#you have no idea how much paper restaurants go through for menus every day it's insane

[deadtower]

while i do agree with this somewhat, especially in the present day, i just wanted to add context as a hospitality worker and let y’all know that the main reason QR codes exploded in popularity for menus was because of covid 19. restaurants were closed for... literally less than a month before they reopened. (source: i was put on furlough on march 21, 2020 and the store opened back up on april 17, 2020. i had to pull full-time hours in order to pay rent because NJ’s unemployment systems haven’t been updated for years and it took me nine entire months to get my unemployment money.) all of us in the hospitality industry who had to go back to work were terrified of getting sick and honestly the idea of having a digital menu people could use instead of having to handle the same menus they’d had in their hands the entire time was a massive relief.

because most of you have had the good fortune to not work hospitality, you don’t know how bad it gets. people will wipe their nose with their fingers and then put those same fingers on the menu as they’re reading it. people will cough on the menus as if they were using them the way normal people would use napkins. i have literally been handed back menus with bite marks on them. adult menus. i wish i was exaggerating.

i now work in a restaurant that only has QR menus, no paper copies anywhere, and in 2023 i do admit this is definitely a fault on the part of the restaurant, especially because i’ve seen people whose phones are dead or who are 70+ come in and not know how QR codes work. (when this happens i usually let them use the host stand iPad until they know what they want to order.) and, yeah, i’m definitely with the boomers on that one. even if there are QR menus as a default, there should definitely still be some disposable paper copies (i say ‘disposable’ because... well, as i’ve already explained, people are absolutely disgusting with their menus most of the time) for people to use if they need.

but i have been seeing this tweet going around for more than a year now, i think probably closer to 2-3? so around the time of covid or shortly “””after””” covid. so i just wanted to provide context on why the majority of restaurants switched to QRs because the way this tweet is worded it kind of feels like a lot of y’all are going to be blaming the servers for this when it was (1) largely done to prevent the spread of covid and (2) literally not their fault at all.

hope this helps explain it a little better and saves my fellow hospitality workers some headaches <3

[fandomunite2107]

Help Wanted (Pt. 2)

Summary: Carmy not liking the idea of you working somewhere else.

Pulling into a parking spot at the restaurant, both you and Carmy unbuckle your seatbelts. You leave your groceries on the floorboard of his car, but take your bag as you open the door to his car.

“I just need to take care of something really quick. Shouldn’t be long.” Carmy says as he opens and holds the door to the restaurant for you.

“No rush. Take your time.” You say as you enter through the back of the building. Once you are inside you see Richie with a couple of other people standing around the kitchen.

Richie notices you first. “Hey kid. Didn’t think I’d see you so soon.” Everyone turns to look to see who he is talking to and you smile and do a small wave. Richie then looks at Carmy with a smirk. “What’s got you two hanging out with each other?”

“Shut up Richie.” Carmy says. “Y/n, this is Sydney and this is my sister Nat.” He nods in the direction of each woman. “You already know my asshole cousin over there.”

“I’m not an asshole, you’re an asshole. You’re the one who fired the girl today.” Richie says.

“Wait, you worked here?” Sydney asked looking confused.

“For about an hour before I realized that the job didn’t exist.” Nat and Sydney looked at you as you continued. “Richie hired me without talking to Carmy about it.”

They both reply at the same time with a chorus of “Oh, yeah that tracks” and “Figures.”

Carmy runs his hand through his hair. “Alright, that’s enough. Syd, what’s the issue with the menu?”

“Might as well follow me to the office. Once they get started on that damn thing it takes forever for them to take a break.” Nat says to you as she starts to walk away. Following her into the office, you take a look around and see piles of papers on every surface, even the floor. “How good are you at organizing?” She asks as she takes a seat on the floor next to one of the larger stacks of papers.

“Honestly, I’m pretty amazing at it. I find it kind of soothing.” You say as you place your bag on an almost empty area of the desk and take a seat next to her.

After going through one of the stacks of papers together, you stretch your arms above your head and move your shoulders around. “It doesn’t even look like we made a dent.”

Nat stands up and looks around. “I actually think it multiplied.” She holds her hand out to help you stand. Looking at the time, you realize that it is much later than you thought. “You want a ride home? I think they’re still working.” Nat offers.

“I’d appreciate that.” You grab your bag from the desk and follow Nat back to the kitchen, where you see Carmy cutting up some vegetables.

“Hey Bear. I’m going to head out and take y/n home. Where’s Syd?” Nat asks as she digs through her bag pulling out a set of keys.

“Shit. Didn’t know it’s this late.” He glances at the clock and puts his knife down on the cutting board. “Syd. She had to take my car and go pick up her dad.” Carmy looks at you and runs his hand through his already messed up hair. “S-Sorry. I lost track of time. Syd should be back soon and I can take you home.”

“It’s fine.” You try to hold back a sigh. It’s not fine. Your groceries were in his car, a car that is no longer here. It could be worse you thought, at least you don’t have to walk home in the dark.

“Don’t stay too late Carm. I’ll be back tomorrow.” Nat looks at you and asks if you’re ready to go.

“Sure. Bye Carmy.” You give a small wave, which he returns with a nod, and follow Nat out the building.

After giving directions to Nat on how to get your apartment, it doesn’t take very long to get to your building. You thank her for the ride and walk up the stairs. Once you reach your apartment and walk in, you take off your shoes and lay your bag down. It has been a long day, and you are exhausted. Slipping into some pajamas, you plug your phone in and turn off the lamp on the night stand before crawling into bed. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

With the sun coming through the curtains you just bought, you wake up glancing at the clock. Knowing that you have things you want to get done today, you shower and get dressed for the day. Remembering that you still don’t have your groceries, you go to the cafe that you went to yesterday. With your bank account in mind you only order a pastry and a drink, which you eat at a table as you people watch. Once you have finished your breakfast, you open up your bag to find your list of things to do. Finding a part time job is still on there, and you decide that is where you are going to start today. Walking out of the cafe, you see a bulletin board by the door with a variety of papers advertising jobs pinned. Most of them are for restaurants or local bars. Taking a picture of some of the papers, you notice that one restaurant isn’t too far from here. Deciding to check that one out, knowing that you don’t have any experience in the food industry, but hoping that they’re desperate enough to hire you.

After walking a couple of blocks you arrive at the restaurant, not knowing if the place is open yet you try the door. When it opens and you walk in the entrance, not seeing anyone around. “Hello?” You call out.

“One moment.” You hear someone shout out to you, appearing a moment later. “Hi. What can I do for you?”

“I’m y/n. I saw an ad that you were hiring. I was hoping to get an application.” You say as you hold your hand out to shake.

“I’m not the manager, but I will tell you we are doing open interviews later on tonight from 5-7. If you’re interested, I will tell you that there is a uniform that you have to wear. It’s also encouraged to wear it during the interview. It’s free to take it and if you don’t get the job you just have to return it, if you don’t you pay for it.” She says.

Not entirely sure how you feel about a uniform and not knowing what it looks like, you decide that it’s worth a shot “I’ll be here. Do you have a uniform that I can get?”

A phone rings from the back. “I gotta take that. The uniforms are in the closet over there help yourself to your size. Fill out this form and be here between 5-7.” She says as she walks off handing you a form.

Opening the closet that she pointed out to you, you see dozen of hangers with the restaurant’s uniform. Finding your size and picking it up, you think that it could be worse. The skirt looks short and the top seems like it would barely cover anything, but it’s not the worse thing you have ever worn for a job. Taking the clothes and putting them in your bag, you head back to your apartment to work on a few items before the interview later.

About an hour before the interview you start to get ready, you do your hair and put on some make up along with the uniform. As you predicted, it’s a bit short and the top barely just contains everything. You could just bring the uniform to the restaurant and change before the interview, but what if there isn’t time and what if everyone who’s applying already has it on. You feel safer just wearing it to the interview. Not really wanting to walk the few blocks dressed in this uniform you put a coat on, even though you’ll be warm, you at least feel more covered. Making sure you have everything, you grab your bag and start to head out of your apartment building.

As you shut the main door to your apartment building and start to go down the front steps, you see Carmy getting out of his car.

“Carmy?”

“Uh. H-hi. I asked Nat where you lived. Hope you don’t mind. I wanted to drop off your groceries from yesterday.”

“O-oh. Um. Thank you. I appreciate that.” You walk closer to his car.

He opens the passenger door and takes the bags out. You go to grab the bags from him but he refuses.

“I got this. Just lead the way.” He says.

Not wanting to be rude. You thank him and walk him up to your apartment. Having done the stairs twice now in your coat, you are starting to get warm. Opening the door to your apartment you both walk in. Carmy places the bags on the kitchen counter and wipes his forehead.

“I’m not sure how you’re walking around in a coat. It’s fucking hot out today.” Carmy says looking at you, wiping his forehead.

“Oh. Well trust me I’m warm. I have an interview soon and the uniform I have to wear isn’t the best.” You say a bit embarrassed.

Carmy smirks. “You’re wearing a coat in this weather because you don’t like your uniform. It can’t be that bad. Show me.”

Not sure how you ended up in this situation, you unbutton the coat. “I need a job so don’t laugh.” You take the coat off and place it on the counter. Standing in front of Carmy in your uniform you feel too exposed. You look up at Carmy because he hadn’t said anything yet. He’s just staring at you. You start to ramble. “I found an ad today about this restaurant that was hiring so I went there after breakfast. The lady there said that they were doing open interviews today. She said that it was encouraged to wear the uniform to the interview.”

“No.” It was the only word that left his mouth.

“I’m sorry?”

“You are not wearing that.” He rubs his hand down his face.

“It’s not that bad.” You turn around in a circle. “Plus, I do need this job.”

“We’ll find you another job. I’ll find the money to hire you.”

“You don’t even know me. Why are concerned with where I work?”

“Just go change.” He’s pinching his nose. “Please.”

“Carmy. I appreciate that you brought my groceries here and are concerned where I work, but you did fire me yesterday. So I don’t think that I should be passing up a job opportunity based on you not liking a uniform.” You say as you put the coat back on, feeling exposed and embarrassed by his reaction.

“Y/n. Nat told me you were a teacher. You really thinks it’s the best move for you to be dressed like that when a parent shows up to that restaurant?”

“I-I.” You sigh, knowing that he’s right, but you’re getting a bit desperate at the moment. “Good point. I just need something. Preferably one that doesn’t require this much skin.” You look down at your uniform as you open up the coat.

Carmy coughs and his cheeks turn a shade of pink. “I’ll move things around and make it work at the restaurant. Nat said you were good with the paperwork.”

“You promise not to fire me within the first hour?” You smile up at him.

“I promise. Now go burn that uniform.”

You start to walk toward the bedroom to go change into something else. “I have to bring it back to the restaurant or I get charged for it.”

“Jesus. I will pay for it so you don’t have to go back there.”

Looking over your shoulder at Carmy you smile. “Hey Carmy.”

“Yeah?” He looks back at you.

“Thank you. For the job, for everything.”

He nods and points to the bedroom. “Go change.”

——————

Possibly another part?

—————

Taglist: @anelissegets @onlyreadz @iletmytittietitty-russ

[ikemenomegas]

stop, myy oc's former classmates offering to set them up gave me an idea. so what if they had this super pushy classmate who just wont take no for an answer and pesters them about setting them up with someone they know every time they see each other at reunions. So so like what if the day before their reunion, gojo sets the myy oc's wallpaper to something that shows that myy oc is not single but in a super discreet way. Maybe a picture of myy oc at a cafe that gojo took and gojo's glasses or cup of coffee or anything that suggests the presence of a second person in the picture is shown and gojo makes that the myy oc's wallpaper

oh no T.T this is so cute anon. It's also the perfect mix of subtle and blunt haha, which suits him

"I can't believe it's been ten years already," you murmured.

"From what?" Satoru asked.

He plucked the piece of paper you were looking at from your hands and peered at it.

"My junior high school reunion."

"Didn't you just have one of those?"

"It feels like it sometimes," you said softly, taking the paper back.

"You gonna go?"

You tapped your foot against the arm of the couch. "I don't see why not." You were planning to go. Some old friends from back then had already messaged, insisting they wanted to see how you were holding up. It was really just an excuse to drag you from the outskirts of Tokyo and into the city.

Even after all this time, they had some impression that you were some kind of ultra industrious hermit. You never told them about all your journeys around the country. You wouldn't know how to answer if they asked what you were doing there, what kind of work could let you travel that much...

"Go and show off your new wrinkles," Satoru nodded.

You just sighed up at him. Disappointed.

He pouted, sticking out his lower lip ridiculously.

"... I don't have wrinkles."

"Sure," he agreed, and then bounced off to whatever little project was keeping him occupied these days. Or to bother Megumi.

You rolled off the couch.

You rushed into the restaurant where the reunion was kicking off while trying not to look like you'd been rushing. The start of curse season this year had been as unpleasant as usual, and you'd just finished a last minute call.

You'd changed clothes in the car, lucky that the auxiliary knew you well enough to simply clear their throat and not ask any questions when they dropped you off at a train station.

Someone called your name in bright, cheerful tones that cut through the noise.

"Hirose-san," you said back, waving and making your way over to that part of the table.

"We were worried you weren't going to show up," Oda Konoka said immediately, leaning forward across the table.

"Sorry," you apologized. "Someone from work called..." you offered a easily interpreted truth.

"Work, work, work," Maeda Hikari all but slammed down a mug of something like it was a beer stein, making Konoka jump. "The last time we saw you it was work, this time it's work. All you do is work!"

"That's normal," Hirose Asami said placidly, smiling at you over her folded hands. "For most people."

You gave Hirose-san a slightly embarrassed smile back, dipping your head in thanks for her coming to your defense.

A waiter caught your searching eye and came over. Soon the table devolved into a flurry of words, menus flapping around as people started ordering around the part of the room at which you sat. Looked like you had been a bit late then, probably one of the last to arrive.

After a somewhat clumsy-feeling start, at least from your point of view, everyone in your little cluster of familiar and less familiar faces was more or less caught up, starting to chat with their neighbors or old friends, eating well.

And as it often seemed to at these kinds of things, conversation eventually turned to dating life. It was funny, listening to Hirose-san complain about something for once. Apparently the last person she dated told her she was too scary to stay with, which made Konoka start laughing ... and not stop.

"It's really not that funny," Hirose-san was saying, a slightly cross look on her face.

Hikari was failing to stifle a snicker, mostly at Konoka but also at Hirose-san. "It kind of is. Didn't someone you met at that expo you told us about also say something similar?"

"That's not fair," you protested, a light smile on your own lips. "That was years ago, and only because she was yelling at one of the interns--"

For some reason that set Konoka off again, clutching her stomach with one hand as tears sprang to her eyes.

Oh, right. She'd been there... oh well.

"I think you're lovely," you said earnestly. "It's really not your fault. I'd go out with you--"

"If," Hikari turned towards you suddenly, cutting you off. "I'm sensing an if. And my if sensor is never wrong."

"There's no--" you backpedaled immediately as Hikari honed in on you like a shark scenting blood in the water.

"I don't believe it. All the rest of us have met someone. Even permanently intimidating Hisa--"

"Please don't call me that."

Konoka laughed harder.

"-- single to the end-of-life Hisa--"

"Worse," she said mildly while Konoka leaned helplessly on her shoulder, tears at the corner of her eyes.

"--and I refuse to believe that someone like you hasn't even gotten a confession."

"I've gotten confessions before," Hirose-san protested.

"Yeah and you always turn them down," Hikari shot back. "My point is I have a perfectly nice little someone who could be just your type--"

"Oh here we go," Hirose-san said, but she no longer looked interested in saving you. A familiar glint was in her eye which said she was settling in to watch the show.

"I really don't need--"

"But you do," Hikari said. "You see maybe one of us every six months and you went to that tiny high school out in the sticks--"

"It was still in Tokyo."

"--barely, but how many people did you say were in your graduating class? Three? No. There's no way. That's what friends are for, meeting people, getting you out of the usual wandering blah of normal life."

