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“How can you promise that?” You look up fully at him and you’re a lot closer than moments ago.

“I don’t to make promises I can’t keep.”

You sure hoped he was right.

_____

Two weeks have gone by since your talk with Jungkook in the gym. He had resumed talking to you normally, although there was still something off about him. Then again, there was something off with you too. The intimate situation the two of you found yourself in a few weeks back, still hadn’t been fully discussed and it bothered you like no other. It bothered you because you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want it to happen again—or even further. Fuck, you shouldn’t be thinking about Jungkook like this. But don’t you have a right to? Jesus you were so confused. It’s why you have found yourself at Beta Tau Sigma once again on a Saturday night, Jennie already lost in tow somewhere, and you’re standing with Namjoon. Even though your mind was clouded with Jungkook, Namjoon was good company at keeping you distracted.

“What’s up with you lately?” Namjoon asks handing you another drink. You furrow your brows before taking a sip. Your face scrunches up at the taste—not the best.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

Namjoon gives you a straight smile, “Don’t play stupid,” he says. You don’t even try to make up a lie. Namjoon is too smart for that.

“I don’t know, Joon,” you sigh, “I’ve just been going through a lot lately I guess,” you mutter over the loud music.

“I get it,” he says, “Wanna talk about it?”

You’re about to answer him when you suddenly spot a familiar head of dark brown hair across the room. It’s Jungkook and he’s with a girl—you recognize her from somewhere. She’s standing in front of him and he’s smirking down at her and says something that makes her laugh. Then you know where you’ve seen her before—the bathroom girl. Fuck her, you don’t even realize you roll your eyes.

Namjoon laughs, “Whoa, what was that for?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“W-what?” You look back to him and he follows where your eyes had been.

“Looking at Jungkook, eh?” He smirks, “Something going on between you two?”

You shake your head immediately, “No. Absolutely not.”

You didn’t know if that was a lie or not. Sure, Jungkook and you may have swapped some bodily fluids recently, but nothing else. You were also keeping a secret of his, one that if Namjoon found out about—would have him kicked out of the frat faster than he could blink. You glance back over to Jungkook one more time and find his eyes scanning the room. They land on you within 5 seconds and he shifts uncomfortably in front of bathroom girl.

“You sure?” Namjoon finds this situation funny. You don’t.

“Shut up,” you push on his chest slightly and he grabs your hand, pulling you towards him.

“Oh I can make you shut up,” he mumbles and you laugh as he closes the distance between the two of you. Namjoon’s lips are always soft and plump but that doesn’t mean he is always the most gentle. Namjoon is rough and sometimes—it’s just what you need. Jungkook’s lips on—

You pull away quickly from him. What the fuck?

“You okay?” He asks with concern.

You nod your head, “Yeah, I, just uh need some air,” you say. It was true—your head was now spinning and the alcohol wasn’t helping. You couldn’t believe you thought of Jungkook when kissing Namjoon.

“Alright, I’ll be by the bar.”

You leave Namjoon’s side and push your way through the hoards of people and loud music. You spot a door towards the back of the kitchen and use that as your opportunity. The air is cool but crisp. Just what you needed. There’s quite a few people outside surrounding a large bonfire keeping warm. You relax against the porch railings, staring aimlessly at the ground beneath you. You pour your drink out, knowing you don’t need to drink anymore of it. You nearly shit yourself when a voice comes up directly behind you.

“Y/N.”

You whip around, clutching your chest. “Jesus Christ Jungkook,” you say. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, a large flannel and sweatshirt covering his torso. He approaches you hastily and you don’t take your eyes off of his.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” he says, obviously trying to make small talk.

“I didn’t either until Namjoon asked me this evening,” you say and you instantly regret bringing up his name. Jungkook stiffens.

“Still good friends with him I see,” he bites his lip nervously, looking over to the bonfire. You squint your eyes at him. He sounds off and annoyed.

“I see you’re still friends with bathroom girl,” you shoot back. You’re not even drunk, barely tipsy, but the thought of Jungkook being annoyed at you and Namjoon nearly sends you. At least you know Namjoon well—the only Jungkook knows about that girl is her fucking mouth.

“Gotta an issue with that?” He runs his tongue against his mouth and he looks at your from the side.

You turn to him and this feels all too familiar. “Yeah, actually I do.”

“Well, I have an issue kissing Namjoon in front of me—are we even?” He cocks his head to the side and you’ve never felt more annoyed yet turned on at the same time.

“Whatever,” you brush him off running a hand through your hair, turning back to your front staring at the fire. “Last time I checked I don’t take orders from you.”

“I know,” he says and you feel him push his body against your side. Your breathing instantly picks up and you bite the inside of your cheek to steady yourself. One of Jungkook’s hands finds its way to your shoulder, trailing it down to your elbow, then pushing it through the crack of your arm to settle on your waist.

“Jungkook,” you say quietly, not wanting to bring any attention to the two of you. Jungkook’s head leans down, his temple brushing against yours. His hand rubs gentle circles on your waist and you inhale his scent deeply. Fuck. “Jungkook… are you drunk?”

He shakes his head, “No, are you?” You believe him. He doesn’t smell like alcohol nor does he seem tipsy.

“No,” you say. Jungkook pulls you impossibly closer to him and your throat feels like its closing up.

“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook asks and you turn your head up, your noses brushing together. What? When has he ever been this upfront? You hesitate to answer but soon nod slowly—just once—you needed to feel it again—just once again. He closes the gap between you and you nearly melt into him. One of your hands grabs his face gently, pulling him down to you. Your own hands find their way to his fluffy hair, entangling into the locks. He presses himself into you and you feel your heart beating out of your chest. You let out a small whine when he pulls on your lip with his teeth and it shakes you back to reality.

You pull away from him—your entire body on fire. He’s got you trapped against the railing and you don’t trust the old wood to support your weight much longer.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and you feel something hard pressing into your front and your throat goes dry.

“Come home with me,” he says, “Please.” Desperation. That’s what laces his tone and you’re sure your heart left from your chest. But—you know this isn’t a good idea. Blame it on being sober, but you’re not sure you should go there with Jungkook. Not right now at least. Your head was spinning and as much as you wanted to—you couldn’t.

“Jungkook,” your eyes focus on his chest, watching your hands grip his shirt gently. “I—We can’t, we shouldn’t,” you bite your lip nervously.

“Please Y/N,” he nuzzles his forehead into yours, his grip on your getting tighter, “I need you, please—“

“Jungkook, no,” you push him off of you carefully and he looks hurt and confused. “I’m sorry, I—I want to but—“

“But what?” Once again, he looks sad and maybe a little angry now? “II’m not Namjoon? Is that it?”

You shake your head, not able to find a good answer in your head. His hands drop from your side and so does your stomach. Without another glance at your frame, Jungkook walks away, pulling at the roots of his hair.

You get home alone that night. Fuck. You think you really may have messed up this time. No, Jungkook wasn’t Namjoon but Namjoon could never be Jungkook. The history the two of you have... god you were so confused. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt gravity pull you to someone more since recently, that someone being Jungkook. As confused as your feelings were, you cry some in your bed. You don’t sleep that night, worried that whatever wedge is driving itself between you and Jungkook again—won’t be fixable this time.

_____

Jungkook, maybe much not to your surprise, cuts you off again the next week. You haven’t spoken or seen him since the party. Since he wanted you to go home with him and you nearly did, but thankfully you used your head some. You missed seeing his face dearly and missed his smile even more. When did things get so complicated with you and him? Ever since fucking graduation in high school—nothing has been the same. It’s been years and years and it’s something you’ve never gotten over. The more you think about it, the obvious reasons begin to show. Maybe Jungkook means more to you than you thought? Maybe he wasn’t just supposed to be your best friend? What if you two had been destined for something else all this time? Or maybe you weren’t meant to be friends at all?

Your thoughts are interrupted when a familiar face walks into your shift at the diner. Taehyung is by himself, his backpack thrown lazily over one of his shoulders. He looks tired, but just like you, getting through the day. His eyes meet yours and give him a small smile.

“Sit wherever,” you tell him and he decides to sit along the bar, sitting across from where you stand.

“Good evening,” he gives you a small smile, running a hand over his face.

“Hey Tae,” you breathe out, handing him a menu. He holds up his hand, not wanting it.

“Just get me a latte, extra espresso please,” he says and you nod.

“Coming right up.”

It doesn’t even take you a minute to make lattes now. The process has become so familiar it’s become second nature. Mainly due to your own obsession with lattes and your determination to perfect them yourself. You top the mug off with some foam before sliding it over to Taehyung. He doesn’t wait for it to cool before taking a big gulp.

“Rough day?” You ask, leaning forward on your elbows.

“You don’t even know,” he grumbles, “I had a quiz in my hardest class today that I didn’t know about, therefore didn’t study for,” he pauses, “I had to pick up all the slack on a group project that’s due on Saturday and then I have had to deal with Jungkook’s dumbass all week and he was at his worst this morning,” he rolls his eyes.

The mention of Jungkook makes your heart flutter yet stomach feel nauseated, “What’s wrong with Jungkook?”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you, “Don’t you know?”

“Um… he hasn’t talked to me in a week,” you look down at your hands, your mouth dry.

“Jesus fuck,” Taehyung groans, “No wonder he’s been in such a fucking mood. What did he do?”

You weren’t sure how to go about your answer. Um, yeah, so like Jungkook wanted me to go home with him to have sex and I did too and I didn’t and I don’t know why. Sounds great.

“It wasn’t him. It was me,” you pause, “He asked me to go home with him.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen slightly, a small smirk on his face, “Did you?”

You shake your head, “No, I couldn’t bring myself to. I wanted to but…” you trail off, slightly embarrassed to be telling Taehyung this.

“Goddammit,” he nearly laughs, “No wonder he’s pissy. Between you and tomorrow, kid’s got his work cut out.” You pick up Taehyung joking around but you still furrow your eyebrows.

“What’s tomorrow?” You ask.

“The 13th. Did he not tell you?” Fuck. His fight. Without talking to Jungkook everyday, you had forgotten about the fight.

“He mentioned it.”

“Are you going?” The question catches you off guard.

“What, oh no,” you shake your head, “No, he didn’t ask and I don’t think that’s something I wanna see anyways.”

“Trust me, he wants you there,” he says, “He’s just being a dick.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it,” you snap. “Every time something happens between us… he shuts me off. I don’t fucking get it.”

“Y/N he does this to everyone when he’s stressed,” Taehyung pauses, “Especially since, you know,” he shrugs. The fights.

You nod, “I get it,” you slump, “It’s still frustrating.”

“You don’t have to tell me that—at least you don’t live with him,” he gives you a laugh and you send a smile in return.

“How do you feel about it?” You ask him genuinely, “The boxing I mean…”

Taehyung squints his eyes briefly, “I think it’s stupid personally,” this answer warms your heart until he continues, “But if I was as good as Jungkook I would probably do it too. The money in these things are insane.”

You raise your eyebrows, “So I’ve heard.”

Taehyung nods before he gets a text on his phone. He reads it before smiling.

“Your girlfriend?” You probe curiously.

He clears his throat, “Uh, yeah,” he responds quickly before turning his phone over. “So, what exactly is going on between you two?”

“Uh, what do you mean?” You laugh sarcastically.

Taehyung deadpans his face, “You know what I mean. I know you guys have this weird chemistry, it’s obvious. Plus he hasn’t shut up about you since you started tutoring him. Y/N this, Y/N that… it’s disgusting.”

Did Jungkook really talk about you?

“Ask him, not me because I don’t even fucking know. I could tell you what Kim Namjoon and I are before I could define mine and Jungkook’s relationship.” You let out a laugh and other eye roll.

“I’m assuming you and hyung are… what do they say? Friends with…?”

“Yeah yeah whatever you wanna call it,” you swat your hand slightly embarrassed.

“Jungkook hates it you know,” he says, switching tones. “You and Namjoon.”

You slightly snort, “And why is that?” You could tell Jungkook didn’t like seeing you with Namjoon, even before last weekend after he voiced it.

“Because he knows Namjoon is the type of guy you’ve always wanted, not him.” This takes you completely off guard.

“Why would Jungkook care about that?” You furrow.

Taehyung shrugs, staying silent this time. You weren’t stupid—you knew what Taehyung was implying by saying what he said. It makes your stomach drop. Maybe Jungkook felt more for you than he supposed to as well?

“So are you gonna come tomorrow?” He asks.

“No Taehyung,” you say, “I don’t want to see Jungkook get the shit beat out of him.”

“Jungkook won’t get the shit beat out of him, I can promise you that.”

You eyes glance over to the door as a small group of people walk into the diner. You don’t say anything else to Taehyung as you walk over to greet them. You seat them and make your way back to Taehyung, but you can’t chat much longer as you now have a table to tend to.

“Listen Y/N,” Taehyung stops you before you can walk back over with menus for the group, “If you wanna come, just text me. Like I said Jungkook wants you there, whether he’s said so or not. Also, another latte please, you’re slacking woman.”

You swat him with the menus before walking away from him. Goddamn, these next 24 hours were going to be hell.

_____

You couldn’t remember the last time you were ever this nervous for someone aside from yourself in a very long time. You remember how nervous you were in high school when you got injured and Jennie had to double with a girl on the bench of the tennis team. You remember being nervous for your parents when you left for college. And now, you don’t ever recall a moment in your life where you have been this nervous for Jeon Jungkook of all people.

It was Friday at 3:43 PM and you day was slow but painless, and you had no official plans set for the evening. Taehyung had texted you, wondering if you wanted to hitch a ride along with him to the match. You had yet to answer him. His text mocking you from your screen and you wanted to pretend that you knew nothing of the boxing match but that was impossible.

[You 3:59 PM] What time should I be ready

You send the message before you could regret it and delete it. Jennie has yet to be home from going to the store and you would need a good, yet believable excuse for your absence tonight.

[Taehyung 4:00 PM] i’ll pick you up around 8

[You 4:00 PM] Sounds good. Have you spoken to Jungkook today?

[Taehyung 4:02 PM] no he’s been quiet all day. have you?

[You 4:02 PM] Nope

You don’t receive another text from him and you slump down on your couch. It had been nearing two full weeks since Jungkook had spoken to you. You felt like all of this was your fault, sending him mixed signals and unsure of your own feelings for him. From the secretive finger fuck to the gentle kiss you shared last week, Jungkook was on your mind 24/7—aside from taking exams of course—but he was all you could think about lately. Growing up, you obviously loved Jungkook and was practically glued to his hip, but even then you don’t recall thinking about him every single fucking second.

You pull at the roots of your hair and let out a frustrated groan. Maybe you should reach out? After all, without your initiation of friendship all those years ago, you wouldn’t be here now.

You pick up your phone and find Jungkook’s contact and before you can stop yourself, you tap the call button. Your hands are clammy and you know he probably won’t answer, but it’s worth a try. The line rings for about thirty seconds before it goes dead. That dumbass doesn’t even have voicemail set up.

Pissed off even more, you slam your phone against the coffee table and let out an exasperated ‘fuck’ before going to your room to take a nap. Fuck Jeon Jungkook, is the last thought you have before you drift off into sleep.

_____

Taehyung picked you up at 8:02, though you told Jennie it was Namjoon who picked you up and the two of you were having a night in. You think she believed it but left her before she could ask anymore questions.

“I just don’t fucking get it Taehyung, one second he’s fine and another he’s like a child throwing a fit,” you filled Taehyung in on how you tried to call him but to no avail.

“You don’t have to tell me how he is Y/N, I fucking live with the guy,” he groans from his drivers seat. “I just think he’s going through a lot right now… with school, his parents, the boxing, you… he’s never handle stress that well you know that.”

You let out a sigh, leaning against the window, “It’s just so frustrating trying to help him only to get cut off like this…”

Taehyung looks at you with an eyeful glance though you don’t notice. “Y/N, in his eyes you’ve cut him off too, you do realize that right?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What? No I haven’t?”

“Come on the little brat can’t keep his mouth shut. I know what happened with you two a couple weeks ago,” he says. You don’t say anything, cheeks getting warm. “And the weeks before that on our fucking balcony—“

“Okay what then Tae!” You interrupt him, too embarrassed by the memory.

“Jungkook is trying Y/N,” he says with a hint of a smirk, “He thinks you’re rejecting him,” Taehyung says matter-of-factly.

“Rejecting? C’mon Taehyung you know that I—“

“I know that you and Jungkook like each other, even though neither one of you have said anything, Jennie says it too.”

You narrow your eyebrows at your friend. “I don’t know what I think about Jungkook okay?” You’re being honest. You know you like Jungkook… but you’re scared of what that entails for the future. You want Jungkook in your future, you just don’t know what the right path is.

Taehyung doesn’t say anything else as he pulls his car into a fairly full parking garage. It’s dimly lit and slightly freaks you out. Taehyung had to drive to the other side of the city to get here and you don’t recognize the neighborhood around.

“Stay close to me, alright?” Taehyung opened your door for you and you nod without any argument. You follow Taehyung out of the parking garage into the chilly air and you huddle by his side. The two of you walk down a couple streets before he turns down a dark, dimly lit alleyway.

“Taehyung what the fuck,” you whisper and come to a halt. His brown eyes bleed into yours despite the darkness and he takes your hand into his.

“It’s okay,” he says reassuringly, “I promise.”

You nod reluctantly and the you continue to walk down the alley, coming to a stop at the end where you spot the familiar face of Min Yoongi. He’s standing down a small flight of stairs beneath you two and he greets Taehyung with a stiff smile.

“Taehyung, what’s up,” he says, his eyes immediately looking over at you, “Y/N?”

You tighten your grip around Taehyung’s hand, Yoongi’s stare quite intimidating.

“She should be on Jungkook’s list.”

You stay quiet knowing Taehyung doing the talking is the best strategy. Yoongi looks down at a clipboard—old fashioned but effective you guess—before nodding.

“You guys are good. Hurry and find a seat, there’s a lot of people down here tonight.”  

“You got it,”  Taehyung gives him a small smile before you drag behind him down the stairs and enter through a heavy door. You already hear plenty of commotion as you enter a huge space a few feet from the door. Your eyes look around and you could see nearly a hundred people just in your line of sight.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung says.

“What?” You get nervous by his tone.

“I’ve never seen this many people here, goddamn.”

“Why are there so many people here?” You spot a large boxing ring, dead center of the room and your mouth goes dry.

“I guess people like rematches?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you.

“Where’s Jungkook?” You ask, noticing how some eyes are staring at you, making you shift uncomfortably in your boots.

“Probably in the locker rooms… wanna see him?” He asks.

You bite your lip. “Does he wanna see us?” You hope Taehyung says yes. It’s killing you inside not being able to see him, hear him.

“Guess we’ll find out, c’mon,” he smirks and you follow him closely. As you look around, you do notice people you somewhat recognize. Whether it’s from walking around on campus or some of your classes, all these faces are not too unfamiliar. Taehyung takes you away from the crowd of people, through another set of doors and down another hallway. With this much walking and standing, you would have worn something other than booties. You enter the “locker room” area and you suddenly feel queasy. What if Jungkook is mad that you’re here? What if he doesn’t want to see you after all? What if—

“Y/N?” Your thoughts are broken by a honey-like voice and you focus in on the source. Jungkook sits a few feet away from you and Taehyung, back leaning against a wall. He looks confused, but also pleasantly surprised. “What are you doing here?” He gets up and does the unexpected—he embraces you in a tight hug. You return it without a second though, holding him close to you. He pulls away from you after a few moments and gives Taehyung a small hug too.

“Hey,” you say shyly.

“How are you feeling?” Taehyung asks his friend and Jungkook shrugs.

“I’m alright.” Jungkook looks at you again. “I didn’t think you’d ever come to one of these,” he laughs awkwardly.

“Me either,” you say with no expression. As much as you wanted to be happy—you couldn’t. You were pissed at Jungkook for ignoring you and you were pissed that Jungkook was about to fight. You eye his frame, a white t shirt and navy sweatpants hang low on his hips. He looks calm, too calm for your liking.

“Will you give us a minute?” Jungkook suddenly turns to Taehyung and he nods glancing at you.

“I’ll get some seats.”

Taehyung leaves you and Jungkook alone and you nearly feel like crying. What the fuck is this mess?

“Y/N listen to me,” Jungkook says stepping towards you, “I’m so sorry about thess past two weeks. I-I’ve been a dick for no fucking reason and it’s not fair to you.”

You don’t say anything as you stand there with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Fuck I know I’m idiot and there’s no excuse… I’ve just been so stressed lately and you’re the best fucking part of my day—“

“Well why don’t you fucking act like it Jungkook? I’m sick of something happening between us and you acting like a I don’t exist for god knows what reason,” you raise your voice slightly.

“Y/N I,” he pauses, his hands finding their way to your shoulders, “I haven’t been honest with you and,” he pauses again and you feel your heart speed up. What’s he talking about? “I just wanna say—“

“Jungkook, you got five minutes,” the two of you turn to Park Jimin who seemed to come in at the wrong time.

“Fuck,” he says, “We’ll talk after okay?”

You nod hesitantly and before you can push yourself away from him, Jungkook places a kiss on your forehead and it makes your insides melt. Fuck, you meet his brown eyes, biting your lip nervously. 

A revelation springs into your mind; you think you might love him. He pulls you in for another hug, though this is one much shorter as Jimin is ushering you out of the locker room in the blink of an eye.

As much as you wanted to be mad at Jungkook, those thoughts had quickly subsided and replaced with butterflies and nausea. Did you really love Jungkook? You always have, but the feeling in the pit of your heart is pulling you to a different type of love. You cared about him, sometimes even more than yourself. You’ve always wanted the best for him, even if that meant sacrificing your feelings in the process. Now you were stuck between a rock in a hard place, much like you were back in high school when you had a crush on Jungkook. Fuck. And now you have to watch him fight someone like dogs,  

You shake yourself from your thoughts, as loud music flows through your ears and you look around for Taehyung. Luckily, his ashy hair color is easy to spot amongst the crowd and you push yourself to him, squeezing in between bodies and their chatter.

“My bet’s on Jeon,” a voice says.

“Fuck no, Eric isn’t gonna let the same guy beat him twice.”

You try to ignore the snide comments about Jungkook and when you get to Taehyung, he greets you with a smile.

“Hey, everything good?” He asks.

You lick you dry lips, “I don’t know,” you say honestly. Taehyung’s eyes drop and he nods. 

Suddenly, all the lights go out in the venue and a roar of screams and cheers fills the void. You stay still, pressing your body close to Taehyung. It’s not that you feel unsafe, but this environment—it wasn’t for you at all. You heart rate quickens when a man, give a few years on your age, gets into the boxing ring before you, the crowd cheering even louder for him. He bumps a microphone with his palm before bringing it to his mouth.

“Welcome, welcome!” He beams with a smile, “What an outstanding turnout we have tonight! You guys choose a good one to watch because tonight is the rematch of two of the best fighters I’ve seen in a long time…”

“Let’s give a welcome to our first fighter, weighing in at 148 pounds, 5 foot 11, Jeon Jungkook!”

Being an underground fighting ring, there isn’t a posse escorting Jungkook to the ring. He’s got Jimin by his left side, Min Yoongi on the right. Jungkook is shirtless, wearing only a pair of navy shorts, black and white boxing gloves on his hands. He enters the ring with cheers and you inhale and exhale deeply. You look up at Taehyung and he gives you a nod of reassurance to calm down. Jungkook jumps around in place a few times, shaking his arms and shoulders out. From your seat, you can’t read his eyes or facial expression—but he looks calm and unnerved.

“Coming in next, weighing in at 145 pounds, 6 feet tall, Kim Eric!”

Jungkook’s opponent walks in next, three guys surrounding him. He walks slow and steady, his bare chest tattooed beautifully, his boxing gloves a dark red. He enters the ring to cheers and this Eric guy’s gaze doesn’t leave Jungkook’s body one time. Jungkook hasn’t spared one glance at the guy and you find yourself somewhat smiling. Jungkook has always been a cocky-fuck when it’s come to sports which would usually annoy you, but here right now—he looked hot as fuck standing there as if he had no care in the world. Jungkook stands on the left corner of the ring, sitting on a small stool as Jimin and Yoongi talk to him. Jungkook nods, absorbing their information. Eric and his guys do the same.

Suddenly, both men stand and Jimin is putting a mouth guard in Jungkook’s mouth and with one last nod, he finally looks over at Eric, who has already made his way to the center of the ring with the announcer. Jungkook stalks over slowly, his eyes dark and hungry.

“Alright guys, I want a clean fight. No kicking, no cheap shots. If you get knocked down, I give you ten seconds to get up. You look me in the eyes and say you’re good before anymore fighting happens alright. We go for five rounds, unless more is needed. A knockout wins. Touch gloves.”

Jungkook sticks out his gloves for Eric but Eric only stares at him, ignoring the sign of solidarity.

“Fuck you,” Eric says to Jungkook and sends a chill down your spine. Jungkook rolls his eyes, backing away from him, but stays silent.

“Alright… ready… fight!”

Time slows as a bell rings loudly, the cheers get even louder, and you find yourself gripping Taehyung’s arm for support. Jungkook starts to move around the ring slowly, but Eric isn’t having that—immediately rushing to Jungkook to get a few jabs in. Jungkook manages to dodge them perfectly before Eric can corner him. Jungkook keeps his gloves high and never looks away from Eric. Eric comes after Jungkook again, jabbing once—twice—the third time hitting Jungkook square in the face.

“Shit,” you breathe out, eyes widening.

