#and then she jumped down my throat for asking her to post stuff last week so....guess not

[six-of-ravens]

lol update: hashtag confirmed the Boss-Boss (as in, the Top Boss not just the project managers' boss) yelled at the Errant PM today. apparently he went through her task list with her and....did not like what he was seeing lmao. and trust me, this guy has always been very helpful when you're overwhelmed and will go out of his way to help you out, so if he's yelling that truly means there's not a problem with her actually having too much work or unreasonable clients, and it's just her scatterbrained-ness and disorganization.

we abandoned developers are scratching our heads trying to figure out what the hell she's doing if she's not posting tasks for us. like, a) we know she's not doing 8 hours of meetings all day and b) tasks are not going to get off her list if she doesn't give them to people to do.

anyway I'm at the point of wondering if I could ask one of the other PMs to post Errant PM's tasks for me, bc I have nothing to do and also I'm on vacation in a week and a half and I'm getting worried about getting everything done before then 😬

[thebroccolination]

Thank you thank you thank you OMG thank you so much for making your post about Krist! I know it takes a lot of effort!

I remember seeing the post about him being Homophobic, and I took it at face value because I couldn't be bothered to look into it, and because I never really saw him in any other productions.

I'm so extremely happy to have been given this opportunity to rectify my opinion on Krist, and as a queer person myself I entirely agree with your point about him being "vetted" by other queer people. It holds immense meaning to me.

I can't call myself a fan of Krist, mostly because I've barely seen anything with him. But as a queer person, it hurts me to know that someone who provides safety and warmth to the queer community was/is being bashed by a community I am part of.

So, thank you for spending time and effort to compile and share your thoughts, and the corresponding evidence and discourse related to Krist. And thank you for being upfront with your bias, and for acknowledging the various opinions present in the discourse.

PS: I skip plenty of heterosexual intimacy scenes because I feel kinda disconnected from them and they're not really doing anything for me. So even if Krist was being dead serious with that point, I feel that's fully valid. If you're watching something for entertainment and enjoyment, isn't it fine to skip intimacy scenes if they're not your cup of tea???

Ahh, thank you so much for this, Anon. It truly, genuinely means a lot to me. :')

I really wasn't the best person to make that post. I don't speak Thai, I've only been here for three years, and I've followed BounPrem more closely from the beginning, so there were a lot of Krist-related clips and links that I needed help finding. But I made it because I hoped it would serve as a jumping-off point for new fans and for people who'd be willing to see things from a different perspective.

There's just such a massive dissonance between the image interfandom has painted of Krist and the loud but sweet guy I've followed for the past three years. There were a lot of clips and anecdotes and stories I chose not to include in my thread/post purely because they were subjective and I didn't want to distract from the factual stuff I could find (social media posts, interviews, etc.). When you're filmed as much as he has been for the past seven years, you can't really hide who you are in a general sort of sense. And Krist really does just seem…very kind in general.

The reason I even started paying attention to him in the first place was because of a video posted by a Thai fan. He didn't have time to greet fans outside the GMMTV building because he'd gotten stuck in traffic and he had to rush to something, so he did a very quick hello/wai to the fans waiting for him and promised to come back soon. When he did, he noticed one of the fans was missing and asked the rest where she went. The remaining fans said she had to leave because she had to catch a plane (iirc) to her home elsewhere in Thailand, and Krist looked instantly guilty and remorseful that she'd waited for him. I think he even said, "Why didn't she say so?" sort of rhetorically, and I really do think he would have taken the time to talk with her if he'd known she had to leave soon. I just admire him for remembering them all well enough to notice that one was missing. That sort of kindness stands out to me.

[small rambling section]

(I apologize for using your ask for such a long post, Anon!)

Seeing the vitriol Krist gets from international fans really disappoints me. Even when he posted in support for Pride Month last week, he had dozens of international fans jumping down his throat attacking him for it because they assumed it was disingenuous even though he has been publicly supportive of the queer community outside Pride Month for years.

To no one's surprise, that level of hate just isn't present in Thai fandom. And if Krist were the monster he's been portrayed as, wouldn't Thai fans be just as, if not more, vocal about it? I mean, I'm sure Krist has his share of Thai fans who don't like him for whatever reason, but the only people I see throwing that IG story around and saying Krist should kill himself are international fans.

So.

That's a fun reputation we have.

Personally, I don't live my life in pursuit of punishment for strangers. If I don't like a celebrity, I don't give them my attention. I don't interact with them. Like, I don't know what their deal is, what they're going through. I may judge them privately, but putting that toxicity into public forums just invites toxic responses, and that's not what fandom is for me.

I truly believe that Krist was never homophobic in any way. I think he was just Very Tired of all the harassment and stalking he and Singto had to go through at a very young age before GMMTV was posting any kind of "hey everyone calm down maybe" notices.

I also know now that there's a lot more context and nuance behind Krist's early career mistakes that I still don't know, because I only got here in 2020 and I don't speak Thai. Since BMF starting airing, though, there have been older fans sharing my thread on Twitter and my post here on Tumblr, and sharing more details. Some are things I suspected, like that because SOTUS kicked off the BL wave, Krist and Singto faced a metric ton of homophobia themselves. It wasn't just fans, either, it was the country as a whole.

I don't know so much about Thai BL even after three years in this fandom, so it's bizarre and disturbing to me how enthusiastically non-Thai fans like to jump in and crucify Thai actors with an air of superiority. Even the official subtitles on the series we watch aren't reliable, and yet people think that auto-generated translations or translations done by fans from one second language into another as a hobby to help other fans get the gist of what an actor is saying is some irrefutable evidence that validates a campaign to tell actors thousands of kilometers away to kill themselves?

Like, I dunno, buddy, isn't uplifting the actors you do admire more worth your energy? And not in a "my actor is better than yours" way, but in a genuine "this thing this person did made me happy" way. "I can do both!" Yeah, I guess. But why? Harassing people helps no one. It's performative activism at best, and at worst, you're just bolstering the culture of cyberbullying that has led and will continue to lead people to take their own lives. Krist has suffered from depression. He has been to four different therapists. He is a real person with family and pets and a history of kindness that means he's quickly adopted by most of the people he works with. If you're going to take up an axe against someone, make it a politician or a lobbyist or someone who doesn't regularly use his platform to speak out for queer rights.

[end rambling]

I may spend more time on Twitter while Be My Favorite is airing just because I've seen a decent amount of Recreational Krist Hate and not enough positivity to balance it out here on Tumblr. Since his fanbase is more active on Twitter, there's been a lot of positivity to enjoy. <3

But that's why I was so happy to get this message from you, Anon. (I hope it's clear that none of my rambling up there was directed at you.)

Thank you for being kind enough to reach out. It really made the time and energy it took to make that post feel worth it. :)

[makarovni]

WIP Wednesday!!!

Tagged by @corvosattano and @adelaidedrubman to share some WIP stuff!! Thank you!!

Last week I shared this snippet from Bianca's Nice Guys verse and since it's the only thing I've been able to work on for some reason, I'll share some stuff that occurs in the story before the snippet in the other post. If you guys wanna check it out that's cool but if not it's cool too!!

TW for kidnapping and allusions to abuse. Once more, the villains' names are redacted bc I want it to be a mystery for when I actually post it.

Luck shines on her as light shines on one door in particular, the placard reading "office" glinting in the small amount of light that fills the hall. Of course, there's a catch– it's locked. Bianca considers just unscrewing the hinges to get inside, but is a risk that big really worth it? What if there's no phone? What if one of them catches her? What if…

"No," she hisses at herself, bending down to the door's lower hinge, "no more "What ifs." You're going to get out of here."

As she undoes the hinges' fasteners, as quickly as she can, Bianca occasionally peeks over her shoulder or leans her ear a certain way, hoping nobody hears her. She moves up to the top hinges with a sigh of brief relief, and does the same to it, undoing those screws at record speeds.

"I should be in a fucking NASCAR pit crew," Bianca whispers to herself, shifting the door so she can get behind it then push it back into place, so it looks untouched to the unaware. Sure, screws are scattered on the floor now, but [Bianca's abuser] and his ilk wouldn't notice.

Thankfully, the room is what it says on the door– an office. An oddly pristine one, at that. A fine wooden desk with a typewriter on it, a bottle of whiskey and two glasses beside it. The chair is dusty, but made of authentic leather. Unlike most of the warehouse, the room is actually carpeted, and there's wallpaper up. This office looks so out of place, Bianca almost feels like she's transported somewhere else– it feels safe.

And, as luck would have it, there's a phone on another desk in the room. Bianca's breath catches in her throat and she runs over, dials Holland's office number, and waits.

And waits.

"Hello?"

Bianca exhales with relief. "Holy shit, Holly. Look, it's Bianca. You need to get your dad, or Healy, or both, and let me talk to them. I'm in a lot of trouble."

"Oh my god," Holly replies, "they're out looking for you right now. Where are you?"

She begins to cry, involuntarily letting tears drip down her face. "Fuck…you know [Bianca's abuser], from the case? He and the other two jumped me and brought me to [Bianca's abuser's] fucked up military bunker warehouse…the address is in the files. Your dad should have it."

"Well, they went to look for you at your apartment, but I have the files here," Holly says, and the sound of a cabinet being dug through can be heard on the other end. "I have it here! I'll call your house and tell them where you're at, and we'll come get you. Don't worry."

"They need to be armed," Bianca says, rolling the screwdriver in her hand. "These guys are planning on killing, and I want us to have the advantage. Tell them to be armed, and send them my way. You sit tight, okay, Holly?"

"No, I'm coming with them!" Holly proclaims. "I'm not going to sit around while you potentially get hurt!"

Bianca sighs heavily. "Holly, no. They…they did the things they did to me when I was your age. And they've done it other times. You're not safe. Please, for me, stay at the office."

"But I–"

"Holly!" Bianca is choking back sobs now, hand tight around the screwdriver. "Holly, stay there. Please. Just tell your dad and Healy where I am and to be armed. Nothing more, nothing less. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah, I do. I'll do what you asked."

"Thank you," she sniffles. "Tell them to be careful. And listen…I know you don't want me with your dad, because I'm not your mom, and I was never trying to be your mom, I never will be her. But I love your dad more than anything, and I love you, Holly. Let that be known. I love you, sweetheart."

With that, Bianca hangs up and leans against the wall with her screwdriver held like a combat knife, ready to defend herself. She doesn't know where those men are, or if they know she's escaped, but for the time being, she's going to sit right there and wait on Holland and Healy.

[dejavew]

Thank the Skies

jungkook x reader

wc: 1705

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers.

also, this is my first ever imagine. im still new to this stuff. i know its a bit messy, but why not post it anyway.

summary: When it rains, Jungkook is there to take care of you.

---

Every two months, it rains.

Not only does it rain, but it rains hard. You swear you could see the concrete eroding each time it rains each month. The rain clicks hard on your roof, windows, walls, and in some houses leaks through the ceiling. The windows were splotchy with droplets of tears from the sky, and yet again you sigh to yourself wishing for it to be over. 

You swear you weren’t normal. Not one brain cell out of you could figure out why your immune system was weak. You wished you’d bought some extra tissue paper for the rest of the week, cringing at the fact that you were gonna have to tell your best friend to grab some on his way over to your place. 

You could practically hear his lecture in the future and the pout placed right on your lips. 

“Seriously, Y/N. Again? you’ve been going through this all your life, and all you could do is huddle on the kitchen chair and watch the rain?” 

You tsked at yourself, mad at how irresponsible you can be. It wasn’t like a thought could stick with you forever in your mind reminding you how embarrassingly weak your immune system is. 

Your mom thought it was cute though. She loved the thought of you needing her help, and unlike every parent—She smiled when she saw the sky bleed into the shades of gray, with or without the sun by her side. 

The rain per se wasn’t complicated, it was the fact that your wallet would suffer from the constant need of tissues and medicine treated for colds. 

Your heart drops down to the floor at the thought of medicine. You quickly jumped from your seat, feet racing to the medicine cabinet in your bathroom, eyes traveling everywhere when you spot it. Still stocked with enough to last you the couple of days of sickness, you let out a relieved sigh, and carry on back to where you first started. 

The closer you got back to the kitchen, the louder the vibration got. Your phone, bouncing around the table, was telling you that you’ve got an incoming call from no other than your best friend. 

Jungkook.

Reluctantly, you answered, knowing he was going to see you anyway. 

“What do you want?” A sad tone slips out your throat.

“Woah, I didn’t think you’d get sick this quick. A record to mark down?” His playful words taunt you.

“Sorry. The rain got me in a bad mood, and you just so happened to witness it.” You start to play with the hem of your shirt. 

“Alright listen. I’m about to leave—“

“Wait! Before you do, could you pick up some tissue paper for me please?” 

Jungkook grumbles to himself, your ears only able to hear some part of it, which was only him complaining at your habit of cutting people off mid sentence. 

“If you had let me finish, then you would know I was leaving the store with your damn tissues.” Your cheeks blush. “Who knew these boxes would cost so much?” 

You wished you had blushed at the thought of your small habit and how embarrassing it is, but really the thought that Jungkook had thought about you was endearing enough to bring out the red in your cheeks. 

As much as your organs were one of your major problems in life, you also had minor problems as well. You liked Jungkook. 

You admired him from afar, up close, and even when he noticed. Before you guys graduated high school, he made you promise him to never stop keeping in touch with him. Which was honestly not so hard to do—seeing how much time you guys spend time with each other. 

You listen to his small ramble of inflation, and why the store was packed on a rainy day like this, that you had to bring out your habit again. 

“Kook.” He doesn’t stop at his nickname. 

“Koook.” His voice doesn’t even falter one bit. 

“Jungkook!” He stops his little rant. “Oh, what’s the problem?” He asks innocently. 

“Just get here okay. The longer you ramble about the prices of those tissue paper, the longer you have to be in that packed store okay?” 

Without even saying a goodbye, he hangs up, causing you to shake your head. 

Once again, your phone was black screened, until a small little notification pops up with his name on it. 

JK: I just realized how rude it was to just hang up without saying goodbye. 

JK: So that was my apology.

JK: And this is my goodbye.

You replied telling him to hurry up and to get here safe, and within a matter of minutes, the door knocks leaving you to get up and open the door. 

“Jungkook. Why are you drenched?” He pants a bit, smiling when he sees your face. “I parked a bit further back. I didn’t want to take my time trying to perfect my parking—so I ran.” 

“No! I’ll get sick if you touch me.” He tries to go in for a small hug, but when you refuse you swear his smile falters, but nonetheless you shrug it off knowing how sensitive he could be. 

“What’s the point if you’re going to get sick anyways?” He drops the plastic bag on the table. 

He obviously had a valid point. You just didn’t want your little crush on him to advance more. You ignored him, moving towards the couch, with him right behind you. 

Times like these always reminded you of your younger selves sticking to each other with adhesive glue. He’d follow you around, making sure you were safe, watching over you, to be cautious of your actions, and even from afar when you weren’t around him—his eyes were there to ensure your safety. 

You two were known as the clueless duo. Everyone around you saw as clear as day how much love you guys carried for each other, but yet not one of you dared to say anything about it. 

“It’s because she understands me.” He’d say.

“He’s the closest thing to my heart.” You’d smile at them. 

Although sitting next to each other was pretty much normal, your hearts couldn’t help but accelerate through the time being. It was funny how silent the world could be, but your hearts were never beat laugh enough for the other person to hear. 

Two years ago, Jungkook noticed how pretty you looked. For fourteen years the thought of your beauty never stuck in his mind, until he actually admired you for the first time. 

He wishes he could recollect what happened that day, but all he could remember is how pretty you looked. It’s like his eyes had the sight over 20/20 vision, he could basically dissect each and atom all over your body. He saw the lines and wrinkles on the corner of your mouth, your natural skin glowing. He couldn’t fathom the way you sat in your spot vibrant than anyone in that damn room. Your eyes—oh your eyes were his favorite. 

They sparkled like fireworks burning through the sky, he loved the glossiness of it, reflecting the love that brewed inside your heart. He loved your eyes because no matter how many changes your body goes through, your eyes reminded him what you made him feel.

You made him feel like he was home. 

He loved you when you both were seven, and he loved you back when you were fifteen. He loved you when both reached eighteen, but he liked you once you were twenty. 

So when you both sat on the couch for about five minutes, he couldn’t help, but let out a simple: “I like you.” 

Your eyes met his, making him feel all warm inside. Your words, unable to move from your throat, and your thoughts rammed through the tunnels of your mind. You forgot about the eroded concrete on the ground outside, or that the windows were barely see through, you ignored the sounds of droplets drumming on your roof, but will remember what love could feel like.

It felt like a refreshing nap after a fun, tiring day. It felt like a cold shower after one of the hottest days of summer. The cool breeze you felt, while the sun heats you up, that’s what love felt like. Love felt like everything you needed, not what you wanted. 

And so, you looked back at him with your beautiful eyes, smiling with the love that spewed out of you and whispered back, “I like you too.” 

He closed the gap between the two of you, letting his lips kiss yours. Laughing in between at how ironic it was that you wouldn’t hug him earlier, but yet you still let him kiss you. 

The next day was different. You woke up with the sun peering through the window as if the sky wasn’t crying from yesterday. You steadily got up and to your surprise, your body was functioning healthily. You turn to wake Jungkook up to the good news, but realize his body wrapped up in a blanket, heating his body up from the ‘cold’.

Placing your hand on his forehead, his head was burning up. A small gasp leaves your mouth and quickly, you make a move towards the kitchen to grab the bag full of stuff he had bought from the store. You glanced inside, heart swelling as you spot a small little plushy, a bunny to be exact. 

“Kookie, you're sick.” Although you caught colds, you weren’t new to the fever department at all. His eyes groggily opened up, and you did your best to take care of him. 

You finally knew why your mom felt happy when you felt sick. You felt the feeling of love through the times she helped blow your nose into a tissue, fed you in bed, and tended to you when you needed to. For the first time ever you never got sick after it rained.

You smiled at the sick boy in your bed, and just like the concrete on the road, your heart eroded into something that resembled the look of love. 

Thank the skies that it rained every two months. 

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

A new servant desperately struggles to understand what exactly Merlin is:

A cryptid? Arthur's boyfriend? Simply a dude? The court jester? Something else entirely? Who knows, certainly not the new guy.

The first time the new kitchen-hand, Tristan, saw The King’s dark-haired servant sprinting down the corridor, he couldn’t tell if the man was laughing or crying.

He was fast, faster than Tristan thought possible for someone whose arms were so full of laundry, but he politely steps out of the way, coming to the conclusion that he must’ve been late for something. At least... he did think that, until he turns the next corner to see three of The king’s most trusted knights peering out of windows and into random doors. Tristan freezes in the corridor, he’d heard that servants were treated extremely well here, but he’d only been employed for a few days and he didn’t want to risk anything by pushing past or addressing his betters.

One of the knights, Sir Leon, his brain helpfully supplies, spots him stood there, and his annoyed frown quickly morphs into a friendly smile:

“Pardon me, sorry, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Merlin around anywhere, have you?”

Tristan’s eyes go wide and the grip he has on his tray tightens, but he forces himself to take a breath and answer, trying his best to keep his voice even:

“Merlin is... The King’s manservant? Tall, with dark hair?”

Another knight pushes forward, he looks to be the oldest, with dark hair falling in an almost deliberately tousled way around his bearded jawline. His charming grin seems just a little too wide to be genuine, but Tristan isn’t quite sure if that’s because he’s about to take pleasure in punishing someone, or if he’s just being polite to a stranger:

“Yeah, yeah that’s him, seen him? Arsehole turned our shirts pink in the wash, and something tells me it was deliberate.”

Tristan gulps at the accusation and he takes a shaky step back, but before he can even think of defending the stranger that he now thinks must’ve been crying, the last of the three knights, a giant, if Tristan believed in such things, steps forward:

“Don’t worry, we won’t beat him too much.” 

He says it with a grin and a quirk of his eyebrows, but once again the kitchen-hand can’t tell if it was cruel or genuine, if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh... yeah, he turned left at the end of this corridor, but I didn’t see where he went after that, I apologise.”

Sir Leon waves away his apology with a smile, looking to the long-haired knight with a raised eyebrow:

“The stables?”

The man grins widely, nodding his agreement as he turns his grin to the giant. Sir Leon offers Tristan another soft smile, murmuring his thanks before moving past him, elbowing the other two to prompt them in to thanking him as well. The three of them march down the corridor with almost vindictive smiles on their faces, and Tristan prepares himself to see a vacancy note, or possibly a funeral invite, posted on the notice board by the next morning.

When he passes a window that evening to see the King’s manservant being carried on the giant’s shoulders as five other knights pelt them with gloves, a grin on every face, he decides that... well... it’s probably best to just not to ask.

~

The next time he sees Merlin, a few days later, The King is also there.

This is the first time Tristan has been in Arthur Pendragon’s presence, and though the other servant’s all rave on about how awkwardly kind he is, he’s a bundle of nerves. Not even Cook’s stories about how often she whacks The King’s knuckles with a wooden spoon when she catches him about to pilfer something stops Tristan’s heart from racing. 

The King was overseeing a few of the servants decorate the main hall for a feast, and whilst Tristan is certain that that’s not something The King normally does, he doesn’t question it, just thinks that maybe the other servants had been telling the truth, and he was a genuinely nice, but normal man. 

Merlin stands at his side, and though Tristan can’t hear their conversation, the two of them are clearly bickering over something. The servant can’t help his curiosity, wanting desperately to move closer to find out what sort of things The King allows his servant to bicker with him about; luckily, the table right next to them has yet to be laid, so he moves towards it quickly. He doesn’t even glance at them, terrified of being caught out, but perhaps Merlin surviving the knights non-wrath the other day is encouraging him, and his steps don’t falter. Their words come in to focus, and he has to stop the confused, and slightly horrified, frown from spreading across his face:

“Arthur, I swear to the Gods, if you make me wear that hat again, I’ll piss in your wine and serve it to you in front of a crowd.”