"Have you taken a breath at all?" Hirose-san asked, amused and still unhelpful.

Hikari waved her off and lifted up a finger. "Flexible work schedule so you can't pretend not to have any time to meet up." A second finger. "Dresses well, smells nice. The people we meet are constantly asking about perfume and cologne, it's a ridiculous amount of people." Third finger. "Kiiiind of a weirdo," although this was said with a grin.

"Hikari," Konoka finally gasped, sitting up. "You can't just say that. And to someone's face!"

Hikari grinned at Konoka's mild outrage. "It's the only thing left at our age. So many people have already given up or decided they don't want to be paired off or--"

It was such a rookie mistake, taking your eyes off of a threat just because it came from a non-sorcerer. As your eyes turned towards Konoka's sudden movement, Hikari lunged, plucking your phone from the table.

"--and I have their number right here, and I bet you haven't changed your code since high school at least."

That was not true. You'd changed it three years ago because Satoru kept breaking into your phone and installing weird games on it.

Hikari fell silent, squinting at the screen.

Konoka leaned over to see what was the matter.

"What?" you finally asked. They were just starting at your lock screen.

Hirose-san craned her neck as well. "It looks like a very nice cafe," she offered. Laying out the bait for Hikari.

"What?" you asked again. The image last you checked had been one of you and Shoko, leaning over the rail of some stupid expensive hotel where you'd stayed as her guard when a minor emergency had required her presence.

Hikari leered.

"No one I know uses pictures of themselves, alone. Two cups of coffee. The chair opposite you is out of place, flowers on the table, two forks with the cake. There's a reflection in the window. You clearly didn't take this picture and from your reaction, you didn't put it on here either. Which means the change is recent and someone you trust enough to leave this lying around did it."

You," Hikari concluded, " have been lying to us." Dramatic, melodramatic. Satoru would love this old little crew of yours if you hadn't long ago made the decision to never let the two parts of your life mix.

You scrambled for an explanation. "That doesn't mean it's a date."

You knew exactly which cafe that picture would have been taken at. It would have been ten months after you'd married Satoru and it was very much a date. And the flowers had been an apology because a mission had forced him to stand you up at the nine month anniversary. The cake had been your apology for not being able to hold out and wait up for him.

Hikari's smile was downright evil. "I never said it was a date you were lying about."

Konoka turned a very scary look your way. "It's like Sherlock Holmes," came the slightly awed, slightly taunting whisper.

Satisfied, Hikari returned your phone. "Sooo. Name? Age? Blood type? Job? Favorite color? Where'd you meet? How long have you been hiding it from us?"

Stunned, you decided to look at the picture while you decided whether or not to lie.

You were sitting by the window at the cafe, leaning down to stiff at the flowers, the cake slice untouched in front of you, the box just visible on the ledge behind your thighs, the coffees still with steam curling from the cups. Golden light flooded in from outside.

"Oh," you said with some surprise. "That's actually a good picture."

Konoka burst back into giggles.

[ladylooch]

We need jealous Luca.

Crediting my muse (🍻) with formulating this idea in my DMs!

It has been 71 days since Liv Meier was in Luca Fiala’s arms. Yes, he’s been counting every one. Tonight, the marker finally goes back to 0. He arrived in New York late last night for their game tomorrow against the Rangers. Unfortunately, Liv had an exam, a presentation, and mandatory writing time for her book today and wasn’t able to spend much of his day off with him. It’s fine with Luca. His girl is doing big things and well worth the wait.

However, the wait is much longer than anticipated. 

He arrives at the restaurant first. He decides to wait for Liv to order anything other than water. He scans the menu, but can’t concentrate. He continues to glance towards the door every time it swings open. She’s five minutes late when he begins to worry. He pulls his phone out, figuring maybe her train was a little late, or that her cab had her stuck in traffic. 

When she is 15 minutes late, he calls her. She doesn’t answer because her phone is on do not disturb. He knows she does this when she writes, not even letting his notifications through because distractions can cause her ideas to flutter away from her creative brain. 

30 minutes later, his frazzled girlfriend rushes through the door, purse hanging off her elbow, scarf fluttering behind her, as she scans the restaurant for him. Her entire face lights up when she sees him.

“I am so, SO sorry, Luca. I was writing and I completely lost track of time. I forgot to set my alarm.” Luca accepts her quick smooch. She begins to shrug off her jacket. He tries to reach for it to help her, but she shoves it into the booth next to her and plops down before he can. He slowly lowers himself to his side of the booth.

“Um.. it’s okay.” He says, even though it’s not.

He doesn’t understand how he was counting the days to get here and she is late to dinner. There is a whisper in the back of his brain that she is fading away from him. She was late to dinner. Their FaceTime calls are shorter; sometimes he calls and she doesn’t even answer. She’ll eventually send an apology text, but no call back. He understands she is busy, but he can’t help but feel like everything else is more important. In fact, if he has to label the sourness in his chest, he thinks it is jealousy. Jealous of the friends she can find time for here. Jealous of how much time school takes up for her. Jealous that she is seemingly fine with going a whole day barely talking. Jealous that other people get to see her smile and feel her warmth daily while he is left on read.

The waitress comes over for their order. Liv asks Luca if he has a preference on wine. He gestures for her to decide. She grabs a cabernet from Napa they’ve had a few times. 

“Hi.” She smiles at him again once they are alone. 

“Hi.” Luca purses his lips to resemble a smile. 

“I am sorry.” She cringes. Liv can sense Luca’s displeasure with her tardiness. She doesn’t blame him, but it truly wasn’t intentional. “I’ve had writer's block for weeks and it felt good to get some words on paper. That's it. I'm so happy to be here with you now."

Luca wipes at the condensation on his water glass. They pause the conversation as the bottle of wine is evaluated and opened. They both take initial sips, then Luca speaks honestly.

"It doesn't feel like this is a tonight only thing. I’ve barely heard from you the last few weeks. It’s like you have a whole life I'm not a part of. Now you’re late like… you haven’t been missing me at all.”

“You have a whole life that doesn’t include me too.” Liv says, defensive of his words. She pulls her hand away from where it had been stroking his fingers. This bothers Luca more. His eyebrows pull together, eyes getting squinty as he looks at her. 

“Yeah, but I include you in my life. I tell you stories. I send you pictures. I talk about you all the time to the guys. Your friends barely know about me. Half the time I call and get your voicemail. You also ignore my texts but have no problem finding time to post on your stories.” He grabs his wine glass, chugging down a couple fast sips. Liv’s eyes drop to the table. “I’m jealous of all the people who get to see and hear from you because I don’t.” 

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” She whispers.

“Well, now you do.” Luca huffs, rolling his neck out and sighing heavily. “What do you want for an appetizer? I’m starving.” He purposefully lightens his voice and changes the subject, seeing the distress hanging on Liv’s frame. Maybe he was a little harsh with her. He reaches out for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “They have fried Ravioli.” He knows it’s her favorite. Liv shakes her head yes. They are both quiet, continuing to look over the menu as Luca rubs his thumb along her knuckles. 

“I’ll do better.” Liv says once he pushes his menu away after deciding on rigatoni with a white sauce, peas, and pancetta. 

“I know you’re busy, babe. I just need a little more of you than you’re giving me.” Liv nods. “I love you.” He reminds her, making sure her eyes stay on his as he speaks. 

“I am having a hard time juggling everything… and not talking to my dad has been weighing on me in the middle of this book deadline and… you deserve so much better. I’ve been taking you for granted and I don’t want you to feel this way. I love you so much-“

“Liv. Baby, it’s okay. Let's move on. I want to have a good night with you. Tell me about your busy day.” He opens his arms, gesturing for her to come into his side of the booth. She does so willingly, sighing contently when she can feel the warmth of him through the side of her sweater. Her and Luca talk throughout dinner and into dessert. Things feel normal by the time he is paying the check. She is heavy with sadness when Luca needs to head back to the hotel for curfew. 

“Call me when you get home?” He wraps her into his arms.

“Right when I walk in the door.” She burrows her nose into his shirt for another moment, then pulls back.

“I’ll see you after the game tomorrow. I love you.” 

“I love you too. Good luck.” Luca smiles into their kiss. “Score on Con so I can rub it in Lucie’s face.” 

“I'll do my best.” He chuckles. “Goodnight, baby.” 

“Goodnight.” Liv waves longingly as she walks backwards to the left and he heads to the right. She pouts at the sight of his retreating back, hating how she fucked up their one night together in 2.5 months.

Plus, after tomorrow, she doesn’t know when she will see him again.

[pink-tonic]

No Explanation🔪

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Warnings: None

These thoughts are eating away at me. My mother isn't here since she's still overseas on her vacation with my father, so I have no one to talk to about this. Well, no one who will understand me. I don't want to call her since this vacation was very important to her, so I need to find another way to get an explanation.

Today, I woke up extra early in order to go to my basement. I didn't do this yesterday because I was too caught up in my new feelings, but now that it's a new day, I can fully investigate.

I walk down to my basement and look through the basement. I check every box, every notebook, every loose piece of paper, every photo album, and every picture frame.

I. Need. Answers.

But I'm not getting any.

Why don't I love Taeko anymore? Is this a permanent change or temporary? Will I ever love again? Why am I suddenly not in love anymore?

The basement is now a complete mess, one that I'll have to fix when I come back home. I look at the time on my phone, and I notice that I'm late.

Should I just skip school?

First period is halfway done already, and there's no reason for me to go to school anymore. It's fine to take a sick day, right?

I kick all the boxes and papers out of my way and go upstairs. I slowly make my way to my room and drop myself on my bed. I sink into the soft mattress and cuddle up against the soft fabric.

I slowly start to fall asleep.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

My eyes slowly open up, and I'm met with the sun beaming through my white curtains. I look over to my alarm clock, and I notice that it's now the afternoon.

I slowly get up from my bed and do a small stretch. I can hear my bones crack, and it feels relieving. I go to grab my phone, and I look through my notifications. I notice that I got a text message from Taro.

I decide to ignore it for now. I'm not in the mood to text anyone.

I get up to change and get myself ready. I'll call up my job to see if I can pick up an extra shift today. Tuesdays aren't particularly busy, but I wouldn't mind making some extra cash.

I get myself ready and call up my boss.

"Hello?" He answers me.

"Hey," I answer back to him.

"What's the matter, Aishi?" My boss questions.

"I was wondering if I could take up an extra shift today?"

"Yes, of course! It's not very busy right now, but I wouldn't mind having you on standby."

"I'll start heading over."

I end the call and start to make my way over to my job.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

I make my way down the town with my baby blue uniform in my bag. As I'm about to grab the handle to the restaurant, I hear a voice call out to me.

"Aishi, is that you?" They ask me, but it's a familiar voice that I heard just yesterday.

I turn around, and I see Rito looking at me. His eyes hold a look of surprise at seeing me in town. He takes out one of his earbuds from his ear, and then he takes out the other and walks over to me.

"I was wondering where you were today at school, you know! I got a bit worried," he admits to me as he stands next to me, "but I didn't really think that I would find you here, though."

I look off to the side, "It's my job. I'm going to work an extra shift."

"Oh! Cool, cool. How about I go inside? We can talk more!" He excitedly asks me as he comes up with the idea.

"Alright," I answer him, "I'm going to change into my uniform first."

"Alright, I'll wait at a table!" He tells me as he opens up the door to the restaurant and happily walks inside.

I go to change into my work uniform. I go to the back to do so. I put on my white button up, then my tie, I put the vest over it, and I finally change into some black pants. I step out and go over to Rito.

"What would you like to order?" I ask him in my best attempt at a moderately cheerful voice.

"I don't know," his face is buried deep in the menu as he looks over all the options, "I don't usually eat any of these things."

I'm not too surprised at his reaction. Most of our menu items are desserts. We have a few items that don't have much sugar, but it's only a few.

"I guess... it wouldn't hurt to have something a bit sweeter than usual. This can be my cheat day, I think I deserve it!" He tells me before showing me the menu and pointing at what he wants, "I'll take this!"

Rito ends up picking a yogurt parfait. Can you really call this a cheat day?

I write it down on my notepad and give him a nod. "It should be ready shortly."

I go to the kitchen and give the chefs the order. I go back out to the front and help out the people waiting to be seated, I take orders, and I give out orders.

When I go to get an order, I notice that it's Rito's order.

"Here," I tell him. I place the yogurt parfait on his table.

"That looks good!" He comments as he grabs the silver spoon and scoops up a bit of the yogurt.

I give him a nod and start to walk away, but the sound of his voice stops me.

"Hey! I thought you were going to stay here with me?" He questions as he looks at me with confusion.

I let out a sigh and go back over to him and take a seat across from him.

"I didn't actually think you would come back," he admits before letting out a soft chuckle.

"If you tell me to sit down, then I have to do it. It's a part of the job," I explain to him.

"Oh! I didn't know that," Rito starts off, "Why did you get this job? I didn't think you would pick this type of job, no offense."

"They had a sign out front, and I needed a job fast, and they hired me on the spot."

As I talked, Rito would stuff his face with the yogurt. He would nod before continuing to eat.

"Cool, cool. I wish I could get a job, but I've been too busy as of lately," he responds before sticking his spoon further into the glass to get more yogurt out of it.

"Yeah..." I revert my eyes away from him and look somewhere else. I wish I could go home already. I didn't come to work just to talk to my club leader.

I feel that Rito notices my unwillingness to carry on the conversation, so he countines on.

"But don't you find it funny that we bumped into each other?" He asks me, "I just went running around the town since I haven't been here in a few weeks. I seriously wanted to try out that new bakery, but when I passed by, nothing was there anymore."

A look of disappointment appears on his face as he talks about the disappearance of the Odayaka Bakery.

Not knowing that I was the one that made it disappear in a week.

"Someone burned it down a few weeks ago, so they had to close it down," I inform him, and his face turns into one of shock.

"Really? That's horrible! Who could do something like that?!" He exclames. His loud voice catches the attention of other customers and staff. Rito notices their stares and apologizes to them.

"My bad. I got too carried away," he tells me and lets out a nervous laugh.

"It's fine," I reply to him.

"But we should hang out sometime, Aishi! After school we should go around town! It would be fun!" He suggests as he takes another scoop from his food.

At first, I wanted to decline his offer, I've never been the type who goes out with friends. Plus, I barely even know him.

But I see this as an opportunity to get my mind off of Taeko.

"Sure," I accept his offer.

"Sweet!" He tells me with a bright smile on his face, "Let's go on Thursday, sounds good?"

I only nod my head.

[aniron48]

Love Letters - Day 6

I have to say, in this entire week of CYOA, I have never been so grateful that a vote didn't tie--I had no idea how I would have managed to write Bond simultaneously taking the train AND the Aston Martin to Bath, absent some sort of weird train auto-transport sort of situation.

Anyway, welcome to Day 6 of Love Letters, a 00q Choose Your Own Adventure! There will be three more installments after tonight--polls on Sunday and Monday, and a final wrap up on Tuesday, 2/14. I'll post each night around 9:15ish EST.

If you need to catch up on a day or 5, you can do so here: Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

And for everyone else, Day 6 begins below the cut! 🎉

He’d go in the morning, and he would take the Aston Martin.

On paper, at least, the train was faster. But then again, most people making the drive didn’t have the benefit of a car that was capable of going nearly 230 kilometers an hour, and a permanent flag in the system that told any law enforcement personnel looking up his license plate not to pull him over.

Bond made the trip in an hour and fifteen minutes.

His first stop was to the small bed and breakfast where he’d reserved a room for the weekend after Valentine’s Day. The proprietor showed him the room, answered his questions about nearby restaurants and bars, and confirmed the menu for breakfast. That task accomplished to his satisfaction, Bond set out for the post office.

The idea of driving 180 kilometers to mail a letter simply so it would have a Bath postmark had been whimsical at best, and ridiculous at worst. But once the idea lodged itself in his mind, he couldn’t shake it loose. The decision to visit a prospective bed and breakfast for a holiday weekend with Q had made the trip slightly easier to justify, but Bond would have made the drive without it.