This time, Jungkook comes for Eric, his jabs coming quick and calculated, landing Eric in the body once. Jungkook jabs again and hits him in the face. Eric moves around quickly, Jungkook not quick to follow him. Eric comes after him again, Jungkook blocking his jabs, but missing at the end, leading to Jungkook getting hit in the face once again as well as a body shot.

Eric is coming in hot, throwing punches and jabs left and right, making Jungkook dance around to dodge them. After a few moments, Jungkook begins to fight back, landing Eric square in the face twice. You notice that Jungkook must have busted Eric’s lip as blood now protrudes from his mouth. This seems to send Eric into overdrive and attacks Jungkook quick and fast. You cover your mouth when Eric has Jungkook trapped against the rope, landing body punches after body punches.

“Alright!! Enough, break it up!!” The announcer gets Eric off of Jungkook and Eric starts to laugh in a very showman's way. Jungkook is breathing heavy and he tilts his head—a habit of his that comes out when he’s frustrated or angry. This seems to be both.

Jungkook and Eric continue to throw jabs at one another. Within a few seconds, the whole fight seems to change as Eric manages to slip past one of Jungkook’s blocks and lands him straight on the cheekbone. Jungkook’s body almost freezes before he falls back on the floor and you gasp at the sight.

“Fuck! Taehyung—“

“He’s fine, he’s fine,” he says but his eyes never met yours.

The announcer is on the floor with Jungkook counting down from ten and Jungkook finally sits up when he reaches the number four.

“You good son?” The guy asks Jungkook.

He nods, “Yeah, let’s go.”

Jungkook gets up and walks around, stretching his neck around, waiting for the ref to announce the second round.

“That’s what you get motherfucker,” Eric says walking past him to his corner. Again, Jungkook says nothing before sitting down. Jimin takes out his mouth guard and lets Jungkook drink some water.

“Why is Jungkook letting him hit him like that?!” You ask Taehyung, looking up to him, “He’s getting his ass kicked!”

Taehyung shakes his head, “Jungkook’s smart Y/N… he’s trying to run Eric’s energy out. If Eric keeps swinging the way he right now, he’ll be passed out on his own soon.”

The second round commences and this time, it’s Jungkook who comes out fast. Jungkook soon has Eric trapped against the rope, landing jab after jab. The ref intervenes and lets them get some air. Jungkook’s skin is sweaty and red hot and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look as mad as he does right now.

Eric counters quickly, catching up with Jungkook again, landing punch after punch. Jungkook escapes but Eric sticks out a foot, causing Jungkook to trip. The whole crowd—yourself included—start to yell at the action. The referee pulls Eric back and points his finger at him. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you know it’s a scolding by the way his mouth is moving quickly. You look over at Jungkook who shakes his head disapprovingly. He’s talking to Jimin as Yoongi cares to a cut on Jungkook’s eyebrow.

“He’s a fucking asshole,” you make out Jungkook saying.

The third round starts and it seems both Eric and Jungkook are equally fighting this time. Jungkook’s combinations are cleaner than Eric’s, anyone can see that, but the way Eric keeps landing in on Jungkook—makes you feel like this isn’t going to end well for him.

“Come on Jungkook!” You find yourself yelling in the chaos, your whole body shaking as Jungkook dances around the ring to get away from Eric. Eric has him trapped again, but with Jungkook’s strength, gets Eric off of him to turn the tables. There’s sweat and blood coming off both fighters and it’s got to be the most horrifying thing you’ve ever seen.

“Come on you little bitch,” Eric spits at Jungkook, “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Jungkook says nothing again, jabbing when he needs to.

“Fucking hell why won’t you speak to me you fucker?” Eric speaks again.

“I don’t have shit to say to you,” Jungkook finally retorts back. “You lost my respect when you sent those pussies to jump Park and I.”

Eric swings hard and Jungkook ducks, barely missing it by an inch. Eric is tired, Jungkook too, but Jungkook can see a weakness in him now.

“Come on it was all in good fun,” he says with a smirk, “You know what else would be good fun?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything.

“Kicking your ass,” he pauses and before Jungkook can do anything else, Eric swings down hard, landing on Jungkook’s body knocking the breath out of him. Jungkook stumbles backwards, holding his stomach, he lands again on the ground with a clunk. Eric stands over him, before taking out his mouthpiece, “And stealing your bitch you invited tonight.”

“Goddammit,” you mutter watching the scene unfold in front of you. No one knows what they’re saying to each other over the noise and you honestly couldn’t care. You just want Jungkook to get up and finish this shit.

Jungkook stands up, though with a visible wince in his face. He’s breathing heavy and is filled with pure rage. The fourth bell rings and it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to attack him. Jungkook is fast and furious, landing punch after punch and you’ve never been happier for someone to get their ass kicked. Jungkook lands a punch straight across the face, causing Eric to stumble backwards. Even though you know nothing about boxing, Eric looks exhausted where Jungkook looks ready for more. With everything left in Eric, he starts coming after Jungkook. Jungkook blocks until he can’t block no more, but something in Jungkook’s stance changes. Jungkook steps forward, his right hand landing straight on Eric’s face cause his form to break. Jungkook steps quickly again, his left hand bringing an uppercut to Eric’s jaw.

The room nearly falls silent as Eric loses balance, going down straight on his back and head. When he hits the ground, the room erupts in a roar so loud it nearly deafens you.

“Holy shit!” Taehyung exclaims. The ref is down on the ground, counting down from 10, and then it’s at 5 and then 3 and then—

“Ladies and gentlemen, Jeon Jungkook wins this rematch!” The ref grabs Jungkook’s hand and holds it up over his head and you find yourself jumping up and down, pulling Taehyung down for a hug.

“Taehyung oh my fucking god!” You exclaim. He smiles brightly at you.

“I told you, he knows what he’s doing,” he says and you nod. You couldn’t deny it now—as stupid as Jungkook was for getting involved in this, his talent for the sport was extraordinary. “Come on, let’s get to his locker room,” Taehyung pulls you by your hand and you make your way back to where you were earlier.

Jungkook hasn’t arrived yet, but you find Yoongi already in there, setting out a first aid kit.

“Hey guys,” he says, “Great fight, huh?”

“Yeah, it was brilliant,” Taehyung says. The door opening catches your attention and Jungkook walks through with Jimin.  Your eyes instantly meet and you can’t even stop yourself from running to him and throwing your arms around him. He exhales deeply with a sharp wince, returning your bone crushing grip with his own.

“Alright lovebirds, he needs to get fixed up,” Yoongi’s voice interrupts you two. You hesitantly let him go and he sits down in front of Yoongi, sitting forward on his knees. He’s still breathing heavy, dripping sweat everywhere.

“Fucking hell Jungkook, since when do you box southpaw?” Taehyung pushes his shoulder slightly and Jungkook only laughs as Yoongi wipes away the blood on his eyebrow.

“I’ve been working on it for awhile,” he says, “Just never had the right time to use it… until tonight at least,” he says giving you a glance. “Eric is all talk, no bite. I can’t fucking stand him.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be boxing him again anytime soon,” Jimin says, “He’s embarrassed himself twice now.”

“Yeah, agreed,” Yoongi chimes in, placing one of those bandaids that pull the skin together like stitches above Jungkook’s eyebrow. “No one will want to box you now knowing you can southpaw.”

Jungkook looks at you and you furrow your eyebrows at him. He said he wasn’t going to fight after this, but the way they are talking—it sounds as if he is.

“Well, I think my boxing career is probably over after tonight,” Jungkook speaks up as if he could read your mind. He tears his eyes away from you as the others look confused.

“What?!”

“Why?”

“Jungkook c’mon!”

“Guys,” he breathes out, “I made a promise, okay? Besides, I have enough money now, I don’t need anything else.”

Your features soften as you listen to his words. His promise was to you. A smile grows on your face as you watch his body calm down from his intensified state. Once Yoongi is finished, he packs everything up. The five of you talk amongst yourselves before Taehyung turns to you.

“You ready to go home?” He asks.

“I can take you home,” Jungkook says before you can answer.

“Okay,” you give him a small smile that he returns.

“Okay then, I’m gonna head out, I won’t be home tonight Jungkook,” he says.

“I know I know, at your girlfriends,” Jungkook swats his hand and Taehyung flips him off before leaving.

Jungkook stands up throwing on a shirt and slipping into Birkenstocks. “Come on,” he says to you, holding out his head. You gladly take it and it feels more like home than home ever has.

_____

“Fuck Jungkook, how much money is this?” You ask him as he hands you a white envelope as he unbuckles himself in the driver seat. The envelope is thick and you peak out of curiosity, your jaw dropping.

“I told you,” he says snatching it back from you, “As much food as I’ve bought you lately, hopefully this will last.”

You swat at his sarcastic comment before letting out a laugh. Instead of going home, you asked Jungkook to go anywhere but there. You’re parked outside of his apartment complex, which was fine with you. The two of you needed to talk. Not much talking goes on as a silence falls between you two.

“Y/N.”

“Jungkook.”

The two of you laugh as you speak at the same time.

“You first,” you say, turning your body to face him fully.

He takes a deep breath before speaking, “I know I said it earlier but I really am sorry about this past week. There’s not an excuse that justifies me acting like a complete dick to you, especially when you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say.

“And when I said you’re the best part of my day… I fucking mean it. I’m sorry for coming onto you like I have, I just,” he doesn’t finish, his eyes looking everywhere but you.

“Jungkook,” you get his attention again, reaching over the console to grab his hand, “Don’t apologize for that. Yeah, you’ve been a dick each time something happens between us but that’s the apology I care about.”

“I just don’t know how to say it,” he mutters, caressing your hand gently.

“So you’re really not going to box anymore?” you inquire. Jungkook was good, more than good... it couldn’t be easy giving up on that. 

He shakes his head, “No. I told you I didn’t want you worrying about me anymore. I keep my promises,” his smile his sweet and you swear your feel yourself melting more and more into his touch. 

“Jungkook,” you let out a deep sigh, “I didn’t realize how much I needed you in my life until we became friends again. You know almost everything about me and I don’t want anyone else to ever take your place…”

It’s hanging there by a thread—the words on your tongue—and you’re not sure you can say them and they feel constricting—but you know you have to and—

“I love you,” the words come from your mouth and you feel like you could puke. “I don’t know when or why, but I’m in love with you Jungkook. You’re all I think about anymore and I don’t want anyone else when you’re right here.”

Jungkook parts his mouth, staring at you with a look you can’t read. Fuck, you fucked this up for sure.

“Shit—I know that was so rushed and stupid. Fuck I’m an idiot—“

“Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice interrupts you and you try to hide within your own body from embarrassment. With your hand of yours in his, he pulls on it, forcing you closer to him. You look at him wide eyed before he presses his lips against yours firmly. As usual, his lips feel so good and you melt into him. This is good right? What the hell is going on? You pull away from him after a few moments, an unsure look on your face.

He nuzzles his nose against your own before speaking, “I’ve wanted to tell you that since the night of our graduation.”

“Really?” You ask as you feel your palms sweat, heart racing.

He nods, “I’ve been in love with you for god knows how long now.”

A smile creeps upon your face and you let out a sigh of relief. Jungkook watches you with interest, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can take you home whenever,” he says quietly.

You’re quick to shake your head,  “No, it’s okay… I can stay, if you want,” your voice trails off and you suddenly feel shy under his gaze.

You don’t notice how Jungkook bites his lip but he does say, “Yeah. Of course.”

_____

Jungkook’s apartment is how you remember it, though a lot quieter without Taehyung here. You’re sure the reason Jungkook’s apartment is spotless is because of him. He has always been clean and organized and Taehyung… well he was Taehyung.

“I’m gonna get in the shower, my room is in here if you wanna chill,” Jungkook says and you give him a small nod. He rids his shirt before he even closes the bathroom door and it makes you gulp. This is new territory for the both of you. The two of you just admitted your love for one another and you’re about to spend the night with Jungkook? And not in a friend way? Jesus Christ you could be tripping.

You walk into Jungkook’s room and it smells just like him. His bed is neatly made and his desk is sprawled with two computer monitors and some notebooks from school. His walls are decorated as you’d expect—a Korean flag hanging, a ‘Saturday’s Are For The Boys’ flag—typical—and a few Beta Tae Sigma plaques scattered. What catches your eye is a wall of neatly lined photos taped to the wall. You look around at all of them with a smile. Most of them are Jungkook and his frat brothers, Taehyung, a few of his older brother, there’s even a picture of you, him, Taehyung, and Jennie from high school. One that catches your eye the most is one of just you and him. It’s an old picture but the memories from that day flood your mind. It was from your first week of freshman year here at university. Both of your smiles are wide and you two are hugging each other’s frames closely. Jennie took the picture you remember. It makes you smile to yourself, butterflies entering in your stomach. Did you love Jungkook then and didn’t know it? The way you’re looking at him in the picture would say so.

You suddenly feel an urge to be close to him again. You’ve never been a ballsy person but as you look back at the bathroom door that’s closed, your desire to be touched again by Jungkook again overwhelms your senses. Closing your eyes briefly, you don’t need much more convincing before your stripping yourself of your jacket and shoes. You kick off your jeans and sweater, leaving you only in your undergarments. You tip toe to the bathroom, grabbing the handle, opening it easy.

The shower water is loud and there’s steam in the small quarters. Jungkook is humming to himself as you start to take off the rest of your clothing. With a deep breath, you grab the shower curtain, pulling it back. Jungkook’s back is facing you but he hears you instantly.

“Shit Y/N you scar—“ he stops mid sentence as he takes in your naked frame getting in the shower too.

“Hi,” you mumble meeting his eye contact.  

“H-hey,” he nearly chokes on his own air, trying to keep his eyes up from your breasts.

“Scooch,” you smirk at him to move to get underneath the water too. He does as you say watching you curiously. You’re in the process of wetting your hair when his chest is pressed firmly against your back.

“This wasn’t expected,” he says into your ear, his hands moving to grip your waist from behind.

“You’re the one that wanted me to go home with you,” you say giving him an innocent glance over your shoulder. He laughs biting his lip, pressing them against the skin behind of your ear. You lean into the physical contact, feeling almost all of your stress go away instantly.

You spin around to look at him fully as it’s a frenzy whose mouth collides with whose. He leans down to grasp your lips in their entirety, pulling you closer to him than you ever have been. He pulls you away from the water so it doesn’t get in your face as he presses you against the shower wall. His tongue dips in and out of your mouth, his hands free roaming over your breasts and down to your ass, whatever he likes within the moment. Your hands grip his dark locks as he moves his mouth from your mouth, to your neck, down to your chest. He waste no time taking your right nipple in his mouth and you exhale deeply at the feeling.

You pull his face back to yours, kissing him again not able to get enough of his lips. His hands trail down from your ass to the front of your thighs, getting closer and closer to your wet center.

“Is this okay?” He asks as his fingers rub slowly back forth between your entrance. You can barely speak as his touch is setting you on fire but you manage to nod.

“Yes, please, Jungkook,” you say. He enters one finger, then another stretching you out nicely. Fuck you forgot how good this felt with him.

“Fuck you’re so wet,” he breathes heavily and you glance down at his hardening cock. Your mouth waters at the sight. Jungkook lifts one of your legs and starts to take his fingers in and out of you slowly and agonizing. He fingers you deep and rough and you can already feel a climax coming.

“Shit,” you croak out as Jungkook rubs one of your nipples, kissing your neck. There’s a pain at the back of your head at his force pushing you against the wall but it’s easy to ignore when it feels so good below your waist. “Jungkook, I’m gonna come,” you say as the snap inside of you is about to break.

“Come on baby,” his voice is deep and groggy. As if on cue, you feel your climax wash over you and you’re not shy to be loud. You know no one is here so it doesn’t bother you one bit. Jungkook kisses you against feverishly as he pulls his fingers from you. You feel impossibly empty but you know what you want to do and you’re not near anywhere tired. Your hands travel down to his front, grasping his hard dick in your hands. God, he’s so big.

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook seethes through his teeth as you pull on the sensitive skin, all the way from his pubic hair down to the tip. He places a hand beside of your head, leaning forward against your forehead. His eyes are shut tightly and you lick your lips, wanting to take him in your mouth.

You push him away from you slightly and move down to your knees, your face front and center with his beautiful dick. You take no time to put him in your mouth which causes Jungkook to groan loudly.

“Y/N,” he says looking down at you. He’s never seen a better sight. You make sure to keep eye contact as you bob your head up and down his shaft. While one of Jungkook’s hands stays against the wall, his other grips your hair, fisting it into a makeshift ponytail. “Oh fuck—He pulls on your hair and it only makes you want to please him more. Your left hand go to his balls, the right helping you up and down his length. He pulls your hair again and you take as much of him as you can. His tip reaches the back of your throat and you gag around his length and Jungkook thinks he could actually cry. Watching you through half open lids, he decides this isn’t how he is going to come—not tonight at least.

He grabs your hair and pulls you away from him and you’re slightly confused when he brings you to your feet.

“Come on, I need to be inside of you,” he says and you nod eagerly as he turns off the shower. He leads you out of the bathroom in a frenzy, pulling up into his bedroom. You shut the door behind you and he pins you against it, kissing you hard and deep.

Both of you are dripping wet but neither of you care to dry off as he carries you to his bed. You settle on his lap as his hands rest on your waist tightly. Your hands grip his face just as tight but you’re careful not to touch his injury above his brow. You couldn’t believe he was just fighting two hours ago—that seemed like forever ago compared to now. A lot can change in a short period of time and it makes you slightly chuckle against his mouth.  

“What?” He breaks the kiss asking you with a hazy grin.

You shake your head, “Nothing,” you smile pushing his hair from his forehead. You liked seeing it. “I love you,” you repeat. And you probably won’t stop, ever.

“I love you too,” he says, “So much.”

“Let me ride you,” you whisper in his ear and his eyes light up like a child. “Are you clean?” You ask him. 

He nods quickly, “You?” You nod in response and both of you feel excited and anxious. 

You rub your hand against his length again and you hold it up as you adjust yourself to sit on him. As soon as his tip enters you, a shiver runs down your spine. As you sink yourself lower, groans come from both of your mouths, a deep moan erupting from you when you bottom out.

“Oh my god,” you breathe in and out to control yourself.

“Ride me baby,” he says and you start to move your hips against his. He fills up every inch of you and it feels so good. Your hips lift away from his and he chases them with his own thrusts. He kisses your neck as you throw your head back, your hands digging into his shoulders for leverage.  

“Fuck Jungkook,” you say seeing stars in your eyes, “You feel so good,” you whine.

“You have no idea,” he says against your sticky skin, one of his hands bruising into your waist helping you ride him in a fluid motion. “Goddammit,” he says.

As you grind against him, your clit rubs against his pubic hair, sending your toes curling. He senses that you’ve found your sweet spot against him and places his thumb there instead to rub the sensitive bud.

You feel yourself inching closer and closer to a second climax when Jungkook stalls your motion.

“Lay on your stomach,” he breathes and you do as he says climbing off of him quickly. He doesn’t even give you time to get there all the way before he’s grabbing your hips to pull your ass to him. He slides right into you and you nearly scream into his mattress. Your hands grip the sheets as he fucks you deeper from behind. He smacks your ass once, twice sending a loud whine from your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter trying to focus on Jungkook’s whines and small ministrations from his mouth. He reaches forward, rubbing your clit again and you want to die and go to heaven at the feeling. Neither of you try to be quiet anymore as you feel the second orgasm coming over you. You clench and unclench around Jungkook’s length as he stalls his thrusts to feel the action.

“Come inside of me,” you say, knowing both of you are clean and you have an IUD.

“Jesus,” he breathes, picking up his pace again chasing after his own high. As the sensitivity becomes too much, Jungkook finally lets go, coming deep inside of you. He holds your hips close against him, trying to deepen his climax as far as possible. The hot cum inside of you feels good and you moan at the feeling.

When Jungkook finishes completely in you, he pulls out with a sigh. You collapse against the bed, completely spent. Jungkook finds a clean rag in his pile of clean laundry and is quick to clean yourself and him up. You feel like you can barely move as Jungkook joins you in his bed. He turns you over to face him and he kisses you gently which you return happily.

“I love you,” he says for the third time tonight, kissing your nose.

“I love you too,” you entangling your legs together. The room is silent apart from your breathing and you’re about to go to sleep when he nudges you with his hand.  

“Come on,” he says.

“What?” You ask.

“Let’s actually take a shower now since someone wouldn’t let me,” he eyes you with accusation.

You squint at him before flipping him off. “Fuck off.”

_____

The next morning you wake up with Jungkook hugging you from behind, his face nuzzeled in your hair. You have no clue what the time may be, but you since it’s early by the way the birds chirp out the window. You stretch out your arms as best as you could and try to move your legs, but it doesn’t work since Jungkook’s heavy legs are tangled with your own. You’re tempted to fall back asleep but when Jungkook moves behind you, you turn to see his ruckus. You’re met with his brown eyes and you jump slightly, not expecting to see him awake. Both of you let out the faintest of laughs, not saying anything.

Jungkook leans over and kisses your lips, “Good morning.” His voice is groggy and he shuts his eyes again as you fully turn your body to his.

“Good morning,” you respond, watching the way his chest rises and falls gently. “How’d you sleep?”

“Hmm, really good,” he mumbles. You are about to join him in closing your eyes again until a loud rumble comes from your belly. Jungkook laughs.

“Hungry much?”

“Starving,” you groan, “I didn’t eat dinner last night.”

“Why not?”

“I was too nervous before your match… I thought I would yak if I ate,” you answer. Stupid, you know, but it was your train of thought last night.

He opens his eyes again, “Let’s go to the diner for breakfast… employee discount.”

You glare at him, “Is that all I am to you? A fucking employee discount,” you say saracastically.

“And my girlfriend if that helps?” He raises an eyebrow. Your cheeks heat up and you smile.

“Welllll, since my boyfriend is rich now and gets a discount, I’m assuming he’s paying.”

He smirks, “Obviously.”

“Will you take me to my place so I can change? And then we’ll go?”

He nods, his hand caressing the side of your body, “As much as I wanna stay in bed, I could really go for pancakes right now.”

“Waffles are superior,” you remark.

He frowns with a disgusted face, “Get the fuck out of my bed you heathen.”

_____

Jungkook insisted on coming up to your apartment with you because he didn’t want to wait in the car, but you know he just wants to see you change in front of him. Boys are all the fucking same.

As you fumbled with the key, the door opens and whatever Jungkook is saying to you is suddenly drowned out when you see—

“Jennie?”

“Taehyung?”

The names leave yours and Jungkook’s mouth as you watch the scene in front of you. Jennie is sitting on the counter, Taehyung in between her legs with a coffee cup in hand. Could be worse but what the fuck is going on?!

“Shit,” Jennie says pushing away Taehyung. “Hey guys,” she smiles awkwardly. You and Jungkook look at each other confused before Jungkook speaks.

“Uh, Taehyung?” He asks and Taehyung is. as red as a tomato.

“Oh fuck,” Jennie mutters shaking her head. She looks at Taehyung for backup.

Taehyung pinches his nose before speaking, “Um… we’re dating.”

You and Jungkook have the same reaction as your mouth drops.

“Jennie is your secret girlfriend?” Jungkook asks.

“Surprise,” Jennie smiles again looking at you.

You look at Jungkook and shake your head at the four of you. What a fucking cliché.

The four of you go to breakfast together that morning and it’s like old times, just with a sprinkle of something new. As long as the four of you have known each other, you’ve always had each other’s backs. Even now, with you and Jungkook and Jennie and Taehyung—you know that would never change from here on out. Turns out, Jennie just thought her and Taehyung were friends with benefits, while Taehyung was telling everyone he had a girlfriend because he was that smitten with her. The four of you laugh at the situation at hand and you couldn’t believe everyone was back together... like this. As Jungkook’s pancakes and your waffles arrive, Jungkook’s beaming smile lighting the whole room you think to yourself—this is how it’s supposed to be. 

[artxyra]

The Story Of How Marinette Became Mamie Mars

Marinette had been in the Bahamas enjoying her vacation when she received the phone call. It was Bruce. Upon hearing her son’s, in everything but blood, voice, she had sat up on her lounge chair and swing her legs to the side. 

Bruce couldn’t speak coherently. That’s how much he had worried her. It’s not often that she would get a call from a panicking Bruce, especially on her vacation. 

“Brucie, honey, calm down and speak clearly.” Her voice was sweet enough to calm her son down. “Is Alfred nearby you?” She asks, knowing that her son’s surrogate father would be close. Then again, Alfred was scheduled for his vacation soon. 

“No, he’s tending the reason why I’m calling you. I may or may not have taken in a ward.” Bruce tells her, sounding off. 

The words slowly register in her mind. 

“I have a grandchild.” She squeals, so glad that she was sitting down instead of standing up. It’s already embarrassing that her squeal reached the others at the beach. Had she been standing, she would be dancing along with the squeal had she been standing up. “Oh Bruce, tell me about them? How are they adjusting?” 

“That’s the problem, mom! I have no clue what to do. Can you come home? I rather explain all this to you in person rather than on the phone.” She can sense the longing and desperation in his voice. It warms her heart that he still needs her. 

“Of course, I’ll be on the next flight out of here. Is there anything else that you want to talk about?” 

Bruce murmurs a yes. And they go into a discussion more about business rather than the newest Wayne addition.  