The King scoffs just as Tristan shakily begins laying down the cutlery:

“That’s treason, Merlin.”

“Do I look like I care? Not only will I piss in your wine, I will not hesitate to push you over a balcony at the first opportunity. This hall is high up and it’s a long way down to the gardens. He drank toxic wine and turned loopy and tipped himself off a balcony and went splat! That’s what people will say. I’m not wearing the Godamn hat.”

Tristan has to focus extra carefully to stop himself from gasping; Merlin just threatened to kill The King... that’s got to be a death sentence. Pissing off some knights that he’s obviously friendly with is one thing, but threatening to kill The-

“Ha ha. Very funny. If you can’t tell, Merlin, I’m being sarcastic, I know you struggle with complex concepts like that.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he says with no hesitation:

“My mind is more than capable of coping, My Lord, it’s your belt I worry about being able to cope nowadays.”

Tristan bites his tongue to stop himself from yelping and turns away so neither of them can see his horrified face. The King just makes an outraged noise in the back of his throat, and Tristan can hear Merlin snort in laughter at whatever expression Arthur was wearing to match such a noise:

“Go to the stocks. I want you there for three hours.”

Tristan lets out a confused breath; Merlin threatens to kill The King, and gets playful sarcasm, but he implies The King might be a tad overweight, and gets sent to the stocks for three hours? How is that-

“Yeah... no. Not happening. The feast starts in less than two hours and I still have to help Guinevere organise some stuff in the courtyard, do Gaius’ rounds for him, then put an extra hole in your belt and help you get dressed because, despite being a grown man, you’re still an idiot who’s incapable of putting clothes on in any sort of decent manner.”

Tristan finds himself relaxing a little. This seems to be the norm for them, but surely... surely The King had a line somewhere, and a servant just flat out refusing to be disciplined must be where it lies?

Arthur just scoffs, and Tristan angles his head in such a way that he can see him roll his eyes:

“Fuck off.”

Merlin grins, seeming to cast a suspicious gaze over the room to make sure no one was watching and somehow completely missing Tristan stood just there, before saying quietly:

“You love me really, you prat.”

With that, Merlin reaches up to yank at a lock of The King’s hair before hurrying off in the direction of the courtyard before Arthur can react. The King jumps slightly, clearly caught by surprise as an annoyed flush rises on his face, but Tristan just frowns in confusion when his shock gives way to a softly amused smile.

Huh.

~

The next few times Tristan saw Merlin made him fear for the servant’s safety. He was being taken on hunts by The King and his knights, that’s meant to be for squires, to learn the ropes and gain experience in tracking and riding. 

He supposes it isn’t entirely unheard of for a servant to follow their master on a hunt, but with the way Merlin complains without pause, and The King in turn complains about his complaining, he thinks it would better for everyone if Merlin just... didn’t go. When he brings it up to another servant, a lovely woman named Guinevere who had helped him get unlost at least three times in his first week, she just laughs and smiles at him pityingly:

“I wouldn’t worry, those two have been like that forever, they’re practically inseparable.”

Tristan responds with a rather intelligent sounding:

“...What?”

Gwen laughs softly again, shaking her head and patting his shoulder consolingly:

“You’ll get used to it, they’re just... like that.”

She gives him one more smile before turning to wave the boys out of the gates and walking back to the castle as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Tristan supposes that it probably is.

The next time Tristan sees Merlin leave the city gates with the knights, Sir Elyan, Sir Mordred, and Sir Lancelot this time, it’s distinctly worse. Because he’d caught sight of the patrol rota last time he ran food down to the training ground, and he was certain that those three had a city patrol right about now.

Before he even has time to gape in shock, he hears Merlin’s pleading voice as he trails Sir Elyan like a lost puppy:

“Please, El, I promise to stay out of the way, I will do anything, but I swear to the Gods if I have to spend one more minute around that prat, I’ll hurl myself from the battlements.”

Swearing to the Gods and threating to hurl various people, including himself, from significant heights seems to be some sort of theme for The King’s manservant. Before Tristan can consider the implications of that, Sir Elyan turns to Merlin with a wide, teasing grin on his face:

“You know, I would’ve let you tag along for free, Merlin, but now that you’ve promised me something I feel the need to take advantage.”

Tristan tenses at that, a shot of ice spiking down his spine. He has keen eyes and sharp ears, he knows that Sir Elyan is the lovely Gwen’s brother, Sir Mordred seems to have an... odd worship for the servant, and he’s definitely picked up on the close bond between Merlin and Sir Lancelot, but is this where Camelot’s image comes crashing down in Tristan’s head? He knew that it was better here for servant’s than other Kingdoms, but there are always people who’ll take advantage of their position, no matter where you are. Merlin’s shoulders just drop and he asks in a sulking voice:

“What do you want?”

Tristan grits his teeth, moving his gaze so no one would catch him glaring at the knight as he tries to figure out a way to help, a way to get this virtual stranger out of being... abused, in such a manner. If he’d carried on glaring, he would’ve noticed Elyan’s soft smile and amused raised eyebrow:

“Next time you gather herbs for Gaius, bring back some more of those flowers that you got for Gwen. She said they added vibrancy to the house, whatever that means, but they make her happy, so...-”

Merlin just giggles and nods and Tristan relaxes, looking back to them with a confused smile on his face. That was... actually kind of sweet, he can definitely see the resemblance between the knight and his sister:

“-AND I want whatever Arthur’s having for dinner tonight, his food always looks way nicer than ours.”

Merlin lets out a faux annoyed groan, but then rolls his eyes and grins, nodding:

“Consider it done. Can we go now? I really don’t want to risk him seeing me and giving me some stupid chore to do.”

Elyan laughs and nods, and the four of them begin making their way out of the courtyard and into the city. Sir Lancelot finally joins the conversation, clearly amused as he says:

“You know it’s literally your job to do chores, right?”

Merlin turns to glare at him as Sir Mordred and Sir Elyan laugh, and Tristan only just hears his reply as the castle gates shut behind them:

“Fuck off.”

Tristan decides it would be pointless to bring this up to anyone again, he figures he’ll probably just get the same answer as last time.

~

The next confusing incident happens only a few days later. But Tristan supposes that at this point... it really shouldn’t be confusing. Gwen was right, he did just... get used to it.

He heard the steps pounding down the corridor before he saw him, but they were coming fast and hard, so he presses himself against the wall, holding the tray to his side to protect it as best he could as Merlin comes skidding round the corner. 

He stops just long enough for Tristan to calm himself by spying the wide grin on his face, but he’s quickly sprinting down the hall again, laughing as he waves whatever it is he’s got clutched in his hands. The second set of loud, rapid footsteps stops Tristan from stepping away from the wall quite yet. Just a moment later, Sir Gwaine follows Merlin’s skidded path around the corner, though the heavier man overshoots slightly and he runs into the wall opposite Tristan with a crash and a deep groan.

The rebellious knight gives a wide-eyed Tristan an awkward nod before pushing himself off the wall and following Merlin’s blazing trail, screaming down the corridor:

“I warned you Merlin!! Don’t come between a man and his ale, now give that back you bastard!”

Tristan hears Merlin’s laughter grow louder, even from the two corridors away that the other servant had managed to race to.

He shrugs to himself, waiting for a moment to see if anyone else was going to come barrelling around the corner before sighing, and continuing his journey up to the visiting Lord’s chambers.

It was unusual, he thought, how quickly he’d come to terms with the fact that a servant was sassing The King and pranking the knights and inviting himself on various hunts and patrols that he really had no business on. Unusual indeed.

~

He’d learnt to ignore it. Or at least brush it off.

In the two weeks since Merlin had (presumably) stolen Sir Gwaine’s skin of ale, he’d seen the servant call The King a long list of imaginative insults (what the hell is a dollop head?), walk around with Sir Leon’s cloak on because he was a little chilly, accuse someone of treason (and somehow been right about it), and threaten to kill at least seven people; including, but not limited to: The King himself, The King’s already dead father, some stuck up Noble (though that was under his breath, Tristan just happened to be stood next to him), and Sir Percival.

And Gwen was... absolutely right. He's just... like that. He's Merlin, and that’s what Merlin does.

So when he turns a corner in a rarely used to corridor to see him pressing The King against a wall, snogging the life out of him, Tristan simply turns around and walks back the other way. Both of them look fairly happy with the arrangement, and they’d probably chosen this corridor for the exact same reason Tristan had: it was out of everyone’s way, and was unlikely to be inhabited.

He thinks it’s odd, how... un-odd he finds it. He absent-mindedly thinks that, with the way they acted around each other, he really should’ve seen this coming. A sudden thought occurs to him, and he ducks into a storage cupboard, laying his tray down carefully as he rummages through the boxes. He lets out a quiet “Yay” when he finds what he’s looking for, carefully picking up his tray with only one hand and nudging the door open again with his hip. 

He walks back towards the corner he had just turned (and turned again) making a conscious effort to keep his steps quiet; he places the danger sign, usually used where walls had collapsed or windows had been smashed, in the middle of the corridor, a clear indication of “Do Not Enter”.

He nods smugly at his quick thinking and easy handy work before mentally planning the quickest route to the kitchens and following it hurriedly.

He casually wonders if he has time to circle around to the other end of the corridor so he could put another sign down before Cook gets angry at him for being late. Probably not. At least, not before they... finish up and move on. Hmm. He suddenly panics about the thought of them seeing the sign and knowing that someone had spotted them but... well. Hopefully they would just appreciate it and move on.

Yet again, he decides not to bring this up to anyone. He may or may not have overheard a few of the knights making some sort of bet, and he may or may not want to watch on with amusement as they fail to realise that all of them have already lost.

Tristan smiles to himself; working here had turned out to be rather entertaining, in the end.

~

THE END

I know it’s short, but I really didn’t know what else to add without it sounding like I was just repeating myself over and over😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

[spenciegoob]

Dethroned (Requested)

A/N: I know the request said the relationship between Reader and Luke is platonic, but I kinda dropped subtle hints that Luke is slightly pining for Reader... oop.

Request: smutty post-prison Reid being jealous. Like him just being absolutely in love with reader, like he had been since she joined the BAU but was too nervous to say anything so settled for being mega close best friends. Then when he returns from prison he finds out that her and Luke have become close friends whilst he’s been gone (its simply platonic though) and he ends up snapping and just absolutely annihilating the reader over her desk in the office after everyone else has left

Pairing: Post Prison!Spencer x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: jealous!spencer, exhibition, hair pulling, degradation/praise, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.9K

______

It was a gradual realization on his part. Spencer was so overwhelmed with coming home, his mom and Cat to even really take notice in the shift of your attention from him to Luke Alvez.

It wasn’t like you completely ignored him since his return. You were Spencer’s best friend, the title he settled on all those years ago when you all but skipped into the BAU and into his life.

And it wasn’t like you didn’t have other male friends. Before his leave, Derek and you had gotten along pretty well right off the bat, and Spencer never thought about it twice. If anything, he was ecstatic that two people that were so important in his life were also important to each other.

But when Spencer was stuck behind physical bars that represented every feeling for you he’s tried to keep at bay, you found comfort in Luke. He couldn’t blame you for that either, especially when the first time you visited him all he could see was hurt in your eyes, and all he could do was stare back with the same expression.

The first time he noticed the shift was after everything had settled, and the groove of life, for the team at least, was back in motion. You all had decided to go out and grab a drink, and the second you agreed, Spencer was also on board. He would follow you just about anywhere if it meant the smile on your face when he said yes stayed forever.

Luke had whispered something in your ear, the music in the bar too loud for Spencer to catch what it was. It had to be hilarious by the way you threw your head back in laughter, Luke’s eyes immediately dropping to the newly exposed skin, before nudging his shoulder with yours. 

Spencer couldn't keep his eyes off the conversation in front of him. He should have when the grip on his glass was so hard it could’ve shattered. 

“You know, kid, if you talked to her, she’d know how you feel,” Rossi had told him that night.

“That’s exactly why I can’t,” Spencer thought in his head, but merely gave Rossi a whatever, and walked away to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror that night, hoping the disgust he felt for how angry he got whenever he saw you with Luke was enough to make it disappear.

It never did.

Like right now, Spencer sat at his desk, a rubber band ball being suffocated in his hand as he watched you perch yourself on top of Luke’s desk. It was an innocent act on you part, but the way Luke leaned back in his chair, opening himself up to you, and allowed his eyes to flicker to your bare legs that were swinging back and forth softly was definitely not innocent... not in Spencer’s book anyway.

It came as no surprise to Spencer that Luke would at the very least find you attractive. You were, in every aspect. Spencer could stare at your for hours, and sometimes, he did.

He would look at the way your skirt hugged your curves in the best possible way, or he would stare at your neck when you leaned back to stretch out. He would watch the way you crossed and uncrossed your legs, a nervous habit you’ve always had. Spencer would think about how soft they probably were, like silk rubbing against each other.

But now Luke was also looking at you like that while you talked about what you were going to do this weekend. 

“If you’re not busy, you should totally come,” you told him, obviously excited with the idea of Luke tagging along to wherever you planned on going.

“Yeah, I think I can make that work,” he agreed, and when he did, you jumped up off his desk, enthusiasm practically dripping from you.

“Yes! It’ll be so much fun, I promise!” And then you did the one thing Spencer silently begged you would never. You kissed Luke on the cheek before scurrying back to your desk.

Of course you would kiss him on the cheek. To you, that was a seemingly innocent and friendly action, one that Spencer had been on the receiving end of for the past 10 years. 

But now, Luke stole his crown and was flaunting it in front of Spencer’s face like an older brother who just got an XBOX for Christmas. Okay, maybe Spencer was a tad on the dramatic side, but how could he not be when Luke all but physically railed you over his desk when his eyes unashamedly did?

There were many things Spencer could take and get back up like nothing had happened. He’s been shot, punched, kicked, framed for murder and hell, he even stabbed himself, but none of that compared to the deep rooted anger that blossomed in his chest like a flame to gasoline when the thought of Luke touching you swarmed his brain.

Enough was enough.

“Alright, you’ve all worked enough today. Please, go home and get some rest,” Emily’s voice traveled from outside her office door to the agents that still inhabited the bullpen like a second home. Most, including Emily in its rarity, gathered their stuff to finally call it a night.

“So, you’ll text me the information?” Luke asked you as he was putting his jacket on. You had yet to move from your slouched position over whatever paperwork you insisted on finishing before leaving. 

“Yeah, definitely!” You beamed up at him before returning back to your case file immediately. Luke walked away with a little more pep in his step than usual per Spencer’s analysis. 

“Hey, Spence. Do you think you can hang back a second and look over this for me?” You asked him, catching the attention of the stumbling genius as he tried to get back to his apartment as fast as possible and deal with his... issues with you and SSA Luke Alvez.

He was going to say no, really he tried, but when he looked up to your puppy dog eyes and slight pout, how could he? Spencer knew you were giving him that face on purpose, he had told you in the past that if you were to ever give him your best puppy dog eyes, he could never refuse.

Now it was coming back to bite him in the...

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Spencer made his way over to your desk that was piled high in paperwork more than anyone else’s.

“I took a bunch of work home, and I accidentally dropped all my files and they scattered every where. So now, all the paperwork is mixed up and Emily needs these by tonight. Basically I’m screwed, but I just wanted to make sure the arsonist in Kentu-”

“I’ll help you,” Spencer interrupted your rambling once he got a grip on himself after adjusting to being so close to you. The smell of your perfume wafted into Spencer’s nose and got him drunk faster than any alcohol could ever. 

“Oh no, Spence. Don’t worry I can handle this,” you immediately shut him down, but Spencer was not easy to convince, and once his mind is set to something, there’s no changing it.

“I want to, trust me.” Spencer had started to roll his desk chair over to you. You sat there momentarily stunned for two reasons:

1. He had dropped everything to help you.

2. He wasn’t affected by the close proximity of you two the same way you were, or at least knew how to hide it really well.

The buzzing of your phone on your desk pulled you from your trance as Spencer settled next to you and went to pull a new file from your overgrowing pile. 

You picked it up to find a text from Luke, opening your phone to a picture of Roxy enjoying the toy you got her last week.

Spencer turned to you to find you smiling and letting out a breathy laugh at your phone.

“What?” He asked, more sarcasm dripping from his tone than expected. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything.

“Just Luke and Roxy. I love that dog so much,” you said while putting your phone on silent and setting it face down. You didn’t look up at Spencer, but if you did you’d find him beet red with anger, and holding the armrests of his chair a little tighter than necessary. 

“Hm,” was all he mumbled in response. This, you didn’t ignore.

“Is something wrong? You really don't have to do this with me,” you fumbled over your words, worried that your clumsiness and disorganization was what was annoying Spencer.

“No no, it’s not this. I like paperwork, actually.” You finally looked over at Spencer to find him already staring at you. His gaze bore into you like a blade to the gut, his intensity something you had never been on the receiving end of. It would be a lie if you were to say it wasn’t making you nervous.

“Then what is it.” Your words were not meant to come out as a whisper, but with Spencer’s intimidation and the way it made your stomach flip, you were overwhelmed already.

“Nothing, just, uh,” his confident persona was gone just as quickly as it came. “You and Luke, huh?”

Now it makes sense. You couldn’t help the small smile that etched across your features at his unknowing admission. Spencer Reid was jealous, actually jealous.

“Yeah, he’s a great friend.” Your emphasis on the word friend did not go unnoticed by Spencer, but he couldn’t stop himself from letting the words crawling up his throat out.

“I’m sure he thinks the same about you. The profile in this case fi-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Two can play at this game, and if it was going to end the way the two of you were unknowingly both hoping, you would have to succumb to the rules.

“Hm? Oh! So you’re oblivious to the way he looks at you?” Spencer spat back, jealous intimidation turning to full anger now.

“Jesus, Spencer. Of course I’m not oblivious, but that doesn’t mean I look at him like that.” At this point, you stood up from your chair, Spencer’s approach throwing you off and getting you more worked up than you cared to admit.

“Besides, I have eyes for someone else,” you mumbled quietly under your breath, but Spencer caught it. “I’m calling the night. I suggest you do the same.”

You picked up as many files you could, not wanting to reach over Spencer before turning around to make you descent home.

Before you could get far, though, Spencer grabbed your elbow and spun you back to crash into his hard chest. You gasped, not making eye contact and instead opting for staring at his lips.

“Who?” Spencer asked, also not looking up from your lips. Both of your minds swarmed with the desperation to feel each other’s against your own.

“You.” And that was all he needed to finally succumb to his mind’s wishes. Your lips moved together like a violin bow to a string, creating a perfectly conducted symphony of files falling from your arms and deep inhales of each other.

Spencer reached out behind you, never taking his lips off yours and pushed anything that was on your desk with a deafening crash. Pens, papers and tape now littered the bullpen floor, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when all you could feel were Spencer’s hands gripping your waist as he hoisted you up to sit you on your now clear desk.

His lips finally detached from yours, the need for oxygen getting in the way of a kiss you wish could last for eternity. They didn’t go very far, Spencer attacking your neck with little nips, surely to leave incriminating bruises. Your hips started to involuntarily roll forward, searching for friction from his hardening member still constrained by his work slacks.

“Spencer, please,” you begged, needing to feel him, all of him at this moment. His lips abandoned your neck to slowly pull back and scan your body like a predator indulging in his final prey one last time before he answered.

“Please what, Princess,” Spencer whispered, his hands moving down to grip your thighs that were attempting to squeeze together at your new pet name.

“Please, fuck me,” you whimpered back. His deep chuckle resonated through you as he leaned closer until he was directly next to your ear, his hot breath fanning down your neck causing you to arch your back slightly.

“Right here on your desk like a little whore,” he whispered against you, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. Spencer shook his head slightly as he pulled back to grab your chin lightly with two fingers, forcing your head back.

He leaned in as close as possible to whisper against your lips one last time. “Only for you.”

Time stopped as hands sped up in a frenzy to rip each other’s clothes off, lips molding together like a lock and key never wanting to separate, and hips involuntarily grinding against each other in search for some friction in an overwhelming search for release.

Only when Spencer gave up on your shirt buttons and ripped the fabric apart, adding drums in the form of buttons hitting the desk and floor to the song you two collectively decided to dance to tonight, did he allow his lips to leave yours. Slowly, he nipped his way back down your neck, pushing you back softly until your body fully rolled down on the cool wood underneath you. 

Spencer’s eyes found yours again as his hands inched behind you, silently asking for permission to break down yet another barrier between your two bodies. After a pleading whimper from you, he unclasped your bra and slowly pulled it down your arms. 

Spencer maintained eye contact as he wrapped his mouth around your nipple, swirling his tongue around the peak before sinking his teeth in teasingly. Your back arched into him, a strangled whimper leaving your body as the heat between your thighs increased significantly.

“Spencer please hurry. I need you,” you whimpered softly, pulling his hair back from the top of his head in hopes of getting him in an area far more dire in need of attention. 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Spencer mumbles in between kisses inching back up your body. His hands make their way under your skirt as he continues. “I want to take my time with you, but given our circumstances,” he paused to take a look at the deserted bullpen. “I’ll give you what you want, and fuck you like a whore.”

There was no other way to explain the way Spencer ripped your panties off so hard the lace snapped under his force than animalistic. He wasted no time stuffing them into his back pocket, and fully separating from you to stand straight and unbuckle his belt. Spencer’s eyes stared down at you, taking in every part of your body to file away in his brain in case he ever needs it. His once honey brown orbs were now absorbed with black, his pupils full and his eyes displaying a kind of fire only lust can fuel.

Once his belt was fully off, he smirked and folded it in his hands. Staring at the new object of his desire, he tantalizingly shook it back and forth slowly, watching the way it bounced with his movements.

“Should I gag you with this so you don't alert the whole goddamn building of how desperate you are?” Spencer looked back at you to find your cheeks a deep shade of red, partially at his degrading tone, but mostly at the idea of being gagged.