When they’d first fallen into bed together, he’d been ready to pull out all the usual stops to try to impress, but it hadn’t gone precisely to plan. It wasn’t that Q was immune to his charms, exactly. It was just that everything seemed to make him equally happy—he was as delighted by a weekend in Paris as he was by a night in an airport hotel, catching a few hours with Bond in between his flights to one city or another; he was as pleased with dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant as he was with takeaway on the couch. It seemed the only luxury he craved was the one Bond could least guarantee, given his line of work: his time. And so when a rare opportunity to indulge Q’s latent romantic streak reared its head, far be it from Bond to let it pass him by.

In the post office, he read through the letter one last time before folding it carefully and tucking it into the envelope. He addressed it to Q, added a stamp, and sealed the envelope, writing across the back the lines he’d copied from Q’s copy of Persuasion one evening when Q had stayed late at work: You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. When he was done, he took a deep breath, and dropped the letter in the mail.

As he was walking back to the car park where he’d left the Aston Martin, a familiar figure ducked into a patisserie across the street. Though he’d only caught a fleeting glimpse, it was enough to recognize her. Even setting aside the fact that he saw her nearly every day at work, it was impossible to forget the face of someone who had shot you off a train.

Not to be extremely in my feelings or anything, but it has been so much fun doing this with all of you--thanks so much for playing along so far!

[glorioustidalwavedefendor]

but it's actually a lovemoney.com slideshow and the part cited here is the entirety of the text, and the only "citation" is the very vague "anthropologists and archaeology experts." The head of the slideshow also says "365 days a year."

Well, sorry for not putting in 8 hours of work to link to the dozends of articles I have read over the years, whose full title I of course still remember ... becaue I have zer issue swith my memory

My bad

I should have boomarked all of them just for you <3

I love the list of your sources for your claim in the original post by the way <3 It's so long and well cited :-)

Like seriously I love it wenn people have no sources and then complain that I took the first answer of google becasue I know if I link to a longer artikle no one will read it anyway, so why bother?

Like, this is the "how dare you say we piss on the poor" side ... I am not gonna bother if I don't have the link on hand

Also I love that you ignore my real live source. <3

I guess becasue it is really hard to be arogant and gate keepy about real live experience ...

And no I also can't find teh paper someone did on the decrease in fish population since 1900 simply based on restaurant menues and rising prices, so go on, burn me at the stake for having shity memory

further, if it costs labor and time, it's not free. devaluing labor, especially essential labor like food gathering and preparation, only serves the idea that the people who do that labor don't deserve fair compensation.

Well duh

Everything costs you something that is just physics

I mean by that logic air is not free becasue you have to move your muscles to get it, that is also labour.

And while we are talking about beeing compensated for labour and since you are so worried about badly payed people in food production (which everyone should be, the conditions are so low they are a tripping hazard in hell)

Which btw. here have another shity source that is not elucubrare approved

I hope that means you also agnowledge that just beeing alive with a disability or a chronic illness or both is also labour and also needs to be compenated even if it is not usefull for society at large and only for the person in question

But But BUT ... your point was that food production is hard

Quote:

food production is incredibly hard! especially enough food production to sustain growth and health!

And it's just not

What is hard is to make enough food to be able to feed a standing army ... that is only possible through argiculture

(That's the reason humans where smaller and weaker in the firts centuries after switching to agriculture ... unlike their hunter gathere neigbours ... like the farmers had to work longer and harder for worse food ... brilliant plan ... )

What can be time intense is to make food last ... which is not necessary if you can just pack up in winter and wander south ...

What is hard is to produce enough food to make insane profist with it

What is hard, is to make so much food that you can throw out tons and tons of it every year and still make a profit ...

and if we ever manage to reach a point where every member of society is provided with their basic needs, it will be not because it was always easy, but because we've overcome a mountain of practical difficulties to do what is right.

After we created those montains in the first place ...

Agriculture helps us overcome problems we woudn't have without it ... same with capialism ...

I mean ... you do know that the size difference between grains wild occuring wheet and rye and cultured wheet and rye is neglectable

As far back as 2,3 million yeasr ago their seeds where big and full of starch ...

So ... every memebr of society had access to that food ... becasue no walls ...

Source: Valérie Andrieu-Ponel and her team (you are smart you can find the source yourself <3)

There is no practical difficulty here ... there are people hogging resources, aka building walls, that is the issue

<3

last night i saw a take that was like "food was free until someone put a wall around it" and i'm still mad enough about it to write this -- food production is incredibly hard! especially enough food production to sustain growth and health! --

and if we ever manage to reach a point where every member of society is provided with their basic needs, it will be not because it was always easy, but because we've overcome a mountain of practical difficulties to do what is right.

[rhysdarbyarchive]

so Rosie made a reply to a tweet referring to an old sketch of Rhys's called "Things Rhys Can Do," and because of the context some people were kind of confused about what she was referring to, so I wanted to put up this clip of Rhys explaining it (and its sequels) since the sketch itself no longer online. Thank you @stedetheestallion and the Rhys Darby Archivist on Youtube for helping me with the technical issues I was having with this video lmao

This clip is from a really amazing uncut interview he did in 2019 for Funny As: The Story of New Zealand Comedy; I definitely recommend listening to the whole thing if you have the time and/or are interested in Rhys's early life/comedy and his experience with the NZ comedy scene in the late 90s/early 00s in general.

The Comedy Club at University of Canterbury was Rhys's first foray into the comedy scene, and where he met future collaborators like Chris Brain and Jonno Roberts. "Things Rhys Can Do" was the first sketch from Rhys the club accepted into their annual Capping Revue.

Here's Rhys's account from This Way to Spaceship that adds a bit more context:

I joined the University of Canterbury Comedy Club, in Christchurch, New Zealand, in 1995. It was Guy Roberts who made me do it. He was sitting at the sign-in desk during clubs and societies day. It was my first year at university and I was ever so keen to make (or do) an impression. It's thanks to Guy (according to him that I now have a career in comedy. A year after this signing up fiasco I was a fully fledged member of the university comedy team. I was invited to join the writing group, which, thanks to the budget breakfasts and bottomless coffee, met and wrote while sitting in a booth at Denny's restaurant. We sat around bumbling through ideas. I offered a lot of suggestions, but Guy (who was now president of the club) didn't like any of them. He politely suggested I move to another booth because my 'silly' ideas were distracting from his brilliant ones. I moved to another booth and wrote a simple comedy sketch on the back of a kids' menu. The sketch was called Things Rhys Can Do, and here it is: Announcer: 'Ladies and Gentlemen, we are proud to present Things Rhys Can Do by Rhys Darby.' Clears throat. I walk onstage. (I enter the stage in a funny way, wearing tights) Announcer: 'I do something funny.' (I do something funny) Announcer: 'I do a funny dance.' (I do a dance in a funny way) Announcer: 'I take a bow.' (I take a bow in a funny way) Announcer: 'I leave the stage.' (I leave the stage in a funny way) Announcer: 'Thank you.' THE END I presented this to Guy and the team that day in Denny's and it was met with much laughter. Unfortunately they were laughing at how stupid the idea was and not how funny it was. I was told to go back and work harder, but I think at that point I decided to go home. Regardless of this, Guy kept the bit of paper the sketch was written on and months later he decided to bring it out. Now he decided it was worth trying. Why? Because as time went by he began to see how I could make next to nothing funny. I could make people laugh without the use of words, a concept the writers group hadn't considered. I was physically funny. This became apparent at parties, and in general. Guy realised that this sketch was an opportunity for me to shine with minimal writing. The comedy club was struggling for ideas for that year's Capping Revue Show, so finally after a lot of discussion Things Rhys Can Do made it onto the set list. On opening night I performed small roles in a number of sketches, but when my big moment arrived I took to it with great gusto. With my long, skinny, gangly legs I pranced about in my purple tights like an incorrigible vixen, a sneaky jester gaily displaying his talent in the courtyard of the king. The crowd loved every minute of it and it was the hit of the night. 'The funniest sketch of the show' was the general consensus the next day at university. Other comments included, 'How do you move like that?' And, 'What's wrong with you?'

Rhys alluded to this being available on Youtube, which it was at one point, but it no longer is and doesn't appear to have been saved (on the Internet, that is. apparently Rosie has a copy). You can see some footage of him in purple tights here, but it's not set to any particular music.

[honeypiehotchner]

Version of You (Hotch x Fem!Reader) — one shot

Call 1-800-799-7233 if you think you are in danger/a victim of domestic violence, or visit this website for resources, live chat, and more (for the USA). This is a link to the wikipedia page that has international resources. 

(I wanted to put that first because this fic deals with an abusive relationship and some scenes show the abuse. If you relate to any this, please seek help via the resources above. I want desperately to say my DMs are open, but for my own mental wellbeing, I have to let you know that the resources that I give above are about all I can do to help. You’re welcome to DM me if needed, but please know that it might take me a minute to reply, and I still will point you in the direction of resources that can better help you. I love and support and am with every single one of you, but I can only do so much through a screen xx.)

This is 100% a comfort fic, but I am safe and okay, I promise 💛 (Truthfully, this was really therapeutic to write.)

Small note: mental and verbal abuse is depicted here, not physical (though it does come close), but I wanted to remind you that just because abuse isn’t physical doesn’t mean it’s not harmful or real. Mental and verbal abuse is still abuse.

Summary: Hotch helps you find the courage within you to end your abusive relationship for good.

Warnings: depiction of an abusive relationship, verbal/mental abuse, violence (domestic and otherwise), angst, happy ending

Hotch Masterlist

Aaron is stunned and disappointed to find you’re still at your desk when he walks out of his office at the grand hour of 8 p.m.

You don’t even hear his office door open or close, but you do hear his footsteps on the stairs. By the time he reaches your desk to say goodnight, you’re already attempting to cover up any traces of emotion on your cheeks.

But Aaron is a profiler. On top of that, though, he’s one of your best friends. He’s known you for six years now, and given how much time the BAU members spend together on cases, he’d argue he knows every single person here better than they know themselves.

You’d agree. You hardly know who you are anymore. But somehow, Aaron knows. Aaron can see.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, already setting his bag down, already pulling a chair over, already sitting next to you.

You’re ready to tell him it’s nothing, to tell him to get home to Jack, that it isn’t important — but it is.

You’ve been with your current partner for almost eight years. Anyone would hear that and ask if marriage is on the horizon, or children, or something of the sort. But not Aaron. Because Aaron can see the pain in your eyes.

Truthfully, he’s seen that pain in your eyes for the past two years. Maybe more.

But recently, it’s gotten worse. A lot worse.

You’re on a “break” with your partner. Whatever a “break” even means, because you still receive phone calls and texts from them all day. You send the calls to voicemail unless you absolutely aren’t doing anything, and the texts you reply to with one word.

Going home is fine because your partner is gone — for now. Work called them away, so you’re home alone for at least another three days, but you expect they’ll want you to pick them up from the airport.

You’ve never longed for a case the way you’re longing for one right now.

This “break” has been easiest because your partner has been gone. You know if they were here, it wouldn’t have been a break at all.

“It’s made me realize that I...I want a break. A real break.”

“You want to break up,” Aaron says it for you, knowing you’re too afraid.

Your hesitant nod confirms this for him. “I do. I think I really do.”

Aaron has known the relationship hasn’t been the healthiest. You don’t open up about your personal life that much at work — you never have — but it has always been telling that you never go out for drinks with the team. And when you did, you’d have to answer texts every ten minutes. Your partner never accepted an invite to join the team for drinks or dinner, but would often get angry at you for being out, as if you hadn’t tried to invite them.

Raised voices, broken glass. Not a single hand was ever laid on you. No, instead, it was a wine glass your mom gifted to you when you graduated college when your partner was angry that you had gone out for drinks with the team after a difficult case. A coffee mug you gifted your partner for their birthday faced the brunt of their anger when you didn’t reply to a text message fast enough — because you were parking your car in the garage. Plates, picture frames. A coffee table once, three years ago. It had been a house warming present.

But they’ve never hurt me, you always argue — only with yourself. No one knows the truth, that you clean up after their outbursts, that you’re grateful to have some knowledge of first aid so you can tend to your cuts from the broken glass, or so that you could stitch up your partner’s hand with ease, because hospitals are expensive and the excuses you’d have to fabricate even more so.

They always apologize. Which is true. Apologies are frequent in your house. Sometimes verbal, sometimes in the form of flowers either on your desk at the BAU (that only Hotch seems to notice with a sad smile) or left on the counter at home. Sometimes, rarely, a fancy dinner and some gift, usually a necklace.

“If you need any help at all,” Aaron says, looking you in your eyes, carefully, intently. “I’m here. For anything.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. Your stomach rumbles loudly in the silence, making you chuckle awkwardly.

“Hungry?” He jokes, but is half serious. “I was planning to get something on the way home, if you’d like to join.”

You think it over for a moment. Your mind immediately jumps to say no because you think your partner is home...but they aren’t.

“Sure,” you say. “Why not. What’s on the menu?”

You gather your things and Hotch waits patiently, rattling off some ideas for food to eat until one grabs your attention.

Your phone buzzes with a text. Where are you?

Aaron notices your change in posture with a sigh. “Is that them?”

You nod slowly. “Asking where I am.” You quickly type back, Still at the BAU.

The reply is almost immediate, as always. Just checking. Love you.

Relief washes over you as you type back, Love you too.

Aaron doesn’t like what he sees. The panic that surges through you just from a text message, making you stand up straight, hold your breath, clench your jaw. Then the relief that relinquishes you when a reply comes and it isn’t negative for once. The sudden changes, the way your emotions are yanked back and forth. He hates it.

But he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he says, “Ready?” And waits for you to smile.

+++

Hotch really doesn’t mean for dinner with you to turn into somewhat of a routine. But it does.

It’s brought more smiles to your face than Hotch thinks he has ever seen in the past six years. And for that, he doesn’t regret the dinners.

Neither do you, until the worst thing that could possibly happen ends up happening one night, three weeks since the first dinner.

Your partner is going out with friends, so you think you’re in the clear to get dinner with Aaron. And when your partner asks where you are again, you say you’re still at the BAU. You were, but you and Aaron were in the elevator to leave when you sent that message.

The two of you grab dinner at one of your favorite spots, at a table outside because the weather is perfect, the sky is clear, and stars are beginning to show. It’s magical. Until it’s a nightmare.

“Well, well, well.”

The voice sends shivers down your spine. They’re supposed to be out with friends.

Aaron automatically stands, shoulders squared and face set. He’s wearing his gun, and you are, too, but you’d never use it on your partner. You can’t say the same about Hotch, though, and that terrifies you.

“Babe,” you say with a smile, and Hotch tenses, hearing the pet name fall so easily form your lips. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going out with your friends?”

Your partner crosses their arms over their chest. “And I thought you were still at work.”

“We are,” Hotch speaks up, startling you. “We’re discussing a case.”

Your partner looks around, raising their eyebrows. “I don’t see any papers.”

“Because we went digital five years ago,” Hotch replies coolly. “But aside from that, a federal investigation is none of your business.”

You swallow thickly, waiting for your partner’s reply.

But to your surprise, they only nod. “I understand, sir. I was only checking.”

Hotch holds back a scoff, but instead returns the nod. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Your partner holds their hands up in surrender. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you at home,” you say quickly. “Love you.”

“See you at home,” they reply, making you frown as they turn and walk away.

When you look back at Hotch, you nearly scream. It takes everything in you not to make the hugest scene right there, outside this nice restaurant, underneath these stars.

Your phone buzzes. One hour. Do not be late.

“Y/N—”

“Don’t,” you say quietly. “Just. Don’t, Hotch.”

+++

The next day, you knock on Hotch’s office door, twenty dollar bill in hand to pay him back for your dinner last night. You left in a hurry and didn’t get to pay. Thankfully, at least, arriving home with forty minutes to spare saved you from an even worse reaction from your partner.