As Marinette books a plane ticket for the last flight of the night, she couldn’t help but think about her son’s ward. Never have Bruce expressed any thought about having children due to him being Batman. Though, she herself has thought about taking in another child. However, Marinette’s ability to have her body age slowly has been a blessing and a curse and keeps her from going through with it. It’s a blessing because she has a chance to look younger and experience more but it’s a curse as it means that she’ll live longer and see the people she cares about dying before her. 

Nearly six hours after booking her flight, she is on a three-hour flight to New Jersey. Her vacation ended the second her butt touched the seat of the plane. It was a lovely time off from everything in Gotham, her ever-growing business dubbed Miracles Designs & Crafts, and her duties as the guardian of the Miraculous, but family always comes first. 

“Alfred! It’s so good to see you again.” Marinette wraps her arms around the man. He returns the hug. 

“I as well, Miss Marinette.” He responds once the embrace ends, taking her bags and loading them into the car. Marinette pouts; she could have done it herself, but she doesn’t say a word. 

The drive was sweet as the two begins to catch up. Alfred enjoyed hearing about her adventures outside of the United States. Though, he fears what Bruce will say about her travel to Tibet. 

“So, tell me Alfred, what are your thoughts on our son’s ward?” She inquires, looking out the window. The sky never changes in Gotham, but it certainly is a vast difference from the sunshine and clear skies that she was experiencing in the Bahamas. 

“He’s determined.” Alfred states with a glance at her in the rear window. Marinette nods and continues to look out the window. 

Meeting her grandchild could have gone many ways, but him winging on the chandelier was not something she was expecting. He seemed to be mourning, like him swinging on the chandelier was holding him together. 

Bruce sends the boy a quick word then escorts her to the living room. The second the door closes, Bruce breaks down what happened. The boy’s name is Richard Grayson, but he likes to go by Dick. Of course, Marinette gasps upon hearing that, as she has never been around a person who calls themselves Dick. And that he was a part of the circus with his family until their demise. Dick has no family outside of the circus. There was also a chance that he’ll be the target for a mob boss. 

After hearing the basics of Dick’s situation, all she wanted to do was hug the boy and give him lots of love. The same as she has done for Bruce. 

“When can I officially meet my grandson?” She questions with a smile on his face. Bruce rubs the back of his neck and sends her a sheepish smile. Wrapping his arms around his surrogate mother, he guides her towards the double doors. 

“Hi, I’m Marinette, but you can call me Mamie, if you want.”

Dick looks up at her, swaying in place, “Mamie?”

Marinette chuckles. “It’s one of the French versions of saying grandma.” 

“Cool, but you don’t look like you’re old enough to be a grandma.” Behind them, Bruce fails at holding in a chuckle. Marinette purses her lip and keeps her eyes on Dick, even though she wanted to send her son a glare. 

“Yeah, I do, but don’t be fooled. I practically raised Bruce since he was eight. Now, what do you like to do for fun?” She nudges him to talk about himself, hoping that it will help from sending him down a mourning spiral. 

Bruce disappears after that, hunting down the person that sabotaged the tightrope and giving Dick his closure. 

Once Dick is asleep, Marinette finds herself in the cave, watching her son’s nonstop researching process. 

“You know spending time with Dick would really make him feel welcome.” Marinette pulls up a seat and sits beside him. 

“I can’t.  Zucco is out there, and if I can’t find him before he leaves Gotham…” Bruce trails off, turning his attention back to the screen. 

Marinette shakes her head, “At least try and get to know Dick before you do something stupid. There’s only so much that I can do, but I wasn’t the one that took him in, Bruce.” Marinette turns to Alfred and gestures her head towards Bruce. 

“I saw that, mom.” Marinette scoffs then gets out of her seat. “I promise that I’ll hang out with Dick before all this is over.” 

“And somehow, that doesn’t make me feel that much better. He’s your problem now, Alfie.” Marinette takes her to leave, grabbing a cup of tea from Alfred before leaving the Batcave.  

“Joy.” Alfred sighs, but there was an underlying hint of love there. 

Life with Dick in the household was an interesting transition, especially for Marinette. Usually, when she's here, it’s silent, as Bruce is either working as Batman or being for Wayne Enterprise. The only sounds were her and Alfred talking during their afternoon tea sessions. With Dick, the manor is full of laughter and ambitious feet, running around; practically, Mimicking the sounds of the past. 

With Marinette in the house, Dick didn’t feel so alone. Even though he didn’t have it in him to call Bruce dad yet, he'd definitely called Marinette Mamie on more than one occasion. When it first happened, she cried. Poor Dick, he thought she was upset or something. That day, she took them out for ice cream and to the gymnasium. 

Marinette did not hide her disdain when Dick became Robin. There were a lot of baked goods in the kitchen from her stress baking. It got so bad that Alfred had to ban her from the kitchen. 

Of course, once she did become comfortable with the idea of Dick out crime-fighting, she places strict rules in place so that Dick wasn’t out late at night on a school day or dealing with highly classed villains. Marinette had her fair share of fighting crime as a child, and she did not want to place that down on Dick. 

On top of that, she refused to have Dick going out at night in underwear in the name of pants. That was a big no-no in this household. 

Bonus: 

“Mamie Mars, has there ever been a time you benched Bruce?” Dick asks one day while Marinette was helping him with his homework. 

Marinette thinks for a moment. “Yes, it was within his first year of being Batman, actually. He challenged me and you know how I am when challenge, Dickie. Gotham was without their hero, excuse me, vigilante for about a month. Ladybird sure had a fun time in his stead.” She chuckles at the memory, causing Dick’s eyes to widen. He quickly finishes the rest of his homework.

-----------

Masterlist | Maribat Masterlist | Tagging System |

*THIS STORY COLLECTION WILL NOT HAVE A TAG LIST, PLEASE DO NOT ASKED TO BE TAGGED.*

[crown-anon]

@hearts1ck my beloved

November 1st

CW: explicit; more CWs under the cut

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; reader has male anatomy; more specifics under the cut

edited 14 March 2021

anonymous asked

consider. okay. CONSIDER. consider masochist george. okay?? okay. okay LISTEN.

I think I have a problem with gimmicks also. because. because. ever since strawberry milk george, I. I have not stopped thinking about strawberry flavored lube. because! listen okay hear me out.

(this is absolutely 110% a response to discovering that you share a birthday with him. what of it?)

I know everyone likes pillow princess george and. that's okay. that's FINE. these are not mutually exclusive.

george looking up at you with The LookTM wearing some pink strawberry milk lingerie. not even lingerie really! just something cute like that

& him being like. "I know you love me 👉👈 but I need you to fuck me like you don't"

so I was. thinking. that brat george is the exact kind of person to say (playfully & consensually) "but I don't wanna give you head, I just wanna fuck >:(" after you've got him worked up, maybe from teasing him throughout the day, or edging him a little. but you still need some type of lube. so you go to apply the first bottle you see and he's pink when he asks you "😳 is that ... strawberry ... ?" and you're confused like ??? bro you just asked me to fuck you into next week why're you interested in the flavored lube

but. but listen. he would get so enthusiastic about it. at first it's just "maybe I can stand to eat them out just a little bit before ..." and then after you come the first time it devolves really, really quickly into the need to just. take care of you. and it stretches on until you've come three or four times, and you're still shaking, and he's just. completely gone in subspace

hmm ... george climbing up onto your lap when he's done with you, going in to give you a kiss, and he tastes like strawberry. and he ends up moaning right into your mouth because he's been so horny but so? understimulated?? that he outright jumps as soon as his dick grazes your thigh. it would only take a couple stuttery grinds before he's finishing on both of your stomachs

and he's just so cute when comes, or when he bites down on your shoulder to keep himself quiet. and it's your birthdays. so, you decide you'll give him a reason to cry. and he'll finally get put in his place! it's a win-win for both of you!!

istg every time I send you an ask I discover something new about myself. you. you have made a dreamteam simp out of me. I am but a shell of the man I once was. I think I should thank you? [👑]

hearts1ck

i say this nearly every time you send stuff in but...... by god you own my soul. all of it. this – i – first of all, the implications of masochist george losing his fucking mind when you’re rough with him? guhhhfjklgjgf. and ,..d,,f,,, ,, ,, george in pink lingerie. i. i . a... pink satin slip maybe or .... ohghfd; oh my god those. that cat panty/bra set. im ascending im losing my brain as i type this i cannot –

okay im back on earth. he’d get into that rhythm and settle like liquid while he gets to work on you, and his subspace face is so self-satisfied and nearly smug so he’s just having the time of his life,,, and he makes such a loud noise when his dick twitches against your thigh and maybe... JUST MAYBE he whimpers extra watery when you drag his hips to grind against where you’re wet and dripping/your spent cock as if he’s the one who’d get overstimulated by it. when he finally leans away, eyelids heavy, you gently fit your hand over his jaw and ask, “did you even ask? it’s one thing to come without permission, but not even caring to ask? georgie, i might just be offended,” and he whines “green”s against your neck before you even check-in

and because u made it abt both of our birthdays ,,,, spanks for each year we’ve been alive methinks ??? and then the scratch down his ass gets him hard again and he’s so embarrassed by it, ,,, , ,, ,, ,, ,, ,

also thank god you’ve joined the george boat. i’m so proud of myself for hopefully being part of the reason you got dragged over here HJFKDHSKD

#👑 anon #(my beloved) #keep #anon thoughts: george #redsick #SHAWTY WANT THE WHOLE CREW SHAWTY BAD

as soon as you said birthday spanks I decided I had to write more about this. and I was going to leave more snippets in your askbox like the fucking gremlin creature I am, but then my thoughts started. actually having structure? and then I started writing it. and I tried to do homework and write on study breaks only but. I just kept coming back to this. this is the polar opposite of writer's block. I think I'm cursed or something. so here I am rushing to finish this so that I may rest in peace!!

yes I've been writing nonstop since I sent you that ask. what of it. what the fuck of it.

when I said I discover something new about myself every time we interact, I. I'm serious. I think I might be insane or something. I'm way too sadistic. you'll see. what the fuck is this? what the fuck did I just write??

this would have done so much critical psychic damage if I had posted it on November 1st in real life, but mental illness says I can't let my horny thoughts rattle around in my brain for that long. so!! it's you guys's problem now xoxoxo

I'm not fucking proofreading this. love you though 💗

I did end up proofreading actually. oops! looks like posting at 23:00 isn't always a good idea.

November 1st

CW: explicit, anal (kind of vague), bondage (collar + leash), corruption, domspace (I think??), edging, handjob, humiliation, masochism, oral, praise, sadism, spanking, subspace, swearing. I call George a whore and a slut at least once. and also, George calls yellow at one point. this one kind of surprised me so just. Be Careful. I cannot believe I wrote this. I don't know where this came from.

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; I use the word "sir;" reader has male anatomy; I use the words "cock," "dick," and "head;" reader can ejaculate

—

dawn shines through drawn curtains, illuminating the tile floor and your robed figure reflecting off it. batter sizzles in the skillet as you flip the last pancake over. this side looks golden brown, like honeycomb or caramelized sugar. that delicious, freshly-baked fragrance mingles with scented candles. it's perfect, you smile. he's going to love it.

you lift the pancake with a spatula, stacking it on top of the others on his plate. you bring it to his seat at the table, along with the butter, the syrup, the honey, the jam…and you go to pour him a drink.

"hey baby," you greet warmly to the sleepyhead rubbing his eyes in the entryway, still clinging to a pillow. his hair's a mess, only wearing socks and a sweatshirt that reaches down past his thighs. you reckon he'd only just crawled out of bed.

"morning…" he yawns, stumbling past you to take his seat.

"milk?" you ask, he only nods. "did you sleep okay?"

he hums affirmatively. "I…can we…"

one track mind, you joke inwardly. but you don't blame him. "of course," you open the fridge.

you hear him pause. "…is it too early for that?"

"no, no!" you give him a lighthearted laugh. "I kind of expected it, to be honest…I want it, too."

he's silent under the noise of you rummaging through the fridge. "I—"

"sorry—it looks like all we have is strawberry milk. is that alright?"

"yeah…yeah, that's alright. I…actually…wanted to try something new." you shut the fridge, he's fidgeting in his seat.

"hit me with it," your expression is gentle. you pass his cup off to him, but he holds his hand over yours a little too long, looking up at you.

"fuck me like you hate me."

you don't know if it's hearing him swear, or the way he said it so calmly, or how he closed his eyes and swallowed hard before his tone could dip down into something lower. but like a match in an torrent of gasoline, suddenly you're burning up.

you only realize you're staring when he bites his lip and looks down. you start to say something, but the words don't form.

he laughs nonthreateningly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "is that a yes?"

you laugh with him. "I…yes, absolutely yes." you turn back around to make your own stack of pancakes. "you should eat first, though."

"what?" he teases. "will I need the energy?"

you smile. "yeah. I think you will." you can practically feel him open his mouth in protest, but he stays silent after that.

and it stays mostly silent while you cook your pancakes. you hear the clinking of his fork on his plate, but it isn't very disruptive. it sounds like he's hurrying to finish his food.

when you go back to the table with your own platter, he's already done eating. he's red down to his neck, fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt, looking at you expectantly. you spot a pair of tassels peeking out from under it, just below his hip bones. is that…

he pulls the hem up just a bit, holding your gaze. he smiles, apparently satisfied watching your face heat up.

"I—you should go…go get ready," you manage. he gets up before you even finish your sentence, only stopping to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

except it isn't quick, when he slides his hand down to rest firmly on your collar, and leans in to trail kisses down your neck. "a-and leave that on," you stutter.

he pauses, just under your jaw. "leave what on?" he murmurs.

your breath catches, you shut your eyes. "whatever the fuck it is you're wearing under there."

he's hardly grazing your skin, but you can feel how hot he is next to you. it takes all of your willpower not to shiver.

he pulls back quickly, only his hand lingering. "I don't know what you're talking about." and just like that, he disappears into your bedroom.

you reach up a hand tentatively to your collar, hot to the touch. I'm in way too deep, you decide, and force yourself to take a bite of your food despite your nerves.

—

"that," you hiss. "that fucking outfit. that."

"oh, this?" he bites his lip, hooking his thumb in the keyhole. "this's just what I went to bed in last night."

"fuck you. we both know that isn't true."

he tugs gently on his top, pulling it a little to the side. "what's the big deal? can't I wear something special for my birthday?"

"it's special, all right," and you leave it at that, opting instead to slot between his legs where he sits waiting on the edge of the bed. you bring up a hand to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb across his cheek. you'll never get enough of the way he looks at you, like you're intoxicating.

…? you frown.

"is something…missing?" he perks up instantly at "missing."

"what…?" he chooses his words carefully.

"the collar—your collar. where is it?" you turn away to start going through your bedside table, but the way his lips quirk up into a sly smile isn't lost on you.

that's lube…that's a vibrator…where the fuck is it…? "w-what collar?" he stumbles over his words.

your mind jumps to say, the collar that came with that outfit, or I know you know what I'm talking about, but you won't give him the satisfaction. you decide to speak a little darker, only a firm "George." you hear him swallow.

"w-well," his voice is shaky, "you only told me to leave on whatever I was wearing under my shirt. and…I wasn't wearing that collar at breakfast…s-so technically…"

you stop looking immediately. you turn to take him in, legs crossed, stance confident, but expression showing uncertainty. you can see the regret on his face. "get up." he takes a shallow breath. "get up."

"I'm—"

"don't I'm sorry me," you snap. "you look for your fucking collar on your own."

he slips off the bed, looking ashamed, but starts digging through the drawer all the same. "I really am sorry," he murmurs. you take his place sitting on the bed. he finds what he's looking for rather quickly: a simple white leather collar with a bell, and a leash. he hands them off to you shyly. "um, here…"

"good boy," you praise. "kneel."

he shuts his eyes and does as he's told. you can see the bliss wash over his face just at being ordered around. his lips part a little as he lets out a heavy breath. if only I knew what this would do to him, you muse, I'd have done this ages ago.

you fasten the collar, revelling in how he shivers at the gentle sensation of cold leather hanging around his neck. you leave it a little bit loose, but still comfortable, and hook the leash in its place. he sits obediently still on his knees, looking deep in thought.

"Oh, I know what I'm gonna do to you," you bait. "how old are you today?"

"mmm. twenty-five." he looks down.

you smile, holding tight onto the leash. "I'm gonna edge you. twenty-five times."

he flinches away immediately, yet hums in pleasant surprise when the leash snaps taught. the bell jingles stiffly. "no way. that's way too much."

"I think you should've thought about that before you wore that to breakfast," you decide, tugging a little. he's caught off-guard and stumbles forward, stopping himself by leaving a clumsy pair of kisses on the inside of your thigh. the metal and leather feel refreshingly cool against your feverish skin. "we've got all day, baby."

you expect to hear some kind of protest, you're crazy. or a playful taunt, I'm better off doing this by myself. but he knits his brows and openly moans at the thought. "all day…" he repeats.

he looks up at you, almost pleading, and you can hear the resignation in his voice when he whispers "alright."

"get up here," you command. "on top of me." as he climbs up into your lap, a little too eagerly, you add, "and take your dick out."

you shrug your robe off your shoulders while he's working on his panties, and without thinking, you ask, "color?"

he stops, leaving his head poking cutely over the waistband. he looks up at you again. "…what?"

"um…color," you explain. "like, how are you doing? is this okay? I don't actually want to hurt you. uhhh…green means good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop."

he stifles a laugh. "you're such a nerd. I'm okay."

"alright." you blush a little. "we can stop whenever you need to. this is for you…" you think of something horribly unsexy to say. "…birthday boy."

now he's really laughing, with his whole body. you think the way it makes his collar jingle is cute. "oh my god. shut up. just shut up," his expression turns serious, and he drops to a whisper, "and fuck me."

that got you hot again. you pull him by the leash into a kiss, you bite his lip, you eat him up. and you grab the both of you together with your other hand, you moan in tandem. you can feel how you took him by surprise in the way he twitches under your thumb, the way he leans into you with his whole body. you part from the kiss and he leans back on his heels, panting hard, holding on to your shoulders for support. you can feel him shaking a little.

when you move your hand all the way up the first time, you squeeze both of your heads gently, and he practically falls into you. muffled in the crook of your neck, he begs, "god, do that again."

so you do. again. and again. what was a string of stuttered breaths turns into a single broken moan as you jerk the both of you off. when you think you're getting close, you let go of yourself to focus all your attention on him.

"fuck, sir," he whines—hahaha, that sir made your cock leak a little. he shut his eyes tight. "I-I-I think—I think I'm—"

just like that, you stop, and he goes slack, practically laying on you. but he doesn't grind back, or even move to touch himself. that won't last very long.

you let him come back down, knowing edging takes a lot out of you; maybe even more so than actually coming does. slowly but surely, his breathing steadies. you rub between his shoulderblades affectionately, still trying to ground yourself, too.

once you've found your voice again, you question, "are you gonna count for me?"

he makes a sound against your skin, somewhere between excitement and fear. "…o-one." you revel in how fucked-out he sounds already.

"one what?" you prod.

he seems at a loss, like he's forgotten himself, what he said. after a minute or two of pondering, he catches on. "…sir."

it's your turn to moan. your dick jumps at the honorific, still mostly untouched against your stomach. "good boy." and you dive back in. twenty-four to go.

—

it's noon. you're working on nineteen. and your partner's getting much more…expressive. he's started biting his hand to keep himself quiet, but he's still…

"I-I—oh fuck, I'm—fuck, I-I'm—I'm—" he whimpers through his teeth. and he yelps, whole body shaking, bell jingling incessantly, when he comes all over your hand and stomach.

you take your hand off him immediately, and this time he does try to reach down, ride through it, but you grab both his wrists to stop him. he grinds down uselessly against your thigh and your dick. although you're still hard, and only a hairline trigger away from coming yourself, it doesn't stop you from keeping this brat in line. you only bite your lip and close your eyes.

he leans his forehead against yours, moving in to give you a kiss, but you push him away.

"did you never learn how to fucking count?" you growl.

he winces. "I-I-I-I'm…I'm sorry—"

you scowl at your hand, covered in come. "here, slut," you raise it up to his lips. "clean this off for me."

he tears up a little, but takes your fingers into his mouth all the same. pretty quickly, though, he spits them back out.

"it doesn't taste good…" he complains.

"oh? oh, it doesn't?" you mock. "but it felt good, when you came without my permission, like a cheap fucking whore."

a couple of tears spill over, roll down his cheeks, yet he says nothing, only moving back in to lap his come off your hand. you can see it in his expression that he's not very happy about it, but he doesn't protest further.

"is this good enough, sir?" he asks, when it seems that he's gotten it all. it looks clean enough, you agree. you grab him by the chin, hooking your thumb in his mouth. you don't even have to tell him to suck.

"you come without my approval again, and it's over. you can go back to playing minecraft—or what-the-fuck-ever—with your friends for your birthday. do you want to sleep on the couch, Georgie?"

if he wasn't crying before, he's definitely crying now. he doesn't shake his head, but he circles your fingertip with his tongue enthusiastically, as if to say, I'll be good, I'll be good this time, looking up at you doe-eyed.

"bend over for me," you demand. "across my lap."

he does so immediately. he slips a little bit while he's changing positions, you hear the bell ring, and he scrambles to correct himself. he settles with his ankles crossed and his head in his hands, propping himself up on his elbows. you feel a little bad, you admit, but you won't budge; he has a safeword, you trust that he'll use it.

"let's try that again," your tone softens. "I want you to count for me, okay?"

he nods.

you pull his panties to the side, pause briefly, and bring down your hand with a satisfying smack.

"ohhhhhh—" he moans, jolting a little. "—holy shit, did you just spank me?"

your stomach drops, you go to rub him gently where you just hit him. "is that okay—?"

"it's hot, it's so hot, fuck," he shifts in your lap. "um, sorry…one."

seriously, something about hearing him swear awakens something in you, every time. you're fired up. you spank him again.

"mmm—two…" is he…? "three…"

you pause to massage his ass again, and to speak. "you're…you're hard again, aren't you?"

you didn't even spank him yet, but he lets out a moan. "fuck, I—I just. I want you. I want this. so, so much."

you wonder if this is actually the same George who was fidgeting with his pillow in the dining room this morning.

"you're so bad, getting turned on by something like this," you tease. he only moans in response.

"four—five—six—seven…" he chokes out. "it's starting to sting…"

you take a break, kneading the skin where your angry red handprint is starting to take shape.

"eight…nine…but god, it hurts so good…" he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "ten…"

at ten, you linger for a moment, holding a handful of his ass. "does it?"

"yes—yesyesyes," he buries his face in the pillow, and shivers. "fuck, eleven…twelve…"

you pull his panties down to his knees, and switch sides. he lifts his hips up, so I can reach him better, you guess. you don't miss the telltale glint of a butt plug, but you'll get to that later.

"thirteen—fourteen—fifteen—sixteen," he moans between slaps. he's gripping the pillowcase so hard his knuckles are white.

in this new position, the way he jumps with every hit makes his cock brush against yours just right. fuck, you're still hard from earlier. this time you're the one who whimpers.

"seventeen, eighteen," he pauses, breathless. you pull gently on his leash, he arches his back and moans, "n-nineteen." his bell jingles.

he grinds down, just for a moment, and the friction is delicious. you're a little dizzy, you think you might've thrust back. you both sigh at the feeling.

"…t-twenty…see? I-I can count…I'm a good boy��I'm good for you…aren't I?"

"you are," you murmur, but you aren't sure he hears you. "you're so good…"

"twenty-one—twenty-two…I-I feel like I haven't done anything right today…twenty-three…"

"…George…?" you hear a muffled sob.

"twenty-four…" he mumbles.

"George?" you start to get concerned. he just keeps crying. "hey…" you whisper. you gently prompt him to turn him over; the pillow's a little wet. you pull the panties off all the way, and get him out of the bra, which had a little stray come on it. you help him sit up in your lap, and pull him into a hug.

"am I really just a whore…?" he asks brokenly.

"you've been so good for me, baby. you've done everything I've asked." you wipe his tears away with your thumb. "are you okay?"

"but I—" he coughs. "—I came too soon, I came without your permission…"

you kiss his hair, and hold him to your chest. "you've been so patient. I'm proud of you."

he finally wraps his arms around you. "I-I'm sorry."

"nonsense," you reassure. "your comfort takes priority. are you okay? color?"

"I…" he searches for the words. "I dunno. yellow? I…that hurt, I think. being…degraded?"

you comb through his hair with your fingers. "I understand. thank you for telling me. I love you."

—

you stay like that for a minute. you grab him a snack and a drink, but for the most part, you just enjoy each other's company, tangled-up together. you don't bother putting your clothes back on.

it's later in the evening. you're straddling him, peppering his shoulders with kisses, and he's giggling underneath you. he turns over to give you a short and sweet kiss.

"baby?" he says, looking expectantly.

"what is it?" you sit back on your heels.

he hesitates. "…I wanna keep going. from earlier."

you're serious again. "are you sure you're okay?" you grab his hand, bringing it up to kiss his fingertips. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm alright," he assures. "I remember you promising me an all-day thing, though."

you blush, a little surprised by his forwardness. "of course. I think…I…" you laugh. "I wanna fuck you."

"yeah?" he smiles, leaning up close. "show me how much."

you hold his jaw while you kiss him, biting his bottom lip between your teeth. he tastes like the coffee and cream you made him earlier. you feel his breath hitch. he reaches up to hold your shoulders.

you pull back. "hey, blow me first."

"what? why?" he giggled.