“No, sir. I wanna feel you.” The title slipped past your lips with no control or hesitation. Your cheeks burned further as Spencer’s movements stopped, his eyes widening slightly. 

“Fuck it,” he whispered before throwing the belt on the floor and unzipping his pants with more speed than you've ever seen him move. 

Spencer gave you zero time to even register his size before he was stepping in between your legs, lining himself up and slamming into you to the hilt with one hand, the other grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling back hard, all while never taking his eyes off you.

You couldn’t stop the loud gasp leaving your body as Spencer groaned at the feeling of you around him.

“God, you’re so fucking tight, Princess,” he grounded out, the soft growl in his tone causing you to whimper and clench around him.

When he felt you start to squirm underneath him after adjusting to his size, Spencer started to move, setting a brutal pace immediately. Your entire body felt like it became engulfed in flames, the feeling of Spencer repeatedly hitting the sweetest spot inside you over and over with a force unmatched was too much to handle.

Tears started to well in your eyes as the soft whimpers and pleads left your lips. Spencer pulled himself from his position tucked neatly into your neck to stare down at you, never relenting on his pace.

“What’s wrong, Princess,” he teased, a smirk growing across his features at your tears. “Is it too much for your little cunt? What happened to the girl that begged to be fucked like a whore?”

Spencer let go of his grip on your hair to wipe the tears blackened with mascara that were running down your face. 

“So good, sir. Please don’t stop,” you mumbled, only half coherent. The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Spencer filling you completely. His dark eyes flickered down from your face only for a second, but when he looked back up at you, excitement joined the lust in them, a swirl of emotions destined to destroy you in the end.

Spencer grabbed one of your hands that was gripping his shoulder, nails digging into the skin and leaving marks he wished would last forever. He placed in on your stomach, and confusion filled your mind for a moment until you felt the tip of his cock hit your hand.

“You feel that, Princess? You feel how deep I am? I’m gonna fill you up.” Your back arched, and you finally released a loud, wanton moan at his words. Spencer didn’t miss the way you clenched around him tighter at the thought. “God, I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, make you - fuck- carry my child. Make sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

You felt the knot in your stomach growing tighter with each word, and when Spencer lifted one of your legs into the crook of his elbow, hitting you impossibly deeper, you knew you weren't going to last much longer.

“Oh G-god, Spence. I- I’m gonna....”

“It’s okay, Princess. I’ve got you,” he groaned back, lifting two fingers to your lips before forcing them into your mouth. Instinctively, you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked on his digits. “Let go, Princess.”

All you needed was his permission before letting your orgasm rock through you, the muscles in your body seemingly losing and gaining all the tension in the world at once, your vision going white, and your mind blank except for one thought; Spencer.

Your loud moans were blocked by his fingers pushing deeper down your throat, catching them before any unwanted guests could hear. 

Your moans started to turn to whimpers around his fingers as the overstimulation kicked in. Spencer could sense it by the way you still clung to him as tightly as possible.

“Fuck that’s it. You’re doing so well, Princess, taking all of me,” he growled out, his hips losing their rhythm, signaling his own impending orgasm. Spencer leaned down further, pushing your leg farther up in the process, and again, hitting you deeper than imaginable.

Two more sloppy thrusts in that position, and Spencer was coming deep in you with your name and different praises being groaned in your ear. He bottomed out once more, coming to a stop buried deep, both of you trying your hardest to catch your breath.

When he started to pull out, you whimpered immediately at the feeling.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m almost done,” Spencer whispered, caressing your cheek as he fully unsheathed himself. The abandoned weight of him on top of you, and the loss of his cock filling you up left you cold as he went to rummage through your drawers for tissues, but all you could do was stare up at the lights hanging from the ceiling, your body still slightly twitching.

When Spencer returned to you, he sat you up and kissed your forehead before reaching in between your legs to clean you up. The second the tissue hit your sensitive cunt, you winced.

Spencer looked back up at you but before he could say anything, you cut him off.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” you reassured him, smiling softly as you reached up to caress his cheek. Upon your approval, he went back to cleaning you up. “Actually, I’m more than okay. That was.. That was-”

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling slightly and shaking his head. “I know, right?”

“Maybe we should thank Luke,” you teased him. Immediately, his smile faded and he looked up at you with an expression that can only read “Seriously?”

You let out a full laugh now, obviously still entertained with the idea that the Dr. Spencer Reid was jealous of Luke Alvez.

“I’m joking,” you said, your smile turning from one of hilarity to adoration as Spencer straightened back up to stand between your legs and wrap his arms around your waist. “And Spence, it’s always been you. Not Luke, not anyone else. You.” You emphasized your point by jabbing a finger into his chest.

“Good, because that would make this really awkward,” he said back. You tilted your head in confusion to which he laughed at before continuing. “Do you want to go grab dinner?”

Your cheeks blushed profusely as he asked you out as if you didn’t just let him take you over your own desk at work. 

“I would love to say yes, but I still have to finis-” When you turned around to look at the pile of paperwork you had yet to complete, it was no longer on your desk, but scattered around it. During the rush of trying to feel each other completely, the two of you failed to notice the stack of files that started this whole thing had fallen all over the bullpen floor.

“Emily is going to kill me,” you said, turning back to Spencer who was still staring at the now empty spot on your desk.

“Actually, she has two reasons to kill us now.” You threw you head back in laughter, Spencer joining you at the thought of Emily finding out about the last 30 minutes. “But seriously, you go deal with the security footage, and I’ll deal with the paperwork.”

“Hmmmm...” You pretended to ponder the thought of not having to do all of that paperwork by yourself anymore. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Spencer repeated back, smiling softly before kissing you one more time.

__

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[masterofmunson]

look after you (1)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: tfatws spoilers, language, violence, blood, grief, angst, major pining

Word Count: 6k+ 

Author’s Note: Here she is!! I’m really excited to see what you guys think! This is my first Bucky fic in AGES! I decided to make this into a mini series since this fic is so long haha. Please let me know what you think. Comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and appreciated! Enjoy!

You hadn’t seen Sam or Bucky in several weeks. You were still adjusting to life post-blip. It had been a long five years for you and just seconds for them. You were no longer the bright-eyed and bushy tailed recruit. You’d grown into your position amongst the established and experienced Avengers. Now, it meant nothing. 

Tony’s gone. Steve’s dead, Natasha too. The Avengers had officially disbanded. You felt lost and confused, still blinded by your grief over losing them. You had nowhere to go, so you just floated from place to place as needed. 

You were laying low and a shell of the person you once were. You had no one to look towards anymore. Bucky went his separate ways and got some sort of footing in New York City with the pardon he was given by the government since his return to the states. You checked in every now and then with him, but you didn’t want to slow down his progress so you distanced yourself from him. 

You know he feels some sort of responsibility towards you. Steve did too, and you suppose now that he’s gone, Bucky feels the need to take his place. It doesn’t matter that you’re no longer the naive 23 year old he met in Berlin all those years ago. It doesn’t matter that there was something lingering between the two of you before he turned to ash. You’re a grown woman now and war and politics has hardened your soul. 

He needs to move on from you. The version he has of you in his head is gone, dead. He wants a fresh start, and you can’t give it to him. 

Sam checks in with you once in a while. He asks you how you’re doing and you respond the same each time. “Same shit, different day,” you laughed lightly. 

He knows better than to ask you to join him on his missions with the military. You’re not in the right headspace to return to the field, least of all if it meant that you were representing the US government wherever the fight was. 

Now that John Walker has the shield and has been branded the new Captain America, it gives you all the more reason to stay away. If he had so much as just breathed in your direction, you’d kill him and rip the shield from his grasp and return it to Sam. 

You ignored all emails and phone calls that had to do with John Walker. He wanted your blessing on live television, as if that meant anything. Yes, you were close with Steve, but you’re not an original Avenger. You just caught his eye during training one day and he took you under his wing. John Walker just wanted to create a bridge between the two of you since Sam and Bucky were obviously out of the question. 

You were the first person Sam called when he told you he was giving up the shield. You didn’t ask why. You knew he had his reasons and you respected him to accept that whatever the reasons were, they were good enough. 

So, when Sam called in the middle of the night, you picked up the phone without a second thought. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up and fumble for the light on the nightstand beside you. 

“Sam? You do realize it’s three in the morning, right?” you asked, yawning into your phone. 

Sam curses in your ear and apologizes quietly. “Sorry. You would think with all this traveling, I’d remember time zones are a thing,” he laughed softly. 

“What is it, Sam?” 

“We’re in a bit of a tight spot. We could use your help.”

Your brows pinch together. “Who’s we, Sam?”

“Me and Barnes.”

Your heart jumps inside your throat. How the hell did Sam manage to rope Bucky into whatever he’s doing? The last you heard, Bucky wasn’t allowed to go on government missions until his therapist thought he made enough progress to do so. You know he’s nowhere near the progress he wants to be, so how is he with Sam? 

“Jesus, Sam. You know he’s not in the right headspace to go on missions!” There’s a heavy pause between the two of you before you relent. “Where am I meeting you?”

“Latvia. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

You hang up quickly and hurry out of bed. After so many years of getting up at odd hours for emergency missions and the like, you’re not surprised that Sam asked you to meet him in the middle of the night. You grab your duffle bag and stuff all your belongings back inside. You travel lightly, and now it definitely seemed to work out in your favor. 

You’ve spent the last couple of weeks in a small town just outside of Helena, Montana. It’s nice and quiet and you’ve really taken the time to reflect on your life since things started going back to normal post-blip. The locals are nice and hospitable, and no one asks you about Steve, Tony, or what you thought of John Walker. You hope it had something to do with the fact that they didn’t know who you were. You certainly hoped that was the case. You’ve kept your head down and tried your best to blend in. 

You go hiking quite frequently and take drives through the mountains. It’s nice and relaxing, a far cry from what you’re used to. You’ll definitely miss it, and you have second thoughts about meeting up with Sam, but you push them away. Steve abandoned you both, and you wouldn’t do that to him. 

It takes you several hours to get to the closest international airport and by the time you arrive, the sun begins to rise in the distance. You hurry through the airport security and send Sam a quick update that you’re about to board your flight before you settle in your seat and fall back asleep.

....

You sleep through the entire flight. You blame it on your ability to sleep anywhere due to the number of missions you have under your belt. You’re wide awake when the plane lands and you’re quick to pull out your phone and send a message to Sam that you’ve made it safe and sound to Latvia. 

Your legs are stiff and sore when you stand up for the first time when it’s time to leave. You pull your duffle bag from the overhead compartment and slowly make your way to the front. It takes you nearly an hour to get through customs and now you’re just anxiously waiting to see Sam. 

When you see him waiting for you at the baggage claim area, you grin as your eyes meet. You hurry over to him and drop your duffle bag to the floor as he pulls you in for a hug. It’s warm and tight and it’s exactly what you need. Sam pulls away first and reaches for your bag, throwing an arm over your shoulder as you walk out of the airport to his car. 

You stop walking when you notice two figures near a very fancy yellow car as you and Sam near them. Sam keeps walking and you take slow, tentative steps. You know one of the figures has to be Bucky, but Sam never mentioned a third person. 

“Sam, I thought you said that it was just you and Bucky,” you said cautiously. 

Sam stops in his tracks and lets out a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. It makes your heart race and you swallow the lump in your throat as they begin to come into focus as they near the two of you. “Y/n, before you get angry, I just need you to know that this wasn’t my idea. Believe me when I tell you that he is the last person we would ask for help,” Sam replied as his eyes went from you to the two people approaching.

“Who is he?” you asked through gritted teeth. 

“Ah! Y/n, good to know that your flight went rather smoothly. It is good to see you again.”

No. There’s no way. You must be dreaming. Hemlut Zemo is not standing right in front of you. He is in prison. He is behind bars for the crimes he committed. The two men that you're closest to wouldn’t jailbreak someone as atrocious as Zemo. There has to be an explanation. It doesn’t make sense. 

“What the fuck is Zemo doing out of prison?!” you hissed, looking between Bucky and Sam, demanding an explanation. 

“Y/n, honey, I can explain, just please get in the car,” Bucky pleaded, reaching out to touch your hand. 

You glare at him and take a step back. “Are you out of your mind, Bucky? You break him out of jail because you need him, is that it? Do you remember what he did to you, because I certainly do!”

Bucky frowns and lets out a deep and heavy sigh. He looks over at Sam. “Did you fill her in at all?”

“No!” you shouted. “I can speak for myself, James! Someone better start talking and tell me what the hell is going on!”

“We don’t really have time for this right now,” Zemo interrupts, “we really must be going. I’m sure Sam and James can fill you in in the car.”

You glare at the Sokovian terrorist and snap at him. “Shut your mouth, Zemo.”

He raises his hands up in surrender and takes a step back. Bucky towers over you and this time you let him take your hand. He squeezes it gently and pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly. You’re tense and fuming as he holds you. 

His mouth finds the shell of your ear and despite the wave of anger flowing through your body, it sends a shiver down your spine. Bucky whispers, “I hate to say it, but Zemo’s right. We have to go. I’ll explain on the way, I promise.”

You huff childishly and turn your head away from him as he kisses your temple. “Fine. If he steps out of line, I’ll kill him.”

Bucky laughs and takes your hand and walks you to the car. “Get in line, honey. Sam and I have first dibs.”

You resist the urge to smile and Bucky opens the door for you as Sam tosses your bag in the trunk and climbs into the front seat. Bucky slides in beside you and he tells you everything.

He tells you about their first encounter with the Flag Smashers. He tells you about how the leader and a few of her followers have taken a newer version of the serum that runs through his veins. He tells you that she plans on giving the serum to more people to build an army and that you have to stop her. 

It makes your heart stop. You hadn’t really been keeping tabs on the Flag Smashers. Now, looking back, you probably should have. There’s still a lot of unknown variables to account for and it looks like the boys are taking it one step at a time, and apparently it starts with a trip to Madripoor. Zemo chimes in every now and then as he drives and it makes your blood boil that you’re forced to listen to what he has to say. You hate that he has the upper hand and is keeping valuable information hostage. You want to strangle him. 

After a while, Zemo pulls into a private airport. Bucky helps you out of the car and grabs your bag from the trunk as the four of you walk towards the jet just off the runway. You had no idea just how rich Zemo was. Now that he’s out of prison, for now at least, his arrogance returned back in full force in addition to his pompous attitude. 

You board the plane in silence, ignoring every word coming out of the Baron’s mouth. You settle in the back of the plane and ignore Bucky’s stares as you look out the window. You’re too angry to engage in conversation. You don’t care that Zemo insults Steve’s legacy. He’s gone, dead, what do you care? Yes, you wanted Steve to be happy, but he abandoned you. He abandoned Sam and Bucky. 

Zemo rambles on and on. “People like Steve become symbols, icons. Then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought,” he turns to address Bucky directly. “You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?”

Silence fills the space and for a moment, you feel a reprieve. That was until Zemo mentioned the Winter Soldier. 

 “We can’t go into Madripoor as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

You immediately stand up and protest, storming to the front of the plane. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t let you use Bucky, not again. There has to be another way.”

Zemo clicks his tongue at you and shakes his head. A smug graces his features and you lung at him, wrapping your hands around his throat. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Bucky leaps to his feet and tears you off of Zemo, dragging you to the back of the plane behind the curtains to give the two of you an illusion of privacy. Your shoulders shake with rage and Bucky’s hands caress your face. 

“You can’t be him. He’s not you anymore. You don’t have to do this, Bucky. Please,” you begged, clinging to his hands. “I can’t let Zemo control you again.”

Bucky’s touched with how protective you are over him. He pulls you closer and hugs you tightly against him. Your fingers grip the back of his shirt and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

“Honey,” he whispered. “I have to. I have to do this so we can stop the Flag Smashers from getting the serum. It’s for the mission.”

You huffed against his chest. Now you’re really regretting your decision to help Sam. You would’ve said no if you had known that it meant watching Bucky turn into the Winter Soldier again, even if it wasn’t real. 

You don’t know what to say. He won’t change his mind. Bucky’s just as stubborn as you are and he’ll do anything for the success of the mission, just like Steve did. 

You pull away and return back to your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare into the back of Zemo’s plush leather seat. Bucky trails behind you and squeezes your shoulder. You shrug off his touch as he takes the empty seat next to yours. 

“And, I’m afraid that where we’re going doesn’t take too kindly to women who are…. how do I put this…. strong willed,” Zemo said. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky barked, jumping to your defense just moments after you did the same for him.

“Selby will see Y/n as competition. We can’t have that happen. She’ll have to stay behind.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m just going to just sit here and do nothing,” you snapped. “I’m coming with. I don’t care if I have to pretend to be meek.”

Zemo turns to look at you. He’s challenging you. You both know it. He’s pushing your buttons and it’s working. He smirks and leans against the armchair. His eyebrows raise and he asks, “Even if it means pretending to be a prostitute?”

Your gaze doesn’t falter and you ignore both Sam’s and Bucky’s protests. It falls on deaf ears. You don’t care, as long as you’re with Sam and Bucky and they’re safe. “Yes,” you answered without a second thought. You’ve done worse things than pretend to be a sex worker. It would be a piece of cake. 

Zemo grins, letting out a soft laugh. “It looks like you’ll be joining us after all then, Y/n.”

You scoff at him and look out the window. Bucky drags you from your seat once more and pulls you behind the curtain. You look away from him and he reaches to squeeze your hand. 

“You don’t have to do this. You have nothing to prove,” he whispered, brushing the top of your palm with his warm and calloused fingers. 

“You don’t either,” you mumbled back. 

He smiles softly at your retort and pulls you into his arms. He holds you gently and cards his fingers through your hair. You hum quietly as he holds you. 

“Touché, honey.”

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you before you lean back to meet his gaze. His blue eyes pierce through yours and it makes your heart race. You pull away and rub your palms against your thighs. 

You disappear behind the curtain once more, leaving Bucky behind. 

…

When you arrive in Madripoor, you’re dressed in an outfit that leaves little to the imagination. The dress has a plunging neckline that settles just below your naval. Your chest is barely covered and your boobs threaten to slip over the fabric. You’re dressed for the part, that’s for sure. 

Zemo is the first one to look at you when you return from behind the curtain. He whistles at you and it makes your skin crawl. 

Bucky shoves Zemo harshly and grips his chest tightly, snarling in his face. “Watch your mouth,” Bucky hissed, shoving him into one of the chairs. 

He turns to look at you and you reach to squeeze his hand. You pull him away from Zemo and whisper softly, “It’s alright, Buck. Take a deep breath.”

He grits his teeth and shakes his head, and does what you ask. “I’ll kill him. If he does that again, I’ll kill him.”

You laugh softly and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I don’t doubt you will, Buck.”

The two of you trail behind Sam and Zemo as you leave the plane. A sleek black car is waiting just off the runway and you follow behind to the vehicle. When you settle into your spot in between Buck and Sam in the back, Zemo turns to look at the three of you. 

“It’s imperative that we don’t break character, no matter what. If you do, we’re good as dead, understand?” 

You scoff and roll your eyes as he looks towards you. “Crystal,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He turns to face the front of the vehicle and silence fills the car. 

Suddenly, a number of motorcycles surround the car as you drive into Low Town. you make sure to keep your eyes forward and Bucky reaches for the hand on your knee. He squeezes it tightly and you do the same. 

Reality is now just setting in for you. This is the first mission that you’ve been on since Steve went back to the 40s, and since Tony died. It had been three long months since Tony saved the world and brought everyone back that was taken five years earlier. You know that three months isn’t long, but it still makes you nervous. You haven’t been training to keep things from going rusty. You had no desire to. 

Bucky leans into you, his mouth near the shell of your ear. “You okay?” 

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah, just a bit nervous. I’m a little out of practice. This is my first mission since Steve left,” you mumbled back, squeezing his hand again to keep you grounded. He does the same in return. 

“It’s alright. I have your back. I’ll protect you, promise.”

A small smile finds its way onto your face and you shake your head at him. “You know better than anyone else than to promise something like that before a mission, Buck. It’s bad luck,” you teased. 

He laughs too and the car stops in what you guess is the downtown area of Low Town. You take a deep breath and Bucky does the same. You squeeze his hand one last time before his hand falls from your grasp. He opens the door and climbs out. You follow close behind and find your spot next to Sam. He gingerly wraps his arm around your waist as you walk into the Princess Bar. 

Electronic music blasts through the speakers and the bass vibrates through your chest. You press against Sam as you push through people to get to the bar. The smell of drugs and alcohol is suffocating as you walk and ignore the stares sent your way. They’re not staring at you, but Bucky, who walks just a step behind you like a looming shadow. 

“Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?” Zemo asked Bucky in Russian. 

It makes your blood boil and Sam squeezes your waist tightly, a reminder that you must not break character. You hate it. You hate that Bucky has to pretend to be the person he’s worked so hard to distance himself from. Bucky is not him. The Winter Soldier doesn’t exist anymore. That part of him is gone, dead. You only hope that Bucky reminds himself that the Winter Soldier isn’t him anymore as he pretends just feet behind you.

You stand in front of the bar counter as the bartender approaches. You keep your mouth shut as Zemo exchanges words with the man, briefly bringing Sam, the Smiling Tiger, into the conversation. Your eyes find Bucky’s and your heart jumps inside your throat. His eyes are cold and void of any emotion. He’s stoic and brooding. He’s fallen into character perfectly and it scares you to think that all the progress he’s made over the years has been destroyed in this moment. For his sake, you hope not.

You tear your eyes away from Bucky at the feeling of Sam’s hand on the curve of your ass. You watch him carefully as he takes a shot. The bartender moves on and you let out a careful breath. 

A man grasps at Zemo’s shoulder and sneers at him. He looks over at Bucky as Zemo asks to see Selby before he walks away. Another man approaches Zemo from behind and he speaks in Russian once more. “Winter Soldier, attack.” 