“For dinner last night,” you mumble, sliding the twenty across Hotch’s desk. “Thank you.”

As you turn on your heel to leave, Hotch calls out to you. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Aaron says, making you turn back around. “I hope you’re...alright.”

You’re so very far from being “alright” that you almost laugh. Instead, you shrug. “It’s been worse.”

“Did they hit you?”

You’re too shocked to move. “What? No! Why the hell would you even say that?”

“Because I’ve been worried about you.”

“They have never laid a hand on me,” you snap. “Ever.”

“But they’ve come close,” Aaron says gently. “You know they have.”

You only scoff. You feel hurt. Insulted, even, that he would assume something like that. Your relationship with your partner is rocky, of course, but never physical abuse rocky. Never that bad.

But has it come close?

Sure, maybe you’ve felt the wind off a beer bottle when it grazed by your head on its way to the wall. Maybe you have had to duck to avoid getting glass to the face. Maybe.

Maybe they have come close. Closer than you want to admit.

But they’ve also loved you. Held you while you cried. Rewarded you after you cleaned up the broken glass. Left you flowers and jewelry and love notes.

They love you. Don’t they?

“It’s fine,” you whisper, blinking back the stubborn tears that have jumped to the front of your eyes. “They love me.”

“Love isn’t violent,” Aaron replies gently. “Love shouldn’t make you as terrified as I saw you when you left last night.”

“I know,” you choke out. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Hotch is rounding his desk and gathering you in his arms before the first tear slips down your cheeks. He holds you while you cry, letting you get it all out.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispers, resting his chin on top of your head. “Don’t worry.”

+++

It all comes to a head a few nights later when your partner springs a question on you. The question.

There, standing in the bathroom, you’re too stunned to speak.

“What d’you say, baby? Let’s get married, you and me.”

You don’t reply. You toss the makeup wipe in your trash can, flick the light in the bathroom off, and walk out into the bedroom.

“Baby?” They ask.

You’re facing the dresser, halfway to setting out a pair of pants for work tomorrow. “I...I can’t.”

“What?” Their reply is immediate and angry. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t,” you repeat, refusing to change your answer. “No.”

By the time you turn around, they’re standing up from the bed, arms crossed over their chest. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said no,” you say firmly. “I’m not marrying you.”

“And why not?”

“I—”

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“What?”

“Your boss? Are you fuckin’ him?”

“No!”

“Then why won’t you marry me?”

“Because I don’t want to!”

You’ve never raised your voice back at your partner. They’ve always been the one to raise their voice, and you stayed silent, tried to talk them down, be the quiet voice of reason.

But not anymore. You’ve had enough.

“You don’t want to?” They scream. “It’s been eight years and now you don’t want to. You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” you say through gritted teeth. “But I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“Baby…” They sigh, stepping closer, lowering their arms. “Why not?”

“Because,” you reply slowly, backing up. “Just because.”

“That’s not a good enough reason and you know it.”

“It’s good enough for me,” you say. You step to the side and keep backing out into the hallway, getting ready to run if need be.

“Where are you going?” They all but growl. “What’s wrong with you?”

You’re scaring me, you want to scream, but you don’t. “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine? Well I’m for damn sure not fine, I’m heartbroken,” they seethe. You see the tell-tale signs that they’re about to get angry — angry enough to start throwing things. You realize in a moment of horror that a paperweight is within their reach.

And they reach for it.

“Don’t,” you murmur, freezing when their fingers wrap around the glass. “Put it down.”

“Why?” They ask, calm as ever. “Don’t you want to see what you’ve just done to my heart?”

You shake your head slowly. “No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, no!” Your reflexes have gotten better since being at the FBI, and you duck right in time. The paperweight crashes against the wall behind you, shattering, denting the wall, and covering the couch in fine pieces of broken glass.

“See what you’ve done!” Your partner screams. “This could’ve been easy! You could’ve said yes!”

You spot your car keys on the counter next to you, and when they turn their back to you to grip at their hair, you slide the keys off and into your pocket.

I have to get out of here. It’s a thought that you never have. Normally by now you’d be vacuuming up the glass on the couch, apologizing every five seconds, pouring them a glass of whiskey or a beer or something. But not now. Not anymore.

You’re a few steps from the door when your partner notices. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Nowhere,” you freeze. “Go take a shower. Cool off. I’ll clean up this mess and then we can talk about this again, okay?”

They almost don’t accept your offer, but after a second, they nod. “There better be a beer waiting on me when I get out.”

“Of course,” you smile.

Your smile makes them suspicious, but they turn and head into the bedroom without another word.

Shaking, you turn to the closet to grab the vacuum, turning it on and beginning to suck up the glass off the couch.

But when you hear the shower curtain pull closed, you escape, leaving the vacuum running.

+++

It’s pouring down rain, you aren’t wearing any shoes, and you’re knocking on your boss’s front door. Can your life get any more pathetic?

When Aaron opens the door, he’s practically hauling you inside and out of the rain.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asks, already leading you down the hall toward the bathroom. “You’re shivering, we need to get you out of these clothes — you aren’t wearing shoes, fuck, Y/N, what happened?”

“They asked me to marry them,” you choke out. You aren’t even crying. You haven’t cried yet at all. “I said no. They almost hit me.”

Aaron feels a dangerous surge of anger course through his body. “Did they hit you?”

You shake your head, and it turns into a full-body shiver.

“Okay,” Aaron says, taking a deep breath to ground himself. “Okay, let me get some clothes for you. Do you want to take a shower?”

You shake your head again.

“Okay, that’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

You sit, shivering, on your boss’s toilet for a few minutes before he returns with clothes. A t-shirt and pair of sweatpants of his. Old ones, he says, they don’t fit him anymore. You smile slightly when you realize the shirt is from his college, the sweatpants from his law school. No wonder they don’t fit him anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” you say. “I—I think I left my phone there.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. Just get changed and get warm. Do you want some tea? Anything?”

“Just some water, please,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he smiles.

After he leaves, you change out of your wet clothes and into his shirt and sweatpants. You carefully hang your wet shirt and shorts over the edge of the bathtub, hoping that’s okay.

You venture out of the bathroom and follow the noise into the kitchen where you find Aaron putting up dishes.

“Hey,” he murmurs, straightening up. “Do you want ice with your water?”

“Um, sure.”

The sound of ice clinking into the glass makes you flinch, and you’re grateful Aaron’s back is turned away from you.

“There you go,” he hands you the glass.

“Thank you.”

You sip it quietly while he goes back to putting up the rest of the clean dishes in the dishwasher. Once he finishes, your heart is still racing, now with guilt from coming here unannounced. What if he was on a date? What if Jack was here?

“The guest room is all yours,” Aaron says softly. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

You nod slowly. “I don’t know what to do.” You pause, rubbing your thumb over the condensation on the glass. “But I told them I’m not marrying them. But I...I didn’t tell them I was leaving. Or where I was going.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not. They’re gonna be mad. I can’t— Oh my god, I can’t go back. Not alone, they’ll—”

“Hey,” Aaron shushes you, walking around the counter to get to you. “Don’t worry about it right now. We’ll figure it out. I’ll go with you. You won’t be alone.”

“Thank you.”

+++

The next morning, you and Aaron head into the office early so you have time to grab your go-bag and change into your work clothes that you left in there.

Thank God for having a job like this where it’s normal to have a few changes of clothes, a toothbrush, deodorant, and anything else you need in a duffle bag under your desk.

You and Aaron are the first people in the BAU, so you’re able to grab your bag and head to the bathroom to change without any questions. Once you return, you stuff the bag back under your desk and sit down, ready to bury yourself in reports for the day.

But before you can, Hotch calls you into his office.

“What’s up?” You ask when you step into the doorway.

“We didn’t eat breakfast,” he says, and that’s when you notice the two coffees and muffins sitting on his desk.

“Oh,” you chuckle. “I completely forgot.”

“Me too,” he smiles. “Here, sit.”

The two of you eat the breakfast in silence, but somehow you don’t mind it. You’re not in much of a talking mood, anyway.

Rossi arrives next and stops by Hotch’s office, not at all surprised to find the two of you eating together, though he does join with his coffee a few minutes later. The silence vanishes with Rossi, leaving laughter in its wake as he tells old stories about Hotch.

When the rest of the team arrives, they follow the noise to Hotch’s office, and soon you’re surrounded by your family. Your real family.

Once eight-thirty rolls around, you all begin to disperse, back to your respective spaces to start working for the day, and everything feels normal.

And then, in a matter of seconds, it isn’t.

The second your eyes land on your partner standing down in the bullpen, you fall to your knees, scaring the shit out of Hotch.

“What happened?” He blurts, kneeling down to you. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you shake your head. “No, no, no...No, Hotch, they’re out there.”

Hotch doesn’t need their name. The fear on your face is enough.

About this time, you hear Derek’s voice growing in volume. The most you can make out is, “Put...down…!” And that’s when your blood runs ice cold.

You pat your right hip, hoping, praying, your weapon is magically there, even though you know it’s not. You put it in the safe when you got home last night. You didn’t have time to grab it before you ran out and drove to Hotch’s place. You left it there, in the safe, because you never think twice about it since it’s locked away.

But now…

“Don’t do this, man,” Derek yells. “Put. It. Down.”

“Where is she?” Your partner yells. “Tell me where she is!”

“I’m not telling you shit until you put the gun down,” Derek says, firmly. You’re frozen in place, on the floor next to Hotch’s desk as you listen.

“They have my gun,” you whisper to Hotch. “I didn’t think they— I don’t know how they knew the code, I change it every week, I thought—”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” Hotch shushes you. “You stay here. Do not move. Try to get under my desk if you can.” He pauses. “There’s an extra pistol underneath. I want you to grab it just in case.”

You nod, but then a memory of last night grips you. “No! You can’t go out there!” You hiss, gripping Hotch’s arm.

Outside, you hear Emily’s voice adding to Derek’s, trying to talk your partner down. It’s a scene out of a horror movie. Straight from your worst nightmare.

“They already feel threatened by you, they’ll just shoot you the second they see you.”

“Not when they already have five guns on them.”

“Let me come with you,” you offer.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aaron, I have eight years of experience talking them down. I know what I’m doing.”

Hotch doesn’t like that you’re right.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

You nod. You’re shaking all over, but you still nod.

“Okay. Crawl over and grab the pistol from my desk. Tuck it in your waistband, on your back. Go now.”

You stay low as you crawl over, finding the pistol strapped underneath his desk on the right side. Once it’s tucked in your waistband, you stand, facing the window. Hotch stands too, with his back to the blinds, and thank God they’re closed.

“Is she in there?” You hear your partner scream. “Is she with him?”

“Shit,” you mutter. “Shit, shit, shit, they’re gonna fucking kill me.” You hate that the possibility is very real. They have your gun. They could shoot you the second they see you. You’re not wearing any protective gear.

“No,” Hotch replies. “I’m not letting that happen.”

“Come out here, you lying bitch!”

Hotch looks ready to kill your partner himself.

“Babe?” You call out, putting on a false tone, the same one you always use when talking them down. “Babe, what are you doing here?”

You step into the doorway, feeling another frozen chill of fear shoot straight down your spine. They look crazed. Insane, even. Worse than you’ve ever seen, worse than last night, worse than the last eight years.

“Don’t babe me,” your partner seethes, but the gun is still trained on Derek.

You know it makes no sense, but you want them to turn the gun on you. Not Derek. Derek can’t be hurt because of you, not like this.

“Put the gun down,” you say, trying to stay calm and sweet, the way you usually have to be at home.

“I’m not listening to a damn thing you say,” your partner yells, and then the gun turns on you. “There he is.” The gun isn’t aimed at you. It’s on Aaron.

“Put it down,” Aaron’s level voice floats through the terror roaring in your ears. “I won’t ask again.” He shifts and you realize then that he has his own weapon trained on your partner.

“You won’t need to. Come out from behind my fiancé you coward.”

“She’s not your fiancé,” Hotch says. “And you won’t shoot her.”

“Want to bet on it?” Your partner lowers the gun slightly, now pointing it straight at your chest. Strangely, you don’t feel any panic surge through you. It’s telling. That even now, your head is telling you, they won’t hurt me, they never hurt me before.

“Don’t do it,” Derek yells. “I will shoot you, man. Don’t do it. You have six guns pointed at you right now. Do you really want to do this?”

The metal of Aaron’s pistol bites into your lower back when you shift on your heels. Your arms are frozen by your side, too afraid to reach for the gun.

“Put it down,” Rossi yells.

“You’ve got five seconds,” Derek adds. “Don’t make me get to one. Five. Four.”

Your partner’s fingers twitch on the trigger. Aaron catches the movement. Nods once when Derek says three. And on two, Derek pulls the trigger before your partner can do it first.

A broken scream rips from your chest when the bullet lodges itself in your partner’s side, your gun clattering to the ground. Derek steps forward and kicks the gun further away, out of reach.

Hotch lifts you around your waist and pulls you back into his office, kicking the door closed with his foot.

You’re numb to everything as he sits you down on the couch, wrapping his arms around you as you finally sob, letting out every scream that you’ve been holding in.

+++

Your partner is taken to the hospital to be treated for the gunshot wound.

Hotch tells you they won’t stand a chance at being acquitted, too many charges looming over their head already without the addition of domestic violence. You hardly hear his words, but you nod like you do.

He takes care of you while the commotion outside struggles to calm down. A blanket is wrapped around your shoulders, you hug a pillow to your chest, sniffling every few minutes as fresh tears cascade down your cheeks. Spencer brings you a mug of steaming tea that you barely manage to thank him for. Hotch thanks him properly for you before softly shutting his office door.

For months, you’ve been thinking about leaving them. For so long, you’ve wondered what life might be like without them. Now, you don’t know a thing.

You don’t know what to do. Where to go. Will you have to testify in court? If you do, will you have to talk about the...abuse? The abuse that you can barely bring yourself to label blatantly as abuse even though Aaron, your brain, everyone screams at you that that’s what it is — abusive behavior.

When you were a teenager, and even in your early twenties, learning about signs of abusive, unhealthy relationships, you never thought you’d end up in one. You thought surely you’d recognize the first signs and get out of there.

But instead, you did exactly what they said most people do. You brushed them off. You thought, oh, they just love me deeply, that’s all. They want what’s best for me, that’s all. They want me to be safe and protected, that’s all.

And that’s lovely, but there’s a difference. Between caring and controlling.

You never thought the difference would be so hard to see.

“Come on,” Aaron’s soft voice pierces through your thoughts. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You blink. “Where?”

“Wherever you want to go,” he replies gently. “Your apartment?”

Immediately, you shake your head. But then you pause. Because aside from your apartment and the BAU, you have nowhere else to go.

“Would you be comfortable going back to my apartment?” He asks. “I understand if it’s uncomfortable. I’m sure Garcia or Prentiss would be happy to let you stay with them, and I’ll gladly send them home with you.”

As much as you love Garcia and Prentiss, you strangely feel more comfortable with Aaron. After all, Pen and Emily don’t— or didn’t know about your partner’s behavior. Only Hotch knew.

“If you don’t mind, I’m...I’m okay with your place.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he smiles. “The guest room is yours for as long as you need.”

That makes you smile, though the expression feels foreign on your lips. “Don’t you have to stay?”

“It can be dealt with tomorrow,” he replies. “The paperwork will still exist tomorrow at eight a.m.”

“Okay,” you accept defeat. “Can I take this blanket?” You don’t like the idea of this weight leaving your shoulders.

“Of course,” he says.

You fall asleep in the car.

You didn’t mean to, but you were exhausted. And by the time you woke, Aaron had already carried you into his apartment. Startled, you gripped his arm a little too tight, but he shushed you carefully, letting you know you’re safe, he just didn’t want to wake you because you were sleeping so soundly.

He set you down on the guest bed where you tried and failed to get some rest last night, but now, you sleep like a baby.

+++

Months after the incident, the guest room at Aaron’s apartment has become your temporary home.