"it's been a couple hours, I'm not hard anymore," you coax. "I thought you liked taking orders?"

he cringed. "but come tastes gross!"

you slid off him and hopped off the bed, opening the drawer. "suit yourself. you get to watch me jack off, then."

"fine by me, I think you look good when you masturbate."

"ohhh, I forget, you're too blissed-out to pay attention to how I look when you're getting fucking owned."

"I am not!"

"you are too!" he sticks his tongue out at you.

you open the lid, pouring a little on your hand, a little on your cock. it's translucent pink, seems a little fragrant. you give yourself a couple of strokes with a sigh.

he's quiet for a second, then, shyly, "um…is that…strawberry flavored…?"

you bite your lip. "I thought you weren't gonna give me head?"

"I was just curious." it's a weak lie, but you say nothing.

your eyes are shut, but you can feel him moving around a bit on the bed, you hear his bell ring a couple times. you feel a hand on your thigh, so you decide to peek. and holy shit.

your partner's made his way to the floor, on his knees between your legs, holding his leash in his mouth, his fucking mouth, what the fuck. his thumb's rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh. the half-lidded look he's giving you should be criminal.

"you—I thought you said you wouldn't…" you can't find the words. you reach out and take the leash from his mouth. you see your hand shake in front of you.

"I'm just watching…" he whispers, looking up at you, mesmerized.

you're only able to get a couple of pumps in before he's joining you, hand over yours as you get yourself off. just the extra sensation of somebody else's touch is enough to make you bite back a moan.

"fuck—!" you jolt when he licks a stripe up the underside. he mouths over the head, jerking you off on his own now. you move to grip the sheets in one hand, his leash in the other. and you come without warning. you see it end up on his hand and your stomach before you shut your eyes tight.

he's quiet while you're coming down, just helping you ride it out, giving you kisses on your thighs. when you look back down at him, he's got two of his fingertips in his mouth, licking them clean. he stands up abruptly, it startles you a little. you see his bell ring. and he grabs you by the hips and leans down to your midriff.

"…I don't think I cleaned you off all the way earlier…" he breathes, and he starts to lap up the mess of his and your come that's been on you since this afternoon.

what the fuck. why is this so hot? why is he so hot? all too soon, your spent cock twitches in interest at your lover. he cups it with a hand, smiling against your tummy. you're so sensitive it hurts. you think you mean to say something, but nothing comes out.

"hmm…?" he bites his lip. "you still want some more?" all you can do is whine. at this point, you don't know if it's in protest or invitation.

you don't get the chance to find out either, because fuck, he's really going down on you now. you don't know what the fuck he's doing with his tongue, or where his gag reflex went, but at this rate you're gonna come again.

"George—George, baby, I—slow down, I-I'm—" you plead. his leash slips out of your hand, you tip your head back.

he swallows.

—

the last thing you remember is coming harder than you ever have in your life. you think you held him by his hair. you might've fucked his mouth a little. he's never let you come in his mouth before…fuck…

it's nighttime now. he's riding your thigh, got one of his legs slotted between yours. the friction between his knee and your overstimulated cock feels embarrassingly good. you're so dizzy, all you can articulate is a loud moan. you don't sound at all like you remember. his bell keeps ringing and ringing and ringing as he grinds against you.

he leans down, one arm holding your hip, the other keeping himself propped up. he bites your shoulder, hard, hard enough to bruise. he comes on both of your stomachs.

"George," you beg. you're losing your voice.

"mmmmmmsir," he slurs. "fuck me."

"George, I…" you don't know what you're saying. the end of your sentence turns into a whimper.

"you need me to get you hard again? you need me to rile you up?" he turns to kiss your jaw, feeling around for your dick. "like this?"

"George," you sound urgent, until he squeezes right around the head, and you forget what you were saying. you're pretty fucking close to forgetting who you are entirely.

he sits up on top of you, grinning. "love the way you say my name, sir."

that name. all it takes is the way he says that fucking name and you're ready to go again. you flip the two of you over, so that you're towering over him instead. "you still didn't. fucking. ask me. if you could come."

he giggles, a little crazed. he hooks his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest.. "so what? so what? you gonna fuck me 'till I behave?"

"yes," you reach down, "I think I will." and you pull out the butt plug he (probably forgot he) had in all day.

"fuck—" he sobs. you watch his dick bob. precome drips into a pool on his stomach. "—green—green—so fucking green."

you're still sensitive from coming twice—you're pretty sure he is too. you lean down to give him a kiss, you moan into each other's mouths. he tastes like strawberries and his and your come. it is a little gross, you admit. but he's so tight and so fucking cute that you can't bring yourself to care. you part, and there's a line of salvia connecting the two of you.

"wait—" you say, but it comes out like a growl. "roll over."

he gets on his hands and knees, reaching back and spreading himself open for you. fuck.

you fuck him like that, holding the leash tight, loving the way he arches his back into the bed. the bell on his collar jingles incessantly.

you spank him, one last time.

"th-that's twenty-f-five—oh, fuck, sir," he growls, clinging on to the blankets for dear life.

you pin one of his hands in place and reach down to touch him. he starts laughing again.

"mmmmmmay I please come, sir? I—fuck—I'm so close, soclosesoclose," his breath stutters, you can hear the breaks in his voice. he buries his face in the blankets.

I'm close, you think, but the words don't make it out. "you're so good—you're so fucking good—come for me—fuck, come for me."

—

you're a mess. there's some drying solution of come and lube on your stomach. not to mention whatever the fuck's going on with your hair. your robe is discarded haphazardly on the floor. you think you've got a hickey, but you can't remember where.

actually, you're both a mess. he's also covered in come, sweat, and lube. he's got a red ring around his neck where you pulled him by the leash a little too hard. he's just covered in bruises. he clings to your arm, still fast asleep. you both passed out pretty quickly after…whatever that was, but you got back up a couple hours later. it doesn't look like he did, though.

actually, your whole bedroom is a mess. a blanket or two ended up discarded on the floor. there's an empty bottle of edible lube somewhere around here. your kitty lingerie set, still dirty, somehow ended up hanging in the closet. the first time you woke up you were both cuddling with a butt plug that you misplaced in the heat of the moment.

you don't think you've ever seen him like that. you can't even put it into words. you've never spanked him. he's never called you sir. you've never come in his mouth. he's never…begged for you like that before. you've never been so exhausted after coming that you both just, just fainted.

you feel lightheaded, and dead tired. you know you both must have gotten back up and gone at it at least a couple more times, but it's blurry, you can't remember. all you know is your vibrator's missing, and you feel…unusually empty, like you do the morning-after getting railed a little too hard.

last night…what the fuck happened last night?

you contemplate getting up, slipping your arm out of his embrace, pulling the covers back up around him, leaving to make breakfast. you're kind of disgusting, several hours after sex without cleaning up properly. you want to get yourselves some washcloths, maybe take shower together, or run him a bath. you know he's gotta be way more sore than you are.

you catch yourself staring, lost in thought; he just looks too cute when he's very clearly roughed up, but still sleeping soundly. and with the way he wanted…the way he needed you yesterday, you don't think he would want to wake up alone.

maybe it's okay if we sleep in a little longer.

you stroke his hair and whisper, "happy birthday, baby boy."

—

edited 14 March 2021

[starsstruck]

cloudbusting; part three.

a classic coffee shop story. harry is a painter that quickly becomes a regular at his neighbourhood cafe, and it just might have something to do with a certain barista. bar run ins, shameless flirting, and paintings lessons at sunset.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, alcohol, sexual content words: 12.6k

series masterlist

art by holly warburton. (i have no vision for the mc of the fic, people in the images of paintings i use are purely because this is how i envision harry’s art to be) 

a/n: i am very my excited to share this chapter, i hope everyone enjoys ! a big huge thank you to tina @sunflowers-styles​ and jill @havethetimeofyourstyles​ for helping me out and being the best ily💕💕 

“I have two cold brews for here!” Calling out the easy order you just prepared, tight-lipped smile to the couple that picked up the drinks in front of them.

You had barely gotten much sleep the night before.

After your little breakdown, you ended up staying up late watching your favourite feel good TV show. And now you were working a long shift this Tuesday afternoon, annoyed by how busy it was, especially with the two deliveries that were bound to come any second.

Staying on bar to make drinks, not at all having the energy to stay at the register and talk to customer after customer.

Aleena understood more than most. She was happy to take till and let you be grumpy in the back, making drinks.

And it was the same thing the following day, except that you were working with Erinne and she was making you far too frustrated. She insisted on taking bar, and you had to run around her doing everything she was neglecting.

It was by the third day that week, that you finally got over your self-pity. Heading over to Mae’s and having a nice movie night with her.

As you often did after moments of indulgent crying, you recovered a few days later. A part of you knew that maybe in a few weeks or in a few months it would happen again, but that would be a problem for later.

But the week really turned around that Sunday night. After a week that lasted far too long, it ended with you sitting in a corner booth of a neighbouring bar with a wide grin spread across your face.

The weather was so lovely and the city so busy that the day had been nonstop. Working a long and tiring day, Aleena, Saya and you had all been eager to get a quick drink after locking up the shop.

The three of you always flowed well together, the two slightly older women being a blast to work with. A big reason why you always sneakily tried to scheduled the group together on weekends.

Now all seated with drinks in front of you, you were crushing the ice of your gin and tonic under your teeth that helped cool you down.

On top of a busy day it was so plainly hot out, and the heavy jeans you were wearing weren’t helping. You were happy to be sporting a short tank top, item that was previously under a light cardigan for the purpose of work.

Cardigan now in your purse, navy blue top being the only thing over your chest.

“Wait,” Aleena giggled, sipping on her mojito. “Did you hear what that guest said today?”

Chatting as you often did, sharing stories from shifts and odd complaints that you’d had from customers. “Which one?”

“Big group, the tall man with um,” Aleena paused, trying to remember. “Iced latte, no ice?”

You rolled your eyes at the ridiculous order, knowing very well how this story was going to end. “Said it was too warm – but no ice! He wanted a cold drink but we have to put a hot espresso shot in it. He got mad when I tried to explain it to him.”

“When was this?” You furrowed your brow, usually aware of whatever ridiculous reason a customer got mad.

“I think you were on your break,” Aleena thought it over.

Saya nodded along, agreeing with what Aleena said. “Yeah you were in the back – but it was so ridiculous! Wanted a refund and everything, but never ended up taking it? Even when we offered to make him a new one, he refused? I can’t deal with that.”

You watched as the two of them got annoyed over the situation all over again, completely reasonable in their frustration. “And it was busy too, he was holding up the line.”

It was just then that you caught sight of a familiar mess of dark brown curly hair, sitting on the opposite side of the bar from you. You squinted your eyes slightly, not sure if it was who you thought it was.

But then he turned his head the slightest bit, and you could make out the outline of his sharp features. The line of his cheekbones and then the dimple of his cheeks, lips spread as he smiled.

Quickly averting your eyes away from him, nearly hating the way you felt your body heat up at the sight of Harry.

Focusing your attention back to your friends, taking a big gulp of your drink. Still, you were unable to help the way your eyes trailed over to him every once and a while. He was with a few other people, you couldn’t see how many. Seated around a table in the far left corner, almost directly across from you.

You had no idea if he had seen you or not. But when you walked over to get another round for your group, you got very conscious about how you stood even closer to him.

As you got drinks for your colleagues, your phone starting vibrating in your back pocket. Mae’s name was flashing across the screen, missing the first call when you brought Aleena and Saya their drinks, but with a second call coming that had you scurrying out the heavy door to answer the call.

“Hey,” quickly speaking once you were tucked away in a corner outside the bar. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Mae’s laugh through the speaker calmed you down. “Yeah, sorry. I locked myself out of my apartment –”

She cut herself off. You were leaning back against the bricked wall, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

The loud chattering of a group walking past you overwhelmed your ears, and you were sure that Mae could hear them through the speaker.

“Are you out?”

“I’m just getting a drink – are you okay?”

“I locked myself out, really stupidly too. I was going to ask if you still had one of my spare keys but don’t worry! You’re out.”

“No Mae if you need me to –”

She cut you off. “Robin’s coming over, they have a spare key too. Don’t worry!”

You bit your bottom lip, stifling a laugh. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s such a nice night out, and Robin’ll be here soon. Have fun tonight!”

When she was reassuring you, your eyes flitted over to where a new person joined you outside. There were two groups of people standing together, sharing cigarettes and biding their goodbyes to each other. But as you glanced up at the new figure, your paused when Harry shot you a small smile.

Narrowing your eyes on him slightly, still on the phone with your friend. “Okay, well let me know when you get in. And really if you need me, I can be over with your key.”

Mae agreed that she would, and you were soon hanging up the call to glance back up at Harry who was lingering by you.

“Hi,” you finally spoke, feel heat rush to your face. You felt a bit sweaty, almost clammy in the warm summer night.

“Hi,” he breathed out, mirroring your words. He didn’t move from where he stood, watching as you walked over to stand next to him. “Thought I saw you earlier.”

“Yeah I’m with some people from work,” jutting your thumb out to point over you shoulder in the general direction of the door.

He nodded, glancing to where you pointed as if he could see through the wooden door. “Long day?”

“Very,” you sighed. “People are crazy.”

There was a slight pause, Harry shuffling on his feet while you stood straight, one hand tucked into your back pocket where you had just placed your phone.

“Were you heading home?” Asking after another few seconds, finding the silence heavy but neither of you moving away.

“No actually, not quite yet. I saw you head out – in fact I thought you were leaving. Just wanted to say hi,” he stumbled over his words slightly, eyes gleaming down on you in the dimly lit street.

“Just a phone call,” you broke out a small grin.

“Saw that,” he mirrored your expression, now that you were smiling at him. “I wanted to talk to you – I don’t know if I upset you or fucked up when I stayed past closing last time but I really didn’t mean –”

He cut himself off, and you couldn’t help but feel your smile grow at his words, watching his expression twist to confusion at your reaction.

“It’s really okay,” you couldn’t help the laugh that was bubbling up in your throat. “I’m not – never was – upset with you. Was just a bit of an off day, or couple days.”

Harry’s shoulder dropped, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Okay, I wasn’t sure if maybe you felt – well anyway. Sorry I haven’t been in to the café either, I was – well I was worried you were upset with me.”

Bottom lip lodged between your teeth, feeling blood rush to your neck when he apologized for not coming into your work all week.

“But, are you alright?”

You nodded, your little breakdown the previous week nearly laughable to you now. It might have been because of the drinks you had already had, but you found yourself especially now in a particularly good mood.

It wasn’t that you felt better about your situation by any means, it was more so that you had risen above your wallowing enough to be happy with what you were doing. Plus, it was healthy to have a nice big cry once and a while.

“Yeah, god it’s kind of silly. Just had a bit of a panic. You know how it is; was just too in my own head.”.

Harry’s smile was still wide on his lips but little furrow on his brow as he probably didn’t understand your ramble much less than you did. “Well,” he bit his lips together. “Hope your feeling better.”

You nodded, returning his smile as a small silence settled over the two of you. You were still tucked away in the corner, off the main part of the sidewalk with Harry a good arms length away.

Attention pulled away at the shriek of a laugh coming from a woman who was sharing a cigarette with a man nearby, Harry’s voice soon interrupting your brief distraction. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Gaze meeting Harry’s once again, not hesitating before answering. “Yes you can.”

Leading the way back to door of the bar, Harry holding it open as he walked in behind you. Your eyes drifted briefly to where Aleena and Saya were still siting, seeing them deep in conversation.

The bar currently wasn’t too full, some people seeming to have filtered out. Harry leaned forward, an elbow against the counter, looking back at you. “What did you want to get?”

“You choose,” you replied, seating yourself on an empty stool near where he stood. His mouth dropped as if to speak, but he quickly shut it with a curt nod and turned back towards the counter. He settled himself onto the stool next to you, knee bumping yours as his legs spread.

Getting the attention of one of the bartenders, telling them your drink orders. “Two whiskey sours, please,” he cast you a quick glance from the corner of his eye, before his attention turned back to the bartender who told him his total.

Reaching for his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and tapping his card on the terminal while the bartender prepared your drinks. “Did I choose well?”

“I don’t know,” you hummed. “I’ve never tried a whiskey sour.”

You leant your body closer to his, turning in your seat so that you were facing him. “It’s a bit bitter – if you like espresso I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Espresso is not supposed to be bitter,” you spoke without missing a beat. “Supposed to be balanced, and all that.”

“Yours is bitter sometimes.”

Your mouth dropped open. “It is not!”

“Sometimes,” he stressed, gleam in his eyes. “Don’t give me that. You’re still my favourite barista.”

“Good,” you muttered, small smile on the corner of your lips as his words rang through your head. The bartender placed two drinks in front of you, both quickly thanking them.

“Cheers,” tapping the tip of your glass with his. You both lifted the rims of you glasses to your mouths, Harry holding it there for a second as he watched you take a sip. The dark bitter liquor easily slid down your throat, and you kept your lips together as if that would hold in the taste.

He followed after you took your first sip, tongue darting out to quickly lick his lips before biting them down together. “So,” he spoke after a moment of watching you. “Did I choose well?”

“I think so,” you hummed after a second, going in for another sip.

Harry held onto his cup, busying his hands. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous with you all the sudden, as if he’d never been able to hold a conversation before. He was cautiously aware of the way his knee kept jutting out and hit yours, and the way that your hand brushed over his arm when you dropped your glass back on the counter.

“Did you need to head back to your table or …?”

He watched you turn your head, chin above your shoulder as you glanced behind your back. He followed your gaze, eyes focusing in the dim light to the table he had seen you at before. The two other baristas who you worked with were laughing.

“Don’t need to, no,” you hummed, facing forward again. “Think I’m good right here.”

His chest warmed at your voice. “What about you?” His eyes met yours when you spoke again. “You need to head back?”

Harry glanced back to the table he had been at, now filled with a new group of people. “My friends left already.”

You simply nodded once, taking another sip of your drink. Harry was worried about the silence in conversation, unsure of why he couldn’t think of anything to say to you –

“How’s your art going?”

Your words eased his nerves the slightest bit, blinking before he looked away from the glass in his hands and at you next to him. “Good –” he cleared his throat. “Good, yeah. Finally started working on something new.’’

“What is it?”

“It’s,” he brought his free hand to rub at the back of his neck. “It’s still in the works – I’m not too sure how its all going to turn out yet.”

You took another sip of your drink. “Is it what you’ve been working on when you come into the coffee shop?”

“Knew you’ve been spying over my shoulder,” he chuckled. “But yes. Like I told you last time – I like getting inspired by the space and all that.”

You weren’t sure if he was going to say more, watching as he brought his glass to his lips. “What about you? Ever do much painting, or anything of the sorts?”

“God no,” shaking your head, leaning your elbow against the bar. “I think last time I tried anything like that was years ago. I’m no good.”

He smiled, knee bumping yours. “Don’t have to be good to paint – it’s nice to just have fun with it.”

“That’s true,” you hummed. “Guess I never really thought about it; I clearly haven’t done it nearly enough.”

He glanced down for a beat. “If you want –we could paint together sometime.”

“Yeah?” You felt your chest heat up at his words. “That could be nice.”

His eyes settled on yours again, smile widening. “Glad to hear it.”

Swirling the liquid in your glass, before tipping your head back and taking a big sip. The affects of the liquor with the few drinks from before were slowly catching up to you – you weren’t drunk by any means but one might say you were starting to feel tipsy.

“I have a confession,” licking the liquor from your lips as you placed the glass back on the counter.

Harry leant forward on his elbow a bit, eyebrows rising slightly in curiosity. “Tell me.”

The corner of your lip grew as you felt yourself warm under his gaze. “I might have … already seen some of your work.”

“What?” He laughed, shaking his head slightly. His cheeks were rosy, and eyelids slightly heavy in a way that made you think he was probably a bit tipsy as well. “Where?”

“I – I happened to find your Instagram.”

His eyebrows rose even further, beaming smile on his lips. “You happened to find it? How exactly?”

“Not important,” you hummed, leaning your head on your hand as you tilted away from him.

“Okay,” he drew out the word. “And what did you think of what you found?”

Meeting his gaze again, turning in your seat so that your body was angled towards his again. “I liked it.” Answering simply.

“You liked it?”

You nodded, searching for the right words. “I don’t know a lot about art and all that. But I did like it, a lot. So colourful and just – well just nice.”

Mentally cringing to yourself at how poorly you had explained yourself. There was a smile on his lips as he listened to you, only glancing away to sip his drink.

“Thank you, really. Hope you’re not just saying that,” he teased.

“If I had hated it would’ve told you,” you deadpanned, smile in your eyes.

Harry laughed, head tilting back a bit. “Glad to hear it.”

Laughing lightly along with him, feeling the heat in your cheeks from the alcohol. “What about you?” Harry asked after a moment. “How’s the coffee game?”

“Oh,” you swung your foot from your stool. “Coffee game hasn’t changed.”

“You said you’d been working there for two years?”

You were surprised he remembered. “About two years there, yeah. But I’ve worked in a few other coffee shops as well, basically through most of university and since then as well. Ever since moving here I guess.”

“What did you study in college?”

“Poli sci,” you paused. “Not getting much use now.”

“That’s okay,” Harry shrugged. “No learning is really a waste, right?”

“Right,” nodding, realizing you were nearly done with your drink and not wanting to talk about college. “Can I ask you something?”

“Course,” he watched you.

“Who’s your favourite artist?”

Harry beamed. He didn’t answer right away, swirling his glass in his hand. “So I don’t have a single answer for you, tough to pick just one.”

You nodded, waiting for him to keep speaking.

“I really like the colours and the shapes of like, late impressionism. Like Matisse. But I also really like the theory, I guess, of mid 20th century artists. Identity of the self, ones around you – oh! Also Hopper – makes me a bit sad but in a good way, you know?”

You listened along, not having a clear mental image of everything he was talking about but liking to see how he talked about it. “I also really like Georgia O’Keeffe.”

That name you knew. “She did all those flower-vagina paintings, right?”

Harry chuckled; eyes cast down for a second. You were sure it must have been in the dim light of the bar, but you thought you saw the tips of his ears redden. “I mean, yes.”

“Again, I just really like the way she’s able to create her composition, the way everything is so layered and blended. Just – really nice form I guess.”

He fell quiet for another moment, and you weren’t sure if he was done speaking. “Sorry that didn’t make much sense; seem to not be able to explain myself very well right now.”

“Don’t apologize,” you shook your head, finishing off what was left of your drink. “I like hearing about it, I wish I knew more about art.”

“Never too late to learn,” he grinned. “Plus, you seem to run a pretty tight ship with those paintings that rotate throughout your shop.”

Unable to help the laugh that bubbled from your throat, head tilting back and eyes gently shutting.

“I told you,” jutting one of your legs out to lightly swat at his chin with your foot. Your leg lingered next to his, leaving your foot on the rest of his own stool instead of bringing it back to your own. Harry watched as you scooted forward on your stool slightly, elbow on the bar shifting as you as you edged closer to him. “I have nothing to do with that.”

He mirrored your laugh, eyes briefly glancing down to where your leg rested next to his, before back up at you. “I never heard from them, by the way.”

“I’m sorry,” you paused. “Maybe try again in a few weeks?”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugged, though he didn’t appear that torn up about it. “Did you want another?”

Your gaze fell down to where his ring covered finger was pointing at your now empty glass. You quickly thought it over, knowing that one more drink would be fine as you weren’t feeling the liquor too too much. “Are you having another one?”

“I could,” Harry grinned, empty glass in front of him as well.

You slowly nodded. “Okay – let me get this one though.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s no worries, really. You can get it next time.”

You bit your lips together at the suggestion, unable to help the small curve in your lips. “Okay,” slowly speaking with a nod to your head. “Next time you come into the coffee shop I promise its on the house.”

Your feet fell flat on the floor of the bar, standing up. “I’m just going to head to the restroom,” you hummed, taking a step forward and letting your hand fall onto Harry’s shoulder for a light moment. “You can choose again.”

Harry’s eyes were stuck on you as you sauntered off, hands sliding in your back pockets with your elbows jutting out, the same way you did when you walked around the café.

You checked your appearance in the dimly light washroom, using toilet paper to blot at your sweaty skin. The bar was hot and humid, and you felt particularly oily after a long shift.

After leaving the restroom, you walked up to where Aleena and Saya still sat, small wave in their direction.

“What happened to you?” Aleena laughed, knowing very well she had seen you at the bar.

“Ran into someone,” you replied, shooting a quick glance to where Harry sat.

“Isn’t he a regular?” Saya followed your gaze, before turning to you with a little smirk. “Espresso over ice, right?”

You didn’t say anything, sure your expression gave it all away. “Sorry to have left you guys,” you said instead, feeling a bit guilty but knowing very well they didn’t mind too much.

“No, no it’s okay,” Aleena was sliding out of her chair, rising to her feet. “We were about to leave soon. You stay, have fun.”

You grabbed your purse that was still sitting with them, happy to have remembered that you had left it there.

“You’re both off tomorrow, yeah?” You already knew the answer, always good at remembering who was working when, especially since you made the schedule.

They both confirmed what you already knew, grabbing their things as they walked with you away from their table and towards the exit.

“I’ll see the two of you in a few days then! Have a good time off.”

After biding goodnight to your colleagues, walking over with purse in hand to go join Harry once more. “Sorry about that,” you hummed, sliding back into your seat next to him. “Just saying goodbye to my friends.”

“No worries at all,” his eyes fell to yours once you were seated. You didn’t miss how his stool seemed to be much closer to yours this time, legs resting inches apart.