You hold your breath in anticipation as the unsuspecting man rests his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. You want to reach out and touch Bucky, tell him that he doesn’t have to, that the two of you still have time to make a run for it, but you don’t. You can’t. Zemo would probably try and kill you if you interfere and it’s the last thing you need. 

Bucky stalks over to him with two long strides, and rips the man’s hand from Zemo’s shoulder. He twists his wrist back and throws him to the ground. Another man swings at Bucky and he stops it with ease. He punches his back and kicks him against another crowny. As another man attempts to punch and kick at Bucky. He uses his metal arm and momentum to take each of them out.

“It doesn’t take much for him to fall back into form,” Zemo smirked, leaning over to look at you and Sam. 

“Shut your mouth,” you hissed between your teeth as you watched Bucky. 

Bucky grabs one of the men by the throat and slams him into the counter. Guns cock all around you as you look around the room. Your heart is inside your throat and there’s ringing in your ears. You reach to grab Bucky’s arm, but Sam beats you to it.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us,” Zemo whispered. “Well done, soldier.”

Sam lets go of his arm and takes a step back, pulling you with him. He squeezes your hip tightly as you watch Bucky’s grip fall from the man’s throat.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender said.

Zemo moves to follow him and you resist the urge to reach out and touch Bucky. Sam pulls you along and you walk in silence down a number of hallways. The music fades into the background and you’re squeezing Sam’s hand like your life depends on it. 

A number of men on Selby’s security detail whistle as you walk by. You bite your tongue and resist the urge to snap their necks. The four of you wait at the door at the end of the hall for several seconds before it opens. You walk inside and Zemo takes you from Sam’s side. Your jaw ticks as he guides you to the empty sofa. His hand settles on your thigh and you tense under his touch.

Zemo and Selby negotiate for information. All you need to know is who created the serum and where they are. That’s it. Zemo needs to stick to the plan. 

Zemo stands up from his spot next to you. “Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum, and I give you him…. along with the code words to control him,” Zemo stands behind Bucky, his hand resting on his shoulder. He’s silent and obedient, the perfect encapsulation of who he had been for the last 80 years. 

There wasn’t a discussion over what the offer would be when you were on the plane from Latvia. You just assumed Zemo would figure a way out of it, he was clever enough to do it before. You hadn’t thought that he would actually use the Winter Soldier to his benefit outside of protection. How naive of you. 

Bucky’s eyes are dark and he stares straight ahead as Zemo caresses his chin. He doesn’t flinch or react. He’s playing the Winter Soldier perfectly and you hate every second. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you start to taste blood. 

“He will do anything you want.”

Selby grins, leaning back in her spot on the couch opposite of you. She tells him what you need to know. She nears Sam and then the worst happens, his phone begins to ring. 

She tells him to answer it and your fingers squeeze into the leather couch. Your heart races and for the first time since you walked into the bar, Bucky’s eyes find yours. You know he can see your panic. 

Things are fine momentarily. Sam’s trying his best to stay in character and you know it’s not working as well as he’d like. You hold your breath and your panic settles in at the mention of Sam’s name coming from Sarah. 

“Kill them—” 

Your eyes widen in horror as a bullet pierces through the glass window in front of you and lodges into Selby’s throat, killing her instantly. The act is over. 

You leap to your feet and pull the tactical knife that you hid in your dress out from underneath you. You slice the knife across your attacker’s arm. Bucky kicks him into the wall and grabs you by the arm. 

You run as fast as you can out the bar and through the streets of Madripoor. You dodge bullets and fight off others that attack you with knives. 

You do well, all things considered with what you’re dressed in. You dig your heel into the boot of your attacker, throwing them off balance. You kick their leg out from underneath them and Sam knocks them unconscious. 

Bucky, of course, is doing just fine on his own. You run over to help. You disarm the man closer to you and use the butt of the gun to knock him out. 

You barely have time to register the man creeping up behind Bucky. His arm is outstretched with a gun in his hand. Bucky has no clue. 

“Bucky!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, running as fast as you can towards him. 

He turns to look at you as you use your whole body to shove him aside as the gun goes off. 

Time stands still. 

You fall to the ground in a daze as the bullet rips through your shoulder. Your eyes stare up into the night sky as it takes you a moment to realize that you’d just been shot. 

You try to sit up and get back on your feet. You don’t have time to worry about your wound. You need to get the hell out of Low Town. 

Bucky nearly drags you off the ground and you run. You run as fast as you can despite the bullet in your shoulder. 

“We need to get out of here!” Bucky shouted, inspecting your wound. 

A shadowy figure approaches and Bucky blocks you from view. The hood drops and you peer over Bucky’s shoulder. You don’t have time to be surprised that Sharon is the one standing in front of you. 

“Sharon? What are you doing here?” Sam asked. 

“We don’t have time for that!” Bucky snapped. “Sharon, please. You gotta help us. Y/n’s been shot.”

She nods and motions for you to follow her. She stops in front of a beautiful blue car and Bucky guides you into the car, pressing his metal hand against your shoulder to stop the bleeding. You ignore Sam and Bucky’s bickering as they yell at you for getting shot. You don’t have the energy to respond. 

Sharon races across town and pulls up to a very fancy building. Sharon jumps out and opens the door for Bucky. His arm holds your torso and your uninjured arm is thrown over his shoulder as you walk inside. You gather into the elevator as it takes you to the top floor. 

Your entire body goes numb and Bucky guides you to the kitchen counter. Sharon briefly disappears before returning with a heavy duty first aid kit. 

“Do you have tequila?” you asked her as Bucky rummaged through the bag for the correct supplies. Sharon laughs softly before grabbing a bottle of tequila from her liquor cabinet. You take a generous sip and the liquid burns your throat. 

Bucky inspects the bullet wound carefully. Thankfully it was a through and through. He doesn’t have to fish the bullet out. He works quickly and you grit your teeth as he stitches the wound close on both sides of your shoulder. 

The pain lessened to a dull throb now that he’s finished. He cleans the excess blood off your skin before gently placing your arm in a sling. 

“Why did you do that, Y/n?” Bucky chastised you, shaking his head in disappointment. “I could’ve taken care of him.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. “I don’t even get a thank you for saving your ass? You were vulnerable, I did the right thing.”

He sighs and you look away. Your eyes find Sharon’s. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

She nods and disappears down the hall to her bedroom. Silence fills the room and Sam takes his turn to reprimand you. You ignore him entirely and take another large swig of tequila. 

Sharon returns moments later with a pair of clean clothes. You thank her quietly and she points you in the direction of one of the guest bedrooms. You hop off the counter and ignore Bucky’s protests and calls of your name. 

You huffed in frustration as you limped towards one of Sharon’s guest bedrooms. You had enough of Sam and Bucky yelling at you for your recklessness, especially Bucky. You’re exhausted and all you want to do is sleep. 

You did what you thought was right. You did what Steve would’ve done. You had Bucky’s back. Isn’t that what mattered? Sure, you got shot in the shoulder, but it isn’t something you haven’t done before. You have the scars to prove it. 

“Stop running away from me! We’re not done talking about this!” Bucky yelled after you, hot on your heels into the bedroom. “What were you thinking?”

You’re sick of Bucky questioning you. You’re not a child and you’re not the bright eyed recruit he thinks you still are. You did what was right in the heat of the moment. You don’t regret it. You’d do it all over again if it meant that he was safe. 

“Stop treating me like a child, James! I’m not Steve’s recruit anymore! I’m a grown woman,” you shouted back at him. Your shoulders shake and you glare at him. “I know you still think I’m that naive 25 year old, but that’s not me anymore. The last five years may have been five seconds to you, but they weren’t to me. Accept the fact that I did what I thought was right.”

“It was reckless!”

“Steve would’ve done it!” you bit back. 

“This isn’t about Steve!” he argued. 

You laugh bitterly and shake your head. He doesn’t see it. He doesn’t see what you see. You know he sees you as his responsibility now that Steve’s gone. He feels an obligation to look after you because Steve did. You have a part of Steve with you. Bucky’s clinging to any last remains of Steve, and that includes you. 

“Isn’t it though? You feel like you have a responsibility to protect me, to look after me. Why? It’s because Steve did and now that he’s gone, you feel like you have to replace him!”

The silence that fills the room suffocates you. Your heart races with anger. You want Bucky to leave you alone. You didn’t ask for this. Sam needed your help, and when you provided it, you got yelled at for it. Now you just want to go home. 

You turn your back to Bucky and pull the pants that Sharon gave you up your legs before discarding the dress in the corner of the room. You don’t care if Bucky sees all the scars that litter your backside. Maybe then he would understand that you’ve always done what’s best for the mission, even if that meant getting hurt. You throw the sweatshirt over your head and turn to look at Bucky again. 

“Do you have anything else to say to me? Are you going to try and deny it?”

Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re one of the only people I have left that have a connection to Steve.”

Another bitter laugh escapes your mouth. He doesn’t understand. “He abandoned me, James! He abandoned us. Steve’s gone. You can’t hold on to him anymore. You don’t have to do anything Steve did. You have nothing to prove to me, I promise. I don’t need you to replace Steve. I need you, Buck. You’re the one that’s here with me, not Steve.”

Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks and you look away from him. The silence is deafening and Bucky moves to take you in his arms. He holds you against his chest and cards his fingers through your hair. You cry against his chest and cling to his henley. He gently guides you to the bed and sits down with you in his lap.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispered, rubbing your back. “You’re right. It just scared me. I don’t think I can handle losing you too. I’m sorry.”

You pull away to look at him with your tear stained cheeks and he carefully wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You blink away the remaining tears and lean into his touch. “It’s okay, Buck. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

You rest your forehead against his and breathe him in. His metal hand rubs circles against your back and it sends shivers down your spine. He holds you carefully and no words are exchanged. Your eyes flicker to his lips and your heart thunders against your chest. 

There’s a soft knock at the door and you pull your body off of Bucky’s. You sit beside him as Sam pokes his head inside the room. “Is everything okay?” he asked, looking between the two of you. 

You look over at Bucky and then back to Sam. You smile and nod slowly. “Everything’s perfect, Sam.”

[bigilante]

〖 her best friend ❣ zendaya 〗

「 zendaya x gender-neutral!reader 」 ┅ 「 2.7k words 」

: a.n : back at it again with the unsolicited fics :)) i hope you guys like it 👉🏼👈🏼

⤷ : prompt : separated forcefully or for reasons you can’t control, run into each other again years later on accident.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop making headlines calling us ‘very good friends’?” You halfheartedly laughed at yet another Instagram post by some magazine that showed you and Zendaya out and about LA. “Like, the minute you hang out with any guy they’re like, ‘Oh! Date alert!’ But I’m just your ‘best friend’” You were ranting now, unable to hide the annoyance you felt.

“Why does it matter what they say?” Zendaya quizzed, her hands playing with the waist string of your sweats. She looked up at you from her slumped down position on the sofa, her faint frown making you sigh.

“Because... don’t you feel is a bit homophobic?” You wondered, placing your phone face down on top of your stomach to give her your full attention. The brunette just shrugged nonchalantly and you let out another sigh picking your phone again to close the app, “I’m gonna head out.” It was best to just leave then, you didn’t want to get in a stupid argument with her not before you were set to leave for New York the very next morning. You began to incorporate but Zendaya’s hands gripped your thighs keeping them draped over hers.

“Y/n, come on.” She said, gorgeous hazel eyes pleading at you. What exactly? You had no idea but for a second, you were about to give in however a loud ding coming from your phone stopped you. Your eyes scanned the screen and the reminder that had popped up read ‘PACK ! 4 ! N Y C !’, you sent her an apologetic glance before getting off the sofa, gathering your stuff and petting Noon goodbye.

Zendaya had stood up from the sofa too, watching your every move intently, probably trying to figure out if you were upset with her. The truth was, you didn’t know if you were upset with her or with the media, it was possible that both had a little part in your now sour mood. “See you next week, best friend. Love you.” You joked before swinging the front door open and leaving. The week was going to feel like a month, you knew, but the hope that making that simple joke followed by the declaration would ease things up was strong.

But what did hopefulness ever bring if not disappointment and heartache?

Seeing medium-quality paparazzi pictures of your girlfriend as soon as you landed from a five-hour flight wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to be welcomed to New York. You sat quietly in the back of an Uber trying not to cry as your eyes stared at the images on your phone. A series of pictures of Zendaya and Tom leaving her house, —they must had been taken that morning while you were on your way to the airport— the further you scrolled down the Twitter trends the more you felt like throwing up. Them in his car. Tom’s hand reaching for Zendaya’s jaw. Both leaning in. Kissing. Laughing.

It felt like a punch to the face, it was the worst feeling you had ever endured and the people that caused it were the last you would’ve thought could ever dare to hurt you. Your trembling hands fumbled with the settings on your account, privating it and blocking her and Tom, doing the same with Instagram followed by their numbers on your phone. It felt like doing a cleansing, the pressure in your chest easing only minimally when you locked your phone and looked out into the running city. You wanted to scream and cry, break stuff, throw your phone away and not show to work, you just wanted to go hide in your Airbnb for the rest of the week and pretend you and Zendaya never happened.

The reality was that you two had happened and it was far too hard to pretend it didn’t, your heart ached both physically and metaphorically and you hated every second of it. For that week you spent in New York no one shut up about the photos, every person you worked with had that hot, brand new ‘goss’ about the pair that had hurt you so badly.

You sat in the quiet living room of the apartment you had been living in whilst in the big city, laptop sitting in front of you as you cancelled your flight back to LA, changing the tab to the Airbnb’s one to pay for a few more days. You had been holding yourself together the whole time you were there, work keeping you busy and sleeping pills doing their magic at the end of the day but it could only go so far. Glassy, stinging eyes stared blankly at the empty inbox of your email, the cursed images projecting over the blank space and you just weren’t strong enough anymore, you couldn’t, so you cried and choked and screamed until your throat and eyes were sore; until your whole body was drained of every bit of energy.

Little by little you were sweeping your life clean of her, clearing out your phone’s camera roll, changing your number. Deleting social media was a big no for your job so filtering everything and anything that had to do with them was the only option, that and spending little to no time online. You had stopped to think one night of the what-ifs of the situation, you were aware that Zendaya’s publicist wasn’t so happy about you and her dating publically and Tom’s was obsessed with boosting the Spider-man movies at all cost, still, giving you a heads up about it would had been the right thing to do.

For a year and a half, you made yourself busy, going back and forth wasn’t something you enjoyed but it worked to avoid unwanted visits and accidental encounters. Enough time had passed, you thought as you stopped booking in so many clients across the country and settled back in your LA home. “You know what? I could go for a thick, sugary milkshake, right now.” Naomi told you as you put down your half-empty box of fried noodles on the coffee table.

“Are you serious?” You asked incredulous receiving an enthusiastic nod from your friend. “Naomi, we just had Chinese and you wanna wash it down with a milkshake?” She rolled her eyes at you when you pointed it out.

“Fine, what about Bubble U? Bubble tea is Chinese isn’t it?” She offered, her question prompting you to send her an unamused glare. “Yep, Bubble U it is, then!” Naomi jumped up, going straight to the door. Reluctantly you got up from the floor, groaning all the way to the door where you got ready to go out, “Come on! It’ll be fun!” She chirped while she pulled you out of the house. You hated to admit it but you had completely modified your life after the heartbreak, once you settled back home you barely left it, you didn’t attend parties unless it was for work or go out with your friends unless it was at any of their houses. You didn’t walk around the city that often anymore in fear of bumping into her.

“I miss this.” You sighed as you walked down Chinatown with your friend, the coldness of your drink pleasant against the palm of your hand. “Just walking around town.” You continued taking a sip of the milk tea.

“I still don’t get why you had to stop going out with us.” Naomi said inciting you to turn to look at her, “I mean, I know why it’s just… you didn’t have to stop.” She rephrased it giving you an apologetic glance. You knew how much your friends hated the idea of you not being able to be you after the whole thing with Zendaya and Tom happened but it was your way of coping with it and even though they didn’t agree with it, they supported you.

“Well, I’m outside now, aren’t I?” You nudged her side with your elbow making her giggle as she nudged you back. “Maybe this is me getting back to my old self.” Hope laced your every word as you looked around the busy street. The way the golden light of the setting sun washed over the buildings made the outing worth the risk.

LA was the second-largest city in the United States, with a population of nearly four million that one could think the chances of crossing paths with a lover-turned-stranger was one in millions, yet, there you were rooted to the pavement as your wide eyes stared at the tall and thin figure coming out of one of the many restaurants that dotted the street. “Come on, let’s go back.” Naomi said, placing her hand on the crook of your elbow ready to pull you out of there but something inside your chest told you to keep moving forward.

So you did, you started walking again letting your friend’s hand slip away from you. She was quick to follow, whisper-shouting at you that whatever you were doing probably wasn’t the best idea. The closer you got to her the more nervous you felt, it’s been over a year since you last saw her and god, was she even more beautiful than before; long legs clagged in camel coloured trousers, feet sporting her beloved black converse. Her top was white, a little see-through and you cursed at how much it still drove you absolutely crazy in the most irritating sense.

Curls tucked into an elastic on top of her head in a carefree and relaxed way, a few stubborn strands hanging out framing her face and gracing her neck. She was laughing loudly at something Darnell said, that laugh you had forced yourself to forget but the second it hit your ears, you realised how badly you had missed it. Then everything stopped, Naomi’s panicked telling off, Darnell’s chatting and Zendaya’s laughing. It all had stopped but the rambling around the four of you.

You stood in front of Darnell while Naomi stood in front of Zendaya, your friend’s usually amicable attitude disrupted by the scowl on her face as she glared Zendaya’s way only the brunette’s pupils were set on you with no apparent intention of averting. “It’s you,” She breathed out, hope barely perceivable in her tone. You only hummed at the observation, your eyes moving from hers down to her hands that were gripping the long lanyard that held her phone around her neck. Her nerves were evident then, the intensity with which she clutched it seemed to be draining the blood flow from her fingers. “I— How—” Zendaya tried to speak but failed, letting out a shaky breath. “How have you been?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Naomi protested, you understood where your friend was coming from but you also needed that, you needed to speak to Zendaya just one more time to be able to finally let everything go. You needed her to confirm your theory just so you could move on and Darnell seemed to be on the same page as you for he stepped in between you and Naomi, throwing his arm around her shoulders to guide her away from you two. You heard her object some more but ultimately she complied and walked away.

“I’ve been fine. You?” You eventually spoke after short but agonising seconds of silence.

“I don’t know. There are good days among the terrible ones, so... fine, I guess?” She shrugged a shoulder. With a nod of your head, you looked past her over her shoulder to see a man pointing a camera at you, you were about to warn her when she began speaking again. “Y/n, I’m so sorry about—” Zendaya started but you shook your head no making her stop, you realised then that you did want to talk to her but not on the street in front of that many people and certainly not when there were paparazzi nearby.

“Heard the movie did well.” Your tongue betrayed your brain. Zendaya tried to speak once more but you cut her again. “I’m glad it did. Made it all worth it, didn’t it?” You faked a small smile nearly choking on the words, the anxious lump in your throat threatening to cut your airflow.

“No, It didn’t.” Zendaya denied taking a step closer to you forcing you to hold your breath with the sudden move. “I was a total asshole to you before you left, then Marla wanted me and Tom to do that for a while and I don’t even know why I did it.” She ranted in one breath.

“I upset you.” The statement earned you a furious head shake from the tall girl. “I did. I kept bugging you about the articles,” You carried on, inconspicuously your eyes started to line with tears. The more you talked the more you realised that maybe, just maybe there was a bit of blame in you too, however, that didn’t mean Zendaya was absolved from any. “You never said a thing to me about the stunt.”

“I felt like I didn’t need to, I wasn’t gonna do it.”

“But you did. The morning I left LA.” You mumbled, trying to hide from the second man with a camera that had appeared closer than the first.

“Fuck, I know it was a shitty thing to do and I’m sorry,” She took another small step forward.

“You always told me kissing in public wasn’t your thing.” You exposed, tears irrevocably breaking the surface tension and cascading down your cheeks. Flicking your gaze up at her you saw nothing but hurt and regret written all over her gorgeous face and your heart squeezed at the sight. She had never spoken about it and neither had you asked, you just felt it in your heart that she was scared of how the media would treat you both if they ever found out you were dating, you knew the times had changed but there were still closed-minded people that ran gossip magazines and could make your lives a living hell the moment they caught you holding hands in public or worst, kissing.

The murmuring around you increased, reminding you that you were in a very public place crying in front of your secret ex-girlfriend. “Fuck that.” Zendaya grumbled. One moment she was a small step away from you and the next her hands were cupping your face and her lips were softly pressed against yours. The action took your breath away instantly, still, you found yourself powerless against the familiar taste and feel of her and allowed her to kiss you as long as she wanted to in front of how many people she wanted to. There were yelps and gasps all around the two of you and you started to regain conscience and pulled away.

Wide, watery eyes staring up at the girl mere inches away from your face. “Th-there’s pap—”

“I don’t care.” She whispered before she captured your lips once more, this time deeper and twice as intensely as the first time. Your hands scurried to her waist, bringing her flush to your body as you kissed her back gladly, desperately wanting her lips to make the past year bleep out of your core memories.

The night went by slowly as if the universe was granting you more time to spend in the arms of the girl you loved. She never once let a second of silence go by you, filling it with a whispered apology and a kiss. You talked about everything the time you spent apart brought to both of you, she told you about firing her publicist right after the pictures came out, about how she understood why you had cut her off without any explanation and how bad both her and Tom felt with the whole thing.

Articles flooded the internet that very night as well as the next morning, however, neither of you knew of them right away for any device that could be hooked to a WiFi signal was rightfully turned off while you basked in the presence of each other under the covers of Zendaya’s bed.

“Spider-man Star Zendaya shares intense kiss with BFF, Celeb Stylist y/n l/n in the middle of Chinatown! Swipe to see the pictures!”