You still haven’t been back to the apartment you owned with your partner — even though their name is on the lease, not yours. You went once with Aaron to pick up your clothes and anything else important, but it was a quick trip. You were desperate to get out of there.

Aaron didn’t like what he saw. The broken glass, the dents in the walls. The way your body language changed immediately. Your unwillingness to return there is fine by him.

It’s a slow, uphill battle as you begin to heal. Your partner still sits in jail, awaiting their trial date. You know you might have to testify, but you know your team might have to be there as well, so that makes you feel better.

Aaron has been incredibly respectful of your space. You were the one who brought up the idea of carpooling to work, one of you driving every other day, to save on gas for the both of you. He had assumed you wanted to drive on your own and always have your car — which is true, but you didn’t mind riding with him.

He’s the only one your terrified brain doesn’t seem to be scared of.

And you’re not complaining. You’re grateful to feel a small ounce of safety after feeling every sense of unsafe for the past eight years.

+++

Your ex-partner’s trial comes and goes in the following three months. You did testify, along with the rest of your team, the verdict is guilty. Life in prison.

You wept on the steps of the courthouse from the sheer relief of it all.

“They’ll never hurt you again,” Aaron had told you and you didn’t believe him for one second.

Still now, as you know for a fact they are sitting in a prison cell, you have a small fear. But you think you always will.

You continue “rooming” with Aaron — that’s the best way you can think to put it — and you’ve come to really enjoy the weekends when Jack comes over. At the start, Aaron would try to take Jack out to the park to give you time alone, or you’d go spend some time with Penelope, but after a while, you started staying. And after a little while longer, Jack started warming up to you, and expecting your presence.

One weekend, you hear Jack and Aaron playing in the living room while you’re in Aaron’s office, trying to get some work done. And halfway through signing your name on a piece of paperwork, you hear Jack “whispering” to Aaron about you.

“Do you like her?” Jack whispers, but it definitely comes across as more of a soft shout.

Aaron’s eyes widen, and he presses his index finger to his lips. “A lot,” he says, but you don’t hear him — though you were straining pretty hard.

“Me too,” Jack giggles. “Is she your girlfriend?” He teases, poking his dad with his Lego sculpture.

Aaron pokes his son back with his own design. “No, buddy, she isn’t.” Again, you can’t hear him, but Jack’s question made your heart hammer in your chest.

You know you’ve had some feelings begin to develop because truthfully, they were blooming months ago, back when you began having dinner with Aaron. But then everything happened, and you still loved your ex, and things got too complicated.

Now, though, seven months out from the start of it all, the feelings are still there.

Aaron hasn’t made any moves, so you’ve kept silent. You don’t know how much of his good deeds are simply out of his own kindness. And you certainly don’t want to mistake it for something it’s not.

But kids pick up on things adults try hardest to hide.

You continue with your paperwork, listening to them continue to play.

It’s not until after Jack goes home to Hailey that his question is brought up, and it’s only because Aaron asked what was bothering you.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it,” he says. “But I’m here if you do.”

He’s always here. That’s what made you have a crush on him in the first place, years ago. He’s always there for anyone who needs him.

“I heard you and Jack earlier,” you start. “When he asked if I’m your girlfriend.”

Aaron sighs. “I’m sorry. I think it’s just confusing for him because to him, living together equals relationship since all he’s known is me and Hailey—”

“I’d like to be,” you interrupt his nervous rambling. “If that’s something you’d like, too.”

He blinks a few times, then smiles. “You…” He pauses. “Are you sure?”

“Aaron, I’ve liked you for so long and never said anything—”

“I’ve liked you for so long and never said anything,” he counters. “You’re serious?”

“Very,” you whisper.

When he kisses you, it’s what you’ve longed for all this time. It’s exactly what you’ve been yearning for. It’s exactly the kind of love you know now that you deserve.

Recovery has been messy, and will continue to be messy for some time, but you’ll have Aaron next to you every step of the way. Always.

[arduadastra]

Giving Javier a handjob under the table at a gathering dinner thing

A/N: Oh, oh my LORD anon this is juicy and I have every intention of taking this way too far because once Javi enters my writing space he makes me FERAL (This man needs to be stopped and apparently all it takes is a well-placed hand) I took the liberty of this being a just them thing (Hope that's ok!)

Warnings: NSFW - NO MINORS (18+) Semi-public sex, HJ's, swearing, Javi in a button-down.

Masterlist

You and Javi had been together exactly one year to the day and you had both decided to celebrate the occasion. Neither of you were big on anniversaries but Escobar was gone, the Cali cartel were finished and you had both just wanted to be together and enjoy being safe for the first time in…well…ever.

Choosing what to do had been a struggle though, neither of you wanting to spend too much money but also wanting to do something that meant you could be alone together. It felt like you had both been constantly around others and you needed the space. Eventually, after one too many arguments (Javi had put his foot down when you mentioned the mall and a movie) you decided on dinner.

You were both a bit clueless to the area, spending most of your time either on stakeouts out of the city or in the embassy so you had relied on Murphy’s recommendation for the restaurant and you had to say, the guy had good taste. It was quiet, not overly fancy but still had the atmosphere that meant dressing up was encouraged. It was cosy, exposed bricks and small lamps lighting the tables in a soft hue and when you sat down in the booth you couldn’t help but admire how the soft shadows danced across Javi’s face.

Your admiration certainly didn’t stop there. Javier had definitely pulled out all the stops for tonight and you were loving every second. He had chosen a dark suit with no tie, just a white shirt with the first few buttons left open that exposed his collarbone to your gaze. His suit jacket framed his broad shoulders deliciously and you could’ve outright moaned when he shrugged it off to roll his shirt sleeves up - that man knew all your buttons and he was damn well pushing them.

Javi cast you a knowing smirk as he picked up his menu and you watched as his large hands ran the length of the paper. His fingers tracing the edge of the menu much like he does on your skin and you feel the familiar heat flare-up in your gut. You weren't alone though, you knew you were having the same effect on him but he was just better at hiding it. You were wearing a dark red wrap dress that accentuated your hips, curves and ass, one of Javi’s favourite attributes of you, and you leant forward to show off a hint of a black lace bra.

He side-eyed you at that and you smirked, being partners with Javi long before you got together meant you could observe the man’s tells and from the flex of his jaw, you knew he was holding back. He loved red on you and he loved black lace too, you knew that. As you sat there and stared at the man in front of you, an idea crept into your head. How far would his resolve would go?

Making the man who fought drug traffickers on the streets and chased criminals across buildings while handling high-level negotiations without breaking a sweat crack would be a challenge. But you loved the idea of riling him up in such a public setting, the idea was too tempting.

You slid a hand onto his thigh, feigning ignorance as you pretended to read the menu in your hands whilst also making sure to rub slow circles just above his kneecap. His leg shifts under your ministrations and you slide it higher. He clears his throat.

Your hand stays when the waitress drops by to ask for your drinks order. As always Javi orders a whiskey and you order wine, loving the subtle hitch of Javi’s voice when you press your fingers into his inner thigh while he thanks the server. She walks away and he scowls at you, “What do you think you’re doing Hermosa?”

You shrug, fingers now trailing up his inseam and he clenches his thighs together, one hand dropping to clasp yours in a tight grip, “I said what are you doing?” You’re about to reply but then the waitress comes back with your drinks and Javi switches on his most charming smile and you can’t help but graze his crotch as he looks at the waitress, a small possessive side to you loving the widening of his eyes. You trail the spot, mapping it out under your fingers as she shamelessly flirts with him, a silent reminder of who he belongs to.

As she leaves, you lean into his ear, picking up your wineglass, your other hand remains preoccupied, “I’m having fun Javi, why? You think you can’t handle it?” You take a sip and squeeze slightly and Javi shuts his eyes, legs widening in silent acceptance.

Game on.

You drop your hand from his leg and let him settle, he exhales harshly and after a second brings the whiskey glass to his lips. You wait for him to take a sip before drifting your hand back up the outside of this thigh now and you see his jaw tick when he swallows. You lean across and place a gentle kiss on the tense spot before sliding your hand up and over, lingering on his crotch once more. Javi raises an eyebrow to you, a silent 'Is that all you've got?'

The next time you press, the waitress is back asking for your food order and while you give yours, under the table you’re playing with Javi’s slack button and you pop it open silently as he gives his. Your fingertips graze his boxers as you study his profile and while he doesn’t give anything away on his face, his clenched fist tells another story.

You finger the coarse hair just below the elastic and he manages a tense nod as the waitress asks him if he wanted fries. She seems annoyed by his lack of response and you revel in it. Javi doesn't dare look at you this time as she finally retreats, just takes a sip of his drink. You decide to do the same, the alcohol warming your body and leaving you feeling weightless in your actions. Your fingertips continue to slip just shy of his waistband before slipping over his boxers to cup him under his slacks.

Javi kicks his leg out, foot hitting the opposite table leg and he looks around, clearly seeing if anyone can see his compromising position, “Shit” he murmurs, “What if someone sees?”

You grin, “So what if they do Javi? Besides, it's pretty dark I think we’ll be okay” and with that, your hand begins a slow rhythm over his clothed cock and you hear a soft moan from the man beside you.

“Sssh Jav…”

He bites back a groan as your fingers slip against his warm skin again and delve lower, your fingers grazing his length as you sigh, “Only I get to hear those pretty sounds.” Javi nods frantically before realising the public nature of your acts and covers it by drinking again, seeming desperate in his gulps as he rolls his hips. Emboldened by his reaction, you softly wrap your hands around him and pull softly, knuckles rubbing against the inside of his zipper and you feel his hips buck again into your grip.

You take a moment to glance around and happy that no one can see what’s transpiring between the two of you, you look back at Javi’s face and you love what you see. His eyes have darkened significantly, pupils blown as you feel him harden further under the table and his bottom lip is swollen from his biting teeth. His usual golden-brown eyes are swimming in unbridled lust and as his tongue darts out to wet his lip, you can’t help but lean across and kiss him.

You keep it G rated, simply pressing your lips to his and relishing in the feel of his moustache against your lip. You slip your hand lower and start pumping him properly, swallowing his moans as you do. You lean back and look at his dishevelled face and continue, watching him white knuckle the table cloth beneath a clenched fist.

You kiss him again then against his lips you ask, “Think I can make you cum? Make you cum in front of everyone here with only the two of us knowing about the mess you’re gonna make all over yourself, baby?”

Javi pants, jaw slack and mouth open at your question. You take his silence as the opportunity to pull him totally free, exposing him to the warm air of the restaurant. Javi leans back and watches you, an intense stare you rarely see with your clothes on and you start moving in earnest. You slide towards him further, bracketing your bodies into the corner of the booth and you watch his pulse thrum under the tight skin of his neck.

You hasten the rhythm and his fingers slip against the wood where they grip the table, the other coming up to cover his mouth in a cough that sounds suspiciously like a groan as you thumb the head of his cock. Your thumb comes back slick and you use it to wet his shaft, now openly staring at Javi as he slowly falls apart under your hands…well hand.

You can tell he’s close through the frantic look in his eye, hesitant to release in such a public setting but you coax it out of him, running your lips against his neck and kissing him lightly as you say, “Come on Jav, cum for me, make a mess all under this fancy table.” and he does.

You've got to give the guy credit, he’s dead silent and you know how loud the man can be when he cums. He hunches slightly and gasps, chin tilted downwards as he watches himself release all over your fist and drip onto his pressed slacks. He squeezes his eyes shut, biting his tongue as you keep the pressure, knowing how sensitive he gets once he's cum. He opens his eyes, cheeks slightly pink in embarrassment and arousal and he sets his gaze on you.

It’s like the spell is broken and with that as he pushes your slick hand away and shoves himself back in, hips rising as he closes the zipper and button then grabs the napkin from his side, offering it to you with a raised brow, urgency clear on his face.

You notice the waitress just beginning to come over with the food and you offer Javi a wink before sticking your fingers in your mouth and sucking, popping your fingers clean with a smirk as the waitress comes over with the plates.

Javi is speechless.

You knew she must’ve seen something so you offer an apology as Javi still stares at you gobsmacked, “Sorry! Red wine gets everywhere sometimes and with these prices, I’m not wasting a drop!”

She laughs politely and set your food down as she begins to saunter away, pouting slightly when she notices Javi’s full attention is focused on you now rather than her backside.

You pick up your knife and fork and start eating, ignoring the shell shocked Javier at your side. He finally brings himself out of his stupor and grabs his plate, forcefully shovelling some pasta into his mouth before leaning across and hissing, "You've got five minutes to eat then we're leaving."

You frown, "But we just got here!"

Javi laughs darkly, "Oh we aren't leaving here cariño, just the table because after that stunt you just pulled? I'm taking you to that bathroom and fucking you, not in silence," He laughs again, "Fuck that. I'm going to make you moan for me so loudly that everyone in this god damn place will know exactly what you've been doing."

It's your turn to be stunned into silence.

"And then? We are coming right back here for dessert. I want everyone to know what a bad girl looks like after she's been thoroughly fucked."

He continues eating.

You stare at your food. Your pussy throbs at Javi's words and your head swims with the images he's presented. You hear him chide from beside you, "quedan cuatro minutos, mi amor..."

You've never eaten something so fast in your life.

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

I dedicate this also to @rattlethe-stars because both of us are slaves to Javier Peña and we have no shame in admitting it.

[mirkwoodest]

This Way to Spaceship

by Rhys Darby (2012)

SECTION 4: CONFIDENCE

CHAPTER 12: TYPES OF CONFIDENCE

Confidence is the ultimate weapon. It’s the battering ram that lets you smash through the castle of fear. Confidence, whether it be blind, justified or just plain cocky will steer you through life with ease.

But it can also act like a force field protecting you from such evil things as – common sense. Like power, confidence should be used responsibly!

You’re probably wondering why I’ve waited till section four to mention confidence. Well that’s because confidence comes with time. I think it’s about time now, three sections in.

As a human I believe it’s important to build up your confidence over a number of years. (Of course, if the world is about to end you’d better bloody hurry up!) There’s nothing worse than someone being too confident too quickly. You have to be able to crawl before you can walk, remember? It’s okay to be afraid, to be cautious, to be shy. But sooner or later you’re going to have to step up to the plate, put a meat salad on it and serve it!

Things Rhys Can Do

I joined the University of Canterbury Comedy Club, in Christchurch, New Zealand, in 1995. It was Guy Roberts who made me do it. He was sitting at the sign-in desk during clubs and societies day. It was my first year at university and I was ever so keen to make (or do) an impression. It’s thanks to Guy (according to him) that I now have a career in comedy.

A year after this signing up fiasco I was a fully fledged member of the university comedy team. I was invited to join the writing group, which, thanks to the budget breakfasts and bottomless coffee, met and wrote while sitting in a booth at Denny’s restaurant.

We sat around bumbling through ideas. I offered a lot of suggestions, but Guy (who was now the president of the club) didn’t like any of them. He politely suggested I move to another booth because my ‘silly’ ideas were distracting him from his brilliant ones.

I moved to another booth and wrote a simple comedy sketch on the back of a kids’ menu. The sketch was called Things Rhys Can Do, and here it is:

Announcer: ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, we are proud to present Things Rhys Can Do by Rhys Darby.’

Clears throat. I walk onstage.

(I enter the stage in a funny way, wearing tights) Announcer: ‘I do something funny.’ (I do something funny)

Announcer: ‘I do a funny dance.’

(I do a dance in a funny way)

Announcer: ‘I take a bow.’

(I take a bow in a funny way)

Announcer: ‘I leave the stage.’

(I leave the stage in a funny way)

Announcer: ‘Thank you.’

THE END

I presented this to Guy and the team that day in Denny’s and it was met with much laughter. Unfortunately they were laughing at how stupid the idea was and not how funny it was.

I was told to go back and work harder, but I think at that point I decided to go home.

Regardless of this, Guy kept the bit of paper the sketch was written on and months later he decided to bring it out. Now he decide it was worth trying. Why? Because as time went by he began to see how I could make next to nothing funny. I could make people laugh without the use of words, a concept the writers group hadn’t considered. I was physically funny.