“Got you a long island – figured you’d like it since I see you drinking so much iced tea.”

Again a bit impressed that he remembered, you were very much appreciating a long island ice tea. Taking a big gulp, letting the slightly sweet liquid easily slide down your throat.

Conversation fell easily between the pair of you, inching closer to each other all over again. Talking to Harry was so easy – and every time he sent you that dimpled grin you felt your head spin.

Your skin was sticky from the hot night, and you found yourself wishing you could be wearing a dress or shorts or anything but the thick jeans you had on from work. Also, as Harry’s knee bumped yours for the thousandth time under the bar, this time resting against yours instead of moving back, you found yourself wishing there were less layers between your skin.

You soon found yourself with a glass half empty, leaning forward with your head resting on your hand and elbow just against Harry’s arm on the bar.

“Hope I haven’t been keeping you,” Harry murmured, gaze heavy on yours.

“Haven’t,” shaking your head. You had no idea what time it was but the fact that the bar had significantly emptied clued you in enough. “Though I do think I should be heading home soon.”

His hand fell to his lap, sliding it over his leg and closer to where yours rested against it. “Let me walk you.” He squeezed your knee.

You cast your eyes down, quick glance to where his hand rested on your leg. “That would be nice.”

His touch lingered on you before pulling away. You saw his eyes fall over your face when you stood from the stool and reached for your bag that hung hooked under the bar. Grabbing your phone from your back pocket, quickly checking the time. It was nearing one in the morning – you were surprised by how much time had gone by.

You felt woozy – your lips bit between your teeth and hair sticking to your skin. Harry had gotten much closer to you through the night, and you him, and all you could think about right now would be what it would feel like to finally have him properly hold you.

Harry stood to his feet next to you, hand reaching out towards you as if to rest on your back, but seemed to decide against it. Still, he hovered close behind you as you headed out toward the door.

Swinging your bag over your shoulder, walking through the thick wooden door into the cooler night air. Harry quickly joined your side, lazy grin on his lips. “Are you cold?”

“No,” shaking your head, you watched as he neared you and stopped when he stood by your side.

“You’ve got goosebumps,” Harry’s voice had dropped, as he brought a hand to trail up your arm, letting it rest lightly on your shoulder. His hand was warm and heavy on your skin – if you didn’t have goosebumps before you were sure to now.

“Oh,” it was all you could manage to say.

You were unmoving on the mostly empty sidewalk, a bit tucked away in the corner by the same place you took your call earlier that night. His hand slid on your skin, feet moving on the pavement so that he stood closer to you – close enough that you could smell the liquor on his lips and something else, maybe it was his cologne or his detergent or just something that was making your head spin.

“Did I tell you how good you look tonight?” He murmured, like honey in your ear.

All you could manage was a small shake of your head.

“You look so good tonight,” his voice somehow even lower, breath hitting your skin. His hand slid across your shoulder, resting at the crook of your neck with his thumb brushing over the skin under your jaw.

Every one of your nerves was on fire – your senses overwhelmed with the man in front of you.

“I’m wearing my work clothes,” your eyes narrowed on his slightly, feeling his other hand grip at where your jeans ended and a small sliver of exposed skin rested. His fingers hooked through one of your belt loops, tugging you gently against him.

“You look good at work too,” he breathed.

You saw him unashamedly staring at your lips, eyes cast down as his fingers gave your hip a small squeeze.

And then your back was arching in his grip, hand sliding to grab at the neckline of his shirt. A quiet short gasp was sound from your parted lips when your mouths finally met.

Harry’s lips were soft and firm, drawing you in closer as they slotted on yours. Hand wrapping around the back of your neck, the thumb under your jaw was pushing your head to tilt towards his. His other hand was toying with the flap of the pocket on your jeans, tugging on the material as his legs bumped with yours.

His lips nudging yours, mouth parting slightly. Your free hand mirrored the other, gripping onto his shoulder to wrap him closer to you. He pulled you in deeper, tongue brushing yours. He tasted slightly bitter like the liquor you had drank, and like bittersweet chocolate – he tasted like a perfect balance.

Feeling your stomach flutter when Harry let out a shaky breath against you, pulling away for a brief second with a small bite to your bottom lip. Peeking your eyes open, seeing his darkened eyes opened as well. His pupils were slightly blown, cheeks reddened and lips kissed raspberry red.

Your name was a whisper on his lips, before he was pulling you in for more. His hand left your hip for a brief moment, walking you backwards until his hand met the wall and he pressed you against it. Your mouths were greedy, wet and hot.

You passed a little whine from your mouth to his, his chest covering yours as his hand slid around the exposed skin at your midriff. He had your body pinned with his, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were melting into the wall with the way he felt against you.

“I think –” you mumbled after a moment of heavy breaths. “I should head home.”

Harry pressed another kiss to your mouth, lips smacking together. “Yeah – okay,” he pulled only his head away, dipping down for a second with his forehead against your cheek. “I’ll walk you.”

He pulled away, slowly, from you. Hand sliding down your arm until his finger tips toyed with yours, tugging you away from the wall with him.

When you started the walk, it oddly felt like something so natural. Like you did this all the time, side by side. His arm kept brushing yours as he kept close to you, hand dancing with yours but never quite grabbing it.

The bar was both close to your work and your place. An easy fifteen minutes before you were slowing down in front of the steps that led to the door of your apartment.

Pointing up at the building, stopping in the street and turning to Harry. “I’m just up here.”

He finally grabbed your hand. Pulling you in close to him, heavy eyelids trained on you. “Happy I ran into you tonight,” he hummed, bottom lip between his teeth. “You’re not working tomorrow, are you?”

You nodded. “I open tomorrow.”

“Open?” His eyes widened, voice rising. “Fuck I’m sorry –”

“Not your fault,” you laughed, cutting him off. “I wanted to stay.”

He was quiet for a second. “Don’t you have to be up in like, five hours?”

“Something like that,” you pressed your hand to his chest, just as you had when you kissed him. “So I’m going to head up.”

Leaning forward, bypassing his mouth and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you.”  

You didn’t get much sleep, but this time it was okay. You weren’t in a bad mood, and your opening shift went off without a hitch.

Happy when Dani shuffled in, your first customer of the day. You handed him his crossword puzzle and hopped on making his drink, hands working on autopilot.

“Late night?” Dani asked, when you brought him his coffee with a stifled yawn.

“Something like that,” you hummed, placing his drink on the table in front of him, and taking a moment to sit across from Dani and sip on your own.

Another early morning face you saw that Monday, a surprise to you considering it was just past seven, was Harry.

He had his squared sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose, hair tousled as if he had woken up and let if fall wherever it pleased; a look you found yourself very much enjoying.

He had on small black running shorts and a grey shirt, an outfit you could only describe as athleisure. It was for sure an outfit that you had never seen on him, one you didn’t even imagine possible, but one you quickly grew a liking to.

He walked over to the counter, eyes flitting over to where you were sitting with Dani.

“Someone’s trying to take your attention away from me,” Dani laughed, head nodding Harry, seeing him patiently waiting for you with a small smile on his lips.

“The nerve,” you joked, knowing very well that Harry could hear you in the almost empty café.

Slowly rising back up to your feet, making the short distance across the floor until you were facing Harry form the other side of the counter.

Giving him a wide smile, tilting your head to the side. “You’re here early.”

“Going for a run,” he motioned to his outfit. “Needed a little coffee first, I didn’t get much sleep last night to be completely honest.”

You bit your lips together. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I would’ve brought you a coffee but …” he trailed off, motioning to the espresso machine that sat on the opposite side of the counter. “That didn’t make much sense.”

You laughed lightly, eyeing your mug that was still sitting on the table in front of Dani.

Harry continued. “I also seem to remember you saying something about a coffee on the house?”

Your eyebrows rose. “Oh, so is that the only reason you came in?”

“Helps, doesn’t it?”

“Well if that’s the case,” you laughed, waving to the machine that sat a few feet away. “What can I get for you?”

“You choose for me.” He grinned, repeating your words from the night before at the bar.

Bottom lip lodged between your teeth, you weighed your options. You scooped some ice into a to go cup, before pouring in some cold brew that you had brewing previous day.

“This is one of my favourite roasts,” you hummed, sliding the cup over to him.

Harry grabbed the cup form the counter, piercing a blue paper straw through the lid. “I trust your judgment,” he nodded, lips circling around the straw with his eyes on yours. You watched as he swallowed the chilled liquid, toothy grin on his lips. “Fruity.”

“Very fruity.” You confirmed.

Harry was quiet for a moment, before speaking up again. “I should get running,” Harry took another sip of his cold brew. “But I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Is that a threat?” You joked after his emphasis on the words.

“It’s a promise.” You didn’t know if it was imagined because he was turning away, but you were sure you saw him shoot you a cheesy little wink.

He waved bye to you, waving to Dani as well who seemed confused by the action but still returned the goodbye.

And true to his words, Harry was back two days later.

It was Wednesday afternoon, and he came in wearing brown trousers and a white shirt that had the word ‘sex’ on it. It was odd, and you briefly wondered what possessed him to buy the shirt, but you didn’t question it.

He waved hello to Aleena who was training a new staff member and walked up to where you stood by the furthest counter near the back door, currently slicing up a loaf of banana bread. “Hey!”

“Hi,” he stood opposite side of the counter as you, watching you place your knife down and grab plastic wrap to secure the sliced pieces.

“What brings you in today?” You asked, as if there wasn’t an obvious answer.

“Many reasons, actually.” He raised an eyebrow. “Main one being I wanted to ask you something.”

Your smile grew. “And what is that?”

“Well I remember you saying something about wanting to try out painting with me sometime.”

“I think I did say something like that. Why?” You teased, leaning forward on the counter in front of you with your arms crossed over your chest.

His hands were fiddling with the rings on his fingers. “Well –” he cleared his throat, “do you think that sometime could be soon?”

“Yeah? Like when?”

“Are you closing today?”

“Nope, actually I’m off at six,” you glanced at the clock. “A bit of a different shift since we’re training,” nodding your head back to the new staff member that was watching Aleena steam milk. “Good for me, since I don’t need to close.”

“And…” he paused. “Are you doing anything afterwards?”

You mulled it over, already knowing your answer but wanting to leave him hanging the slightest bit.

“I am not,” you finally spoke, smiling lightly. “I think I can make it work.”

Harry smile widened, tapping his hands on the counter. “Music to my ears.”

He glanced at the clock behind him, seeing there was about half an hour or so until you were free from work. “Did you need to go home first? I was thinking we could walk right over to my place when you’re off.”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself. “To change? My clothes are a bit covered in grounds.”

Wiping your hand over your front, flicking off the stray coffee grounds that always ended up on your clothes, today’s victim being a loose denim dress that hit the spot below your knees.

Following as Harry’s eyes fell over your outfit, lingering on your body for a slight moment. You couldn’t help but warm slightly under his gaze.

“Whatever you’re comfortable in,” he shrugged. “But for the record, I think you look great.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. “Think I should be good, though, to head over. Did you want a drink, while you wait?”

He nodded, dimples never disappearing from his cheeks as he didn’t cease smiling. “Maybe an iced tea?”

You saw him reach for his wallet, and you shook your head. “On the house, remember?”

Making him an iced tea with no sweetener since you didn’t take him as the type to want any, handing him the glass with a green paper straw. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

The next thirty minutes went by fairly quickly, showing the new hire, Andy, the first steps of a closing shift. It was at two minutes until six o’clock, when you headed to the washroom in the back.

Hand over your hair to fix it up, and swiping the skin under your eyes to wipe off the mascara that was a bit smudged.

Glancing down at your jean overall dress, the thin straps dipping a bit low. Other than that little detail, you didn’t think that the loose fabric that hit below your knees was that attractive. It was comfortable, to say the least, but it wouldn’t be something you wore on a date – or what you assumed might be a date.

But Harry’s words from before floated across your mind, and you told yourself that it was fine that you didn’t look the best you possibly could. You were just nervous.

Harry noticed you walking out form the back right away, standing to his feet to join you. You yelled a bye to Aleena, no missing the way she waggled her eyebrows at you and Harry.

He didn’t live that far away from the coffee shop – something that was no surprise to you. The walk was just over twenty minutes and a few stories up in the older looking apartment building.

He held the door open for you, as you took in his place. You always loved seeing people’s places, especially those of people closest to you. You may or may not have been caught snooping a few times in cabinets, something that you wished you had some shame in but really you were just a bit nosy.

He had wide windows on one side, something that you thought was supremely ideal and incredibly stunning, you believed that when the sunsets occurred the whole room must shine a hue of orange. Near the window were stacks and stacks of canvases, leaning against the wall, with an easel standing on the ground amongst smaller nearly blank canvases resting on it.

There was a little table with a jar that had brushes, two sketchbooks, and a canvas bag. He had a box that appeared to be filled with tubes of paint, and a table lined with item after item where you couldn’t even begin to think about what their purpose could be. 

Underneath a corner in his studio, was brown paper spread over the floor, no doubt to protect it from all the splatter.

“This is a nice place,” you finally spoke after a moment of kicking off your shoes and peering around the space.

“Yeah, I really lucked out,” Harry placed his bag on the chair by the door. “Do you want me to show you around or…?”

You pointed to where the paintings were stacked, already catching a glance at some. “I want to see those.”

He chuckled, walking over as you followed. He began flipping through them, once and a while stopping to pull one out. They were all around the same size, quite big, and about the size of an average coffee table.

“These are my favourites,” he watched you as your eyes rested on the paintings that were now fully facing you, propped up against the wall.

You had to agree with him, although you hadn’t seen all of them. They looked even better in person, leaving you a bit lost for words as you felt a bit dumbfounded. They all had big patches of colours, something you recognized from when you took a peek at his Instagram.

Your favourite one had what appeared to be two people in it, both standing on opposite sides of the street. The buildings in the back were painted mixes of blue and green, the sky dark behind them. The people themselves had little detail, faces hidden with the most focus on their clothes.  

Realizing you had been quiet for a moment, you turned to Harry, who was steadily watching you. “They are much better in person,” was all you could find yourself saying. “I – I really like them.”

Harry had a small smile playing on his lips. “Thank you,” he hummed, nodding appreciatively.

“Is that what you’re working on now?” Pointing behind him, to where he had what seemed to be yet another black sketchbook out on the floor with a few almost blank canvas around it.

“Yeah,” Harry hesitated, not moving. “But too much of a work in progress – not ready to be seen by anyone yet.”

“Of course,” nodding, as a quick movement near the ground caught your eye. Realizing the sight before you, mouth dropping open a bit.

“And who is this,” your voice rose an octave, dropping down to rest your elbows against your knees.

A small calico was padding across the floor, deep brown eyes focused on you as it tentatively made its way towards your extended hand. The cat nudged your hand with its nose, before taking a few steps closer to you and letting you scratch the top of its head. “Aren’t you the cutest.”

“She’s very needy,” Harry stood next to you, watching as you got acquainted with his housemate.

She moved closer to you, butting her head against your shin. She had very quickly gotten familiar with you, eyes shutting with small purrs coming from deep in her throat as your nails scratched over her neck.

Turning your attention to Harry for only a second, glancing up at him from where you were kneeling. “What’s her name?”

He grinned down at you. “Cherry.”

“Cherry,” you cooed, full attention back on the calico by your feet. “Oh, you’re so full of love.” Speaking to the cat, letting her rub her head onto your arm.

Realizing after a moment that you were getting far too distracted by the cat, giving her one last ear rub before standing to your feet. “Sorry,” you smiled. “I think I love her.”

“Don’t apologize,” he chuckled, bending down himself as she was finally saying hello to him. “She loves a cuddle.”

He easily scooped her up, bringing her up until she was held against his chest. His hand easily covered her, fingers moving through her fur.

There was something about seeing Harry’s wide chest with a little cat against it. Something you had never thought would make him that much more attractive. It was just the juxtaposition, his hands grabbing her entire frame, making her appear much smaller and him that much broader.

“What?” Harry’s laugh cut through your thoughts, making you realize you had been quiet for a moment too long.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, taking a step forward and brought your hand up to the little cat’s head. “She’s just too cute,” scratching your fingertips along her head once again, nails scratching over Harry's shirt-covered chest every so often.

When Cherry started to squirm in his grasp, he lowered himself slightly, letting her jump from his arms and skillfully onto the ground.

“Did you want anything to drink, or eat?”

Shaking your head, thinking about the coffee after coffee that you pounded back at work, and the bits and pieces of baked goods that you snuck for yourself. “I’m good, thank you though.”

“Want to get to some painting, then?”

Smiling over at him, not missing the way that the little calico was still demanding your attention by your legs. “I would love to.”

Harry shuffled some things around, seeming to pull out a second smaller easel from a closet to the corner, fumbling around with the clasps and settings on it until it was resting upwards, closer to the ground. You watched, not really knowing what to do, as he did the same with the other easel, moving it on the ground as they sat next to each other.

“Thought we could sit on the floor –” he turned back to face you, loose curls falling over his forehead. “If you want to stand that’s okay too.”

“Floor’s good,” you grinned, taking a step over to where he was setting everything up. He was digging through a box on the table, pulling out some paint tubes and brushes.

“Thinking we could use acrylic,” he talked, and you weren’t too sure what he meant so you simply nodded. “I usually do oil but it’s a bit tougher to handle, especially if you’ve never used it before.”

“Okay,” the word sounded so small in answer, you wished you had more to add but in all honesty you never thought much about the different types of paints.

“For you,” Harry stood again after laying out a series of tubes on the floor next to the easels, motioning to the spot. “Let me know if you want a pillow or something, or if the ground is uncomfortable.”

“Should be okay,” you stepped over onto the brown paper covering the floor, noticing specks of dried paint already splattered over it. You adjusted the hem of your dress when you sat down, small bend in your knees and your feet flat on the ground. 

Harry left for a second, rusting in the closet to the side once more before he came back with two smaller canvases. “Primed and everything,” he placed one in front of you, and for him as he settled down on the floor next to you.

“Thank you,” smiling over at him, not touching anything he put out and keeping your hands clasped together.

He seemed to notice your hesitation, handing you a small flat brush. “Use whichever colours you want,” he spoke slowly, motioning to the tubes next to you. “A palette out for you and water is in this jar.”

Nodding again, flipping the brush between your index and middle finger on instinct. “What should I paint?”

Harry laughed. “Absolutely anything you want,” he opened a tube of yellow, squirting some out on his own palette in his hand. “Whatever comes to mind.”

“What are you going to paint?”

You saw his bottom lip jut out slightly, thinking back to when he had kissed you a couple nights ago and how that lip was between your teeth. “No fun in telling you right away, you’re just going to have to wait and see.”

Laughing lightly, you decided to grab the first colour that came to mind: blue.

You didn’t really have anything in mind, thinking that maybe you should listen to Harry and just follow whatever you felt.

Harry started right away, easily mixing a deep yellow and crimson on his canvas that turned into an orange that was nearly too bright. He wasn’t paying much attention, though, watching you from the corner of his eye.

You had your head tilted down, arms resting on your knees with one hand perched down, mixing some blue on the palette. With your bottom lip between your teeth, and a little furrow to your brow, you grabbed some yellow, and then some more blue.

You were swirling the colours together, resulting in a brighter blue, and you brought the brush up to the canvas. He saw you hesitate again, tip of the brush not making contact with the white canvas.

“Don’t think too much about it, love.”

The pet name slipped past his lips easily, not even thinking about it. Your attention turned to him as he spoke, and he didn’t miss the way that the corner of your lips turned up, before you bit said lips together.

“Okay,” the word was a quiet murmur, as your attention was back on the canvas, you painted a thick blue line right on the left side.

After that, you seemed to ease up a little, mixing various hues of blue, not really having a plan as you painted them over and next to each other. You didn’t really know what you were doing, but you were enjoying yourself.

It was therapeutic, the way that the thick paint smoothed over the canvas in the same way that an espresso shot poured so fluidly into a mug. 

You were catching quick glances at what Harry was doing every once and awhile, seeing him add blue shapes on the opposite side to where the orange was.

It was like that for a bit, and you didn’t know how long. A nice calm atmosphere around the both of you, with small snippets of conversation here and there.

Your painting wasn’t advancing that much, but you seemed to have some big aspects going on. A dark, maybe angry, blue on the bottom of the canvas, and a light and deep toned one on the top. 

As you kept glancing over to Harry, you realized that he was painting two sets of hands, nearly grasping each other but not quite yet. You were quietly amazed by his skill.

After another period in silence, with the only noise coming from outside as the window above your head was propped open, you felt Harry start to shift from next to you. First, he stretched out his legs, and then his arms.  

And then you heard the paper under you rustle, Harry moving to his knees as he shuffled closer to you. You were watching him from the corner of your eye, trying not to pause in your movements to avoid showing that you were paying any attention to him.

Feeling his presence linger, you finally cast him a glance over your shoulder. Still not speaking as you silently held his gaze, watching his eyes stop over your lips for a moment before looking past at the canvas in front of you.

“Can I –” he leaned in closer to you. “Show you a few techniques?” His voice was smooth in your ear, not really asking a question as the shirt over his chest brushed your back.

You simply nodded, mind reeling a bit as his lips lingered near your ear.

It was then when he lowered himself from his knees, seating himself behind you. Your movements froze, not fully able to see him as you sat still, and faced forward. His legs widened a bit as he sat back, slowly unfolding one at a time and placed his feet on the ground, bent at the knees and loosely casing you in.

Your skin jumped under his touch when a hand was wrapping over yours, leaning his body in even closer so that his chest was fully pressed against your back. You could feel the small puffs of air leave his nose that hit the top of your shoulder.

He guided your hand down to dip the tip of the brush into the mixed paint by your side, moving both of your limbs together. “Just like,” his voice was deep and quiet in your ear, moving your hands back up near the canvas. “Just like this.”

You didn’t dare look back at him – knowing that one glance would have you gone. You were sure his eyes were glowing and that he had that dumb little smirk on his lips; his lips that were oh so pink and slightly wet from how much he bit them.

Just the feeling of him gently pressed against you, chest digging into your back slightly deeper every time he moved your arms together, was making your head spin. You could barely pay attention to what he was doing to the canvas, solely focused on the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Just like that,” he murmured deep in your ear, bit of stubble scratching your skin when his chin moved forward to rest on top of your shoulder.

Nearly dropping the paintbrush when his hand let go of yours, catching it in an awkward manner. He slipped his hand away, sliding it up your forearm until it rested lightly over your elbow. His other hand was still resting by his side on the ground, and all you wanted was for his arms to squeeze around you while his thighs did the same.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, forcing your attention back to the splotch of colours that stood in front of you on the canvas. You were painting continuous little blue lines along the right side, layering the slightly different shades.

It was when you had started to focus a bit more on the darker colour you were mixing, that Harry’s chin moved from your shoulder. Instead, you felt his nose brush over the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine which you hoped he hadn’t noticed.

Though you know he did. And when he placed his lips on your skin and whispered ‘just like that’ one more time, you became putty under him.

You tried not to appear affected by him, you really did, but you also didn’t know how it could be physically possible to focus on anything other than him at the moment. The brush stilled in your hands, arm resting exactly where it was and halting in all movements.

His lips were moving down the nape of your neck, small barely-there kisses that were like whispers over your skin. The hand on your elbow slipped under your arm, gripping your waist with his fingers bunching into the baggy material of your dress.

A whisper of your name onto your skin was all it took. Your eyes pulled away from the mess of blue on the canvas, having to lean away from Harry to properly gaze over your shoulder at him.

Eyes heavy on yours, gaze sharing unspoken words. You watched his eyes drop down without a shame to stare at your mouth, dilated pupils tracing the soft curve of your lips. You couldn’t help but wet them under his intense stare.

The sight of him blurred as he neared you until your eyes shut and his lips covered yours.

Your neck was tensing from the uncomfortable position, tilting around your shoulder, but when you tasted Harry again you didn’t care.

His mouth took your bottom lip between his teeth, grazing over it before releasing it and he craned his neck further around your shoulder to properly kiss you. His hand grabbed onto your dress, holding the fabric tighter in his grip.

Kissing Harry again felt even better than the last time. Even in the nearly painful position, you wanted to pull him in closer and deeper and not be able to know where you ended and he started.

He was warm and bright just like the hot August evening, beaming like the sun through the window. He drew you in closer and made you feel so at peace – at this moment you couldn’t remember ever feeling stressed.

A gasp escaped from the back of your throat, Harry’s mouth moving over yours in slow and deep movements. Like last time, he eased his way into your mouth slowly, savouring your taste. Tasting like coffee, and something sweet he couldn’t get enough of.

Legs that rested by your sides closed in on you a bit, squeezing your hips when he turned in to try and rest even closer to you. The position was awkward, the brush still half hanging in your hand, while your other hand moved around behind you to lace through Harry’s hair.

He was kissing you deeply, tongue delving in against yours. Although you were in close proximity with his front pressed against your back, you wanted to be closer. You wanted to be on top of him, or vice versa, you wanted to be able to feel his weight against you.

As if reading your mind, Harry parted your lips with a light pant, eyes fluttering open as he licked over his moistened lips. Slowly releasing you from his grip without a word, scooting back a bit until not a single sliver of skin was touching yours anymore. You felt him grip the paintbrush from your hand, leaning across the floor to place it in the little jar of water he had set out.

“Turn around for me, love.”

Skin warming at the tone of his voice and the words he was saying. You decided he could’ve told you anything in that voice and you’d easily listen.