It might be 2021 but some things refused to change.

【 thank you so much for reading! ♡ please, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought of this ♡ kit xx 】

[sour--disposition]

Take Me By The Hand

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harry lewis x fem!reader

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requested: Heyy, could you do the ‘take my hand’ concept that you did with JJ, but with Harry?? Love your writing sm! Xxx

please see my pinned post for masterlist and request info!

One taking the others hand to help them up

You were 4 when you first met Harry properly. You’d been running around the playground, chasing after one of your friends when you’d taken a tumble and ended up in a small heap on the floor. Harry had come trotting over, sticking out a hand to help you up.

“Is your knee okay?”, he asked you.

“I don’t think so. It’s bleeding”, you told him sadly. 

Harry kept hold of your hand, dragging you over to where the teachers on duty were standing. “She hurt her knee”, Harry said bluntly, poking one of the adults and then pointing to your knee.

Harry followed you and the teacher inside, sitting next to you as you had your knee cleaned and a plaster stuck on. The teacher left to fill in the accident book and write a note for you to take home. “I’m Harry”, the boy said as soon as she’d left.

“I’m Y/N”, you told him with a bright grin.

“Shall we be best friends?”, Harry asked with a toothy smile.

“Yes!”.

-

Holding hands whilst one walks on a small wall

You and Harry had stayed best friends from that day forward. There wasn’t anything that you didn’t do together. Harry would always be the first person you’d turn to whenever anything was wrong. He held your hand through every trip you took to the first aid room in your primary school and he shouldered his way through to sit next to you whenever you were in a classroom together.

Harry asked you out on your first date when you were both 15. You’d gone to his house after school, pestering him until he did his homework before you let him outside. He’d been pacing around the lawn in front of you, completely distracted from his kickaround with Josh, as you sat on the deck with Rosie.

“What’s wrong with him?”, she asked from beside you.

“I have no idea”, you told her. “You know what he’s like though”, you dismissed, all the while worrying about your best friend.

Rosie and Josh ran inside 20 minutes later to help set the table for dinner, leaving you and Harry alone in the back garden. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up with you?”, you asked him.

“Do you wanna go on a date?”, Harry blurted, leaving you stunned. The two of you were wide-eyed in surprise, both with words caught in your throat that you were desperately trying to say. 

“Yeah”, you smiled.

A week later you met Harry by the beach. You’d seen each other through the week during school and spending the evenings after school together, but this evening felt different. This evening would be the one that potentially changed yours and Harry’s relationship forever.

You walked side by side down to the sea front, stopping and sitting on a small wall there. The two of you talked for hours, like you always did. Harry telling you about his family, about what happened in the few classes that you didn’t share together, telling you about his day and you returning the favour. You laughed well into the sunset, a soft silence falling over you as you watched the sun dip beneath the Guernsey horizon.

“It’s getting dark, and it’s cold. Let’s head back”, Harry suggested. As soon as you’d stood up, you stepped up onto the wall you’d just been sitting on, making you ever so slightly taller than Harry. With your arms held out for balance, you took a few tentative steps.

Harry reached out, grabbing your hand to keep you steady. You looked over to him, a shy smile on his face that you soon mirrored, paired with a rosy blush. Harry kept your hands entwined as you walked along the wall, matching his pace with yours so he didn’t rush you and cause you to stumble.

When you reached the end of the wall and jumped down, your hand didn’t leave Harry’s.

-

Holding hands whilst driving

Harry had never let whatever Youtube success he was gaining get in the way of the two of you. He always made time for you, always made you feel important. As soon as he’d learnt to drive and got a car, you and Harry would spend hours traversing the coastline, wind pouring into the window and billowing through your hair as you watched the cliffs and waves pass you by.

If you were in his car, Harry would insist on you being in the passenger seat, no matter who else was joining you. His hand would always rest on your thigh as he drove, only ever moving to change gear before quickly returning to its place.

Your fingers were wrapped loosely in his, making sure he was able to let go and reach for the gear stick whenever he needed to. The roads along the coastline were fairly straight, only ever bending slightly and no sharp turns in sight.

With the road empty bar from the two of you, Harry snuck a glance over to you. Your face was illuminated by the soft glow of the sun, hair windswept against the headrest and over your shoulders.

“I love you”, Harry said simply. It was no massive declaration, it didn’t have to be. You and Harry had been friends for 13 years, together for nearly 2. He’d loved you for as long as he could remember.

“I love you, too”.

-

Possessive hand holding

The first time you visited Harry in London was quite the nerve wracking experience. Aside from helping him move his stuff into his flat with Lux and Freezy, you’d barely seen him since he’d left the small island you both called home.

You waited by baggage claim, leg shaking with restless, nervous energy. It was just your luck that your suitcase was one of the last to make its way through and round the conveyor belt, the hall almost empty by the time you’d got your belongings.

Harry was waiting for you just outside arrivals, just as restless and nervous as you were. His eyes had been glued to the door from the minute you’d text him to let you know you’d reached baggage claim. Every person that walked out of the sliding doors that wasn’t you irritated him even further. It had only been a few weeks since he’d last seen you, and he was going mad.

At last, you trudged through the doors, looking a little worse for wear and incredibly pissed off. But you were there.

Harry wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. “I’ve missed you so much”, he whispered into your hair. “The guys are already at my place, I hope that’s alright”, he told you. “They’re really excited to meet you”.

At Harry’s apartment building, he kept a tight hold on your hand as he led you upstairs. “Harry, it’s okay”, you assured him, squeezing his hand.

“Just nervous”, he told you.

Harry led you into the apartment, pausing for a second so you could drop your case by the door and kick your shoes off. His deathly tight grip on your hand never waned, like he was scared you were going to escape.

“Lads, Y/N”, Harry said awkwardly as he led you through the doorway. “Y/N, both of the Cals, Ethan, JJ, Simon, Josh, Tobi and Vik”, he introduced, pointing to each man in turn as he said their names.

“Nice to meet you”, you smiled happily.

You sat next to Harry on the sofa, squeezed up against his side. His hand was still gripping onto yours, squeezing tighter whenever any of the guys started to talk to you. “Harry”, you whispered, wiggling your fingers in his grip. “What’s wrong?”.

“Someone looks a little jealous if you ask me”, Freezy poked, wicked grin shooting across the living room.

“Oh, give over”, you scoffed, flicking Harry in the chest. “You buffoon. There’s nothing to worry about. Now ease up, you’re cutting off blood flow to my fingers”, you teased.

-

Rubbing their thumb over the other’s hand 

“I don’t wanna leave”, you sighed, leaning further into Harry’s chest. “I miss you too much”, you whispered.

“I miss you, too”, he told you, wrapping both arms around your body and pulling you closer.

Harry watched over your shoulder as you opened your phone and pulled up flight times for a few weeks time, scrolling through them to find the cheapest option. Seeing Harry as often as possible was taking its toll on your finances and Harry knew you’d only accept so much help from him.

“What if this was the last time you flew home?”, Harry asked into your hair.

“What do you mean?”, you asked, thumb pausing over the screen.

“I spoke to Cal about it the other day, before you came”, Harry started. “How would you feel about moving to London?”, he asked.

You turned in his arms, facing Harry. “Are you being serious?”, you asked, a blossoming grin eager to bloom over your face.

“As I’ve ever been”, he whispered.

3 weeks later, you waited at the gate in Guernsey airport, surrounded by your family. “I’m so happy for you”, your mum whispered as she pulled you in for a tight hug. When she pulled back, you were both laughing through the tears that had begun to shed. “You and Harry deserve to be happy”, she told you.

They watched and waved as you walked towards the flight bridge, knowing that this would be the last time they’d see you for a while. You sat in your seat, watching as Guernsey got smaller and smaller below you. Although leaving home was never going to be an easy thing, you knew that you could build a home wherever Harry was.

You’d already shipped a lot of your stuff over to Harry, leaving you only to bring a large suitcase with you on your flight. You had no idea what to expect when you arrived, whether your stuff would be in Harry’s room or boxes strewn into whatever corner of the apartment they could fit into.

“Here”, Harry said as you sat in the car in the car park outside of the apartment building. He handed you a key on a keyring. “House keys”, he told you.

“Thank you”, you smiled

Harry pulled your case behind you as you walked up to the apartment. You stilled in front of the door, Harry pulling to a stop next to you. “Are you okay?”, Harry asked, voice filled with concern.

“Yeah”, you assured him quietly. “It’s just a lot, y’know”, you murmured.

“I know”. Harry’s thumb skimmed across the back of your hand in a soft, repetitive, soothing pattern. “I love you”, he reminded you, thumb never halting its soft reassurance against your skin.

“I know”, you smiled up at him. “But I love you more”.

-

Unconsciously searching for the other’s hand whilst asleep

If you were to ask Harry when he knew you’d be in his life forever, he’d have told you when the two of you were 5. Teasing from the other kids about you being best friends with each other was almost never-ending, but you and Harry always found a way to make light of it.

It wasn’t uncommon to see you and Harry playing with the dolls amongst the other little girls or racing around through the mud with the other boys. Everyone quickly learnt that where Harry went, you went and where you went, Harry went.

Harry knew you were going to be his bestest friend forever when he’d sat down on the grass to play and realised that there were no toys left. You’d come and sat down next to him and you’d played in the mud together, making daisy chains and mud pies and potions that you stirred with sticks, never caring about the dirt coating your pretty pinafore dress.

If you were to ask Harry when he knew that your relationship was meant to last, he would fumble and stumble over his words, not really knowing what to say. It was something that brought his friends great joy, asking what he saw in the future for the two of you. After all, you had been together since you were 15.

The night Harry realised you were his one great love was rather anti-climatic. There was no fireworks or mind-blowing kiss or Earth shattering sex. In fact, you were curled up asleep next to Harry, hair piled on top of your head and the hem of one of his Sidemen Clothing shirts riding up on your thigh.

He’d shut his computer down and gotten ready for bed, sliding in next to you as quietly as possible. Whilst he was lounging in bed next to you, attention focused on the screen of his phone, you’d started shifting beside him. Harry laid stock still, not wanting to wake you up with any movements.

Instead, you reached a hand across the bed, seemingly searching for something. When you couldn’t find whatever it was you were looking for, a frown settled itself onto your face. Harry was sure you were dreaming, but couldn’t resist closing the gap between your fingers and his.

The minute Harry hooked his fingers around yours, the frown on your face disappeared, replaced by a soft, blissful smile. Harry had known you long enough and knew you well enough to know that you were still fast asleep, the gentle sighs falling from your mouth being a dead giveaway.

So, if you asked Harry when he knew that your love was meant to last, he’d tell anyone that listened that it was the moment he realised you loved him even in your dreams.

[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. 

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 5 - Cross Your Heart [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Lying is supposed to be easy for spies.

Series Masterlist

You were beginning to think undercover operations were some sort of punishments given to agents, because lying was one thing, but creating a whole life around that lie was another.

Not only were your knives replaced by a bunch of paintings on the wall, you now had some photos in frames; old photos of people you didn’t know, people who were supposed to be your “cover” family.

You’d still prefer to have your knives on the walls though.

“You’re my best friend, you’re supposed to be on my side!” you pressed the phone between your shoulder and your ear, and heard Chloe’s laugh.

“I am on your side, I just can’t do anything about your uniform.”

You plopped down on the couch, setting your heels down on the floor.

“Bucky might be from 1940s, but he knows that it’s the 21st century now,” you said, putting the heels on, “No reason to make me dress like a….weird pin up waitress.”

“It’s a part of your mission,” she reminded you, “What, you can kill a target with a wine glass but a pin up costume is where you draw the line?”

You clicked your tongue, “Anyone can kill someone with a wine glass. It’s not that hard.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Babe it’s not rocket science, you just break the bowl part, then use the stem to stab them in the—“ you got distracted when you opened the kitchen cabinet, “I’m sorry, why do I have so many kitchen supplies?”

She held her breath in excitement, “Do you like them?”

“I don’t know what to do with most of them.”

“Cover Y/N likes cooking!”

“And the real Y/N can’t stand her,” you deadpanned, making her stifle a laugh.

“So he hasn’t texted you yet?”

“Barnes?” you asked, “Not yet. Why?”

“Well, I took the liberty of taking a look at his messages the other day.”

“Oh God, don’t tell me,” you said, “He’s seeing someone else?”

“No no, not at all,” she said, “He’s totally single, and probably ready to mingle. With you, that is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He and Wilson were talking about you the other day. Well, more like Wilson was telling him to get his shit together and ask you out.”

“I don’t think he’s the type to ask someone out via text,” you said, “I think he will come to the shop one of these days.”

“Why?”

“He looked sort of….” You searched for the word in your mind, “Uh-clueless?”

“Clueless?”

“Yeah, you know how assassins usually flirt,” you ignored her noise of disagreement, “He wasn’t like that.”

“You really need to focus on the personal details of his file.”

You scowled, “What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, “I know his favorite weapons, what knives he—”

“Personal file,” she repeated, “You know there’s more to people than their weapons of choice right?”

“I might have to engage in combat if I’m ever compromised, and do you know how many people walked away alive after engaging in combat with the Winter Soldier in all these decades?” you asked, “Three. Three people; Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, and they are legends. I might be good, but I’m not that good.”

“Just memorizing his arsenal can’t help you in this mission,” she said, “Did you know that he hasn’t exactly dated since becoming the Winter Soldier? His ex Connie ended up having 3 kids and a long career at the post office—“

“What am I supposed to do Chloe, stalk grandma’s Instagram?”

“No, she passed away 5 years ago.”

“Of course she did,” you mumbled, “Listen, I don’t have time for this. I’m already knee deep in my own cover, I can’t get into Barnes’s past when it’ll give me no advantage in the mission.”

“Y/N-“

“Trust me,” you cut her off, looking in the mirror to fix your uniform, “I have everything under control.”

                                              ***

You had maybe like one thing under control and that was the milkshake you were currently pouring into a mason jar. After a crash course in different recipes yesterday, you barely needed any help from your coworkers and seeing that the shop wasn’t very crowded, you didn’t have to rush.

And now you knew how to make three things; pasta, eggs and milkshakes.

If Keith were here, he would’ve said those were 3 main food groups.

“Tara, we’re running low on maraschino cherries,” you said as you shook the can and your new coworker turned to you.

“Oh that’s okay, there’s another jar are under the counter.”

You put the cherry over the whipped cream, and handed the jar to her. “There you go.”

“Another week of working here and you will come up with your own recipes,” she said, “Tell me the truth, are you like a spy sent by a rival company?”

You stared at her, then forced a laugh.

“I wish,” you said, “Maybe I’d be paid more.”

“Good point,” she said and walked to give the milkshake to the customer while you put the empty jar aside, then went under the counter to search for a new jar.

“Strawberries….” You read the labels out loud as you heard the wind bells chime by the door, “Figs, berries—cherries!”

You reached out to grab the jar and stood up but as soon as you did, you caught the sight of the figure by the door and held your breath, the jar slipping from your grip before you caught it mid-air.

“Bucky.” You breathed out, before you remembered to plaster a smile on your face.

Naïve, soft hearted civilian.

He stole a look around as if he expected someone to attack him at any seconds in a milkshake shop before he stepped closer to the counter you were standing behind.

“Hi.”

“Hi-hi there!” you said, putting the jar down, “You came!”

“You sound surprised,” he smiled and you shrugged your shoulders, shooting him a mischievous look,

“Better late than never, I suppose.”

He hissed in a breath, “Ouch, was it that late?”

“Just a little,” you said “So what can I get you?”

He looked up at the board over the wall, “What are my options?”

“Well, we have Unicorn Cotton Candy, Pumpkin Spice Latte, Candy Cane Passion, Lavender Macaron—“ you stopped talking when you saw the clueless look on his face and cleared your throat, “Or hey, maybe chocolate? We have chocolate milkshake.”

“Chocolate sounds good.”

“Coming right up.” You took a mason jar from the shelf to get to it and he grabbed his wallet, making you raise your brows.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh come on—”

“I’m going to make you an overly complicated milkshake if you try to pay for this,” you warned him, shaking the can before putting whipped cream on top of the milkshake, “It’s on the house, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said quickly, making you point at him with the straw.

“Either way, I’m warning you. I’m armed and dangerous.”

“Consider me intimidated,” he said with a grin as he put the cash into the tip jar and you narrowed your eyes.

“Bucky.”

“Well technically, tip doesn’t count.”

“I wonder where I heard that before,” you muttered under your breath while he walked to pull himself a seat.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said, reminding yourself that your cover probably wouldn’t make dirty jokes and went to place the milkshake in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” You waved a dismissive hand and rested your elbows on the counter, leaning in slightly.

He was gentleman enough to not check out your cleavage, instead kept his gaze on your face, making you suppress a smile.

“You were right,” Bucky said, his eyes darting around the café after a couple of seconds, “About how this place looked. It is creepily accurate.”

“Really?”

“I mean we didn’t have a neon flowers corner, but…” he trailed off, “Yeah. Yeah, I would say so.”

“Is that why you look like you expect someone to jump out of shadows and attack you?” you asked and his head shot up before he scrunched up his face.

“That obvious?”

“Not that I have lots of experience but so far none of the customers looked this uncomfortable while drinking a milkshake,” you said, “Is it because deep down you actually wanted to try Unicorn Cotton Candy?”

“Oh no, I’m good with classics,” He held up his milkshake, “No I just think that I’m a bit….uh, rusty.”

“Rusty,” you repeated, “On what?”

“On this.”

You batted your lashes, looking up at him and you could almost feel him being lured in.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” you said softly after a beat and he gulped, taking a deep breath.

“It’s just that you’re—“ he cleared his throat, “You’re very beautiful and it’s been decades since I last asked someone out for a date.”

Winter Soldier, credited with over 100 assassinations, you reminded yourself Don’t lower your guard, it’s just a cover.

Don’t believe in your own cover.

You bit down a smile, tilting your head.

“Well, I didn’t think you were rusty,” you said and he raised his brows.

“You didn’t?”

“Not at all,” you said, “For the record, I’m definitely going to say yes.”

“Are you?”

“Absolutely,” you grinned, “Once you actually ask me, that is. With words, not an implication.”

His smile was almost playful, “With words, huh?”

“I’m old fashioned like that,” you taunted him, “Let’s see how we can make it less awkward for you though. Would you feel more comfortable to ask me out if you knew some weird stuff about me?”  

“You know, that would help a lot actually.”

You tapped your fingernails on the counter, looking up at the ceiling, pretending to be in deep thought. Your superiors had always said the best cover stories were somehow based on real life without revealing your identity, so you figured telling him random things about you wouldn’t hurt or put the mission in danger.

“Well, I really like grapes but I don’t like the skin, so I end up peeling every grape I eat, one by one,” you counted with your fingers, “I watched a documentary once and now I can’t swim in any lakes because I keep thinking I’ll get attacked by that weird flesh eating bacteria. When I was sixteen, I was the president of the chess club but I had a boyfriend who didn’t believe in the moon landing—”

“I heard about the moon landing!” he said quickly, “I didn’t get around to watch it yet though.”

“Oh my God, you should.”

“What else?”

“I’m scared of peacocks,” you confessed, “I know everyone says they’re beautiful but they look like they’re waiting for the right time to attack you.”

He looked like he was fighting with himself not to laugh and he pressed his metal fist on his lips, his whole attention on you.

“You can’t laugh!” you exclaimed and he shook his head, trying to look as serious as possible.

“I’m not!” he managed to hide his chuckle with a cough, “Keep going, this is very helpful.”

You heaved a sigh. “Well, do you want to hear the most embarrassing one?”

“Absolutely.”

“I normally keep my phone on mute 24/7 but since last week it’s been on full volume because I was terrified I’d miss something important.”

The amused light in his eyes got softer and he lowered his hand, a smile warming his face.

Hook, line…

“I was um— I was hoping for you to call, you see.” you said, averting your gaze from him to look down for a second, biting on your lip.

His voice was raspy; “Were you?”

You shrugged your shoulders, mumbling an inaudible maybe, and his eyes trailed down to your lips before snapping up to lock your gaze in his.

“What time do you get off work today?”

And sinker.

Time to pull back.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth, “I work at the soup kitchen tonight.”

“Oh –I thought you said it was on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

“I did, I’m just covering for a friend tonight. Family emergency, she says.” you said and pushed your hair behind your ear, shifting your weight, “But my shift is over at 6 tomorrow and I can be ready around 7, I live really close by. If you’re- if you’re free, that is.”

“I am.”

“It’s a date, then.”

“It’s a date,” he repeated and stood up, “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See you tomorrow Bucky.” You smiled as he walked out of the shop and Tara came closer to you.

“Wow, you’ve been here a month and you met someone that hot?” she said and winked at you, “Good job there.”

Right.

Good job.

                                             ***

“So, wait—“ Chloe came closer to sit between you and Keith, holding a huge bowl of popcorn, “He just showed up?”

“Mm hm.”

“And you have a date tomorrow?”

Keith uncapped your beer and handed you the bottle as you rested your feet on the coffee table.

“You’re being careful, aren’t you?” he asked you and you nodded.

“Sure.”

“He doesn’t suspect anything?”

“No, he’s buying this whole naïve soft hearted civilian thing,” you said while Chloe snatched the remote from Keith’s hand, ignoring protests.

“And are you?”

You dragged your eyes from the list of movies on the screen. “I want a horror movie.”

“Well too bad, I want an action movie.”

“We’re watching a rom-com and that’s final!” Chloe pointed at both of you, making you groan.

“Why does this keep happening?” Keith asked to no one in particular and she snapped her fingers.

“It’s my turn and my place so I pick the movie,” she said and shot you a look, “I’m still waiting for an answer, by the way. You don’t….you don’t have feelings for Barnes, right?”

Keith stole a look at you before turning to Chloe,

“I don’t think our dear friend here wants a relationship beautiful,” he told her, “Not after what happened the last time.”