This became apparent at parties, and in general. Guy realised that this sketch was an opportunity for me to shine with minimal writing. The comedy club was struggling for ideas for that year’s Capping Revue Show, so finally after a lot of discussion Things Rhys Can Do made it onto the set list.

On opening night I performed small roles in a number of sketches, but when my big moment arrived I took to it with great gusto. With my long, skinny, gangly legs I pranced about in my purple tights like an incorrigible vixen, a sneaky jester gaily displaying his talent in the courtyard of the king.

The crowd loved every minute of it and it was the hit of the night. ‘The funniest sketch of the show’ was the general consensus the next day at university.

Other comments included, ‘How do you move like that?’

And, ‘What’s wrong with you?'

But let me tell you what happened after the show. I took my self-confidence a step too far. Or maybe not? I went into town to celebrate and entered myself in a ‘wet boxers’ dance competition at a nightclub called Baileys 818. What’s a ‘wet boxers’ dance competition, I hear you ask?

Well, it’s basically the male version of a wet T–shirt competition, but you have to dance as well. So yes, it’s essentially men dancing in their underwear while they get sprayed with water.

The first couple of dancers have great bodies but offer pretty lame dance moves. The girls are screaming with joy anyway, and I think to myself, ‘Wait till they get a load of me!’

Soon my name is called out – ‘Rice Darcy’. Up I get onto the stage. My chosen song “Rhythm is a Dancer” plays and there I am on stage doing some sultry moves as I slowly strip off my clothes.

My shirt disappears as I throw it into the crowd. There isn’t much screaming coming from the girls, but it’s early days.

Next up, my shoes are flicked off. I do this in such a way that they spin in the air and I catch them with my hands. Luckily I’m wearing my slip-on kung fu slippers. This gets a slight ‘Yay’ from the crowd. But no one has any idea what they’re about to see next.

Finally I pull my trousers off, revealing not boxers but purple tights! I don’t know what sort of reaction I’m expecting from this, but the girls in the crowd certainly aren’t screaming with joy.

Then I begin to dance like a possessed mental man whose limbs have been taken over by a demon puppet master.

People stare at me with mouths open. I think they’re loving it, but really they appear astonished that a man would enter such a competition wearing purple tights and dance like that.

Water is sprayed onto my tights and I make a face like, this is melting me. For some reason I’ve gone from a relatively cool guy to a prancing gay man, to then being the witch from The Wizard of Oz.

Finally I end my performance by crawling along the floor in a desperate attempt to retrieve my missing shirt and trousers. I manage to get them back and as I catch my breath I wait while the judges make their decision.

Surely I’ll win. What an original display of movement and hilarity.

No? Well, it turns out it wasn’t about that and I got placed third! Apparently a man dancing like a possessed demon in wet purple tights isn’t sexy.

Oh well. I won a free drink at the bar. I rocked up there and despite wanting to order a Malibu and pineapple I chose a pint of ‘man’s beer’ to try and shake off my new gay image.

Japes on a Plane

After the horrible disasters of September the 11th 2001 air travel changed for good. And when I say for good I mean for the worse. Remember what it was like the first year after 9/11? Most people were too scared to go near an airport, let alone fly in a plane. For a while there we just lived in panic and fear and didn’t trust a soul.

Did you fly within a year after 9/11? Remember how we would just stare at everyone else on board? How everyone was a potential terrorist? Well, think back to that time and then read the following story about a man with – blind confidence …

It was about May 2001 when I got a phone call from a new airline called Freedom Air. They were a domestic carrier in New Zealand and they had just decided to fly international. Their inaugural flight from Auckland, New Zealand, to Brisbane, Australia, was set to go in November.

Now Freedom Air was a budget airline, the kind of airline that offers passengers nothing but water on board. You can bring your own food and the seat belts are provided, but if you want any entertainment you’re shit out of luck.

They’re also the sort of airline that doesn’t assign seating, so it’s essentially a flying bus.

For their first international flight, which would have a journey time of three and a half hours, Freedom Air decided they would push the plane out by providing some ‘entertainment’. This is where I come in.

Back in 2001 I was just starting to get a name for myself in New Zealand comedy circles. When I say circles, I mean ‘circle’ – just the one very small one. In fact, it wasn’t even really a circle, more of a square. There were four of us. Okay, maybe five – a pentagon. I was getting known in the comedy pentagon. (That sounds like a government building for clowns.)

Anyway, if you’ve read section two on leadership then you’ll know 2001 is the year I return from Edinburgh and the government decides to pay me an artist’s benefit. I’m really starting to roll as a comedian.

Freedom Air calls me and asks me if I’d like to perform my stand-up act on their inaugural international flight. The fee of two hundred dollars is discussed, and my answer of ‘Hell yeah’ echoes throughout my house.

A little weird, I thought, doing my stand-up on a plane, but hey – a gig’s a gig and two hundred bucks is a lot. (At least it was then.)

I accepted the gig and after being told the flight wouldn’t be till November, I popped it in my diary and went back to doing what I was doing – building a papier mâché dragon mask.

Later on in the year the tragedy of September 11 happened in New York. The world was in shock and for a while it seemed that life wouldn’t be quite the same again. Like everyone else I felt saddened and bewildered.

And one thing I thought was for sure – that airplane gig wouldn’t happen now. But I was wrong!

I got the follow-up phone call a month after 9/11 from Freedom Air asking me if I was still keen on the gig. ‘Really? You’re still wanting me to do this?’ I asked. ‘If you’re keen, we’re keen,’ they answered. So I said ‘Yes.’ (I’m a yes-man, remember.)

A gig on a plane barely two months after 9/11? For some reason I thought to myself: if I go into this with blind confidence I’ll be okay. Hmmm.

Now let’s count how many things went wrong.

On the day of the gig I had to turn up at the airport for an 8:30 a.m. flight. Yes, that’s right, the flight I was performing comedy on was a morning flight. I don’t know how many stand-up comedy shows you guys have been to but I sure as hell haven’t been to any before lunch!

I board the plane like everyone else and with no seat allocation I find myself halfway down the plane with a window seat on the right-hand side. No one gives me a second glance (actually that’s not true, post 9/11 we are all staring at each other in fear). I’m not known to anyone on board. No visual recognitions or ‘Hey, I love your work’.

The plane takes off and after about twenty minutes the air stewardess pops out from behind her cubby hole and signals to me it’s time to do my thing. I smile at her and after unclipping my belt I excuse myself past the two passengers next to me and begin to walk up the isle towards the flight deck.

It’s important to note at this point that the seat belt sign is still on and so in theory no one on the plane should be moving.

Straight away I can feel the eyes of everyone onboard looking at me as if to say ‘Where the hell are you going?’ I feel awkward during this bit, but I keep walking.

Oh, I also have a small rucksack with me because I have some props in it I intend to use.

People are staring at me and they’re starting to feel uncomfortable about where I could possibly be going. To the restroom would be the obvious guess, but I can almost hear the panic when I walk straight past the toilet and duck round the corner to where the stewardess is situated.

There is a bit of mumbling to be heard at this point. Things like ‘Where’s that guy gone?’ and ‘What’s he up to?’

It’s safe to say I have caused a fair amount of unrest on the plane already.

Now, moments later, I reappear from where I was hidden from view. I’m now standing in the aisle facing everybody – and I have in my hand the telephone handset device the stewardess uses to do the safety procedures.

The look on people’s faces is one of sheer horror. They can imagine only one thing. A passenger has taken control of this device! But before anyone can say anything I introduce myself and I let them know what they’re in for – some comedy.

I normally like to kick off my shows with a few robot impressions, but because the only microphone at my disposal is the handset attached to a curly cord, I don’t have much movability. I do some impressions of a robot coming around the corner, just revealing my robot arm while hiding and doing the sound effects using the phone.

People were not laughing. In fact, they were panicking.

I hear someone say, ‘He’s mad! He’s a mental.’

I continue on with my show despite the frosty reception. Next up I start improvising with my environment. Mocking the airplane decor and riffing on the cumulonimbus clouds out the windows. The laughs are coming in thin and slow. There’s still a lot of confusion on people’s faces. I remember thinking to myself ‘Wipe that confusion off your faces!’

I’m supposed to do twenty minutes, but I cut my time down to fifteen and end on a song. I sing the theme song from a Honey Puffs TV commercial that was popular in the late eighties:

Fly let’s fly away (fly away)

Honey bees are coming today

If you love honey, then you’ll love Honey Puffs (love Honey Puffs)

Honey Puffs are made to stay fresh, stay good all the time

Keep looking for the funny honey bee

Honey Puffs are yours and mine

Thanks Honey Puffs!

Needless to say, there is a light smattering of applause, which is followed rather quickly with me replacing the handset and then taking the awkward walk back to my seat. The worst bit is then having to squeeze past the two people in my row so I could get to my window seat.

One refuses to look at me and the other waits till I sat down before turning to me with the comment:

‘Why would you do that?’

I think for a moment before answering.

‘Two hundred dollars.’

So here’s the thing. No one on the plane was told I was going to perform! It was meant to be a surprise.

Unbelievable, right? Man-o-man! That means that everyone on board apart from the crew just thought I was some passenger who on a whim thirty minutes into a morning flight, thought ‘Fuck it, I might just get up and do some comedy!’

No wonder they were pissed (that’s ‘angry’, not ‘drunk’).

Here’s the final nail in the coffin, though.

Once we had landed in Brisbane the plane taxied to its terminal. The stewardess popped up again and signalled me to come over. So up I rose and once again made my way up the aisle. Of course, the seat belt sign was still on, so once again the other passengers were all staring at me in disgust.

‘Boy, this guy has a nerve! First he freaks us out with his midflight telephone grabbing antics and now he’s up again before he’s allowed! Unbelievable.’

I arrived at her position by the door and she explained that as part of the crew I should thank people and wish them well as they exited. I couldn’t believe it, but it was too late to go back to my seat. Here’s me thinking she was going to give me a complementary flight cap or something. But oh no, I have to be the guy that gets abused on the way out by a bunch of grumpy passengers who still possibly think I’m a mentally deficient terrorist.

Why did I do this and how did I manage to get through it? One word: CONFIDENCE.

Being a Suicidal Heckler

In 2006 I took my confidence to a new level. It was a cocky but necessary level, I believe, for the particular occasion.

It was the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and there we were again at the mighty Free Beer Show. I was on the bill and waiting to perform. But instead of being backstage I was sitting up in the balcony with my best buddies Ryan and James. (You may remember them from the fifty people to a party episode back in section three.)

Anyway, we were watching the show and drinking our free beer. I had managed to get us more free beer than we were allocated (one of the perks of being in the show).

The comedian on stage was an American that none of us had ever seen before. He was terrible. I mean I’ve seen some bad stand-up comedy in my time (mostly my own – nah, just joking), but this guy really took the cake.

He was getting next to no laughs. I say next to, because there was the odd sympathy murmur from the back. But trust me, silence is better than getting sympathy murmurs. At least with silence you can kind of laugh at it yourself. There’s no other polite way to say it, this guy was dying badly.

When a comic is dying on stage it becomes the most awkward situation you can imagine. The whole audience feels the cringe. The comic feels the cringe too but keeps trying. Everyone feels uncomfortable, but if everyone chooses to be polite then it just carries on. The awkwardness carries on – and on.

The audience feels sorry for this comic. We all desperately want the next joke or line or expression to hit. But it doesn’t. The pain is too much to bear and I decide to save the day. I decide to put him and everybody else out of their misery.

This is the only time I’ve done this and this is what I did … I stood up and walked into position. There I was off to stage right, in line with him and looking down at him from the balcony level. I was in the dark and neither he nor the rest of the audience could see me.

I waited till he finished his next joke, assuming there would be the usual silence that followed. Sure enough there it was. So I LEAPED!

Off I went flying through the air from a height of three metres straight down and – SPLAT !

My motionless body lay splayed out upon the stage right next to him, my limbs contorted in such a way that it looked as if I had just committed suicide (because of his comedy).

There was a shriek of horror from the audience. I remained motionless for a few seconds and then leapt to my feet with a goofy look on my face. The crowd erupted with laughter. The comedian was flabbergasted. The awkward tension of the room had gone.

I know it sounds ridiculous and dangerous and rude. And yes it was all of those things. But I should explain that after performing on that very stage many times I already knew that it was bouncy.

I also knew from my army training how to do a safe landing from a height of three metres, and how to make it look like I was dead. And rude? Well, yes and no. I did apologise to the comic, but let’s be honest – it would’ve been ruder of me to leave that poor audience suffering any longer. They had paid money for entertainment, after all.

The best bit was after I got back on my feet. As I walked back to my seat the comic said, ‘I bet he won’t do that again.’

He continued on with his act for a few minutes more and then – I did it again! Cocky confidence.

This was apparent long before this panel, but I hope we can now finally kill all those weird "Rhys Darby thinks/thought he was ugly and has low confidence" takes. He has been overflowing with stupid amounts of confidence since the 90s and lives for opportunities to show off his legs.

[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. 

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

First of all, love your writing, perfect for some binge reading!

I was wondering if you could do a little fic about Harry noticing all the little anxiety tics that you have (bouncing a knee, picking at fingers, etc) and maybe one time where he like helps you stop doing them and calms you down or something? I would love anything you do with this request so go off I guess! 💕

well first of all i love YOU😚😚😚 thank you so much! hope you like it :)

restless legs

warnings: anxiety, mild panic

word count: 1.6k

Harry was very perceptive. He noticed little things about you that others didn't, like when he surprised you with a gift you had only glanced at in a store window when walking past. You had no idea how he managed to be so observant, but you definitely appreciated it. It was nice when he understood you were ready to go home before you even said anything, or how he could always tell when you had a bad day and needed comfort.

He could also tell when you were anxious, especially because you had a few tells he had noticed. Like now, when you were sitting across the table from him at his favorite restaurant. It was one of the first times the two of you had gone out in public together, since he wasn't big on the idea of everyone knowing he was dating someone and you weren't big on the idea of thousands of people knowing who you were. But tonight, Harry had asked if you would come out with him. It was your 6 month anniversary, and he said he would feel bad if he didn't do something special for you. So you agreed, not realizing how stressful it would actually be. Which led to tonight, when your leg was bouncing a hundred miles a minute and you had picked off nearly all your nail polish. You felt terrible for not being able to focus on Harry, but it was hard to pay attention to him when you could feel people looking at you. Harry knew how anxious public situations like this could make you, so he did everything he could to make it easier. He had requested to be seated in the back corner of the restaurant, and he had you sit with your back facing the room so you wouldn't have to see anyone else. He booked the reservation for a Tuesday night to avoid the weekend busyness, and he even arranged for the two of you to come in the back door so the paparazzi wouldn't spot you coming in. Despite all this, you were a nervous wreck, and he could tell.

"Are you okay, love? If it's too much we can go home," he offered, a concerned look on his face.

"No, I'm fine," you shook your head. You had made up your mind that you were not going to bail again. You had already done that in the middle of three other dates, and you felt terrible every time. He always reassured you that it was fine, but you were worried he would start to get annoyed. "I'm just... I'm hungry." Hopefully he would believe that your fidgeting was because of impatience, not anxiety.

"You don't have to lie," his face softened. "Are you sure? I promise I won't be upset if you want to go home."

By now you had picked all your nail polish off and moved on to pulling at your cuticles. Harry saw this and reached across the table to still your hands, smiling gently. "What do you think?"

"I want to stay," you said decisively. "I don't want to bail again."

"Don't just do it for me," he said, not letting go of your hands. "If you need-"

"I'm fine," you cut him off. "Thank you, but I'm okay."

"Okay," he smiled again, looking down at the menu. "So what sounds good?"

"Uh... i have no idea," you said, looking down at your own menu. "I'm just gonna order whatever you do."

"Sounds good," he laughed. "I was thinking the chicken cordon bleu crepes, they're excellent here," he said thoughtfully, scanning the paper in front of him.