You shifted forward a bit awkwardly, with your hands on the ground beneath you to hold you in place as you moved around on your bum until you were facing him.

He looked stunning in the warm glow of the sunset, orange beams pushing through the window and kissed the tip of his cheek. His hair was a bit tousled from your hand that had run through it, eyes dark and intent on yours and lips begging for more.

He sat an arm length away, raising his right hand as if to cup your face but he let it hover by your side. Your skin burned to feel his touch on you. “I’ve got paint on my hands,” he murmured, eyes glancing down. “Already got some on you.”

“I don’t care,” your own hand reached out for him. Curving it around his neck, pulling him closer to you until your lips were once again connected.

Harry shifted closer to you, hand resting by the crook of your neck while the other was placed on your knee. Wet lips were greedy for each other, licking deep into your mouth as he let out a shaky breath through his nose.

The hand on your knee squeezed it, thumb brushing circles onto the skin. His touch was sending sparks under your skin, and all you wanted was to feel more of that.

And when his hand slid up the slightest bit up and his lips enveloped your bottom lip, the softest moan escaped past your parted lips and Harry knew he needed more as well.

“Can you lay back for me.”

His own legs rested by your side, slowly lifting himself to his knees. His eyes were heavy on yours, watching your head slowly nod as you leaned back on the hand behind you. 

The hand that was resting by your neck slid down your arm, holding you as he eased himself down, letting your back hit the floor under you. His legs extended out next to yours, shuffling himself so that he had one between your own before he moved to hover over you. One hand keeping himself slightly at level, he pressed the rest of his body down on yours until your lips were reconnected.

“Are you comfortable?” A quick kiss to your lips before he lifted his face away, eyes flicking between your own.

You quickly nodded, swallowing a breath as your fingers held the material of his shirt. “Yes.” Moving your hand from his bicep up around his neck, fingertips tapping lightly against his collarbone. Some loose curls were falling over his forehead and were pushed out of the way when you brought your hand up to run your fingers through them.

Running your nails over his scalp, lowering his head down to yours until your lips met once more. It was slightly different this time; hotter, a tinge of desperation behind both of your movements. Every touch of his skin on yours was sending a bolt of pleasure straight down to where you craved him the most.

The breathing in the room growing heavier, your whines laced with the small puffs of air. His own lips slid to your jaw, then to your neck where he nipped the spot right under your earlobe. Committing you to memory, capturing every inch of your skin, and every sound you made.

He still had a hand resting by your knee, having slid up along with the hem of your dress just hitting the middle of your thighs, as if about to ask if he could move his hand further up, lips parting against yours.

You sucked in his bottom lip between your own, teeth grazing of the thin skin as if giving silent permission. He pulled away slightly, eyelids flitting open. His eyes darkened, voice husky in your ear. “I – I need you to tell me what you want.”

“Please,” mouth searching for his once again. You circled a hand around his neck, pulling his lips down to yours. His hand holding himself up found your arm by your side, trailing his fingers along your forearm until your fingertips were intertwining. “Just – anything.”

Pulling your hand up along with his, keeping it down on the ground above your head, his lips slid away from yours again as he pulled a whimper from your throat, hot breath hitting the side of your neck.

“Still got paint on my hands,” he rasped as his lips brushed over the skin under your earlobe. “Getting it on your thighs.”

“Don’t care,” repeating your words from before with a lift of your hips.

The slow-building ache between your thighs was at an all-time high, as you were hyper-aware of Harry’s hand that was pushing under your dress. You felt an involuntary buck of your hips as he shifted over you, thigh brushing over where you wanted so badly to feel him. “Oh.”

Eyes falling to Harry’s, catching him already watching you. He had that small lift in his lips, the subtle smirk as he knew what he was doing.

And then he was dipping his head lower again, as his hand rose higher on your thigh, pushing the denim of your dress up along with it. His nose skimmed the edge of your dress strap, nudging it aside before his lips kissed over your collarbone.

His fingers were inching their way up your leg, tips just brushing over the corner of your thigh. He was moving oh so slowly, while his lips hotly kissed and sucked on your skin.

He moved the fingers that were still intertwined above your head down, letting go as he let you reposition your own hand through his hair. His fingers were quick to touch your side, fiddling with the hem of your dress that was moved up significantly.

Lips breaking away from your skin, gazing up at you through heavy eyelashes, you nearly had to look away by how intense his gaze was, but you were worried about what you’d miss if you did.

Both hands now on either thigh, edging the fabric of your dress up while his eyes didn’t waver from your own, lifting your bum the slightest bit to help move the material up, until he caught sight of your blue cotton underwear and the fabric was gathered just above your hips.

Suddenly Harry was shuffling down your body, paper rustling under his knees, his forearms pushing at your thighs. When you felt his breath hit the crease of your skin, you were scrambling to prop yourself up on an elbow.

You watched him rise to his knees and then to his feet, watching the slight confusion dawn your features as he quickly walked through his apartment and over to the couch that sat opposite to you. He didn’t leave for long enough for you to even begin to shuffle up, quickly reappearing with a plush blanket in hand.

Soon finding himself in the same position he was previously, not before plopping the blanket down on the ground and guiding you to move your hips on top of it.

“More comfortable this way,” he chuckled at your expression, hands quick to grab at your skin once more.

He pushed your legs further apart, bending at the knee as your legs butterflied. He kept stealing glances at you, making sure he wasn’t pushing you too far.

“What are you,” you paused, swallowing a thick breath as your mind was unable to focus on a simple thing other than the fact Harry was hovering dangerously close to where you were aching. “What are you doing.”

“Paint,” was all he said, lips wet on your skin. “Can’t use my hands.”

Sliding his body the few more inches he needed for his mouth be level with the inside of your thigh, pulling a shaky breath from you as he lowered his lips. His lips grazed right over the skin of your inner thigh, leg jolting at the touch.

“Can I?” his voice rasped deep from below you, hot breath warming your entire body. “Tell me if I can.”

You needed to swallow a heavy gulp before answering, unable to believe the anticipation that was building. “Please, yes.”

A high gasp sound from your throat when his lips closed over your clothed core, pressure against your clit. His hands that had been holding your thighs apart moved over your hips, the cotton of your underwear between his thumb and index finger.

Lifting your hips, your own hand coming down to pull at the fabric of your garment, Harry was quick to take hold of said hand, wanting to be the one to undress you. Inching the fabric off of you, he eased your thighs to bend, making it easier to fully discard the thin material.

Moving your hand to rest in his hair, hands on your thighs again with his eyes skimming over every inch of skin in front of him. You were wanting to watch his every move, and tightly shut your eyes. You decided on the former, fingers locking tightly in his hair as his lips skimmed over the sensitive skin of your thighs once again.

Harry was reveling in the sight before him; having you spread for him with the sunset casting a golden glow all over your body. Your dress bunched around your hips, cunt glistening, eyelids heavy and lips wet as you breathlessly panted his name. “Harry.”

“Fuck,” he muttered against you when he finally got his first taste. You were wet, so wet, and perfectly sweet.

Your back arched at his first touch, tongue lapping over your folds. His forearms still over your thighs, pushing them further apart to spread you open.

The sound you made when he repeated the motion, this time seeking out your clit, told him that he was successful in doing so. Your hips jolted slightly at the feeling, breathless whimper escaping your mouth as he paid close attention to the sensitive bit of nerves.

You were certain you felt yourself leaking as Harry experimented with your clit, gently and then roughly pushing the tip of his tongue against it.

“Oh...!” Mouth gaping open when his lips circled around your clit, cheeks hollowing as he lightly sucked. He repeated the motion, tongue lightly flicking over the nub before he pulled it between his mouth.

You lifted your head when his lips retreated from your clit, sucking into the skin of your thigh once again. Unable to take your eyes off the way his cheeks hollowed and his dark eyes remained intent on you as if you would disappear if he looked away.

Tongue licking up to your wet hole, saliva mixing with your arousal as he poked his tongue past your entrance. He had you pushing your hips up against him, nails digging into the skin on his neck while his tongue worked inside of you.

“Oh, God.” It was heavenly.

He worked slowly against you, tongue pushing up against your clit in a way that made your back arch of the mattress as you desperately needed more. “Harry –”

His lips circled around your swollen clit, eliciting a sharp cry at the end of your praise. Fingers pulling tightly in his already messy locks, not caring about the roughness of your actions in the moment. All you could focus on was how you felt completely on fire by the way Harry touched you.

He hummed against your heat, likely muttering something that you couldn’t make out. He sent vibrations all through your body, shooting up your spine and making your mind melt. You knew you were slick, probably embarrassingly so, but the way Harry was burying himself between your thighs left you without a care.

“It’s good?” His hot voice pulled your focus back onto him, glancing down when his tongue licked up your folds again, pushing through on every spot until your legs kicked slightly when he hit your clit. “Feels good?”

He moved his head away, hovering just over you with a lick to his lips. “So good,” you whimpered into the air, craving to feel him on you again. “O-on my clit again –”

You were cut short when his mouth kissed over you again, lips parted until they found their place around your clit, this time sucking harshly as he gaged your reaction.

His arms were still holding your legs parted, fingers gripping tightly into your skin there were sure to be crescent moon shaped nail marks indented into your thighs. His tongue was dancing patterns on your clit, pressure going from light to rough within a matter of seconds.

Listening to every heavy breath, every small gasp, and every light moan that was being pulled from your chest, Harry was memorizing every move he made that you reacted to.

You swore you could feel his lips curve to a smile when his tongue delved back into you, licking along slick skin while his nose nudged your clit. The small movement had you pushing your hips up, his tongue digging into you.

And then he was tugging on your clit again, pulling a deep moan from low in your throat that had him wanting to hear nothing else.

There was a fire in the pit of your stomach, chest heaving as you felt a slow build of your climax. Thighs pressing against his hands as you seemed to be unable to keep them still, completely focused on the way his tongue was quickly working against you.

Clenching around nothing, your back arching as you sought him out. “Need something,” you babbled. “Need more.”

He only muttered against you, not wanting to break contact from your heat for a moment too long. “No hands,” was all he said for a moment, the noise of his mouth wet on your cunt making you lose your mind.

“Know you can do it,” he moaned after a moment, encouraging you as he wanted nothing more than to see you unravel under him.

He worked with skill against you, making it his mission to see you cum for him. He knew he was getting you there, your breathing getting heavier and your grip getting tighter in his hair. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how you would sound when you came.

Getting you close, words starting to babble from your lips, pleads laced with praises and small cries that he could barely decipher spurred him on.

“I’m –” you gasped, eyes squeezing shut at the fire that was about to burn out of your core.

“Go on,” he urged, voice quiet as he didn’t want to take his lips off you for more than a second. Tongue circling around you quickly before licking quick patterns over the sensitive spot of your clit that made you call out his name.

“Oh…!” Mouth hanging open when you came against his mouth, his hands releasing your legs the slightest bit as they tried to squeeze close around his head. Hips jolting up with a rise of your bum, your hands tight in his hair.

The sound of your moans filled his ears, knowing that this was now the best thing he had ever heard. His tongue slowed around you before he pulled his head away and watched in awe at the sight in front of him. Your chest was heavily rising, lips wet and bit darker with your eyes closed shut.

The pleasure coursing through you slowly subsided, daring to peek an eye open at Harry by your thighs. He had a lazy smile etched across his mouth, and you watched his tongue dart out to lick his wet lips. His cheeks flushed red and hair disarray, as you slowly let go of your grip on his head, arms falling to your side.

The sun had set past the building outside, the light that was previously golden orange was now a hazy blue, casting darkened shadows under Harry’s features.

He lifted himself to his knees, stretching his arms out as he kept his eyes on you with a wide grin.

“Is,” you were the first to speak, propping yourself up on your elbows as you fiddled with the hem of your dress, not before noticing the blue and orange paint that was in fact smeared on your thighs. “Is painting always like that?”

A breathless chuckle escaped his parted lips, and he was suddenly hovering over you again. “Painting has never been like that.”

[ambrosiaaddiction]

Have A Little Faith

Word Count: 1,783

Summary: You are at Lady Danbury’s evening ball, which is the perfect opportunity to find a potential suitor so that you can finally settle down. But of course, it’s not as easy as it sounds. You’ve found yourself standing far away from everyone else, and just when you think tonight will be fruitless, your childhood friend, Anthony Bridgerton, changes all of the thoughts inside your head.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Tonight was the night where I needed to do a little flirting with men I have never personally met, and hopefully, I’ll impress them with my charms. That’s if they would gauge their attention onto me instead of whatever they wanted to boast about.

Mama practically talked my ear off when we were upon arriving Lady Danbury’s estate, but Richard distracted her with the topic of his new fiancée like the eldest brother he is. I still hadn’t thanked him for his act of bravery, although, that could wait for when we were in the carriage.

In my mind, I ventured on about whether or not he would be at the ball. The last time we’ve met was nearly three days ago when our families agreed to have a picnic in celebration of a newborn baby coming into the world. As much as I enjoyed engaging in social encounters, I had been more comfortable with reading alone in my room.

But alas, he persuaded me to join everyone outside where we could eat and share jokes under the warm sun together. Since then, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his shoulder brushed against mine more than enough times to call it accidental.

The man even offered to feed me a sandwich and delectable piece of scone he had already bitten into. Luckily for the two of us, our families were too immersed with doting over the aforementioned newborn baby to realize what we were doing.

Viscount Bridgerton, informally known as Anthony or Bridgerton by both family and close friends. I was not exempt from the latter formalities, although, I’ve always wondered what my life would be like if I had not crossed paths with him.

He is everything and more when Lady Whistledown wrote about him in her society’s paper last Tuesday. And to be quite frank, he needed to work for what he wanted rather than let it fall into his lap.

It seemed unfathomable the way he charmed his way through women of the ton while simultaneously rejecting them. I found it entertaining to see the crestfallen faces of girls my age, but am I to blame for their naïveté?

Anthony Bridgerton is a Rake through and through, which I can say with the utmost certainty because I am his childhood friend.

Now, don’t get me wrong. He loves his mother and siblings in place of his late father, and he is very passionate in regards of his interests. That includes women who have a pretty face and have given him an unforgettablely good time.

But this did not excuse the trail of broken hearts as well as tearful confessions behind the Viscount. Although a bit discouraging for someone who harbored feelings for the man, I always kept a smile on my face whenever we had a conversation with one another.

Anthony was extremely well-versed in politics, social skills, and the economy. There were times when I tested him on a popular topic in the papers, which as expected, he excelled.

I should not be thinking about the past at this hour. Everyone around me was dancing, drinking their glasses of champagne, and looking for someone to court. Letting out a deep sigh, I brush off a speck of invisible dust from the hem of my dress.

That’s when I see him, politely making his way through the crowd to go to where I am. A silent panic breaks my former calm demeanor, and I quickly stand taller to seem more presentable. It does not go unnoticed in the slightest, thus Anthony chuckles behind a hand then he stands before me in his handsome glory.

“Good evening, Miss Willows. How are you enjoying the ball so far?” There’s a mischievous glint behind those mesmerizing brown eyes, but onlookers would mistake it as a completely different emotion. “Hello, Lord Bridgerton. I’m much comfortable standing on the sidelines rather than dancing the night away. Thank you for asking, my lord.”

He shakes his head with amusement, and he finds my honest reply to be of a different mood compared to the other young women. “Then you shan’t refuse my offer to dance the night away, Miss Willows.” I furrow my brows in confusion and not a moment later, I’m swept onto the dance floor.

I’ve not the chance to process all that has happened, but Anthony keeps me focused on him and only him. He lowers his head to whisper words of encouragement, and I flush like a rose when he sneaks a kiss on the apple of my cheek. It’s too much for me to understand why he chose me instead of any other woman he wanted in the ball room.

“I’m relieved to see that you’re not stepping on my feet, and how beautiful your smile glows, Miss Willows.” I’m temporarily rendered speechless as to why he’s suddenly being quite the gentleman towards me. If it weren’t for the bystanders, he and I would be playfully bantering nonstop about the most random things we could think of.

“Anthony, tell me, what’s gotten into you? I appreciate the change of attitude, but it’s not the Bridgerton I know.” He’s unresponsive for a minute, then two. I can feel his grip on my waist tighten and the subtle action to bring our bodies closer. I’m not sure how I should react, but I needn’t say anything at all when he spins me around.

“My mother wants me to find a young lady to court because she’s tired of me being a bachelor for most of my life.” “Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised because she’s right.” I’m quick to give my reply, and he briefly glares down at me. “Oh, come now, Anthony. Even Lady Whistledown knows about your spectacular reputation and preferences.”

“Yes, but that’s all she knows about me, y/n. I just don’t think I’m capable of settling down with a family of my own in the near future.” The song comes to an end, and we bow before walking together for some refreshments. I say my hellos to several couples, single lords, and some of my friends when we come across them.

“That is a lie because from my knowledge, you’re the spitting image and exact replica of your father, Anthony Bridgerton.” “Y/n, I’m grateful to have met an extraordinary woman like yourself, but sometimes you get on my nerves.” That stabbed me right in the heart. Alright, perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned his late father, but he didn’t have to be so harsh.

“Look, all I’m saying is that you can marry whoever you want to, but you’d most definitely choose a woman with the same personality as yours.” I watch him take a swig from his wine glass, and then he points it at me. Narrowing my eyes as I brace myself for possible humiliation, he sets down the glass and takes my hand to drag me off to someplace other than where we were now.

I won’t lie when I say that I was nervous yet excited to find out where he was taking me. Benedict, Colin, and Eloise all looked our way then at their mother, and I could tell that they had connected the dots. It was a good thing that Lady Bridgerton found her happy place with alcohol, otherwise she would’ve stopped Anthony in his tracks.

We eventually reach our destination, which so happens to be one of countless rooms that was conveniently far away for anyone to hear. Don’t tell me... “Anthony, what are we doing over here? Shouldn’t we be with all those people, and dancing the night away?”

No answer from my captor. He seemed to be in deep thought, and I scoffed in disbelief. I most certainly did not want to spend the rest of my time on my friend, especially when he wouldn’t tell me why he brought me here. “Look, I came to this ball to find a suitor. If you won’t answer me, then—“

Before I knew it, his lips were on mine. The hand that was once squeezing my waist found its rightful place, and the other gently brushed my hair back. I fluttered my eyes closed, letting myself melt in his embrace as we kissed with a fiery passion I knew that had always been between us.

A few moments later, he pulled away then buried his face into the crook of my neck. I felt him inhale then exhale, as though he was trying to control himself from doing something I hadn’t done before. “I want you, y/n. But only if you’ll allow me to court you. We have gone through thick and thin in our childhood, and I want nothing more to continue for the rest of our lives.”

The Viscount Anthony Bridgerton was asking for my consent to be courted, and I would be delusional to reject his confession. I’ve never seen him so sincere and vulnerable like this before, and it made me giggle. He must’ve thought that I was going to refuse his offer, but I snake my arms around his neck then kiss his soft lips for reassurance.

“I’ve never thought you would ask, Anthony. But this means no more secret meetings, alright? If I hear an inkling about you being where you’ve told me you wouldn’t be at, then I’m ending things. Am I clear, Bridgerton?” He swallows thickly and nods, so I’m rather grateful that my warning has gotten through.

I bring my hands to cup his face, and I now see how much he adores me the way he relaxes against my touch. Unfortunately, we’ve been gone for far too long, but I don’t doubt that he’ll come up with a reasonable excuse to his worrying mama.

Anthony kisses the top of my head before taking my hand and leading me back the way we came. I intertwine our fingers to which he brings up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “It might be too soon to say this, but I absolutely and undoubtedly love you, y/n Willows. I promise to cherish you for as long as I am going to live.”

It takes a bit for me to absorb the sudden declaration, but I’m not complaining whatsoever. All that mattered was that we shared equal affection for one another, and we were willing to work for a bright, lovely lifestyle ahead of us. “And I wholeheartedly love you, Anthony Bridgerton. You are mine for eternity,”

Some might say that we were too inexperienced when it came to love, but we ignored their opinions. Like my mama used to tell me when I was a child, “Have a little faith.”

[thegirlonpeetamellark]

Christmas Break - Part 1

Surprise!! After a looong time away Court returns to Everlark fic world with a little holiday treat for everyone  - enjoy! :)

Hi everyone. So 2020 has sucked. For me, the beginning of quarantine was actually a bit of a gift. Being home gave me the gift of time, something I haven’t had much of as my daughters (who were very little when I started writing in this fandom) have gotten older. While I never stopped writing, it was a struggle to find long enough chunks of time to get into a flow. I started writing again with earnest. Not all of it was my fanfiction; some of it was my original work. El keeps me posted on the humbling and kind asks she gets about my writing. I felt bad that despite my increased writing, I still wasn’t ready to update any WIPs. But I did remember a story I had started for the final holiday PiP that I was never able to get past the first page (due to lack of time that year) and to my surprise, it started flowing. I had every intention of finishing it and having El post it as a gift to this fandom. But once my school went “back” in October and hybrid learning started, that was it. My time was gone. And further, my family experienced the very sudden and non-Covid-related death of my aunt. So while I have nearly half of this story written, it’s not done. But it will be, very soon, since it is a one-shot. As with all my stories, it took on a life of its own and it needs more love. So what I have for the readers who have loyally followed me is the first part, the part that involves Christmas. It’s my hope to have a second part posted in a week or two, so that by the time that part posts, a final part is nearly done. 

Thank you for your asks and your patience, and thank you to El, one of my favorite people in this world and the best thing my time in this fandom has given me. Thank you for your encouragement. Our friendship means the world to me. 

Here’s to a better 2021. Love to you all. Court

Christmas Break

Fuck, not again, Peeta grouses as the opening notes of that insidious Mariah Carey song pipe through the loudspeaker. That’s the third time in the last two hours. He’s all for holiday spirit, but if he never hears this fucking song again it will be too soon.

Leaning his forehead against the cold pane of glass, he peers out of the fourth-story window into the darkened sky. When he had arrived at work a few hours ago, the snow had just been starting to fall; a slow, lazy tumble of flakes. Now it’s coming down in a tumultuous swirl. It figures Panem would finally see a white Christmas his first Christmas Eve on rotation in the emergency room. No doubt the weather is partially to blame for the crush of bodies crowding the waiting room tonight. 

Peeta walks away from the window and opens the cabinet where he stashes his Clif bars. The economy-sized box looks suspiciously closer to empty than it did the other day. He’s heard complaints from other doctors and nurses that snacks are pilfered on a regular basis and was warned to label his own boxes. But he had forgone the warnings. If someone needed an energy bar badly enough to steal one, what was the $20 he had spent on them at Costco. He snags one and unwraps it. 

He’s just raised it to his mouth when his Apple watch pings and his silenced cell phone pulses insistently against his thigh. Heaving a loud sigh, he sets down the energy bar and withdraws the phone from his pocket. 

“Mom, you’ve got exactly 60 seconds,” he grits out. He doesn’t even need to look at the screen to confirm it’s her. She’s called twice already tonight, calls he’s ignored with good reason, but somehow his mother thinks a phone call from her trumps any actual emergencies her doctor son could be dealing with. Which, tonight, have been nonstop since his shift began at six. 

“Please tell me you ate something,” she begins. 

“I was just about to, when you called,” he replies. “I’ve only got a couple of minutes. It’s been utter chaos for the last four hours.” 

“We missed you at dinner. I can’t remember the last Christmas Eve when I didn’t have all three of my boys together.” Peeta closes his eyes. All these years my mother has been gushing about having a doctor in the family, and yet she never stopped to consider the ramifications of actually having a doctor in the family, he thinks. Particularly its impact on holiday gatherings. She obviously hadn’t learned anything from this past Thanksgiving, as now, just a month later, she’s already dumping a fresh guilt trip on him for missing another family dinner.

She continues, “And Jackson and Maxwell were just devastated when they heard you weren’t coming, until I assured them they’d see you tomorrow. We will see you tomorrow, yes?” 

Peeta suppresses another exasperated sigh and breaks off a chunk of the Clif bar. “Yes, Mom, I’ll be there.” And though it’s childish, he crams the bar into his mouth and mumbles around it, “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” His chewing masks the sarcasm that weighs down the words. 

“Excellent. We need an updated family portrait before Everly and Rye have to leave for her parents’ house.” Placated, his mother moves to ends the call, but not before getting in a less-than-subtle comment about how much she adores his brother Rye’s fiancée and how happy she is Rye is settling down. 

Staring at the disconnected call flashing on the screen, Peeta tries not to let the remark get to him. Mostly because he knows it’s a lie. His mother has complained more than once about Everly and how she’s not good enough for Rye. Peeta knows the dig was directed at him. He hasn’t truly had a serious girlfriend since junior year of college; just a few casual relationships that barely qualified as relationships. He doesn’t know how his mother expects him to meet someone with the hours he keeps. And his father, for as close as they are, never seems willing to jump to Peeta’s defense. 

Taking a deep breath to let his irritation suffuse, he jams his phone back in his pocket and scarfs down the rest of his pathetic dinner. All three bites of it. Then he uses the restroom, dutifully washes his hand, and stalks out of the staff lounge, his short break over.

As he strides up the corridor, he hears loud shouting coming from the ER waiting room. 

“…should be asleep in her bed, waiting for Santa Claus to come, but instead, we’re still here waiting for someone to take a look at her arm! It’s been over two hours! Don’t you people have any compassion? Or is Ebenezer Freaking Scrooge running this place tonight?”