You could feel the goosebumps rising on your arms as a shiver ran down your spine.

“I don’t even know Barnes all that well yet, but I can assure you he’s not the type to—“ you paused, “Do something that cowardly.”

Keith gritted his teeth. “Where is that asshole anyway?”

“Hungary,” Chloe said and you raised your brows.

“Undercover?”

“Yeah. I hope he gets compromised and dies there.”

“Very unlikely,” you murmured, “Anyways, what brought this on? My feelings for Barnes?”

“It’s just that I recently read Vincent Smith’s file,” she said, “You guys remember Vincent?”

“Who?”

“His code name was Marco.”

“Oh, I remember Marco!” Keith said, “That guy took down a whole unit by himself. What happened to him?”

“He is missing.” Chloe said and you pulled your brows together.

“Since when do agents go missing and we don’t know where they are?”

“Since they fall for the target.”

“No way,” Keith chuckled, “Badass spy Marco fell in love? Poor idiot.”

“You’re a terrible person, Keith.”

You sat up straighter, “Wait, did you say he fell for the target?”

“Yeah, I saw the reports from his handler. And now he’s missing, and I don’t want you to run away with Barnes like Marco did with his target.”

You and Keith exchanged glances and you clicked your tongue.

“Chloe babe, he’s not missing.” you said “He’s dead.”

She pulled back slightly, “You don’t know-“

“Yes I do. You don’t fall for the target and compromise the whole mission, not unless you want to end up dead.”

“There’s no report of that,” she insisted and Keith sipped his beer.

“What did his report say, sweetheart?”

“That he was removed from his mission before going missing.”

Keith scoffed, “Rest in peace Marco, you won’t be missed.”

“How do you know—“

“Because that’s the code,” you said, “If the report says he was removed from his mission and went missing, it means he was killed by an agent on our side.”

“We killed our own agent?” she exclaimed and you turned the beer bottle in your hand,

“He stopped being our agent the moment he fell for the target.”

Chloe covered her mouth with her hands, worry etched into her expression, “Y/N, please, please promise me you won’t somehow get too involved in this mission and fall for Barnes and put yourself in danger.”

You let out a small laugh, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“It’s the Winter Soldier we’re talking about,” you reminded her and chewed on the popcorn, “Trust me, that would never happen.”

“Cross your heart?”

You heaved a sigh and clinked your beer bottle with hers.

“Cross my heart honey,” you assured her, “There’s no way I’d sign my own death warrant by doing something that stupid.”  

Chapter 6

[spine-buster]

Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒯𝑒𝓂𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒

CONTENT WARNING: this story deals with cults, polygamous cults, escaping cults, strict adherence to religion, gender roles, abuse, miscarriage, and a character with a traumatic past. ̲𝖳̲𝗁̲𝗂̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖼̲𝗁̲𝖺̲𝗉̲𝗍̲𝖾̲𝗋̲ ̲𝗌̲𝗉̲𝖾̲𝖼̲𝗂̲𝖿̲𝗂̲𝖼̲𝖺̲𝗅̲𝗅̲𝗒̲ ̲𝗁̲𝖺̲𝗌̲ ̲𝗆̲𝖾̲𝗇̲𝗍̲𝗂̲𝗈̲𝗇̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗇̲𝖽̲ ̲𝖽̲𝖾̲𝖺̲𝗅̲𝗌̲ ̲𝗐̲𝗂̲𝗍̲𝗁̲ ̲𝗍̲𝗋̲𝖺̲𝗎̲𝗆̲𝖺̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗋̲𝗂̲𝗌̲𝗂̲𝗇̲𝗀̲ ̲𝖿̲𝗋̲𝗈̲𝗆̲ ̲𝗆̲𝗂̲𝗌̲𝖼̲𝖺̲𝗋̲𝗋̲𝗂̲𝖺̲𝗀̲𝖾̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗇̲𝖽̲ ̲𝗌̲𝖾̲𝗑̲𝗎̲𝖺̲𝗅̲ ̲𝖺̲𝖻̲𝗎̲𝗌̲𝖾̲.̲ Please be warned.

Word Count: 15,503

A/N:  I have been loving your feedback on this story so far.  Your canon question about Matthew and Effie are great and I would love to hear and answer more.  It means the world to me that a plot this...unconventional, let’s say, is really taking hold and generating interest.  I know that there’s some really, really serious stuff dealt with in the chapters, so I appreciate everyone’s feedback and maturity about it.  As always, please check the content warning for this chapter.  Otherwise, I hope everyone enjoys the update!

                                                          *     *     *     *     *

She wrote every message on Instagram like an email, and Matthew couldn’t get enough of it.

Hello Matthew,

Today was interesting.  I started classes for my business certificate today.  I sat in a room with about 50 other people and I listened to my professor speak about the course prospectus and what we would be learning and doing.  I didn’t meet any new people or make any new friends but that’s okay.  I want to focus on my studies.  I already have homework.

How has St. Louis been?  I bet you are excited to be back home.  I hope you are relaxing and staying safe.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

I know you are going to ace that program, Effie.  You’re very talented and smart and it’ll be no time until you find yourself with a certificate and able to explore more job opportunities.

St. Louis is good.  Brady and Taryn are home too so it’s good to be surrounded by family.  I know it’s not the same for you but one day I think you will find a group of friends that will make up your family.  Most days I go golfing with my dad.  I usually relax by our pool too, or play basketball or some other sport with Brady.  I go to the gym too, to keep up on my fitness for next season.

*

Hello Matthew,

Class was good today.  We started the beginning lectures.  The professor went quickly but I was able to keep up.  I’m definitely learning how to type fast on my laptop!

You said in your message that I’m very talented but I don’t think I’m talented.  I’m maybe talented at some things like baking, but I don’t think I’m talented in much else.  Talents are developed over time and I was never given the opportunity to develop anything because I was expected to be a good wife, tend to children, and read the Bible.  Sometimes I think about if I could have been a piano player or a singer or something creative.  Maybe I could have been a writer like Geneviève if I was given the opportunity young, but I wasn’t.  But that’s okay.  I am trying to make my peace with it.  I will develop what I have now and try to use it for good.  

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Nobody bakes like you, Effie.  Please don’t think you are not talented, because you are.  I know you weren’t able to develop anything like you said, but you can still find your talents now.  You’re still young!  You’re only entering your 20s in a few weeks.  You can do whatever you set your mind to.

*

Hi Matthew,

Levi and Jenna took me to the mall again today.  We bought some new clothes that fit me better and aren’t so baggy.  They look really nice.  I even bought a dress that falls right at my knee.  Can you believe it?!  I never thought I’d wear something like that.  I never thought anybody else would be able to see my legs!  It’s a very weird feeling but it’s a very pretty dress.  Jenna said I should wear it for my birthday and I think I’m going to do it.  Do you want to see it?  I can send you a picture of it if you want.

I checked the weather in St. Louis and saw there was a big thunderstorm.  I hope you weren’t caught it in or anything.  I can’t imagine your curly hair getting wet in the rain and what it would look like.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

What are you trying to say about my hair??????????

I would love to see your dress.  I bet it looks great on you.  And you will need to send me pictures of you wearing it on your birthday.

*

They happened daily.  Usually sometime after dinner, when Matthew knew Effie had just finished eating and was either winding down for the night or preparing to do homework.  Every day, he waited for the message.  And every day, he’d grab his phone the second he heard the notification, not bothering to wait, and read the message eagerly.

***

Matthew found himself at a raucous house party, one that could have been characteristic of any stereotypical college experience or American movie trying to depict a traditional American life.  It felt like it was straight out of the American Pie movies.  A friend of his was hosting, and there was everything – beer kegs, jungle juice, trashed guys jumping into the pool, music blasting so loud Matthew almost couldn’t hear his own thoughts, girls taking selfies and posting to Instagram or complaining about boys at the party not paying attention to them.  

Hot girls taking selfies and posting to Instagram or complaining about boys – he and Brady – not paying attention to them.

Brady was taken and accounted for – Emma was great and Matthew loved her, even though he saw her only sparingly – and so most of the attention tonight was placed on Matthew.  He was the shiny new toy every time he came back to St. Louis in the summers – well, shiny always, but new not so much.  Nothing was new about him being in St. Louis in the summer, but everybody always treated is as such a big deal because he spent most of the year in Calgary.  That’s why attention was always on him, especially at parties like this.  That’s why everybody wanted to talk to him.  That’s why all the girls wanted to talk to him.  Matthew didn’t want to think about it.  He wanted to enjoy his night with his buddies, drinking beer and chatting them all up.  

That was…until Leah made an appearance.

Leah, a girl.  Leah, a girl he would hook up with in the summers…occasionally.  Sporadically.  Like, once a summer when he was back.  Maybe twice.  She’d always show up everywhere and smile and be nice.  And when Matthew was tipsy, or just a little bit drunk, he’d think ‘What the hell’ and let the night take him where it wanted to take him.

Just like now.

“Hey Matty,” she cooed, smiling as she always did and biting the bottom of her lip.  She went in for a hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.  He could swear she spilled some of her jungle juice on his neck.

“Hey Leah,” he said, his lips in a tight smile as she pulled away.  She was wearing a frilly crocheted top and cut-off denim shorts.  She looked hot.  Any guy at the party would have wanted to hook up with her.  “How are you?”

“Better now that I see you,” her flirting was automatic.  “How long have you been back for?”

“A few weeks,” Matthew shrugged his shoulders.

“And no call or text?  Ouch, Matty.”

“You always show up places,” he found himself saying, feeling his lips curve into a smirk.  “Didn’t think I needed to call.”

“Well then maybe I should have sent you a text.”

The party went on.  Matthew hung out with his buddies and talked up a storm.  Everybody got a kick out of his hockey stories and were practically begging for more.  He’d catch Leah staring at him from a few friend groups away where she stayed with her girlfriends, or from across the backyard or something, and she’d always bite her lip and flutter her eyelashes.  The beers kept pouring down his throat and he noticed her get closer and closer until she wiggled her way in with her friends.  It probably took a while, but in Matthew’s mind, it felt like it was only a minute until she was right in front of him, red solo cup in her hand.  

“Have you tried the jungle juice?” she asked.

He shook his head.  “I’ve been drinking beer all night.”

“Come get some inside with me,” she said, already grabbing his hand.  She wasn’t taking no for an answer.  She pulled him as he staggered behind her, almost tripping on the steps of the patio and while walking through the screen door.  When they finally got to the kitchen, Leah looked over her shoulder and winked before tugging Matthew nearer to her body.  She spun around in front of the jungle juice to pour some more into her cup.  When she did, Matthew could feel her ass up against his groin.  He felt like he was going to pass out from the beer.

“Did you miss me, Matty?” she asked as she looked at him over her shoulder again.

“I miss everyone in St. Louis,” he replied.

Leah apparently didn’t like that response, because she grinded her ass up against his groin even harder now.  “Don’t say that,” she cooed.  “I know you miss me.  It’s not like there’s anybody in Calgary like me.”

Matthew hummed.  She was right.  There wasn’t anybody like her in Calgary.

Effie was nothing like her.

Matthew’s stomach twisted as images of Effie flooded his mind.  The first one that came was the day he had picked her up at the hairdresser’s when she’d chopped off all her hair.  She looked so cute, and he remembered how bashful he was.  Then came the image of her sitting on another couch watching Little Women intently, at least fifteen bags of candy spread out on the coffee table of Levi’s basement.  She was so into watching the movie, and he was so into watching her.  Then came the image of her face, sweet and innocent and beautiful – the last face he saw in Calgary before heading to the airport and boarding a plane to St. Louis.  “No,” he mumbled out, half-drunk and heart aching.  

“No,” Leah repeated with a smile on her face, turning around finally to face him before trailing her finger down his chest and letting in linger on the hem of his jeans.  “There’s nobody in Calgary like me.”

He furrowed his brows.  He wanted out, but his feet felt like cement.  They always were when he was on the edge of being drunk.  He gulped.  “Where’s Brady?”

“Come with me, Matty,” she tugged at his jeans before grabbing his hands again and dragging him through the house.  She kept looking over her shoulder to smile at him and he kept looking back towards the backyard.  “I know what you need.”

She led him down a hallway, and at the end of that hallway was the bathroom.  She turned on the light and dragged him inside, shutting the door behind them and locking it.  She looked at him suggestively when the click filled the air.  “Le—”

“Shhh…” she pressed her finger against his lips to shut him up, replacing them quickly with her lips as she began to kiss him.  

Matthew closed his eyes.

These weren’t Effie’s lips.

She was kissing his neck now, and had backed him into the sink so he could lean against it.  Her hands wandered down to the button and zipper of his jeans.  Suddenly, she dipped down and was on her knees in front of him.  “Want me to suck you off, Matty?”

“N—No,” he stuttered out, looking down at her.  Matthew felt the zipper being pushed down and her hand on his groin.

“You can come down my throat,” she offered.  

He closed his eyes tightly, and in the darkness, he saw only one person: Effie.  

The only thing that brought him back – because he could have stayed alone in the bathroom with his eyes closed and the image of Effie in his mind for the rest of the God damn party if he really wanted to – was the sound of his zipper being pushed down dramatically.  He opened his eyes.  “Would you stop?!” he demanded, wiggling out of where he’d been backed into the sink.  He grabbed the front of his pants and zipped them up again.

Leah, still on her knees, spun around and glared at him.  “Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she got up slowly, not breaking eye contact.  “You have someone in Calgary?” she demanded.

Matthew refused to answer as he did up his button.

“Who the fuck is she?” she demanded again.

“There’s nobody.”

“Fucking hell there’s nobody.  What’s her name?”

“Don’t go there, Leah.  As if I’d tell you.”

“You’re fucking someone in Calgary?  Since when?”

“As if I’d tell you,” he repeated.

She gave him one last glare because unlocking the door.  “Fuck you Matthew Tkachuk.  You’ll fucking miss me.”

“Doubt it.”

***

Hi Matthew,

I went to a Starbucks today to work on some school work and people watch.  When you get back to Calgary, we will need to find a new Starbucks because the one near Levi’s house is too far away now.  Anyway, I was working on an assignment and watching people interact and go about their daily lives.  It was eye-opening and a bit weird to me.  A lot of people were on their phones!  It makes me wonder if I should be on it more…?  A lot of the girls who walked in were really fashionable and it makes me want to go shopping again.  I don’t think I’ll ever look as good as Geneviève or Annica but I could definitely try, and they could help me.  I learn a lot by people watching.  Does that make me weird?

I had a Zoom call with Geneviève and Jacob in Sweden.  She is doing well and helped me with my assignment a little bit.  I’ve been baking shortbread recently, and I’m going to make butter tarts tomorrow.  I miss you being my taste-tester, but I bet you are happy to have home cooking.  Sometimes I wonder if my siblings miss my cooking but I doubt they do.

Did you think I was weird when I said I didn’t miss my family at all?

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

I do not think you are weird at all for not missing your family.  They were abusive.  You have no reason to miss them.

People are addicted to their phones these days, which is why you’re so refreshing.  You’re not a slave to it…at least yet lol.  I hurt my eyes sometimes from staring at my screen too long.  

I can’t wait to eat ALL of your baking when I get back.  It’s the best, Effie.  It really is.

I miss you a lot.

*

Hi Matthew,

I miss you too.

Thank you for not thinking I’m weird for not missing my family.

I’ve been watching a lot of movies and listening to a lot of music.  I’ve been researching what’s been popular since I was born and I’m trying to, like, catch up I guess.  Some of the movies I don’t like or don’t get.  Some of them are really funny, and I watched them because I know people quote them all the time.  Like this movie called Bridesmaids.  I want to be able to get references people make even though I wasn’t in the moment of them.  There are some movies I’ve read about online that seem amazing, but I don’t want to watch them alone.  They are:

Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind Moonlight There Will Be Blood Shoplifters Brokeback Mountain The Master Unorthodox

When you come back to Calgary, would you watch them all with me?

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Of course I’ll watch them all with you.

***

Effie Schaffer woke up the morning of her 20th birthday, on July 7, 2021, to her phone ringing.  Birthdays were not a thing in the People’s Dominion of Christ.  They were not celebrated.  Effie always knew when hers was, but as a kid she never had a birthday party, and when she was forced to marry the prophet, she hated her birthday.  Hated it.  She always wished that the prophet would forget about it but he never did.  It was the one day of the year she spent the most time praying, and when she was not praying, she was with the prophet on his demand.  Several weeks later, usually, after a lot of blood loss and visit from the cult’s midwife (though she wasn’t properly medically trained), Abraham would tell Effie that everything was her fault, that God was testing him when He spoke to Abraham and told him to take Effie as his wife.  “July 7.  7/7.  One number above the Devil,” he’d tell her.  “That’s what you are.  Just above the devil.  Your blood and your loss are the signs of having the devil in you.  That’s why you refuse to carry my Son of God.”

She wasn’t expecting anybody to call besides Levi and Jenna, but they said they would be picking her up at noon anyway.  After she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up in bed a little bit, she was pleasantly surprised, albeit a little shocked, to see Matthew’s name flash across the screen.  The giant FaceTime text was at the bottom of screen.  Effie swiped to answer.  After a bit of lagging, Matthew’s smiling face appeared.  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” he screamed, loudly, causing her to jump slightly.  

“Thank you, Matthew,” she said, her heartbeat going back to normal.

“How does it feel to officially be in your twenties?” he asked.

Effie could barely think, so she shrugged.  “When I wake up and my brain starts working, I’ll tell you.”

Matthew furrowed his brows.  It was only then that he noticed half of her hair in a scrunchie and the pillows behind her head.  “Oh shit, I fucked up time zones, didn’t I?” he asked worriedly.  “What time is it there?”

Effie looked at her watch.  “It’s 7:30 in the morning.”

“I woke you up!  Jesus Effie, I’m so sorry,” he began to apologize.  “I’m such an idiot—”

“It’s okay, Matthew,” she said, smiling at how his own smile had faded from his face when he realized he had woken her up early.  7:30 in the morning would have been a godsend two years ago, when she usually woke up at 5:30.  “It’s nice to be woken up by your voice on my birthday, actually.  Someone is at least treating it like a birthday.”

“Levi’s gonna treat you,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  As if Levi wouldn’t.

“I know,” she said.  “I mean, like…before.  Birthdays weren’t exactly a celebration.”

“You never used to celebrate your birthday?” he asked, thinking back to all the amazing birthdays his parents had thrown he and his siblings over the years.  Because his was so close to Christmas, it was extra special.  His parents always made sure Christmas didn’t overshadow it too much.  Same with Taryn being born on Halloween.  Brady’s parties were always good too because they were right after the start of school, so usually the entire class would be invited.  

“No,” Effie shook her head.  Matthew was sort of waiting for her to elaborate, but it seemed like she didn’t want to.  He left it at that.  “Levi’s taking me to that steakhouse we went to for Noah’s birthday,” she informed him.  “I think I’m gonna have another tomahawk.”

Matthew smiled again.  “Please do, in honour of me.”

“Maybe I’ll take a picture of it to show you what you’re missing.”

“Believe me, I know what I’m missing,” he said.  He bit his lip, wondering for a quick second if he should tell her about the gifts coming her way.  He quickly decided against it, thinking it would be better left as a surprise.  “I’m sorry I can’t be there, Effie.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Matthew,” she told him, meaning it sincerely.  “It’s an amazing thing that you’re so close to them.  I…believe me, I know how important that is…to be able to have people who love you unconditionally, to be able to have people who love you and want to see you and always have your best interests at heart.  I would never want to take that away from you.  And besides, when we watch all those movies together…you’ll be there.  We’ll be reunited.”

He licked his lips, nodding quickly.  “You bet.”

***

Matthew had been lying around the house all day after playing a round of golf with his dad that morning.  He’d tanned by the pool with Taryn and ate straight from the bag of Veggie Straws, but he was pretty glued to his phone because he wanted to see the delivery updates for the gifts he’d gotten Effie for her birthday.

The first gift was a giant bouquet of flowers.  Peonies, mostly, of course, because of her tattoo, set in a beautiful vase.  He’d gotten the delivery notification, then about five minutes later he’d received a picture of it from Effie over Instagram saying thank you.  Fifteen minutes later, she uploaded a photo of it to her Instagram feed and tagged him.  ‘Beautiful bouquet of peonies from my friend Matthew!  I am twenty years old today.’ was her caption.  That was the first gift.

The second was a delivery of some cookies from an amazing bakery in Calgary that Annica and Geneviève always ordered from.  The cookies were divine, but realistically, they weren’t better than Effie’s cookies.  But Effie making cookies for her own birthday wasn’t exactly a gift, so he knew he’d have to order her a batch.  Again, he’d gotten the notification that the cookies had been delivered, and ten minutes later, Effie had sent a selfie of her with one of the chocolate chip cookies.  ‘Yum!’ she’d texted with the photo.  Another notification on Instagram told him Effie had uploaded another photo and tagged him in it.  ‘My friend Matthew gave me cookies too!  How sweet!  Cookies are some of my favourite treats.’  He absolutely loved her feed and the way she used Instagram.  If he had to delete everyone else and just follow her, he’d do it.

The last gift was the trickiest.  He didn’t know how she’d react.  But she didn’t have one of her own – she’d been borrowing Jenna’s – and she needed one, quite literally, for her job.  He wondered if she’d like the colour.  And the make.  And all the attachments.

A ‘MATTHEW, YOU DIDN’T’ text suddenly came through on his phone, and he couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear.  It was the first time it didn’t sound like an email.

Do u like it? he texted back.

I LOVE IT IN THE PISTACHIO TOO MY FAVOURITE COLOUR AND THE SIFTER ATTACHMENT AND THE ICE CREAM MAKER ATTACHMENT MATTHEW!

Im happy u like it! Now u can bake all you want and not have to borrow Jenna’s

“Taryn, mom needs you inside to help with something,” Brady’s voice boomed through the silence of the backyard.  Matthew heard the screen door burst open, and watched conspicuously through his sunglasses as Brady more or less barged towards them.  