"I have no idea what that is," you replied. "But I trust your taste, so I'll go with it."

Just then, the waiter came over to take your orders. Harry ordered for you, since he knew that was another thing that made you anxious. You squeezed his hand gently and thanked the waiter when he took your menus.

Once the waiter was gone, you looked up at Harry with a small smile. "Thank you for that, I know it's kind of silly that it stresses me out that much just to order food."

"It's not silly," he frowned. "If it's a big deal for you, it's a big deal for me. I want to do everything I can to make you comfortable." He trailed off at the end of his sentence, his eyes focusing on a point somewhere behind you.

You furrowed your brow in confusion. "What's-"

"Looks like they found us," he sighed. Your eyes went wide and you turned quickly to see what he was talking about. There was a huge group of people crowded outside the front door and windows, yelling and pushing each other and trying to take pictures through the glass. You turned back around quickly, heart rate spiking as you processed what you had seen.

"It's okay, honey, they can't get in," he assured you. "They probably can't even see us."

You both knew that was a lie, but you appreciated his effort to comfort you.

It wasn't enough, though.

"No, they can see us, otherwise why would they be going crazy?" you asked, your breathing becoming unsteady. "This is not good- Harry they're going to take pictures of us and-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he said, thankfully staying calm even though you were on the verge of panicking. "Why don't I go talk to the manager, they'll get everything sorted out-"

"No! Don't leave me here," you said quickly, your hand tightening around his.

"Okay, I'm not going anywhere," he promised. "Let me just..." he waved his free hand at the waiter, gesturing him over. "Can i speak with someone about the situation outside?" He asked, politely but firmly.

"Yes, right away sir," the waiter nodded quickly.

"They'll take care of it," he soothed, stroking his thumb over the back of your hand. "You're alright, it's going to be fine."

The manager walked over to your table, looking frustrated and apologetic. "I am so sorry for the mess outside, our security is working on it, and we will alert the authorities if needed," he said, wringing his hands. "Your meal is on the house tonight, of course, and please let me know if you need anything else."

"Oh, that's not necessary-" Harry started, but the other man interrupted.

"No, no, it's on us. This should not have happened, someone must have tipped them off that you were here. Again, my sincerest apologies. Is there anything you need?"

"No, we're alright, thank you," Harry smiled politely.

The man nodded before leaving the two of you alone again.

The crowd outside had finally begun to disperse, but you weren't feeling any calmer. Your heart was still racing, and it was difficult to draw a full breath. On top of that, everyone else in the room was staring at you now. Before it had just been glances here and there, but now all eyes were on you and Harry.

"I'm not feeling well," you said shakily. Your leg was bouncing enough to shake the table and he could feel your hand trembling in his. "I need-"

Harry could tell that you were staring to panic, so he took action quickly. He stood up, moving his chair around the table and setting it next to yours. He sat down and put his arm around you, breathing deeply and evenly to calm you down.

"You're alright," he said quietly, leaning in to kiss your temple. "Just breathe with me."

You tried your best to follow his instructions, your shaky breaths slowly beginning to match his measured ones.

"That's it, my good girl," he whispered against your skin. He could still feel your leg jumping up and down, so he placed his other hand over it, stilling it with a gentle pressure. "You're doing good, baby, just focus on me. Nobody else matters, we're the only ones here right now."

You nodded lightly, leaning against him for support. "Right, they don't matter," you repeated. "It's just us."

"Just us," he smiled gently. "That's right."

-----

Harry stayed next to you for the whole dinner, never moving his hand from your leg. When it was time to go he put his jacket around your shoulders and his arm around your waist, leading you out of the restaurant and into the car.

"I'm sorry for freaking out in there, i just got kind of scared and-"

"Baby, you don't ever have to feel bad about that," he said, pulling you closer to him. "I'm sorry it even happened, it shouldn't have."

"It's okay, I know i have to get used to it, it's just hard," you said quietly.

"I know it is," he sighed. "I wish you didn't have to deal with it at all. I can't have the crazies scaring you away from me," he laughed, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

"They won't scare me away, i like you way too much for that."

"That's good, because I like you even more."

You smiled, leaning your head against his chest to listen to his heartbeat. "I love you," you said quietly.

"I love you too." He smoothed his hand over your hair and tightened his arm around you. He looked down, smiling when he noticed that for the first time in weeks, your legs were still.

[moralesispunk]

Old Guys Rule

Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Summary: With a birthday coming up, Frankie's insecurities about the age gap in your relationship start to get the better of him

Warnings: legal age gap relationship, insecurities about said age gap, mentions of children but no mentions of how they came to be in the relationship

I found this hat in a shop in Cornwall and I had to write this!

"Are you wanting to do anything on your birthday? I was thinking about booking a table down at that Italians you like and asking your Mom to watch the girls but if you have plans with the guys I can find a different day?" you looked over your shoulder at Frankie from where you had been scrolling through the booking page of the restaurant.

"Hmm? No, dinner sounds fine," Frankie answered, his head not lifting up from his phone as his face stayed firmly unbothered.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to..." you trailed off as you turned back to the laptop that was resting on the kitchen counter, not convinced by Frankie's response.

"What?" you could tell that his head had whipped up to look at yours now you had turned around, "No, dinner sounds good, yes. Thank you."

You didn't answer, instead scrolling up and down on the page for a minute as you tried not to take his response too personally. It had been a while since you and Frankie were able to go out for dinner just the two of you, finding it more difficult to get some alone time since the new baby came along and you now had the two girls, so you thought he would like the idea of a romantic dinner alone.

You could hear Frankie's footsteps pad across the kitchen floor until he was leaning against the counter next to you. Avoiding his gaze as he crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking the way his ankles were now crossed over one another, you filled in the booking information before closing the laptop. Without looking at him you turned in the chair to stand but Frankie's hand fell on your wrist stopping you.

"Hey," his voice was soft, "I do want to go out for dinner with you and thank you for booking the place that I like, I just-." Frankie sighed and let you wrist go before dragging his hand down his face as he let his eyes drop to the floor, "I'm just not looking forward to this birthday. I'm in my late forties now!"

"I think you're still mid-forties."

"So much better," he rolled his eyes.

"So you're not looking forward to your birthday because... you're going to be a year older? Forty-six years and thats you just realising how birthdays work?"

"It's not funny."

"I'm not laughing, I'm wondering why that's upsetting you. Whether or not you're looking forward to it you can't stop it."

"You'll make fun of me if I tell you why," his foot was swinging out in front of him before crossing it back over the other again.

"Maybe, but we've been married for six years so I think I'm allowed to make fun of you."

A smile was tugging at the corner of Frankie's lips when he finally looked up to you, his head leaning slightly to the side as he met your eyes. Frankie loved everything about you but he especially loved how relaxed you made him feel. Even though he wasn't in a good mood when you started talking birthday plans, instead of giving in to it you pulled him back from it. You had done it ever since you met him. Frankie could tell you, and has told you, his deepest, darkest secrets and fears and you don't shy away. You don't pull him further into the darkness; you just listen and make him feel comfortable until you help him out the other side.

"I know there isn't a bigger gap between us now that there had been when we first started dating because thats not possible but it just feels bigger now? Like, you're still able to keep up with Sofia when she runs rings around us even after you've been up all night with the baby. You don't have to hold the menu back to read it more clearly when we got out for dinner. You don't have to think about having a sore back for a week if we fall asleep on the couch when watching a movie. You don't even fall asleep when watching movies at eight at night but somehow I do!"

You let his breathing settle a little before you pulled him to stand between your legs, resting your hands on his chest.

"Is it about all these small things or is there something bigger to it?"

You tilted your head to catch his gaze as Frankie's eyes fell to the floor again, stopping him with two fingers under his chin and lifting his eyes to meet yours.

"I just worry that you don't want to be with an old guy like me," he sighed, his hands resting on your thighs.

"I'll have you know that I love that your an old guy. I fall more in love with you every day as you get older. I love that you run around enough with Sofia until you're tired because you don't want to stop. I think you're cute when you have to squint at the menu because you're too stubborn to get glasses, even though I think you would look very handsome in them. And I like giving you back massages when it gets sore because its just an excuse to get my hands on your very sexy, super hot, handsome DILF self."

Frankie barked a laugh, his forehead falling against yours as his hands reached up to cup your face.

"I love you so much, you know that."

"I do, and I love you."

His lips found yours, pressing a soft kiss to them. Just as his mouth opened to push his tongue into yours the sound of tiny footsteps running into the kitchen pulled you both away.

"Mama, Papa!" the voice cheered as Frankie leaned down to swing Sofia up, groaning as he did so.

None of what you had said to Frankie was a lie. You truly did love him more and more every day.

As time went on it had been kind to Frankie. He had fought off his demons for the most part, nightmares only sneaking in every so often, and it showed. He carried a lightness with him, not being weighed down by his past anymore. His eyes crinkle at the side when he smiles, which he does more now than ever. His face has filled out a little more in a healthy way. His jaw is also covered in a patchy beard that now has spots of grey that you love the most even if Frankie doesn't believe you.

❀❀❀

You let Frankie lie in on the morning of his birthday, getting the girls up and ready so you could have a lazy breakfast together before you dropped them at their Gran's while you and Frankie go out for dinner. After sorting out a breakfast, having to start again after Sofia wanted to help and ended up spilling the batter over the countertop instead of in the pan, you carried it upstairs with the girls in tow.

Frankie was already waking up as you opened the door, his face lighting up with a wide grin when he spotted you balancing the baby in one arm and carefully carrying the tray in the other as Sofia carried bags of birthday presents.

"Happy birthday," you and Sofia chimed with a small gurgle coming from your side.

"My beautiful girls, thank you!"

Frankie lifted Sofia onto the bed with the presents, settling her into his side, before taking the tray of pancakes from your hands. Once it was safe on his lap he lifted his head, catching your lips in a kiss, before you sat across from him.

You managed to get through breakfast before Sofia had spoke about opening the presents again and once the tray was placed on the bedside table you got to opening the gifts. With baby girl back asleep and placed on Frankie's chest, Sofia pulled the paper off them more so than Frankie, handing him the opened presents as he thanked you all. Once all the presents that were on the bed were opened you leaned across and pulled another from your bedside.

"One more," you smiled knowingly and Frankie narrowed his eyes at you as you handed him the small bag.

He snaked his arm from around Sofia, holding baby girl close to his chest as he put his hand inside the bag and pulled out a hat.

"Oh a new hat, thanks babe I love-" he stopped when he read the front, looking at you with a grin on his face.

"What does it say?!" Sofia asked, pushing her head in front of her Dad's to see the cap he was holding.

"It says Old Guys Rule!" you exclaimed.

"Because Dad is old," Sofia flung her head back in a fake laugh that bellowed around the room.

"Is that right?" Frankie tickled her sides until she was giggling for real and her head was lying next to her sleeping sister's on Frankie's chest.

"Dad is old, but he's still cool isn't he?" you reached across and pulled Sofia onto your lap as she nodded.

"How does it look?" Frankie pulled it onto his head, a little wonky as he was only working with one hand with the other resting on the tiny body on his chest.

You and Sofia both put your thumbs up and you laughed.

"Four out of four thumbs up!"

"Thanks babe," he chuckled, lifting his hand to settle the cap a little tighter on his head.

"You're welcome, you look even more handsome today. Forty-six suits you," you winked and he smiled.

Yes, Frankie was getting older but he was becoming happier and healthier and you were falling more in love with him every single day.

//

Permanent tag// @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes @dihra-vesa @queridopascal @sfr99 @rosiefridayrogersunday

[fridayfirefly]

Sunrise on Gotham

Read Sunrise on Gotham on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 29 - Wait!

Gotham wasn’t Marinette’s first choice for the location of their class trip. In fact, the grim American city hadn’t even made her top ten list. Marinette wanted to go to Amsterdam, a city rich with history and culture. But when Mm. Bustier announced that a vote for the class trip location would be held, the class voted almost unanimously. After all, Lila’s long-distance boyfriend, Damian Wayne, lived in Gotham. Wouldn’t it be great for Lila to be reunited with him? And Lila traveled so frequently that she had already visited all of the other cities Mm. Bustier suggested. Would it be fair to make her go visit a city she had already been to? Marinette scoffed as she overheard the class discussion. She knew that this was just another one of Lila’s lies, perfectly designed to manipulate the people around her into doing what she wanted.

Marinette kept her mouth shut while her classmates all decided to vote for Gotham. But that didn’t stop her from putting her checkmark next to Amsterdam on the ballots Mm. Bustier passed out. Maybe that would have been the end of Marinette’s bitterness if Lila hadn’t “accidentally” glanced at the ballots on Mm. Bustier’s desk she was leaving the classroom. Marinette could still remember Lila’s sickeningly sweet voice, feigning concern for Marinette, asking why Marinette wanted to go to Amsterdam so badly.

As Marinette scrambled for an answer, Alya turned to her with cruelty in her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re trying to sabotage Lila and Damian’s reunion. You’re so selfish, Marinette.”

Marinette didn’t bother replying - it never helped. As she left the classroom that day, she could see the disappointment in Adrien’s eyes. Her crush on the blonde model had long since faded, and alongside it went the rose-colored glasses she used to see him through, back when they were both thirteen. Now, four years later, all she saw was a selfish boy who cared more about avoiding conflict than actually solving problems.

Four months later, the plane landed in Gotham just as the sun began to rise. As her class walked from the airport to the hotel, Marinette felt herself zone out. Even though it wasn’t her first choice, Marinette could still appreciate the sight that was the Gotham skyline. Looming silver skyscrapers were framed by the gray, cloudy sky. As Marinette took in her surroundings, she began to wish that she could stop and get her sketchbook out. Ideas for a Gotham-themed fashion line popped up in her mind like weeds, and she needed to stop and pick them before she could properly zone back in. Gray was a color she had never properly worked with, which would make incorporating the color a nice way to challenge herself. In her mind, shades of gray instinctively started organizing themselves into the different ways she could pair them together.

“Wait!” A hand grabbed Marinette’s arm, pulling her back. Marinette gasped as she realized that she was about to walk onto the street, straight into traffic. She whipped around to face her savior.

The first thing Marinette noticed was his height. She was used to feeling short, at 5′2″, most people were taller than her. But he seemed to dwarf her. She figured he was 6′0″ at least. The second thing she noticed was the look of concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?” He asked.

Marinette nodded jerkily, trying to control her breathing. Having a panic attack alone in the middle of downtown Gotham would be just about the worst thing for her to do. She was supposed to be Ladybug, the savior of Paris, yet she was so unaware of her surroundings in a completely foreign city that she almost got killed in traffic. “I’m okay, I was just daydreaming,” she babbled, “Usually I’d be more aware of my surroundings, but I just got off of the plane and I’m not used to jetlag.”

The stranger had a bemused smile on his face as he walked her talk. Marinette blushed as she realized how dumb she must look to the handsome stranger. “Your accent, is it French?”

Marinette nodded. “I just got here from Paris. I’m on a class trip.”

“Where’s the rest of your class?”

Marinette looked around, trying to figure out which way her class went, but they were already gone, out of sight. “I’m not sure...” She trailed off. “But I have the address for the hotel on my phone, so I’ll be able to catch up with them there.”

“Gotham is known for being difficult to navigate. I can take you there if you’d like.”

“Sure,” said Marinette, pulling her phone out to check the address. “It’s called the Gotham Grand Hotel. It's on the corner of 7th Avenue and 22nd Street.”

“That’s about twelve blocks away. It’s pretty far. Are you sure you’re up for the walk?”

Marinette nodded. “I’m sure I can make it."

His smile returned as he introduced himself. “I’m Damian, by the way.”

“I’m Marinette,” Marinette introduced herself as Damian led the way.

A moment later, Damian's phone started to ring. He answered it while still walking. "Hello.”