Curious, Peeta veers towards the reception desk, where his eyes land on the ranting woman. She’s young, probably no older than her mid-twenties, and in spite of the fact that her dark hair is spilling out of a messy braid and she’s not wearing any makeup, Peeta is immediately struck by her beauty. The rosy flush to her cheeks from her tirade actually makes her even prettier. She’s cradling a toddler and protectively shielding the little girl’s right arm. The toddler’s blonde head rests on her mother’s shoulder, her thumb wedged into her tiny pink mouth. Her left arm clutches a stuffed orange cat. She looks tired. Actually, both mother and daughter do. 

“Miss, I understand your frustration, I really do,” the receptionist says calmly, her eyes cutting to Peeta as he stops by her side. He reads the name on the file on top of the stack, the next patient scheduled to be seen: MCMURPHY, JOSEPH. Clearly not the little girl in front of him. 

“I don’t think you do!” the young mother cries, her eyes flashing steel. “She’s three, she’s in pain, and she’s scared. And what’s more, I’ve seen at least five people go ahead of us who came in after us!” 

“That’s not how the emergency room works, miss,” the receptionist replies. She drums her fingertips on the desk, offering the young mother a tight smile. 

“It’s Christmas Eve,” the young mother adds, an edge of desperation creeping into her tone. Discreetly, Peeta moves around the receptionist’s chair, scanning the desktop until he spies the stack of files for the patients awaiting admission. While the receptionist continues to give the young mother the run-around, he thumbs through the stack, searching. His eyes land on what he’s looking for: a date of birth. His lips tip up. Bingo. This has to be it: HAWTHORNE, IVY ANN. 

At the exact second his hand snatches Ivy’s file from the pile and slips the other one in amongst the stack, the young mother’s eyes lock on his. Her gaze narrows. He can see the exhaustion all over her beautiful face. Her full lips twitch, her countenance suspicious as they stare at one another. 

“Ivy Hawthorne?” Peeta taps the file he had extricated. An immediate flicker of relief lights the young mother’s mercury eyes, and that lush mouth breaks into a grateful, relieved smile. The receptionist’s neck snaps up. “I’ve got this,” he adds, his tone leaving no room for her to argue with him. It’s not protocol for Peeta to take a patient directly, but it’s also not blatantly against the rules. Sure, it might mean a little more work for him, but if it means he can get this little girl home sooner on Christmas Eve, it’s worth it.

He smiles at the little girl. “Ivy, I’m Doctor Mellark. I’m going to help make you feel better, okay?” She nods once but doesn’t lift her head from her mother’s shoulder. Peeta’s arm sweeps to the side, ushering the young mother and Ivy past the desk. He scans the hallway and spies a partially drawn curtain halfway up the corridor. He leads them to the available partition and close the curtain behind them. As he turns to face them, he nearly slams into the woman. She hasn’t moved, and her luminous grey eyes fasten to his. She looks as if she’s going to say something, but several seconds pass and she’s still quiet, still watching him. The silence starts to become uncomfortable. Peeta clears his throat.  

“If you’d have a seat, please, Mrs. Hawthorne. You can hold her while I get some more information from you.” 

The young woman’s lips part slightly, again appearing as if she wants to say something, but instead she shuffles forward and Peeta waits while she settles on the edge of the hospital bed, gingerly adjusting Ivy so she’s sitting sideways across her mother’s lap. 

Peeta sinks down onto the stool and scoots towards the edge of the bed. This close he has a much better look at Ivy’s mother. She really is a beautiful young woman, and given how adorable Ivy is Peeta assumes her husband is probably also very attractive. He feels a twinge of jealousy. Lucky bastard. Pretty wife, cute kid…probably has a nice little house and a golden retriever too. Living the dream. His dream, if he allows himself to admit it to anyone but his mother. If he was being perfectly honest, he had always envisioned himself married by now. 

“How old are you, Ivy?” he ask, even though he knows from her chart and her mother’s declaration that she’s three years old. She hesitates, and still clutching the stuffed cat, manages to display three fingers. Peeta smiles at her again.

“I have a nephew who is the exact same age as you are. He told me just last week that he’s a big boy now. Are you a big girl, Ivy?” He keeps his tone gentle, hoping it will put her at ease with him. She nods, her big blue eyes lightening imperceptibly. “I thought so. Can you be a big girl and tell me what happened to your arm?” 

Her mother answers automatically, “She fell. I was only gone—” Peeta holds up his palm. He has the triage nurse’s initial assessment, so he knows Ivy’s arm is likely broken. What he doesn’t know is how the arm got broken. And those details he needs to try to get from Ivy herself. Kids her age always tell the truth when it comes to how they were injured, and unfortunately it’s part of Peeta’s job to make sure there isn’t a more sinister reason she’s in the E.R. tonight, no matter how sweet and innocent her mother appears. He’s already had a few encounters with suspected child abuse, though his gut tells him that isn’t the case with Ivy Hawthorne.

“Please. I would like Ivy to tell me how it happened.” 

Something dangerous flints in Ivy’s mother’s now stormy grey eyes.

“She. Fell.” The words are curt, enunciated coolly, but her voice is soft and Peeta can tell she’s keeping her temper in check for the benefit of her daughter. Eyes still pinned to his, she inhales deeply. A second later, her shoulders relax. “Go ahead and tell the nice doctor how you hurt your arm,” she whispers, stroking Ivy’s curls. 

“I was trying to see Santa,” Ivy replies, her tongue tripping in a lisp on the “S’s.” 

“What do you mean by that?” he prompts her. 

Ivy scrunches up her button nose. “I was trying to see up the chimney. ‘Cause the chimney at Aunt Katniss’s house is so skinny and Santa Claus is real fat and I don’t know how he’s gonna fit down it to bring me my presents!” Her blue eyes brim with tears and her lower lip starts to tremble. Peeta reaches over and pats her knee. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that, sweetheart. Santa Claus is magic. He’ll get you your presents, no matter what the chimney looks like.” He exchanges a look with her mother. 

“It was all my fault,” she says quietly. “I went in the kitchen, to get the cookies and milk—”

“And the carrots! For Rudolph and the other reindeer!” Ivy chimes in, her eyes shiny wet. 

“I never should have left her alone, not even for a second. This is my fault. It’s my fault. She wouldn’t have slipped and fallen off the hearth if I had been watching her.” Guilt chokes her words, and it sounds as if she’s close to tears. 

“Accidents happen, Mrs. Hawthorne,” Peeta says empathetically, “that’s why there are emergency rooms.” She presses her lips together, her brows knitting.  

“It’s Everdeen,” she says quietly. Peeta drops his eyes to Ivy’s chart, and furrows his brows, his gaze wandering to the young woman’s left hand. No ring. A brief thrill curls through him at the thought that she’s single. Asshole, he immediately chides himself. So not what you should be thinking about right now. He scans the chart more carefully and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, “but this lists Primrose Hawthorne as the mother, under the Parent/Guardian information, and a Rory Hawthorne as the father. I just assumed—”

She cuts him off. “Primrose Hawthorne was her mother. But I’m not Primrose Hawthorne. I’m Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. I’m her aunt. I should be listed as her primary emergency contact.” She swallows and squeezes her eyes shut briefly. When she opens them, they plead with his. Peeta glances down at Ivy, and then raises his eyes to Katniss again. The guilt that was clouding those silver irises a moment ago has dissipated, replaced with anguish. He doesn’t know what the full story is here, but he didn’t miss Katniss’s usage of the past tense in referring to Ivy’s mother. So he honors her silent appeal not to ask questions.

“Okay, Ivy, you fell, and you landed on your arm? I bet that hurt,” Peeta says to the little girl, but his gaze stays fastens on Katniss. She gives him the faintest smile and mouths, “Thank you.”

~*~*~*~

An hour later, the orthopedist informs Peeta that Ivy Hawthorne is ready for his approval to be discharged. Not wanting to keep her and her aunt waiting any later than necessary, he sets down the X-ray he had been studying, and heads back to where Ivy is. 

Standing outside the curtain, he hears quiet singing. He draws back the curtain and sees Katniss seated on the bed, with Ivy nestled in her lap. A bright pink cast safely cocoons the girl’s arm. Her blonde head rests on Katniss’s shoulder. Her eyes are closed, and her little body rises and falls with the deep breathing of sleep. 

Katniss continues to sing, unaware of Peeta’s presence. He doesn’t recognize the tune she’s singing. It’s not a Christmas carol, at least not one he’s ever heard before, but he continues to listen, captivated by her voice. It’s soft and decidedly feminine, but there’s raspy undercurrent to it that gives him chills. It’s like the first sip of a rich, smoky bourbon.

Gingerly, he tiptoes towards the bed and stands before her for several more minutes, until Katniss finally lifts her eyes. She immediately stops singing. Peeta smiles and nods towards Ivy.

“Someone is worn out,” he whispers. Katniss’s lips twitch into a chagrinned smile. 

“I’m sure the second we get home she’ll be wide awake and it’ll take forever to get her into bed. She was already amped up about Santa Claus before this.” She tips her head and gestures with her chin towards Ivy’s arm. 

“Warm milk. With a little bit of cinnamon,” he suggests. 

“Really?” Her eyes round. “Cinnamon? That really works?” Disbelief clouds her words. He shrugs sheepishly.

“I have no idea. No kids. And I’ve never had much trouble sleeping. I’m usually asleep the minute my head hits the pillow. But I’ve heard from a friend with a toddler that it does the trick.” He waits for her to say something—anything—in response, but she doesn’t. Her gaze is back on the sleeping toddler in her arms. 

Watching her stare tenderly at her niece causes something unexpected to claw at Peeta’s chest and he’s overwhelmed by a fierce compulsion to want to keep her here, to get to know more about her. It’s been a long time since he felt this kind of instant attraction to a woman. Why couldn’t he have met her under different circumstances? 

“Are we all done, doctor?” 

Peeta startles from his thoughts and offers Katniss an apologetic smile.

“Yes, sorry. You are good to go as soon as you sign here—” He holds the clipboard at an angle, to allow her to sign without having to disturb Ivy, “and here.” He flips the sheet back to the second page and she scrawls her name across the line there, too. Normally a nurse would go over discharge papers and protocol with patients, but Peeta had taken it upon himself to grab Ivy’s. He needed to spend every possible minute in Katniss’s presence. 

Once the release forms are complete, he review the plan for Ivy’s follow-up care, including how to manage any pain she has and when she’ll need to return to have the cast removed. Katniss listens attentively. 

When he’s finished, she stands up slowly, her movements tentative so as not to jostle Ivy. A sigh parts the little girl’s lips and she stirs, but she remains asleep. God, she’s cute, Peeta thinks. 

“Thank you, Dr. Mellark,” Katniss says softly. “For everything. I know what you did…” She falters. “I mean, I know we, ah, weren’t next, and ah…” Peeta waves a hand dismissively, sensing her discomfort with his hijacking of the queued patients.  

“It was my pleasure,” he replies. “Little girls should be home on Christmas Eve. Waiting for Santa.” He echoes Katniss’s earlier words. “I hope he’s good to her.” 

He doesn’t miss the forlorn expression that flits across Katniss’s face as she glances down at her sleeping niece. 

“He can’t bring her what she wants most, but he’ll try,” she murmurs and moves towards the open curtain. Just before she steps out into the hall, she pauses and turns to face Peeta.

“Merry Christmas,” she adds.  

“Merry Christmas,” he concurs. With a faint smile, she steps around the curtain. It rustles in her wake and resettles. Peeta exhales and slumps against the wall, regret washing through him, followed by a stronger wave of sadness at seeing Katniss go. If it hadn’t been for Ivy, he might have concocted some kind of delay to keep Katniss here longer, found some excuse to pry more information out of her. Like if she’s single. A surge of adrenaline spikes in his blood. He can’t let her go this easily.

He bolts out into the corridor, scanning the bustling hallway for any sign of Katniss and Ivy, but they’ve vanished. Disappointed, his shoulders slump as he trudges towards the nurses’ station to hand off Ivy’s file. 

It’s probably best, a nagging little voice inside him taunts, and he reluctantly concedes that it probably is. As much as he’d love to finally shut his mother up and find a woman that he’d want to spend more than a night with, it’s not fair to subject one to the kind of schedule he has to keep. New doctors are low-man-on-the-totem-pole. He’s had mostly graveyard shifts and he’s often on call. It’s his dream to have a pediatric practice, but he’s well aware that he’ll have to toil for a couple of years to get on track to make that dream a reality. 

A few minutes later, en route to his next examination, Peeta spies Johanna, one of the triage nurses, coming out of the room Ivy had occupied. His eyes immediately narrow when his gaze lands on her left arm.

“Was that in there?” He motions towards the vacated room and then nods towards the stuffed cat Johanna has wedged under her armpit. 

“What, the cat? Yeah. It must have fallen under the bed. I’ll take it to the station, in case someone comes back to claim it.” 

Ivy’s cherubic little face flashes in Peeta’s mind. He remember how fiercely she had been clutching that cat, and how she had reluctantly agreed to put it down when it had been time for Delly, another one of the triage nurses, to take her for X-rays. 

Peeta’s pulse quickens and he immediately thrusts his hand towards Johanna. “I’ll take it,” he says impulsively. She wrinkles her nose and cocks her head, her hazel eyes intensely scrutinizing him. Though they have a casual friendship, Johanna is far too insightful for her own good. Peeta doesn’t really need her questioning his motives for taking possession of the toy. 

“The little girl it belongs to goes to preschool with Max. I’ll make sure he takes it to her after the holiday break.” Fuck, that lie flew off his tongue so easily he almost believes it himself. Johanna shrugs and tosses Peeta the cat. 

“Suit yourself. One less thing to overflow the Lost and Found.” She strides past him and disappears into Triage 6. He stares down at the stuffed animal. His heart skips another beat and a slow smile tugs at his mouth. 

~*~*~*~

Stifling another yawn, Peeta squints at the numbers above the garage. He’s definitely in the right place. He kills the engine and sits for a moment, glancing at the clock on the navigation system. It’s quarter after nine. Early, but not obscenely so. When his shift had ended at six am, he had driven home and fought the urge to crawl into bed; instead, he grabbed a quick shower and freshened up. True, part of him hadn’t wanted to see Katniss Everdeen again looking like the bedraggled, exhausted mess he was at the end of a rotation, and also true, he was going to have to clean up before he’s due at his parents’ house at one. But he also knew he couldn’t really have shown up at Katniss’s house at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, even if he suspects Ivy likely had her up by then. He recalls, with a wistful smile, that Christmas morning was the one morning he and his brothers were always awake before his father. It was only a question of which Mellark brother was going to be the first to rouse the others. Him being the youngest, it was usually him, he admits with a wider grin.

He quietly exits his car, careful not to slam the door, and gingerly steps across the icy driveway. He pauses at the un-shoveled front walk, where a pristine blanket of snow blocks his path. “Shit,” he whispers, gritting his teeth as he takes the first step. His foot plunges into the deep drift, up to nearly his calf. He braces himself and takes a huge step, hoping to eat up the distance in a few long strides. Fortunately, it’s not a long front walk. He reaches the also un-shoveled front steps and carefully ascends them. He contemplates ringing the doorbell, but instead raps his knuckles against the door. His breath pipes out in white plumes and he rubs his palms together for warmth as he waits. 

No one comes to the door, at least not immediately. Peeta lifts his fist again, but just before his knuckles can connect with the wood again, the front door opens a crack and he’s suddenly looking at Katniss. Those silver eyes round almost comically as recognition lights them. 

“D-Doctor Mellark? Wh-what are you….”  

“Hi. Merry Christmas,” he begins. “I thought Ivy would be missing this.” He smiles and holds up the stuffed cat. 

Katniss stares at him, her lips parting faintly, and shock and confusion war on her pretty face. But then her grey eyes darken with what Peeta can only describe as restrained fury. 

She opens the door fully and glares at him.  

“You had Ivy’s cat?” she accuses. 

“Uh…yeah…” he stammers, his own confusion welling. Why is she so angry? “My nephew…he has a bear. Otis. Can’t sleep without that thing. I thought if Ivy is anything like Max…well, she’d be missing this.” He holds the cat out to Katniss. She snatches it so violently that she stumbles backwards. Peeta is equally jarred, but his jolt is from the very brief brush of Katniss’s fingers against his when she had grabbed the toy. 

But Katniss gives him no time to revel in the feeling.

“So this is why no one at the hospital had a goddamned clue what I was talking about when I called there looking for this cat an hour ago!” she spits. 

Shit, Peeta thinks, an uneasy feeling clawing its way into his gut. 

“Why the fuck—” He can’t help but notice her slight hesitation before she lobs the obscenity at him. “—would you take my niece’s cat? Is this something normal people do?” She’s shivering visibly as she rants, a clear consequence of stepping onto her front porch wearing nothing but green plaid pajama pants and a threadbare black Henley shirt.

“I….I…” He shakes his head. He’s not even sure how to defend his actions. He can’t very well tell her his ulterior motives in bringing the stuffed cat back to her niece. Not now. He definitely fucked this up.

“I was just trying to be nice. That I’d save you a trip on Christmas morning,” he finishes lamely. 

Katniss’s nostrils flare and her jaw flexes. “Christmas morning,” she mutters, just barely audible over the clattering of her teeth. “Did it occur to you, Dr. Mellark, that I might be looking for Ivy’s cat and I might call the hospital looking for this cat?” She shakes the toy in his face. “And did it occur to you that, in spite of all the toys she had just opened, Ivy might be bawling and throwing a fit because Buttercup was missing?”

Buttercup, he has to assume, is the stuffed cat.

She pauses, as if waiting for him to defend himself, but all he can do is swallow against the lump crowding his throat.

So she continues, “They made me think I was crazy—but not until after they left me on hold for 20 minutes while I tried to calm a wailing toddler. And then they said there was no toy matching this description in the Lost and Found. And that’s because you had it!” Her eyes are a maelstrom now, but he notices that an edge of frustration has crept into her furious tone. 

“And now Ivy doesn’t have it. So thank you. Thank you very much, Dr. Mellark. Merry Christmas.” And before Peeta can release the breath he’s been holding during her outburst and plead his case, she whirls around, her disheveled braid lancing through the air like a whip, and slams the door behind her. Stunned, Peeta can only stare at the wreath on the door as he processes what just happened.  

What. The. Fuck. 

Heart pounding, gut churning, Peeta retreats to his car. He takes a few minutes to absorb the shock of his encounter with Katniss, his mind reeling through the accusations she made. He never would have expected her to react like this. So much for any shot with Katniss Everdeen. 

He finally gathers his composure and navigates out of her complex. As he drives, his mind continues replaying Katniss’s words over and over, and he finds one thing nags at him. 

And now Ivy doesn’t have it.

Those words don’t make much sense to him. He just gave the stuffed animal back to Katniss. She can give it back to Ivy. She’ll have it now. In her wrath, Katniss just wasn’t being rational, he decides. 

But her words continue to haunt him off and on for the rest of the day. Along with persistent images of Katniss that further torment him. She is never far from his conscious thoughts. As he sits down next to the fireplace in his parents’ house with a tumbler of scotch to exchange gifts with his brothers and his nephews, he finds himself wondering who Katniss is celebrating with. Ivy, obviously. But does she have other family? 

By the time the Mellarks all settle around the table for dinner, he’s conjured up the notion that Katniss may not be married, but she surely has a devoted boyfriend who is showering her with gifts at this very moment. Her mood is infinitely better than what Peeta witnessed earlier. She’s probably dressed nice for him, and he’s sitting around her dining room table with Katniss and Ivy, like a makeshift family.

His mother’s irritation is palpable when she has to command his attention twice to try and draw him into the discussion centered on Rye’s upcoming wedding. Peeta murmurs the apology he knows she expects and feigns his dutiful brotherly interest for Rye’s benefit the remainder of the meal. But a dull ache has taken up residence in the center of his chest and he realizes just how badly he wants what his brothers have. 

He just won’t be having it with Katniss Everdeen.

[trashbaget]

its been a hot second so

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

eliza!!! my sweet!!! my darling!!!! my beloved!!!! oh how i’ve missed you!!!!

thank you so so much for this i really needed it 🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰💗💗💗💗💗💗✨✨✨✨✨

i hate that i’ve been so inactive on here for a while 😢 it’s really such a happy fuckin place for me on here, but i’ve been frustratingly busy and bogged down with work that i’ve fallen behind on from going through rough patches and fuck life is difficult right now. so this really means a lot, thank you 🥺💖

i think about you and everyone else i love on here all the fucking time and how i miss talking to y’all.

✨i’ve been able to be more active on discord lately if anyone wants to reach me there! ☺️ (raeisgae#0581)✨

and there’s so so much that i want to work on that i haven’t been able to but i think about daily, so to give myself a little boost of serotonin i’m just gonna gush about all the things i miss and the projects i want to work on soon (oh that ambiguous little devil word):

fanboy chapter 2!! i know so many of y’all are waiting in agony for it (bot nearly as much as me tho!!) and i have been thinking about it incessantly lately. i managed to get a little bit of edits started a little while ago, but this is a huge priority for when i get caught up with work!!

restoring my glorious dignity of being the yearniest bitch on the whole fucking blockg and getting back into weekly yearning spams!!

spamming y’all with all the tagged posts & asks i have chilling collecting dust and waiting for the light of day

reflections in blood analysis!! i now have rib printed out on paper to make annotating easier and i’m so fucking excited to write a wholeass essay about my own fic like it’s a 16th century text i have to decipher

more fanmixes!! in particular: a buck growth(?) mix, a pining era eddie mix, & a firefam chosen family mix

buddie one shot?! there’s this new idea floating around my brain that i’ve been wanting to pick at but haven’t had the chance to yet (i know nothing about it essentially, except that it gives me rib vibes, but only the prose and style, it’s not sad ahskdk,,,,, i think,,,,,,?)

911 characters as my favorite albums! this is an idea i’ve had for a while for a series of some sort, and i think it’ll be something collage-esque

i’ve finally finally finally been able to fucking read again so i desperately want to get to reading all the incredible fics my beautiful and talented friends have been posting so i can support y’all!!!!

addendum to the above item, specifically for my beloved drish @bazgallaghermilkovich: i have been thinking about it nonstop for fucking weeks and all i fucking want is a chance to catch up with cg and spam your ask box with my reactions but i cant. catch. a break. and it. is. infuriating. but fucking soon!!!! i desperately desperately want to get back to reading it soon!!!!!! i fucking miss screaming about it with you!!!!!!!!

also, music mondays have been falling behind and it makes me quite sad, so i want to get back to doing those regularly too. (i’m hoping to do a three parter this week to make up for missing the last couple, but who knows if/when that’ll happen, but i can guarantee it won’t be on monday ahskfkf)

so that’s where i’m at lovelies!!!! i miss you all immensely and i think about you all the time!!!!!! i thought about tagging a bunch of you specifically to tell you i’ve been thinking about you but i don’t want to tag a bunch of people if they maybe don’t want to be tagged in this post that’s basically just me rambling on about nonsense alakdjfjsj so i’m just gonna pin it lmaoo

✨💕love you all!!! miss you all!!! i hope i’ll be more active soon!!!💕✨

[slutsofren]

surrender the night

*this is a companion piece to my series, Danger Days, but can be read as a standalone

summary: you and joel have been together for a while, no longer worrying about fireflies or about ellie, the three of you became pretty close-knit out on the road and now in jackson but joel is usually closed off with you today until he wants to show you how much he loves you while hunkering down from the rain.

cw: no y/n, intimate/soft smut, mild bratty reader, slight angst, light humor/teasing, established relationship and life in jackson, joel being emotional AND vulnerable, SARAH MENTION that needs a whole TW i swear

word count: 3,884

a/n: congrats to pedro on this role and welcome new fans to tlou!! <spoilers> tlou2 isnt entirely canon in my version bc our man survives abby and her bullshit so we can all be happy here; but check out my series following the first tlou game with slow burn and other fun tropes here on ao3!

read on ao3 here!

Bandit attacks were on the rise again, always spiking before winter starts and at the tail end of it. You had been pulling nearly nonstop shifts at the wall and scouting nearby. Joel noticed how tired you were getting and tried to convince Tommy and Maria to give you less time on rotation. You thanked him heavily for it but if there was one thing you were good at, it was keeping those you loved safe.

The rifle was heavy in your hands, your thighs warmed by your signature dual handguns there, you were armed to the brim but it did nothing considering the visibility was poor. It was raining on and off since the two of you began your shift but as you neared the small town, it had gotten heavier as you got closer to the last stop on the scouting trail.

Beside you, Joel had been quiet nearly the entire time since the two of you left Jackson and each time you tried to ask him if he was okay, he shrugged you off. It wasn’t unusual for the man, he was a rather private person despite the many many months the two of you had been together.

The one thing that warned you something was wrong was a conversation the two of you had only last night. For the first time ever, Joel spoke of a memory between him and Sarah, the daughter he lost over twenty years ago, of how she would banter with him and keep him on his toes. He smiled while telling you a couple stories of her but fell into a tense silence afterwards that seeped well into today and you figure his silence has to do with it.

Your horses came to a stop in the garage of the safehouse as the two of you jumped down. “I’ll shut it,” you offered quietly as you lowered the garage door to keep the horses safe and warm away from the harsh chill of the winds and rain. Joel gave a grunt of confirmation and he opened the inside door to enter the house, shaking his head a bit to rid his hair of some of the dampness.