“Can she wait?” Taryn didn’t make any effort to move.

“Now Taryn.  She seems pretty adamant,” Brady didn’t give up, his tone serious as he continued to walk towards them.

Taryn grumbled and got up from her seat.  Matthew locked his phone and pretended not to care, even when Brady took Taryn’s place in her lawn chair right beside him and didn’t bother lying down.  Instead, he sat facing Matthew, elbows on his knees and hands joined together, like he was a cop about to interrogate his brother.  “Who’s in Calgary?”

Matthew looked over at him.  “Huh?”

“Who’s in Calgary?” Brady asked again.

Matthew was confused.  “G…Gio?” he asked.

“Who’s in Calgary that made you not hook up with Leah at the party?”

Matthew’s heart dropped in the pit of his stomach.  For fuck sakes.  He sighed deeply and took off his sunglasses, trying to make it seem like everything was being blown out of proportion when, really, Matthew just didn’t want people knowing.  But he told Brady everything – everything.  He was sort of impressed that the secret had lasted this long, if he was being honest.  “Brady…” he began, his voice low.

Brady took off his sunglasses too.  “There’s a girl.”

“Sort of.  It’s complicated.”

“It’s complicated?  What’s her name?”

Matthew thought about not telling him, but there was no point.  Brady would find out eventually, and Matthew would rather Brady learn the news from him than from the rumour mill or from Leah stalking his social media.  “It’s…Effie.”

“Effie?”

“Who’s Effie?” Taryn voice boomed.  The boys whipped their head to see her standing at their family room’s sliding doors, hiding behind the screen door.

“Taryn!” both brothers yelled at their sister.

“Effie?  Who’s Effie?” Chantal called out from the kitchen.

“What’s an Effie?” Keith asked from beside Chantal.  

“Oh my GOD this is a disaster!” Matthew screamed out in frustration.  “Get out of here, Taryn!”

“Who’s Effie?” Brady demanded once more.

Matthew put his heads in his hands dramatically before giving up.  There was no way he was going to get out of this.  Now his whole family would know.  It would be a game of telephone, and by the end of his and Brady’s conversation, Keith would hear Matthew married a girl named Jessie who’d grown up in a hut.  “You remember me talking about one of our physio guys?  Levi Schaffer?” Matthew asked.  Brady nodded.  “His younger sister.”

Brady furrowed his brows.  “Isn’t Levi in his thirties?  You’re dating an older woman, Matthew?”

Matthew rolled his eyes.  “No, you dolt.  She’s fifteen years younger than he is.”

“SHE’S FIFTEEN?!”

“WHAT?!” Taryn screamed from the screen door again.

“AAAAAAARGHHHH!” Matthew screamed in absolute frustration.  “You are literally the dumbest person alive, you know that right?!” he screamed at Brady.

“Matthew!  Apologize to your brother!” Chantal called from the house, opening the screen door and stepping through into the backyard with Keith.  

“But mom!  He’s an idiot!”

“Matthew,” Keith’s voice bellowed. “Now.”

“Sorry,” Matthew grumbled.  His parents always made the siblings do this stuff, ever since they were kids.  “Can we just drop it all?” he asked.

“Nope.  We’re all here now,” Brady said.  “Who’s Effie?”

Matthew sighed heavily.  “She’s a girl I met through my friend Levi at work.”

“What’s the big deal?  Are you dating her?” Keith asked.

“No,” Matthew answered immediately, shaking his head.  “No.  We’re not dating.  Not at all.  She…” he began, trying to find the right words.

“She…” Brady egged on.

“She’s a bit…” Matthew began again.  How was he going to tell them?  How was he gonna word it?  Should he sugar coat it or just come out and say it?  “She’s a bit…different.  She…she and Levi grew up in one of those, like, religious cults, out in rural Alberta.  But a year and a half ago, she escaped, and she’s been trying to adjust to the real world ever since.  I met her in January, at Noah’s birthday.  And ever since, I’ve just been, like…helping her experience the normal world.”

The entire Tkachuk family was silent as they processed the information.  They were definitely expecting a much different explanation from Matthew, that was for sure.  “A religious cult, Matthew?” Chantal was the first to speak.  Matthew nodded his head.  Chantal grew serious.  “Was she abused?”

Matthew hesitated, but he eventually nodded his head.  It wasn’t his business to tell – he knew that – but he couldn’t lie to his own mother.  “She could only wear dresses.  She had to read the Bible all day.  She was married at fourteen to the leader of the cult who was 55.  That sort of thing,” he explained briefly, not wanting to give any more details.

Chantal looked concerned.  Keith looked at his wife before looking back at his son.  “So you’re not dating her, but you’re helping her learn about the real world,” Keith clarified.  Matthew nodded again.  Keith looked at Brady.  “Then that’s none of our business! What’s the big deal?” he huffed.

“It’s not—”

“Why’re you busting his balls then?”

“Keith!” Chantal chastised.

***

Hi Matthew,

I still can’t believe you got me the stand mixer.  I love it so much.  It’s the only thing that I have out on my countertop because there’s no reason to hide it.  And the pistachio colour is sooooooo beautiful.  I promise that as a token of appreciation, I’m going to bake you whatever sweets you want when you get back to Calgary.  Seriously.  Anything you want.  Even if I haven’t made it before.  And I’ll make ice cream too!

I have been taking some walks around Calgary in my spare time.  It’s a really beautiful city.  Sometimes I will do my walks at night and see all the young people out at restaurants and bars and all the light are lit up downtown, and it’s even more beautiful.  It’s so nice to see life in people.  Everybody in the cult was so miserable.  Maybe I’m just saying that because I was so miserable, but that’s how I remember it.  Nobody was happy about life.  Well, they weren’t happy about life like the people in downtown Calgary are on a Friday or Saturday night.  

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Calgary is definitely a beautiful city, and I’m happy that you’re starting to see that.  Wait until you see even more of the country and the world one day!  All of those young people that you see out and about are your age.  I know you are probably very nervous to make new friends, but if you ever want to go out to one of those places, I’m sure Levi or Jenna would take you.  When the team gets back into the city, I know any of the guys would take you too, just like when we went out for Andrew’s birthday.  You just let us know when.  And I apologize in advance for Noah’s behaviour.

I’m going to put in a request for snickerdoodles.  My mom used to make them a lot growing up, but she doesn’t make them as much now because then I’d eat them all and get too pudgy.

*

Hi Matthew,

Snickerdoodles it is.  I will perfect the recipe before you come back.

On top of movies, I’ve also been listening to music.  Levi lets me use his Spotify.  He also told me what an iPod is…was.  Have you heard of Adele?  She’s amazing!  I love her voice.  Most of the time I just let Spotify recommend me things and I end up liking them, but Levi introduced me to some bands too.  Have you heard of Bruce Springsteen?  Taylor Swift?  The Tragically Hip?  Red Hot Chili Peppers?  They’re all so good.  Red Hot Chili Peppers is Levi’s favourite band.  I also really like listening to Coldplay.  I think they’re my favourite out of all of them.  But I also like dancing songs, like the songs that have a good beat.  I wasn’t allowed to dance before (it was too sensual and would tempt the men) so now I feel like I should let it all out.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Dance your heart out Effie.  Fuck them.

Fuck them.

***

Matthew was antsy.  Antsy.  The second the plane landed in Calgary, his leg was bobbing up and down to get off the plane, grab his bags, and go straight to Effie’s apartment.  

It was the first time since he had lived in Calgary that he wanted to go anywhere but his apartment after a flight back to the city.  But Effie had that effect on him these days.  He hadn’t seen her in three months – almost four.  And he was dying to.  FaceTimes and Instagram-messages-formatted-as-emails could only do so much, and satisfy so much in his mind.  He needed to see her, physically see her.  He didn’t know what had happened to him in the past few months, especially since he and Effie had left on such a good note.  No need to rush things.  Take the time.  But this entire summer, all Matthew could think about was her.  All he dreamt about was her.  He wondered if it was the same for her too.  And he wondered, if it was, if she would admit it.

Once he got his bags from baggage claim, he hightailed it out of the airport and got into a taxi.  He gave the driver Effie’s address, and within half an hour, he found himself with his suitcases at the foot of her apartment.

Okay, so maybe he didn’t think this through.  

He hauled both of his suitcases up the staircase, most definitely putting chips in the wood steps along the way.  It reminded him of moving her in to the place months ago, with him yelling at Sean for half of the day but ending with a slice of pie and his first kiss from Effie.  He didn’t know what to expect now, but he knew that whatever he’d get, he’d be happy with.  He knocked on her door and waited.  

When Effie opened it, she looked confused because she wasn’t expecting anybody.  But the second she saw Matthew’s face, her face lit up like a night show of fireworks.  “Matthew!” she squealed, jumping on him and wrapping her arms tightly around his broad shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her waist.  “What are you doing here?!  You weren’t supposed to be back in Calgary for a few days!” the shock was still evident in her voice.

“Just thought I’d take an earlier flight out,” he said casually.  “Gonna need to customize to the time change anyway.”

As if an hour was going to be a big shock to his system.

When Effie pulled away, she still kept her hands on his shoulders and he kept his hands at her waist.  She’d gained more weight throughout the summer, thankfully, and filled out more.  The pair of jeans she was wearing actually fit.  The top she was wearing actually fit too – a simple navy-striped long sleeve.  He was happy to see that.  She’d been so frail when he met her in January.  She looked like she had life in her now.  “Have you even gone home?” she asked, looking down at his suitcases behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Uh…no,” he said awkwardly.  “Can I bring them in?  I just wanted to see you.”

Effie couldn’t help but gulp at his words.  “I just wanted to see you.”  Nobody had ever said those words to her before – not even her own mother, she thought.  Nobody was ever happy to see her in the cult.  But in the real world, Matthew was.  “Yeah, come in,” she said, moving to remove her hands from his shoulders to give him more space to haul his suitcases into her entrance.  He closed the door behind him when he was done, and that’s when the reality snapped back into Effie’s mind.  “Oh no!” she exclaimed worriedly.

Matthew automatically got worried too.  “Oh no what?”

“You came home early and I—I didn’t make your snickerdoodles!”

A smile automatically appeared on his face.  “Effie, it’s okay,” he said softly, slipping off his shoes.  “It’s not like I told you I was coming back to Calgary.”

The worried look didn’t leave her face.  “Are you sure?  I—I didn’t mean to forget.  I actually made one batch but I thought they could be better for you so I was going to make another and—”

“Effie,” he said sternly, placing a hand over hers, which had bunched together nervously.  “It’s alright.  It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” she asked one more time.

“I’m positive,” he squeezed her hands gently.  “Just gives me another excuse to come over again in a few days, really.”

A small smile crept on Effie’s face as she realized Matthew wasn’t angry.  Usually, when something like this happened, the outcome was much different.  She didn’t have to worry about that anymore.  “Well come in then, come in,” she said, moving further into her apartment so Matthew could follow her.  “D’you want something to drink?” she asked, already opening up her fridge.

“Tell me what you’ve been learning in school,” Matthew said instead, leaning against it.  “I want to hear everything I missed.”

Effie couldn’t stop talking after that.  They had managed to migrate to her couch and she told him about her courses and teachers and homework and assignments and textbooks and her new computer and the classroom and the building and the campus and the Starbucks on campus and the cafeteria she’d eat in and the vending machine she’d buy snacks from and the bench she’d sit on waiting for class and everything.  Everything.  There was nothing she didn’t talk about.  And he listened to it all, listened to all of it intently, not interrupting once, asking follow-up questions and asking her for more more more more more.  He couldn’t get enough.  He forgot about his water.  He forgot about the homemade Rice Krispie she gave him on a plate on her coffee table.  He forgot that he was going to suggest they go out to a Starbucks.  He forgot that he hadn’t seen her in months and was so desperate to see her that he came here before he even went to his own apartment.  All he could think about was here, and all he could pay attention to was what she was saying.  

He wanted it like this all the time.

“How’s therapy going?” he asked, finally remembering his water and taking a quick sip from his glass.  

“I’m seeing a sex therapist now too.”

That was a bombshell.  Matthew tried not to make it show that he was shocked at the news, but she’d said it so casually – like everyone saw a sex therapist.  And, like, a therapist was one thing, but a sex therapist was another.  He understood why she’d need one, but it was still a shock to him.  “Oh yeah?” he tried to say casually.

Effie nodded her head.  “I told Dr. Barlow how we’d been kissing,” she said, biting her lip and blushing slightly.  “And, um…well, I told her some other things, so she suggested I see the sex therapist to help fix them.”

Fix them?  Matthew had no idea what she meant.  He moved slightly closer to her on the couch as he furrowed his brows.  “What else did you tell her?” he asked softly.  Effie averted his gaze, looking away as if she were embarrassed.  “Effie, come on, you can tell me,” he urged.

“Well…when we—do you promise not to freak out at me?”

His heart ached.  “Of course.”

“When we started kissing—well, when I started kissing you…I liked it a lot,” she said.

“We were kissing each other,” he said, correcting her, because he knew language was important and the way things were phrased was important and he wanted her to know he was 100% in on it too.  He wasn’t exactly innocent.  He was a willing accomplice.  “I was kissing you too.  I liked it a lot too.”

Effie nodded her head.  “Well…I liked it a lot.  But then we had that talk and you left for St. Louis and we were in a good place.  Dr. Barlow told me that was very mature of me, and that she was very impressed.  But then…”

“But then…”

Effie kept averting his gaze.  “Um…but then, well, you weren’t here, and I started to have dreams of us kissing.  I’d lean into you and close my eyes and kiss you.  And your lips were soft like I remembered.  But then it would change.  Quickly.  And it would hurt.  It—it would hurt.  And I’d open my eyes and instead of you, it was…Abraham.  And I’d get so scared.  I’d wake up screaming.”

Matthew’s heart fell in the pit of his stomach.  He felt like he was going to be sick.  “I made you feel that way?”

“No!  No you didn’t,” she shook her head vehemently.  “It was only when you left.  When you’re—Matthew, no,” her words were jumbled because she had started crying.  “When we kissed, I liked it.  I liked it so much.  But my mind was playing tricks on me.”

“Effie, if I hurt you—”

“You didn’t.  You didn’t hurt me at all,” she pressed, her hand extending automatically to grab at his forearm comfortingly.  “You could never hurt me Matthew.  Ever.  I just…” her voice had gotten softer, frailer, more like it had been in January.  “I still see him sometimes.”

If Matthew’s heart had fallen into the pit of his stomach before, then now it had just shattered into a billion pieces.  “Oh, Effie…” he barely got out.

“I don’t want to see him ever again,” she said.  

“C’mere,” he said softly, pulling her body towards his so he could hug her.  He wrapped his arms around her tightly and could feel Effie melt into him, her head cradled on his chest.  He wanted her to feel as safe as possible with him – he’d wanted that since the beginning.  With this new revelation, he now wanted it more than ever.  “You’ll never see him again, Effie.  I promise you.”

“I know I won’t.  I know.  This is happening because of what happened to me.”

“When he would hurt you.”

Effie looked up at him, nodding, almost embarrassingly.  “I know that he can’t hurt me anymore.  But my dreams would take me back to when he did.  It wasn’t you, Matthew.  You didn’t make me feel that way.  I told Dr. Barlow and Dr. Stevenson that.  They’re just trying to help me not see him anymore, and move past the things that he did to me.  And they’re…they’re trying not to make me feel guilty about something so simple like kissing.”

“You felt guilty about us kissing?” he asked.

“Women couldn’t date, right?  So it wasn’t like I was kissing any of the other boys in the cult. We were harlots and sinners if we kissed men, and we were responsible for them straying away from God.  My first kiss was on my fake wedding day.”

Matthew could kill them all.  He had half the heart to jump into his car and drive to Sheerness so that he could.  “I will give you as many kisses as you want if it helps you forget,” he blurted out.

Effie couldn’t help but smile.  “Can we start again now?  Slowly?”

Matthew smiled slightly.  She craned her head up and placed one of her signature chaste kisses on his lips, and he reciprocated readily, the feeling of her lips on his after months of not having them there ranking up there with the best feeling in the world.  When she pulled away, her eyes were still closed, but there was a smile on her face.  Her prior tears had stained her cheeks.  “Hugging you feels nice too,” Effie said, finally opening her eyes.  

Matthew smiled.  “Well then we’ll start doing a lot of that too.”

***

At the beginning of every hockey season, right before training camp, the Calgary Flames hosted a gala to benefit the Calgary Flames Foundation.  The team would set a fundraising goal for the night – often surpassed – and then set one for the season – also surpassed – to give back to the city and community that supported them endlessly, through thick and thin.  The gala was unofficially the kickoff to the season.  Every member of the team, coaching staff, and head office attended.  It was one of Calgary’s biggest events.  It was the one night of the year Matthew didn’t mind being out and having to small-talk with hundreds of strangers, because he knew it was all for a good cause and a greater good.  

Matthew was forced to wear a tuxedo.  All the members of the team were forced to wear tuxedos.  He kept fiddling with his bowtie and Mark kept slapping his hand away.  Matthew thought they all looked like penguins.  He searched around the gala room, already filling up with people.  He took his phone out of his pocket.

You guys here yet? he texted Geneviève, knowing that since Elias and Jacob were already here, she and Annica were coming together.  

We’re in a taxi.  Eyeliner needed to be reapplied because Effie kept crying.

Matthew chuckled to himself, picturing the image of Effie sitting in a chair while Annica and Geneviève fussed over her makeup.  Before he could text her back, another text from her came through.

She looks beautiful, by the way.

Matthew was impatient.  He kept looking towards the doors even though he was supposed to be pretending to be interested in what these rich people had to say.  Levi and Jenna were already there, too, so it really was just him waiting for Effie to arrive.  This entire night didn’t start until Effie arrived.  

Matthew was in a conversation with someone when he saw her walk through the doors.  Annica was wearing a navy blue bodycon dress that showed off her curves, and she looked great.  Geneviève was wearing an emerald green midi-length dress with a high slit, high collar, back cut-out, and cap sleeves, and she looked impeccably chic and stylish, like only Geneviève could.  

But it was Effie, of course, who looked the best.  A bright red dress that fell to her knees, with floral lace and sequins and cape sleeves that covered her otherwise bare arms.  She wore a pair of low nude heels, and her blonde bob was styled professionally as a barely-there curl.  She looked impeccable.  Beautiful.  Stunning.  Gorgeous.  Divine.  Exquisite.  

“Excuse me,” he said quickly to the man and wife he was talking to, and left Elias alone with them as he made his way through the crowd and towards Effie, Annica, and Geneviève.  He pushed past some people gently before finally appearing in front of them.  He could see Geneviève smirking the second they saw him, but he locked eyes with Effie.  When she saw him in his tux, her breath hitched in her throat.  He looked good.  “Hi,” he said to Effie breathlessly.

Annica saw the look in his eyes and knew she had to skedaddle out of there.  “Where’s Elias?”

“Over there,” Matthew pointed behind him, somewhere in the crowd of four hundred people, as if that answered the question and helped her.

“Thanks,” she left, winking at him as she passed him.

Geneviève was next.  “I guess my husband is in the same place?” she asked him.

“Mhm,” he nodded his head quickly.

“Great.  You two behave.  If I don’t see you, I’ll assume you’re in a broom closet,” she said before disappearing into the crowd of people.

Matthew and Effie hadn’t taken their eyes off each other.  Effie thought he looked great in his tux; it was tailored to perfection, and really showed off how thick his body was, but in a good way.  She’d felt it when they hugged when he showed up to her place after landing in Calgary, and if she was being honest with herself, she had been thinking about it ever since.  She kept thinking about being physical with him, about touching him and hugging and cuddling and doing all the things she couldn’t have done with another man before.  And she only wanted to do them with Matthew.  Her mind – and now increasingly her body – wanted to do that only with Matthew.  With the dress and the makeup and the whole look all together, Matthew was a man possessed.  With Geneviève and Annica gone, Matthew couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip to suppress himself from smiling bashfully, like he usually did with Effie.  “You look beautiful, Effie,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” she smiled.  “This is the second dress I’ve ever worn that has shown off my legs.  It’s Geneviève’s.  And – if you can believe it – this is the first time I’ve word something red.”

He couldn’t take it anymore.  From her hair to her makeup to her dress to her shoes, he just couldn’t fucking take it anymore.  He looked around the room quickly before grabbing her hand.  “Come with me,” he mumbled.

“Where are we going?”

He dragged her out of the room and into the foyer.  There were more people out there, sipping on cocktails and eating hors d’oeuvres and getting checked in, so he kept walking with her behind him down the long foyer that connected all the different hall rooms in the complex together.  When it got quieter, and the rush of people were too far away, he led her into a short corridor where a men’s and women’s washroom was.  They were far enough away that he knew no-one from the gala would find them.

“Matthew?  Is everything okay?” she asked as she watched him close the door behind them.

“Everything’s fine,” he said, his voice strained.  “I just…God, Effie, you look so fucking beautiful.”

Effie could pick up on the strain in his voice.  She could also see the fire in his eyes as he looked down at her.  She didn’t know much about the world, and she knew even less about men, but those things alone were telling her something.  Her body was telling her something too, something she’d never heard from it before.  Instead of being repulsed by the body in front of her, she was drawn to it.  Instead of being scared to touch it, she wanted to feel it all over her.  Instead of allowing her mind to take her somewhere else so she didn’t have to focus on pain on hurt or anything else, she wanted to be in the moment and feel everything.  “Kiss me, Matthew,” she said.  She’d never been so bold in her entire life.  She didn’t think she had it in her.

Matthew didn’t need to be told twice.  He held her face between his hands, dipped his head, and began kissing her passionately.  Effie loved it.  It wasn’t a chaste kiss like the kisses they had shared in the past.  This kiss was hungry, and told her almost everything she needed to know about Matthew’s feelings.