A brief pause, then. “I’m on 4th Avenue, by the Starbucks.” Another pause as he listened to the person on the other end of the phone conversation. “I’m not free right this moment, but I will be in a few minutes." Another pause. "I'm helping someone get around the city. She got a little lost on her school trip, and you and I both know that the city isn't exactly safe when you don't know your way around it."

Marinette was beginning to wonder who exactly Damian was talking to, but she didn't want to be rude and interrupt. Instead, she got her phone out of her pocket and sent a quick text to Alya, telling her that she would be a little late because she got disoriented on the hectic Gotham streets.

"I'll be free until five tonight. Father's insisting that I come and have dinner with the family, and I have my internship afterward, from seven to nine." Another pause, this one longer. "I suppose that would work. I was planning on going out to eat at some point, anyway. I'll just have to ask Marinette if she's okay with it."

Damian put the phone down and turned to face Marinette. "My boyfriend, Jon, offered to pick us both up and drop you off at your hotel on our way to get brunch. If you don't feel comfortable with that, I understand."

"Oh, it's perfectly fine," Marinette assured him.

Damian frowned slightly before replying to his boyfriend. Marinette knew that Damian probably thought she wasn't being cautious enough, but she didn't care. After four years as Ladybug, Marinette was confident that she was capable of taking care of herself.

A minute later, a car pulled up beside them. “This is Jon’s car,” said Damian as he grabbed the door for her.

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled in return as she pulled her suitcase in after her. "Hello, Jon. I'm Marinette."

"Welcome to Gotham, Marinette." Jon leaned past the driver's seat to shake her hand. Marinette noticed that he had a very friendly face: a nice smile and kind eyes. "How are you enjoying the city?"

"It's nicer than I expected, I suppose, but I didn't exactly have high expectations. Gotham has a reputation in Europe for being the worst tourist destination in America."

Damian nodded. "That sounds like Gotham. It'll grow on you, though."

"Like a fungus," added Jon.

"If you say so." Marinette cast a distasteful look out the window of the car at the gray streets.

"Do you have any plans for lunch?" asked Jon.

Marinette shook her head. "Not really. The hotel has a restaurant on the ground floor, but their lunch menu is pretty limited. I'm vegetarian, so my only option is a salad."

"Would you like to come to brunch with us?" offered Jon.

"Are you sure you want me there?" Marinette didn't want to be a third wheel if brunch was supposed to be a date between Jon and Damian.

"Of course," said Damian.

"Alright. I don't think I'll be missing anything if I go with you. Our itinerary keeps us pretty busy at the beginning of the trip, but we were given today to rest up, to help get rid of the jetlag. I switched my sleep schedule a week ago, though, so my body is already running on Gotham time.”

Damian nodded thoughtfully. “Do you want to check the itinerary, just to be sure?”

Marinette shrugged. “It can’t hurt to check it one more time.” She pulled the paper out of her suitcase. “Our class doesn’t have anything planned until tonight. We have dinner at a restaurant called..." Marinette consulted her itinerary, "The Coast, and then we’re seeing Wicked at one of the theaters downtown.”

“I've been to The Coast before with my family. They have very good vegetarian options. It is very expensive for a high school class trip,” Damian noted.

“I go to an accelerated school. The school has a very large budget, due to the amount of tuition, and the number of alumni who give back to the school.” Marinette shrugged, a nervous tick. She didn’t like talking about how much her tuition cost. Even with her 50% scholarship to Francois Dupont, tuition was still a struggle sometimes. Her parents didn’t make that much money from the bakery, and compared to the elite professions of some of her classmates' parents, Marinette was often considered to be poor. It left her feeling out of place, guilty every time she felt embarrassed by her working-class parents.

“That sounds-“

Marinette continued to babble. “I’m grateful for the opportunities that François Dupont gives me. Much more grateful than a lot of my classmates, anyway. Some of them only read the itinerary for the first time on the plane ride to Gotham. One of my classmates, Chloé, threw a fit because she believed that the entire trip would be a shopping spree through Gotham. Other students got mad for other reasons. One of my classmates made some promises that she had no business making - telling everyone that we would be getting way more free time than we were actually given. It’s a shame. I used to love being a part of Mme. Bustier’s class, but everything fell apart after...”

Marinette stopped half-way through her sentence and stared down at her hands as she realized that tears had sprung to her eyes. She felt the red flush of embarrassment begin to overtake her face. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize. It sounds like you have a lot going on with your class at the moment."

"That's putting it mildly," said Marinette. "It's been... difficult, to say the least."

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Jon.

Marinette shook her head. "Not really. Even if Gotham wasn’t my first choice for our class trip, I still want to at least try to have a good time.”

“What was your first choice?” asked Damian, a hint of curiosity to his voice.

“Amsterdam,” said Marinette longingly. “But Lila wanted to visit her boyfriend in Gotham, Damian Wayne, so the whole class ignored the fact that Gotham is the most crime-ridden city in America, all so that Lila could visit her boyfriend.”

Damian looked shocked. “Did she say her boyfriend is Damian Wayne?“

Marinette nodded. “Uh, yeah.”

Jon snorted. “I know that you like girls too, Damian, but I figured you would tell me before adding a third to our relationship.”

Damian rolled his eyes, quipping back something just as clever. Marinette was too stunned to listen, as she realized that the rich and powerful Damian Wayne whom Lila claimed to be dating was the same Damian who helped Marinette on the streets of Gotham. Marinette stuttered out, “I didn’t- I didn’t realize that you- you’re Damian Wayne.”

Damian chuckled. “I can tell. I have to admit, I’m not used to not being recognized. I'm pretty famous around Gotham."

“The Billionaire Bisexual Ice Prince of Gotham,” quoted Jon with a grin on his face. “The tabloids love Damian.”

“It’s unfortunate, but it can’t be helped. The tabloids obsess over everything even slightly unconventional, and to them, the bisexual bastard son of billionaire Bruce Wayne is the perfect target. Even more so when he started dating another man.” Damian's voice was smooth, but there was an undercurrent of bitterness to it. Marinette got the sense that he didn't often open up about his relationship, for fear that the media would not be kind about it. Marinette sympathized. Françoise Dupont had been a progressive school: they had a GSA and a no-tolerance policy (not that the policy was ever upheld). She hadn’t been bullied, per se, for being bisexual, but she had experienced the all too familiar feeling of being othered for who she happened to love.

“Nice use of alliteration,” said Jon. His words would have lightened the mood if it wasn’t for the slight strain to his voice.

It was obvious to Marinette that this was a sore subject between the boys. “So how long have you two been dating?” asked Marinette, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Two years, but we’ve been friends since middle school,” answered Jon. “Damian was the world's most uptight twelve-year-old, so I took it upon myself to get him to loosen up. We became friends and everything since then just sort of fell into place.”

“An apt recounting, even if it omitted some pertinent details.” Damian conceded.

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that I was the one to ask you on a date, and you were so shocked that I had figured out that you were bisexual that you dropped the glass in your hand, shattering it,” teased Damian.

“I thought I was being subtle about it,” Jon defended.

Marinette giggled. If she could just spend all of her time with Jon and Damian, rather than her class, she might just have fun on her class trip.

Damian turned to Marinette. “He had a pride pin on his jacket and listened to Carly Rae Jepsen. Subtlety is not, and has never been one of Jon’s string suits.”

Marinette noted that she had a pride pin of her own attached to the front strap of her backpack. Most people never took any note of it - Marinette had quite a few pins on her backpack - but Marinette got the feeling that Damian was aware of it.

"We're here," said Jon, parking the car in front of a little café.

"Café Carlisle has good vegetarian options," Damian assured her as he opened up her car door and helped her out. "They make a superb gourmet grilled cheese sandwich and tomato basil soup. I would recommend it to anyone."

"That's pretty high praise. I get the sense you don't give false compliments."

"I don't." It was a simple answer. Marinette was beginning to get a clearer picture of Damian, who didn't waste unnecessary words but was never afraid to speak his mind.

"Then it had better live up for expectations," teased Marinette.

Damian smiled at her as he held open the door to the restaurant. "It will."

As Damian led Marinette to a booth in the back of the restaurant Marinette caught sight of the reflection of her little group in one of the windows. There was a look on Jon's face that Marinette wasn't sure how to interpret. He had a smile on his face, but it wasn't the joking smile Marinette saw a lot of in the car. It was more of an indulgent smile, giving Marinette the sensation that Jon knew something that she didn't. Marinette wanted to turn around and ask him what it meant, but part of her brain begged her not to ruin this budding friendship before it had even begun.

Marinette had only known Damian and Jon for twenty minutes but already had the strangest feeling that there was a connection between them, some sort of relationship that needed nothing more than a little bit of shown vulnerability to create a deep bond. The only thing Marinette could think to liken it to was love at first sight, but it was beyond that. This wasn't infatuation or obsession (both of which Marinette knew well from her days of crushing over Adrien). This was deeper. This was the knowledge that Damian and Jon had seen her vulnerability and had embraced it, showing vulnerability in their own way. Neither boy had said it out loud, but given that they had both closed themselves off from physical affection as soon as they were in public, Marinette made the assumption that any sort of public display of affection was off-limits to them anywhere that the tabloids could see. It put the fact that they had been incredibly open about their relationship in a new light. It reassured Marinette that she wasn't just imagining their connection. Damian and Jon must have felt similarly about her to be able to talk to her about their relationship.

"Marinette?" Damian spoke her name, snapping Marinette out of her thoughts.

Marinette blushed. "Sorry, I tend to daydream a lot."

Damian smirked. "I'm aware. You almost wandered right into traffic the last time I caught you daydreaming."

Jon stifled a laugh. "What could you possibly be thinking of that would make you so focused that you managed to ignore the traffic right in front of you?"

Marinette launched herself into a spiel about her newest design inspiration, explaining as she went that she was incredibly passionate about fashion and designs and that her designs often had her zoning out for hours at a time. Jon and Damian looked so interested in her explanation that Marinette blushed, not used to having anyone's undivided attention.

Marinette wasn't yet certain where she stood with Damian and Jon in terms of the relationship between the three of them, but she couldn't wait to find out.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[thunderheadfred]

🐈‍Aizawa HC’s🐈‍

I dunno if people will care for this; I suspect my HC's for Aizawa are a little off the fandom norm. Still. I tried. Things get approximately NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

He has like, one discernible change of clothes per season. There is no distinction between hero outfit, casual wear, and pajamas. That fabric used to be black. It is now an exhausted shade of ‘please stop washing me.’ If you suggest that he buy new clothes, he will stare you down like you have three heads, and none of those heads have a brain.

This man does not spend money. He has a mind-blowing amount of savings, but no one will ever know until he dies and wills it all to a random animal shelter in the middle of nowhere. Has a secret scholarship fund for UA students. Again, this is completely anonymous. Only the principal knows.

He's a startlingly competent sketch artist. Nothing fancy, and he never took an art class in his life, but his quirk innately lends itself to spacial reasoning and feature recognition. He has sketch books brimming with sloppy but pin-point accurate life drawings. He can capture your soul in three strokes of a dried-up ballpoint pen. It's eerie.

Given his schedule, you’d expect him to prioritze convenience first, but junk food makes him cross-eyed. His body is a temple and he eats like a fucking monk.

He’s a wine snob. Well, a liquor snob generally. He knows the name of every regional sake-maker in Japan, and can tell you exactly which bottle is the best, down the the month of production. Assumes everyone possesses such laser-focused knowledge.

Tea drinker. Yeah, he has encyclopedic knowledge about that too. Apparently everything this man drinks comes with a bibliography.

Technically he’s supposed to live in the UA dorms part of the time. He sleeps poorly there, and goes home whenever he has the opportunity.

His house is old, but not valuable. Probably inherited. Traditional style with very few modern updates. He keeps it meticulously clean and does repairs as needed, but the age is still obvious. Everything creaks. You swear the place is haunted but won’t dare admit it aloud - he WILL laugh you out of the house.

There’s a garden but he doesn’t have time to keep it up. He has a lot of memories of the plants in full bloom. Letting it go to seed upsets him more than he lets on.

He has zero personal possessions aside from household appliances, which he meticulously researches and keeps in perfect condition.

Reads an insane amount of books. These mostly come from the library. There’s always a stack near his bed. You have no idea how he finishes them, because every time you see him with a book, he’s asleep with it on his face.

He doesn’t adopt cats so much as just leaves his doors open and lets them freely colonize the place. It’s not his house, it’s theirs. Somehow there's not a single cat hair on anything.

Most of these cats are cuddly little angels; you've never met nicer. But there’s a few beasts in the mix, with battle scars and three legs and a craving for human meat; these are Aizawa’s special favorites.

- - - - -

Dating

Falls for you when he stumbles across you taking care of one of the hideous strays he usually feeds on his route. Doesn’t approach you at first (definitely tries to hide) but the cat is like "mrrr?" and brings you over to him, giving the game away. Traitor.

Will make you pay for your half of everything, down to the last yen. So what if you’ve been together for ten years? You have your own income.

One exception to the above: he’ll never buy you presents but he WILL treat you to lavish meals in dark restaurants with hand-written menus. Don’t mistake this for romance, he just likes the quiet atmosphere and excellent service.

He cleans every day; there’s an unwritten five-dimensional schedule and that schedule is EXACT. Zero time wasted. He’ll never actually ask you to help with any of it. He’ll never directly thank you, either. But if you learn how to take over certain chores and do the daily upkeep while he’s away, he’ll love you forever.

Not the type to talk about his day; he’d rather sit with you outside. He values silence. Not because he doesn’t want to talk to you, but a lot of the time he doesn’t have the energy to give you his full conversational attention. Physical contact is easier, and more comforting besides. Just... hold his hand a while.

His scalp gets tingly and sore from overusing his quirk. If you run your fingers through his hair he will pass out instantly.

He will cozy trap you. He’s touch-starved and was definitely a cat in a past life. Will hang all over you if you don't give him enough attention and constantly falls sleep in your lap. Hope you don’t need to get up anytime soon; he’s not moving.

You don’t exactly ‘move in’ with him. He never wants to spend a night without you, but his living space is already exactly how he likes it. He will never move out of that old house, but he’ll give you some rooms to yourself. Your stuff and his... complete absence of stuff... stay pretty much separate. Do NOT clutter up the bedroom.

The kitchen is the exception. That's a warm and cozy shared spot, the heart of the home. You’ll always be stepping around a cat.

He LOVES when you cook for him (so that he doesn't have to take the time). Will shower you with praise and encourage you to make huge earthenware vats of old-timey tsukemono that the two of you cannot possibly eat by yourselves. He’ll help with food prep and knows his way around, but he insists you’re the better cook (even if you aren’t).

Big on actions over words. Makes an effort to be present with you as much as he can.

Will stare into your eyes until you look away. When you look back, he's still staring with a rare warm smile on his face.

God, he loves you. You will never, ever know how much. He doesn't tell you often, but he shows you every day.

- - - - -

Somnophilia???.........

ACE ACE ACE ACE

This man is A-fucking-sexual. He’s not sex repulsed in any way, he’s just not personally invested.

Aromantic too. Deadass doesn’t get the hype. You are the most important person in his life and he’s deeply commited to and comforted by you. Just don’t expect to be seduced; it will literally never happen.

If you are allosexual, he will still be devoted to your sexual well-being. At first, that means buying you a DELUXE toy and encouraging you to use it on your own.

His voice is too damn sexy, even when he isn’t trying. He’ll give you all the phone sex you want; he thinks it’s sweet how you unravel for him. Edging you for ages is a fun little power play, but he’s definitely grading papers while he does it. Don’t be offended. Toshinori has overheard some THINGS.

When your relationship gets sufficiently serious, he’ll help out with his hands. He’s VERY SKILLED AT IT. He likes to lay down next to you and whisper encouragement in your ear. Eventually he gets possessive about your orgasms, and will make you ask for permission.

Sometimes the stars align, but his arousal is a rare bird. He'll take a whole afternoon to prepare. It’s love-making, full stop. Always slow and intensely emotional. He'll cherish every inch of you but might not cum at all; you can’t force it.