As the garage door shuttered gently to the ground, you turned to follow Joel up to the third floor of the safehouse and gave a firm pat against your horse as you walked by. Joel had already begun turning on the small lamps that were sparsely laid around the stairwell to make sure you didn’t trip. This was one of the few three story homes that were still viable despite how broken everything was inside. The walls still had some insulation but the dust and debris were stark reminders of everything that had been lost since the cordyceps virus took the world by storm. 

When you reached the landing, your stomach was in knots, Joel’s behavior wasn’t unusual per say but he was rarely like this with you on scout missions, often being more in the moment with you than his usual reserved self. Being outside of Jackson, the two of you had to communicate in order to stay alive, everybody did. It was the only means to survival but his behavior was beginning to worry you more and more.

You removed the rifle from your shoulder then leaned against the doorframe of the master bedroom, watching as Joel signed in both your names on the sheet on the desk that had been pulled in the room. He sighed heavily and turned to face you, “I don’t think we’ll make it back to Jackson anytime soon with the rain.”

“You’re probably right.” You pushed off from the doorframe and shrugged off your backpack, reaching for the long-range radio. You shifted it in your hands before clicking it on.

“Base, this is Athena’s Mark, please be advised we are hunkering down at the last checkpoint. Rain is too heavy to travel. Over.”

After a couple moments passed, you heard the tell-tale sign of a response with static then a click before Maria’s voice rang out. “Athena’s Mark, your message has been received. Notify Base if there’s any sightings out there. Stay safe you two, over and out.”

You looked up from the radio in your hands and saw Joel leaning against the desk with his arms wrapped in front of his chest. He looked at you and you gave him a soft smile before fully entering the room and setting your weapons and backpack down beside the large bed that was still in rather good condition all these years later and sitting on it.

“Y’know you never told me why your code name was Athena’s Mark,” he asked from behind you, watching as you began to unlace your boots.

You smiled as you recalled the memories. “When I was still running with the Fireflies I would sneak over to the Humanities department and steal some of the abandoned books from the offices. One of the rooms belonged to a Greek historian and I found their book on mythology,” you explained without looking up. “By the time I arrived in Jackson, I still had a few of those books in my possession. One day Maria and I got drunk and she called me Athena as a joke but the name stuck with me on missions.”

You laid the unlaced boots on the floor and laid down in the bed, listening to the rain patter against the roof and windows, drowning out all the outside noise. “She said I looked like a goddess of war when I had blood on me, fighting to protect Jackson.” You threw a hand behind your head and stared at the ceiling before continuing. “If the world hadn’t gone to shit, I’d like to think that’s what I would have done with my life. Become a historian or something.”

“I think I would have liked to see you like that,” Joel said in his gruff voice. You smiled at his words.

“What would you have done?”

“I was a carpenter, and even wanted to start my own business. Work was shit to come by but it paid the bills.”

You smiled, remembering all of his wood carvings in the spare bedroom of his house. “If bills weren’t an issue back then, what would you have wanted to do,” you prompted instead.

“I wanted to be a singer but with Sarah and all,” he trails off. You remembered him admitting this once, forever ago but now the candor feels different because he said her name.

Sarah.

You sit up from the bed and look at him, the broad strong man he is, looks like he’s a million miles away. His eyes are unfocused and his face looks conflicted. You get up and take tentative steps towards your boyfriend. “Joel?”

He looks up at you and unfurls his arms from his chest, instead opening them up at you. You walk to him a bit more confidently and walk straight into his embrace as he wraps his arms around your frame. He buries his face into the crook of your neck while you encompass him and rest one of your hands on the nape of his neck, your fingers gently dancing in his dark hair.

“I love you,” he says, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion. His arms wrap around you tighter, pulling you closer into him. “I think she would have liked you.”

You try to pull back a little to look into his eyes but his grip only tightens around you, refusing to let you budge. “I think I would have liked her too, Joel.”

For a man of few words, the ones he spoke have taken your heart by storm. The two of you have been together for a while but the intimacy between you has rarely been like this.

He stays like this for a few more minutes, composing himself. You play with his hair with one hand and the other draws random circles across his back. Silently telling him you’re there for him. After these moments pass, Joel pulls his head back from the crook of your neck to start leaving a trail of kisses there, his beard leaves a scratchy but familiar burn across your skin.

Without using words, he’s telling you how much he loves you, how much he cares, how much it pains him when you’re not together, and you bask in it. “Joel,” you whine as his kisses suddenly shift to small sucks and bites on the sensitive skin on your neck.

“Come here,” he demands slowly, finally bringing his lips to yours.

As the two of you kiss, he tangles his fingers in your hair, his other hand kneading the flesh on your ass. Joel has you melting in his hands as your worries fade. You figure today was rough on him and you’re more than happy running away from the anxiety.

The two of you do this dance with each other's lips until he pushes off the desk, advancing to his full height towering over you. He doesn’t let you break the kiss instead he presses harder into you deepening it.

The more he wordlessly asks, the more you feel like you’re drowning in him, his scent, his touch.

Joel places both of his hands on your hips as he pushes you backwards, walking you to the bed. The backs of your knees hit it and you stumble a little but his sturdy warm hands keep you from falling down. He breaks the deep kiss the two of you were sharing, both just slightly out of breath but heavily disheveled. A shuddering intake of breath and he leans his forehead on yours, his eyes closed. “Will you have me?”

“Yes,” you sigh against him. “Please.”

Just as you slightly beg, any worried thoughts you had were whisked away as he removed your denim jacket from your body. His large calloused hands worked their way back up to your head, his fingers getting tangled in your hair, gently pulling you back so your neck was exposed.

He gently laid kisses up and down your jaw, taking sweet time and care with you.

Your hands drifted up his torso, unbuttoning his soaked red and black flannel. Once the last button popped, you moved your hands across the expanse of his chest, pushing both his flannel and brown coat off him.

A deep groan rises from Joel’s throat, “Easy now.”

He takes a step back and fingers at the hem of your shirt, pulling it off your body. You rush a little and put your hands behind your back, undoing your bra. Joel watches you silently as you discard the article to the side of the bed where your shirt lay on the floor with his.

His hands return to your body, working themselves at your jeans and he pulls them down, gently easing your leg out of each pant leg. He’s being so gentle with you, being so vulnerable and soft.

You stand in front of him as he remains kneeling in front of you, still in the position he was when he removed your jeans. He leans forward and rests his head on your stomach and you feel his breath over your panties.

“May I,” he asks, fiddling with the elastic waistband.

Your fingers catch in his hair as he pulls back, looking you in the eye when you grant him permission, “Yes.”

His eyes study you as he tentatively pulls your panties down, letting them fall. He comes back against your skin, kissing from the tops of your thighs and makes his way upwards across your stomach, between the valley of your breast, your chest, and neck, before finally coming back and kissing you on the lips.

“Get on the bed for me, will you?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, lost in this tender moment with your lover.

Naked and kneeling on the bed, Joel fixes his stare on you, taking his time to unbutton his belt then jeans. His eyes trail over your body, watching as you begin to squirm under his watch.

He pushes forward and kneels on the bed before maneuvering himself to lean back against the headrest. He grabs your leg to swing over his thighs to make you straddle him but his hands stay at your waist, keeping you from fully sitting on his clothed cock by giving attention to your breasts, licking and biting gently as he did with your neck not moments before.

“You’re breathtaking.”

A giggle leaves you at his words aligned with feeling overstimulated by the way his mouth and beard felt on your skin. “Joel, please.”

“Settle down, you heathen,” he says between nips and kisses. You feel him smile across your skin as he pulls you down onto the sheets, coming back to your lips to kiss you more and more. His hands encompass your body, roaming up and down the valleys on your skin, completely enamored with you. 

“Make me,” you tease against his lips.

Joel takes this as a challenge and he sits up, leaving you prone against the pillows. He towers over you, his thick fingers dancing gently across your skin, making a winding trail down your body. “Please,” you begged softly.

Joel said nothing as he sank two of his rough fingers into you and laid down between your thighs to suck and lick at your clit. Your hands flew to his shaggy black hair, taking a sharp inhale at the sensations. Joel eats you out nervously, taking pride in the way you moan to the walls of the empty house. Your sharp intakes of breath get lost under the patter of rain against the roof and windows.

“I love you,” he says against your heat. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

Your breath is already stolen away at the way he fucks you with his mouth and fingers but you’re breathless by the way he admits his love for you. The vulnerability of it makes you come against his tongue.

“That’s my girl, that’s it.”

His approval and praise send you soaring but he doesn’t slow down his efforts, instead going faster. Before you could even come down from the blissful high of an orgasm, another tidal wave is rising again. “Joel, I’m coming again,” you whine.

“Come as many times as you want,”

He leaves another trail of kisses across your stomach as he makes his way back to kiss you on your lips. You can feel your wetness on him, taste yourself on his tongue and you moan into him. 

“Lay down, let me treat you,” you say in a low voice as you try to push Joel against the bed. He leans up and puts his hands on your wrists, stopping you.

“No, tonight is about you.”

“Wha-,” he cuts you off with another opened mouth kiss on your lips, he keeps kissing you down your neck to your left  arm, not stopping until he’s kissing your hand.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are,” he whispers against your palm. “The first time I saw you, I fell for you. You had your gun pointed right at me, coulda killed me.”

“I’m glad I didn’t.”

He huffs, hot breath hitting your hand. “I sure as hell am too.”

He drops your hand and shifts on the bed, removing the last piece of cloth covering his erect cock, “I think I woulda let you toss my ass around that first day I laid eyes on you, if I’d known then what I know now.”

“You almost didn’t let me go with you, remember,” you tease.

“Would’ve been the biggest regret of my damn life, sweetheart.” He drops his boxers to the floor, not taking his eyes off you.

“Tell me again, Joel.”

He line’s himself up with you, “I’m glad I found you.” He gently thrusts only the head of his cock into you and pulls out. “I’m glad you never put up with my bullshit.” He repeats his movements but pushes a little more into your wet cunt. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Finally he pushes himself all the way in, eliciting a sharp whine from you. “Fuck, I’m so lucky.”

Your lover pushes back your thighs, allowing him to fuck you deeply. His movements stir that insatiable beast inside you, constantly lingering for more and more pleasure.

He sinks harder and faster into you as his warm hands grasp your hips, his eyes trained on the way your soaked pusst takes him so deeply. He’s locked on the sight of the way the two of you are connected just as how you are mesmerized by watching him.

“Do you feel as good as I do, darlin’?”

You respond by squeezing around his cock, “You feel so good in me.”

It was like he got a second wind by the way he fucks you even harder than before. You throw your head back as you feel the familiar rumble in your abdomen and you squeeze your legs around him, not allowing him to pull out further. Joel surprises you by using two fingers to rub tight circles against your clit. 

You bite down on your lip to try and contain the coming moan but fail. He feels too good in you, on top of you. His scent invades your mind bringing you to the ultimate climax. Your head is tossed back and a throaty loud moan is released into the air by you.

“Joeljoeljoel,” you plead, coming again against him, your legs spread so far to allow him to penetrate you deeper. Your orgasm rolls through you like waves and your body lifts in response, searching for more, more, more. 

He continues to pound harshly into you, not swaying in pace. “You’re so beautiful when you come around me, feels heavenly too,” he moans above you. The hand he had tangled in your hair moves to your jaw, his thumb caressing your bottom lip as you sigh, coming down from your high.

Joel’s thrusts soon turn erratic and sloppy as he chases his own high, you hear a deep growl rise from his throat. “Fuck, shit,” he breathes, pulling out of you swiftly, pouring himself over your stomach.

You reach up and thread your fingers in his hair, pulling him up for a kiss. You praise, “Good boy.” 

Vulnerable, Joel laughs and sits up on his knees to look down at you. Basking in your afterglow with remnants of his love smeared across the expanse of your stomach that reflected in the soft glow from the lamps and setting sun. He fingers his own hair with both hands, sweeping his messy locks back. 

He gives you an indecipherable look that he hides by shifting off the bed and rummaging through his backpack insearch of a rag to clean you with. He returns and does his usual routine while you lie on the bed, feeling warm and safe.

He returns to the bed and you crawl on top of him, seeking to add his warmth to yours to fight away the rainy chill. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close. Refusing to let you move away.

Together, the both of you came down from your blissful highs, your breaths synchronizing into calm and slow inhales and exhales. You laid your head on his shoulder, dancing your fingers along his chest drawing nonsensical designs. The two of you laid like that for a while, you listened as his headbeat fluctuated from steady to rapid and back as if he was working himself up. Just before you open your mouth to ask if he was alright, he took a sharp inhale.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” he starts.

“Oh, no. Nothing good comes from you thinking,” you laugh, hoping to ease his mind.

Joel squeezes your hip and pulls you closer, “Hey now, none of that shit.” You laugh a little more at teasing him before he takes another sharp inhale as he continues. “As I was sayin’, I know this isn’t conventional, hell, none of this is conventional,” he gestures wildly in the air, “but I was wonderin’ if you’d do me some kind of honor and make me your husband.”

This knocks the breath out of you, more than the wonderful dick down he just gave you. You lean up and face him, trying to make eye contact but his stubbornness doesn’t let him take his gaze off of the ceiling.

“Joel, are you serious,” you ask.

He furrows his brow before letting go of your body and getting up from the bed. You’re about to start protesting when you see him reach for his own backpack and pull out a wooden box before he sits back on the bed and stares at it hard.

“Y’know I was married before. Back then. I never wanted to do it again, especially not in this world. But then I met you. That shit don’t compare to how much I love your ass. You’re smart, you keep this old man in check, and most of all,” he looks at you, “we don’t get to take life for granted any more. Not when every time we leave Jackson could mean we don’t make it back alive. I want to marry you in every meaningful way, even if you are a goddamn brat.”

As he says this, your eyes fill with tears and you sit up on the bed, facing him. “Is that why you’ve been so quiet today?”

He nods once, “What? You make me fuckin’ nervous.”

You smile wide and lay your hands on his, over the box. “I love you, Joel Miller, you stubborn old bastard. Now gimme the damn ring”

Joel lets out a sharp laugh at your words and lets a smile hang on his lips. He opens the box and hands it to you where you see a beautiful silver ring with a delicate floral design. A gasp leaves you as you take it in, how intricate and ornate it looks.

“Talked to the blacksmith and got it made for you especially,” he explains.

You take the ring from the box to admire it closer before Joel takes it from you and places it on your ring finger. “You had Gustavo make this for me?”

“I told him your favorite flowers and he did the rest.”

You’re too stunned to speak by his admission. He knew of your love and attachments to the old blacksmith which made this ring that much more beautiful in your eyes. You pull the elegant ring out of the box, treating it like it’s fragile before placing it on your finger.

“I’ve been wanting to marry you since you saved my damn life,” he admits. “But it wasn’t until last night when I told you about Sarah without feeling angry or sad when I knew it was time.”

His confession wells tears in your eyes again, his long since passed daughter was always a subject the two of you danced around, even his ex-wife. Him talking about this, about Sarah, it means he’s nearly ready to open up and it means the world to you.

“Does this mean I finally get to teach Ellie how to throw knives now?”

“Absolutely not, what the fuck?”

[rogueonestan]

brumal

word count: 2.3k

pairing: the mandalorian (din djarin) x reader

content warning: mentions of medication usage (pain meds)

summary: when you’re not feeling well one day, din checks up on you. (day 16: blankets)

a/n: here’s another piece that i enjoyed writing for @dindjarindiaries‘s dincember. this is basically a rewrite of a piece that i wrote a few months back that i didn’t like that much, so i edited it a bit and adjusted the piece for the prompt! @unstoppableforcce

convivencia masterlist | main masterlist

Tossing onto your back for the umpteenth time, you groan in agony as another wave hits your stomach. You’ve been struggling with intense abdominal pain all day. You took your pain meds, been resting all day, and nothing’s been working. The pain is so intense that you can barely stand, let alone walk around; you just have to deal with the pain and wait for it to subdue. 

Clutching at your stomach, you take in a deep breath and moan in agony as another wave of pain hits your system. As the wave of pain begins to diminish, you look to your right and notice that the sun is beginning to set outside as a beautiful sunset filled with oranges and pinks loom the sky. The sight before you nearly takes your breath away.

You can hear the continuation of the whistling of the wind from outside, shaking the windows in the room slightly in the process. The air around you suddenly drops in temperature and a shiver goes down your spine, leaving goosebumps all over your skin. Pulling the blanket tighter around your figure, your entire body begins to shiver lightly like the winds outside. 

After all of the harsh winter nights you’ve spent on the Crest, the cool air hitting your face is a welcomed sensation. Before settling down with your two boys, you got used to the harsh winter conditions you used to experience on a daily basis while traveling around the galaxy during this time of the year. Much like the state of the galaxy, the harsh winters would be unforgiving in the ship. The temperature would be nearly freezing, sleeping would be almost impossible as you struggle to fight the cold. The only way you were able to survive the harsh winter winds that were trying to fight their way inside would be the solace of the blankets you purchased from several marketplaces from different planets.

Though the current winds from outside aren’t as loud as the winds you used to hear say night on the Crest, it’s still enough for some of the cool breeze to worm its way inside. You can feel the wind beginning to take its effect by the cool air nipping at the tip of your nose. With the tight grip you already have on the blanket, you pull the cover even tighter around you, if it were even possible, as you pull the sheets over your nose; a small attempt to fight the cold that surrounds you. 

Taking in a deep breath, you close your eyes and wait for the upcoming wave of pain to pass over, “how are you feeling?” You hear a deep, raspy voice ask you. Opening your eyes, you see your lover, your riduur, leaning against the door frame with your adopted son in his arms, who is bundled in his favorite blue blanket. You groan in response.

With a deep sigh, a habit of his that he hasn’t dropped since you two decided to leave the bounty hunting life behind and settle down in your own cottage, he walks over to your side of the bed and crouches down to your eye level, placing your child in the crook of your arm. Nuzzling his head, you hear a soft coo leave your son’s lips as he rests comfortably in your arms. You bring your free hand up to his forehead and softly scratch at it. The soothing sensation lures him to a deeper relaxed state as soft snores now leave his lips. 

After giving your son a few more scratches and a peck on the forehead, you bring your attention back to your riduur and you can see the concern in his eyes. It breaks his heart knowing that there’s nothing he can do to ease your pain. 

“Is there anything I can do?”

Shaking your head against your pillows, you smile faintly at his consideration. Slowly bringing his hand to your cheek, the heat radiating from his fingertips are a strong contrast to the coldness of your face. The roughness of the pad of his thumb coaxes you to a relaxed state, as relaxed as you can be with your stomach pains coming and going every few minutes. The gentle strokes on your cheek continue to relax you as you shut your eyes in ease. 

Your riduur continues to do this, kneeled by your side. With the only sounds being heard in the room are the soft snores coming from the baby in your arms and the whistling of the wind, which brings another set of shivers roaming your body. Din sees how your body physically shakes at the sudden coldness of the room. Teeth chattering, you lean further into your lover’s touch.

Looking at his clan of three, Din softly uncups his hand from your cheek, stroking at his son’s ears shortly after, which only lures the little one into a deeper sleep. 

Silence continues to linger in the air; the continuing sound of the cool breeze from the outdoors can still be heard. The now familiar sound of the wind lures your body into comfort. If it weren’t for your stomach pains returning every ten minutes, you’re sure you would’ve fallen asleep peacefully by now. 

Before either of you are able to break the silence, another set of painful stomach aches enter your system. You immediately shut your eyes, clenching your jaw, and moan in pain. The pain this time is the most painful you’ve felt all day; you’re not sure for how much longer you’ll be able to handle the pain. You’ve done everything that you can think of to ease the pain away and nothing has helped. 

Breathing deeply, you reopen your eyes to look at your riduur, only to find him looking back at you only with concern. Tilting his head to the side, he finally breaks the silence, “when did you take your meds last?”

You shrug your shoulders at him, it couldn’t have been that long before he made his presence known, “a hour, maybe two.”

“No,” He responds as he shakes his head at you, the set of curls bouncing around on his forehead, “the kid and I came up here a hour ago to check up on you and you were asleep.”

“Oh.” You lean further against your pillows as your shoulders lower along with them, “I’m not sure then.” 

“Well, I think,”  Din begins as he leans towards your nightstand and picks up the bottle of medication, “that it’s time for some more.” He says as he offers you another dose, also offering you the glass of water that was also on your nightstand. 

The thought of taking some more pills makes you feel sick to your stomach. You know that if you don’t take some more, you’ll be in more pain than you already are, but you also feel like they haven’t helped whatsoever. You look at your partner, silently asking him if he’s serious. The only response you get from Din is his famous sighs, his head tilting at you for the second time.

“It’ll help with the pain.” He says as he tries to convince you, only for you to continue staring at him, “Please? For me?” 

With the way he’s looking at you, it’s hard for you to say no to him for a second time, “you know I can’t say no to you.” You reply as you finally cave in as you take another dosage of your medication. 

After gulping them down, you sigh heavily as you sink into your pillows. You’re hoping this time around, the pain will actually reduce instead of becoming overwhelming. Rather than focusing on how much pain you’re in, instead you focus on your breathing with your eyes closed; a method that’s been making today somewhat tolerable. 

You’re brought out of your thoughts by a hand softly scratching at your scalp, the sensation immediately bringing a sense of comfort over your system. Din’s comfort immediately is incredibly more helpful than any medication; your riduur’s touch is almost like a sedative itself.

When you finally bring yourself to reopen your eyes, you see his concern for you. His brown eyes almost pleading for how he can help you, “are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” He asks a second time.

You’re able to decline him once again, telling him that all you need is for him to be by your side, but a wave of nausea hits you. Combined with your stomach aches, you’re not sure how much longer you can muscle through this nonstop cycle. Before you’re able to open your mouth to decline him, a loud grumble fills the room. Immediately breaking eye contact, you look down at your stomach. 

Well, maybe that’s why you’re nauseous and light headed all the sudden.

“Can I have some soup?” You ask him, giving him the same big eyed look your son gives his father whenever he wants something. 

“Of course you can, cyar’ika,” Din replies with the soft tone he’s been using with you ever since you began feeling under the weather. Giving your scalp a few final scratches, Din gets up from his crouched position on the floor, only to lean back down to press his forehead against yours, followed shortly with a peck where you felt the warmth of his body against yours. The smile on your face replicates the same one that’s on Din’s.

Before he’s able to leave you, you interlace your fingers with his, squeezing his hand gently, “thank you, Din,” you begin as he only tilts his head at you in response, “for everything.” 

“You would do the same.” He says as it’s the most obvious thing in the entire galaxy. 

When you don’t say anything in response, only nodding, Din gives your interlaced fingers one last squeeze before slowly releasing the grip he has on your hand. 

You call out for Din one last time when he’s at the door, “I love you.”

“Ni kar’taylir gar darasuum.” 

With that, Din leaves you alone with the sleeping baby in your arms. Your smile only grows larger as his words repeat in your head. Even though the two of his have said those three words to each other countless times, even more so when you decided to settle down, it still makes your heart skip a beat to hear Din vocalize his true feelings for you when he kept them hidden from you for so long, out of fear that he might lose his second family. 

At some point, you mimic your son and fall asleep along with him. You’re not sure how long you were out, but you’re softly woken up by the sensation of something being placed on you. Blinking a few times, your eyes adjust to the semi-dark lighting of the room due to the fact that the sun is no longer in the sky, but is replaced with the moon peeking through the dark clouds. You take in your surroundings and find another blanket, your favorite one that you would always use during your days on the Crest, now covering you. You look at your nightstand and see the steam coming from your bowl of soup. 

You suddenly feel a weight being added next to you. You immediately look to your right and find your riduur next to you, placing a bowl of soup on his nightstand. You’re about to make your way into his arms when you suddenly feel the

long fingernails making their way up your body, almost like a sloth crawling up a tree. Looking down at your arms, you see your son has finally woken up from his slumber. 

Softly chuckling to yourself, you bring a free hand to gently stroke his cheek, which only brings a set of giggles to leave his lips, only to encourage your own set of laughs to escape your lips as well. You can’t see it, but Din’s features are filled purely of the adoration he has for his aliit. You’re about to give your son a soft kiss on his forehead but you’re stripped of the opportunity as he eagerly worms his way out of your arms when he sees his buir, but is unable to because of the tight grip you have on him.

The little one begins to let out a series of cries, pleading to have his father’s attention, “alright, alright.” You begin as you hold him with both of your hands, “Someone’s getting a bit antsy.” You say with a little bit of teasing in your voice. Your riduur only chuckles in response as he takes your son in his arms. 

You can feel the upcoming set of pains approaching, so you decide to finally indulge yourself with the bowl of soup that’s waiting by your side. By the time you’re beginning to eat the first thing you’ve had in hours, you hear a set of giggles coming from Din’s side of the bed. You enjoy the company of them two being happy by just being around each other as you enjoy the meal your lover has prepared just for you. The smile never leaves your face as you finish the comforting meal Din made for you. 

Once you finish eating, you look over at your lover once again, who now has your adopted son in the crook of his right arm. Din looks over at you instantly and immediately wraps his right arm and pulls you towards him, “how are we feeling now?” 

“Better. Much better.” Nuzzling your face into his neck, you smile in content as you feel your riduur give the top of your head a few kisses. The smile on your face only grows larger by Din giving you the affection that you so dearly need during this difficult time for you. Pulling the added blanket tighter around you, you lean further into your lover’s arms.

Wrapping your arms around his torso, you feel content. You know that even when you have bad days like today, when you feel like absolute hell, you’ll always have your Mandalorian, your aliit to take care of you. And you know you would do the same for them without hesitation.