Her feelings were similar.  She wanted to explore them.  She wanted to do more.  

That was why, when it was Effie who slid her tongue along Matthew’s lips, he stopped in shock.  Not that he wanted to – the action was just surprising.  He pulled away slightly, making sure it was something she wanted to do.  When he saw her open her eyes slowly, she was bringing her hands up, placing them over his.  “You can touch me, Matthew,” her voice was barely above a whisper.

He let out a shaky breath.  He knew they weren’t exactly gonna hook up in the bathroom or anything, but this was still huge, especially for Effie.  “Are you sure?” he asked.

She nodded her head.  “You won’t hurt me.”

He dipped down and kissed her again.  And he kept kissing her, letting his hands wander to her waist and hips, where he gripped them and pulled them closer to his body.  And she kept kissing him, letting her hands wander down his chest and under his tuxedo jacket to his back, feeling the thickness of his body.  And for at least a few minutes, they were in their own little world, kissing in the men’s bathroom of a banquet hall, hands all over each other as Matthew probably got lipstick all over his mouth.  

Effie was loving it.  The feeling of his soft lips on hers was unlike anything she’d ever felt, and his tongue in her mouth, tasting slightly of the alcohol he’d drunk before she got there, was intoxicating to say the least.  She felt like it could go on forever.  She was pretty sure she would let it go on forever if she could.  She was happy, so happy that she was doing this – that she could do this.  Two years ago, if she’d even thought about it, she would have been scared of being damned to hell for eternity.  Now, she was enjoying it.  Now, she wanted to do it all the time.  Now, she could—

She could—

She—

Now, it hurt a little.

Now, the lips weren’t as soft.

Now, she could feel a prickly, unkept beard scraping at her skin—

“STOP,” she instinctively pushed the body away, scrunching her face and gulping hard.  Before she could see Abraham’s face – before it could appear to her in her mind – she opened her eyes and looked at Matthew.

Matthew.

Matthew.

She saw him staring back at her worriedly and she let out a shaky breath.  He knew why she stopped; he didn’t need to be told.  “I’m—I’m so—”

“Hey hey, it’s okay,” he said soothingly.  “It’s alright, Effie.  We can stop.”

She diverted her eyes from looking at him.  She was so embarrassed.  “You won’t be mad?” she asked.  That was usually how it went for, well…

Matthew put his hand under her chin so he could look her in the eye.  “No,” he said, with as much conviction as he could muster.  “We can stop whenever you want.”

“I’m so—”

“Do not apologize to me,” he said sternly.  She didn’t need to.  He needed her to know that.  “Never apologize to me for that.”

She bit her bottom lip.  “Thank you for stopping.”

“There’s no way in hell I’d keep going.”

Effie nodded.  She understood.  “At least I’m getting better,” she said.  “I didn’t give you a black eye this time.”

Matthew couldn’t help but snort.  It released all the tension in the air immediately; even Effie was giggling slightly.  “That you did not,” he said, grabbing her hand slightly.  “Wanna go back out there?  Well, after we get all this lipstick off of me.”

***

The gala was nice.  It was formal and the food was decent and even though Matthew basically kept his eye on Effie sitting with Levi and Jenna the entire night, it was nice.  He had fun with his teammates.  He embarrassed himself on stage for charity.  At the silent auction, one of his packages with signed memorabilia went for the second-highest bid.  He was proud of what he and the team were able to accomplish in terms of giving back to the community.

But now he had more important things on his mind.  

By the time he found Effie again, she was standing in a group with Levi and Jenna, Jacob and Geneviève, and Annica and Elias.  It looked like they were chatting about something exciting, so Matthew knew he needed to be there.  When Geneviève saw him butt his way in, she smiled.  “I was just reminiscing about when Jacob and I met, and how my friends and I went to the pubs in Oxford after our graduation in our robes and Tudor bonnets,” she said, filling him in.  “There’s nothing better than showing up to a place severely overdressed and then having the time of your life dancing.”

Matthew looked at Geneviève in her dress.  He looked at Annica in hers, and Effie in hers, and Jenna in hers.  He looked to his teammates in his tuxedos, and to Levi wearing a form-fitted navy suit.  “Wanna go dancing?”

Elias smirked.  “The night’s still young.”

***

They ended up at a bar downtown, one that Matthew had been to before but couldn’t really remember exactly what happened (it was his first year in Calgary and he’d just found out hours before that the legal drinking age was only eighteen).  The bouncer looked at them all weirdly in their getups but let them in anyway.  It was only when they entered that they realized it was frosh week for the University of Calgary, and the bar was full of university students drinking and dancing.  The floor was slightly sticky.  It was the perfect venue for the goal they wanted to achieve.

“Oh, this takes me back,” Geneviève giggled, looking out at the sea of people.  She looked at Annica and Jenna.  “Spicy margs?”

Both women nodded.  “Spicy margs.”

She looked at Effie.  “Have you ever had alcohol?”

“No.”

“Do you want to try it while you’re safe with us?”

Effie nodded.  

Geneviève, Effie, and Matthew headed to the bar while the rest of the group went to find a bar table to take over.  Matthew made sure Effie got a spot right at the front as he stood directly behind her, his body pressed against hers.  Geneviève waved down the bartenders and ordered all the drinks.  All the university students clamouring to get a spot at the bar and the attention of the bartenders looked at them weird for their too-fancy clothes.  Geneviève didn’t care – it wasn’t like this was her first time doing this.  Effie was a little self-conscious, but that soon went away when she saw the drinks being made in front of her.

“Whenever you go out to a bar like this, you always want the bartender to make your drink in front of you.  Don’t ever accept a drink from a stranger or if you haven’t seen it made in front of you,” Geneviève cautioned her.  

“Okay,” Effie nodded.  “What happens if I don’t like the spicy margarita though?”

“Then we’ll get you another drink.”

Once all the drinks were made, they were brought back to the bar table the rest of the group managed to find and everyone began drinking.  Effie liked her spicy margarita.  Matthew let her take a sip of his beer but she didn’t like that too much.  She ordered another spicy margarita.  Her body began to feel tingly because of the tequila.  The music started to get progressively louder, too, the bass making the floor vibrate.  Effie looked out onto the dance floor to see a bunch of people her age dancing – grinding, as Matthew called it at Andrew’s birthday many months ago.  She watched them intently, while they were having the time of their lives.  

“You okay?” Matthew asked, bending down to ask as she was looking out at the crowd.  

“I want to dance but I don’t know how to,” she revealed.  “I’m just…looking to see what everyone else is doing.  I wouldn’t be comfortable with that grinding.”

Matthew couldn’t help but smile.  “Nobody knows how to dance, Effie.  We all just move our bodies to the beat of the music.”

The song changed suddenly and it made Geneviève scream at the top of her lungs in excitement.  Effie watched as she grabbed her drink and Jacob’s hand and dragged him towards the dance floor as they began to dance together.  Levi and Jenna followed, and so did Annica and Elias.  The couples weren’t grinding like the university students, but instead danced facing each other, holding hands or swaying back and forth, holding their drinks it their hands and raising them up in the air, miraculously not spilling a thing.  She and Matthew were the only ones left at the bar table.  “This was their wedding song, I think,” Matthew explained, watching Effie watch Jacob and Geneviève dancing.

“What’s it called?”

“I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston.”

“Levi hasn’t introduced me to that one.”

“Levi isn’t the type to listen to Whitney Houston.”

Effie continued to watch them dance, Geneviève singing the lyrics to Jacob at the top of her lungs.  They were so in love with each other, even she could see it, and she barely knew what healthy love was.  A part of her wondered what made them love each other so much, and another part of her wondered if she should ask.  Was it rude to ask something like that?

“D’you want to dance, Effie?” Matthew asked.

Effie looked up at him.  “Do you think people will laugh at me because I don’t know how?”

He shook his head.  “There’s so many people and they’re all so drunk, they won’t even notice you.”

She gripped her margarita tighter.  There was something to be said about overcoming fears ever since she left the cult, and this could be classified as one of them.  But she wasn’t like these university students who were moving their bodies so freely and easily.  She was much more restrained – with everything really – but she wanted to actively work to move away from that.  Conquer her fears.  Do what she needed to do to shed herself from the past.  So she nodded her head.  “Let’s go.”

Matthew grabbed her hand and led her on to the dance floor, moving his body to the song with his beer still in his hand, doing his best not to spill it everywhere, but especially not on Effie wearing Geneviève’s expensive red dress.  Effie watched, moving her feet back and forth awkwardly.  She looked up at Matthew for reassurance, only to see him already smiling at her.  “You got it, you got it,” he said, moving his feet in a similar way.  

“What do I do with my hands?” she asked.

“Just throw ‘em up!” he showed her.  She did the same movements, but she couldn’t step or move with the beat of the music.  Matthew could tell she was nervous.  “Just move your body, Effie.  Move it however you want.  Doesn’t need to be on beat.”

Effie closed her eyes, trying to get the feel of the song in her, but she lost her groove because it soon ended and another began.  This one was even more upbeat – well, it had a better beat – and Effie began to move again.  

Feel buried alive This city is airtight Suffocated and lonely in the crowd I'm surrounded by All the screens of their life Screaming in to space to drown them out

Effie not only began to move her feet and hands, but she tried swaying her hips a bit.  She liked this beat.  She loved this beat.  She lost herself completely in it, dancing with no inhibitions.  Matthew watched as she let loose, moving her body in tune with the music.  Her dancing was unlike anyone else’s around her, and the only thing he wanted to was copy her.  It looked a bit ridiculous, but it didn’t matter to Matthew.  He’d made himself look more ridiculous than this before.  This was nothing.

I felt down so low Found nowhere to go But I know you wait for me You wait for me So far out of sight Straight into the white But I know you wait for me I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

Effie opened her eyes to see Matthew.  Matthew, who would wait for her.  Matthew, who had waited for her.  

'Cause I've been hypnotized by the lights But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight Yeah, it's taken time to realize But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

“Go Effie!  Go Effie!” Annica chanted, coming up beside them with Elias, grooving to the beat of the music.  Annica watched Effie moving and followed her movements too – albeit more fluidly – and when Effie looked up and saw Annica, a giant smile took over her face.  Annica screamed in excitement and cheered their drinks together before moving with her, beside Matthew, letting him get closest to her.

So hold me tight I just wanna fade out Somewhere we can ship the world away I'm ready to hide Far from the fallout They won't find us in the paradise we'll make

“Woooooooo!  You go girl!  Get loose!” Geneviève screamed from her other side, approaching them with Jacob beside her who was doing a modified version of the robot.  Matthew watched as Effie closed her eyes, going into her own little world, raising her arms and bopping her body to the music.  It was the happiest and most carefree he’d ever seen her.  He vowed right then and there to take her dancing whenever she wanted to go so she could feel this same way.

I felt down so low Found nowhere to go But I know you wait for me You wait for me So far out of sight Straight into the white But I know you wait for me I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

Effie was feeling it.  She loved it.  She loved this.  She loved the people she was surrounded by.  If this was love, she wanted to feel it all the time.

'Cause I've been hypnotized by the lights But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight Yeah, it's taken time to realize But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

When she opened her eyes again, she saw everyone dancing around her.  She stepped closer to Matthew, almost so close that she could feel his body against hers.  They moved together to the climax of the song, Matthew looking down at her and smiling.

Free falling from the high I'm following the voice I know Free falling from the high I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

In his tuxedo and in her frilly red dress with cape sleeves, surrounded by people. it felt like they were the only ones in the world.

'Cause I've been hypnotized by the lights But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight Yeah, it's taken time to realize But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

***

“I think I can live a normal life with him,” Effie told Dr. Barlow as she sat in her usual seat in the office, looking down at her hands.  She’d already been talking for almost an hour during her session, but she felt the need to get that statement out.  Dr. Barlow had the right to know.

“With Matthew?” Dr. Barlow clarified.

Effie nodded her head.  Who else would she be talking about?  “He’s never once made me feel uncomfortable or unsafe or…like…ashamed of what I went through,” she elaborated.  

“That’s a very positive thing,” Dr. Barlow said, her voice steady.  “It’s good that you’re thinking about these things, Effie.  You’re thinking about your future.  You actually see a future for yourself.  But how normal do you think a friendship or perhaps even a life with a hockey player can be?” she asked.

Effie shrugged her shoulders.  “I don’t know.  I barely understand hockey as it is.”

“Well, hockey players don’t exactly live the most conventional of lifestyles.  They travel a lot, as I’m sure you know since Levi travels with the team.”

“Yeah…” Effie didn’t know where Dr. Barlow was going with this.  “That’s…that’s not the biggest deal to me.”

Dr. Barlow nodded her head, writing something down on her pad of paper.  “Have you continued to kiss him since he’s come back?”  Effie nodded.  “Regularly?”

“Semi-regularly.”

“Have you told Dr. Stevenson?” she asked.  Effie nodded again.  “Do you still envision Abraham sometimes?”

Effie hesitated before nodding her head.  She knew she couldn’t lie.  “It’s been getting better though.  We kissed for a couple of minutes once before I, um, felt Abraham’s beard.  And when he stopped, he didn’t get mad at all.  I means it’s progress from when he brushed up against me in bed and I gave him a black eye,” she tried to joke.

Dr. Barlow apparently didn’t find it funny like Matthew had.  She just nodded again and wrote on her note pad.  “You should tell Dr. Stevenson about that.”

***

“I made another pint of maple pecan ice cream,” Effie told Levi as she handed him a Tupperware full of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies.  They were mostly for Jenna – she was craving them.  Jenna had been craving a lot of things lately, ever since Effie got her own mixer, anyway.  Effie had been experimenting making ice cream.  The café was pleased about this as well.  The owner was already looking to invest in ice cream storage to be able to serve it.  “I’ve found a real gem in you, Effie,” the owner would repeat over and over again to her.  Matthew had to stop himself constantly from getting a third bowl on nights he’d come over.  He’d tap at his stomach and say “I can’t” but when he’d go and put his bowl in the sink, she’d always see him hesitate before he did so.  “Do you want it?”

“Please,” he begged his sister.  She moved to open her freezer.  “I swear Effie, the best thing Matthew’s ever done was get you that KitchenAid.  I’ve been gaining weight ever since.”

Effie smiled.  “At least you’re not the hockey player that has to stay in peak physical condition.  Matthew’s been complaining that I’m making him pudgy.”

“Thank God.”

“Speaking of…” she began, handing him the pint of ice cream.  “Do you think you can teach me about hockey?”

“You mean like the rules and stuff?”

“Yeah.  You know, like what’s going on out there whenever I’m at games.”

“Okay,” he nodded, shrugging his shoulder slightly.  “Any reason?”

“If I’m going to be surrounded by hockey because of you, then I should learn it, shouldn’t I?” Effie asked rhetorically.  

“Sure,” he side-eyed his sister playfully.  “But does this have anything to do with Matthew?”

“What if it does?”

Levi smiled.  He knew there was something going on between the two of them, regardless of whether or not they wanted to tell him.  He liked Matthew, he knew he was a good kid, so it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.  She could have hooked up with someone way worse.  Actually, she could have gone the opposite route of where she currently was (which many former cult members went), which was becoming a hypersexual after being sexually repressed for so many years.  Effie was taking her time with it, and that was fine, but if her friendship…or relationship, or whatever she had going on with Matthew was any indication, Levi figured Effie was thinking about it.  “I don’t care, Effie.  It’s kind of cute, actually.”

“So you’ll teach me?”

“Of course.  I’ll have you screaming at the referees in no time.”

***

“So Levi’s teaching me about hockey,” Effie said as she marinated chicken in her kitchen, her phone call with Matthew on speakerphone as she moved around and got her hands dirty.  

“He is?”

“Mhm.  By the time the home opener comes around, I’ll be able to understand what’s going on,” she revealed.

“I better get you a Tkachuk jersey then.”

Effie smiled bashfully, even though he couldn’t see it.  “You don’t want me wearing a Markstrom one like last time?” she joked.

“Effie.”

***

Effie was nervous as she sat in Dr. Stevenson’s office.  Not because she was scared, or because she wasn’t a good sex therapist, or because of anything like that.  She was nervous to admit to her the thoughts she’d been having about Matthew, even though she knew Dr. Stevenson wouldn’t judge her at all and that it was his job to help her.  Help her make peace with these thoughts; help her realize they were completely normal and okay; help her act on them, eventually, in a healthy way.  Dr. Stevenson already knew about Matthew – she knew about him from Effie’s very first day.  

“My mind may not be ready but my body is physically attracted to him. I don’t know how to…you know, mend the two so that both are on the same page,” Effie admitted after almost an hour.  “I want to be with him.  I do.  I know he won’t hurt me – that he’d never hurt me.”

Dr. Stevenson nodded.  “When you were in the People’s Dominion of Christ, there was a huge power imbalance between Abraham, being the prophet and leader, and the followers – you,” Dr. Stevenson began to explain.  “This imbalance made it impossible for you to give true consent to sex.”

Effie’s body stiffened.  Consent.  Geneviève had taught her that term early on.  Consent was giving permission for something to happen.  Effie had never given her consent to marry Abraham.  She’d never given Abraham consent to consummate their marriage.  She’d never given Abraham consent to touch her, stroke her, do anything to her.  She’d surely never given him consent to impregnate her.  “Okay…that makes sense.  But I didn’t know I had to give consent.  I thought that men could do whatever they wanted with my body.  Especially Abraham, since he was the prophet.”

“The institutionalized sexism in the cult is nothing I haven’t heard before.  Many victims like yourself have said the exact same thing to me,” Dr. Stevenson said.  “You are not alone.  There are many people like you, unfortunately.  When females are not equally valued because of misogyny, because of outdated traditional gender roles that are disempowering, it makes women like you experience sexual inequality and become more susceptible to leaders who will exploit you.”

“So how do I get it back?”

“Get what back?”

“My agency.  My…my…” Effie began to tear up, thinking about all the things she had to endure at the hands of Abraham – literally and metaphorically.  “How do I get my mind back?  My body is finally mine, and I can do what I want with it, but I don’t feel like I have my mind back yet if I’m kissing Matthew but then all of a sudden I remember the feeling of Abraham’s beard or that I can’t sit or lie at the foot of a bed because that’s where…”

Dr. Stevenson took a deep breath.  “One way to do so is to embrace, appreciate, and celebrate your sexual self.  That is what I am trying to help you do here.  You need to understand that your capacity for pleasure is not a luxury, and it is not shameful either.  It is a necessity for a well-balanced and emotionally happy life.  As a woman – as a survivor of sexual abuse, of rape – you should take a stand for your own sexual healing and embrace sexual pleasure as something that will help heal you.”

Effie nodded her head, more tears escaping her now, but she understood.  She knew what she needed to do, and the mental shift she needed to go through.  Touching could be pleasurable for the woman.  Sex could be pleasurable for the woman. Not everything had to hurt.  Not everything had to come with pain.  

“I’m not saying this is going to happen tomorrow for you, Effie,” Dr. Stevenson continued.  “I’m not saying it’ll happen next month, or year.  It happens quickly for some, and for others it can take years.  Everybody has their own timeline – you included.  You have to remember that your trauma comes with complex PTSD.  If you set goals for yourself, like you already have been doing, with a person you are comfortable with – Matthew – your sexual self will grow with your physical self and your mental self.  When those three parts of you are aligned, they will all grow stronger, and make you stronger.”

Effie kept nodding.  The words were permeating through her like lightning.  “I’m going to try.  I’m really going to try.”

“Just stop when you need to stop.  Go when you want to go.  You’ll get there, Effie.”

***

“Did you learn about gay people in the cult?” Matthew asked as he prepared Brokeback Mountain on the TV while Effie finished pouring the popcorn into the bowl.  

“Not in a good way, if that’s what you’re really asking,” she said from the kitchen.  “You know the stupid Bible verse.  The prophet called it an abomination.  But it was one of the first things that Levi and Jenna taught out of me when I first went to live with them, because Jenna’s brother is gay and has a husband and two kids.  Levi didn’t want me to be shocked if I ever saw them.”

Matthew didn’t know that about Jenna.  But he nodded his head and watched Effie bring the bowl of popcorn over.  “Have you met them?”

Effie nodded.  “They came over a few months after I arrived.  They were so incredibly kind,” she explained.  She handed the popcorn bowl to Matthew to take before folding her leg and collapsing onto the couch beside him, facing him.  “It really…it really messed with me.  I mean, it’s not like I wanted to think that way.  It was what I was conditioned to think.  I didn’t know better.  And I felt so bad, because I knew they knew, but they were so understanding.  From the moment they walked through the door they were so nice and they didn’t hold it against me,” she explained.  

Matthew could only listen.  And though he listened through her entire explanation, he was hung up on one thing.  “You should stop calling him the prophet,” he said suddenly, not really thinking it through but needing to get it out.  “He wasn’t a prophet.  He wasn’t even your husband.  He was just some guy.”

Effie looked stunned by what he was saying.  She’d never considered that before.  She was so used to calling him the prophet that the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind – ever.  “You’re right,” she said, unable to say anything else.  It was such a simple sentiment but it held so much power.  “I…you’re right, Matthew.”

He smiled slightly.  “Wanna start the movie?”

Effie nodded.  Matthew extended his arm to move the bowl to the side, and his other arm moved upwards slightly, signalling to Effie that it was already to cuddle.  She moved closer to him, snuggling into his side and letting both legs drape over his thigh.  Only then did he let his arm down, draping it over her back.  Effie looked up at him.  “Is that okay?” she asked.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered, placing the bowl of popcorn between their bodies so they had equal access to it.  “You comfortable?”

“Mhm.”

“Effie, are you comfortable?” he repeated.

She knew why he was repeating himself.  She looked up at him and smiled.  “The comfiest I’ve ever been.”

Matthew pressed play.  From that moment, Effie’s eyes were glued to the screen, hooked on the love story unfolding in front of her.  For Matthew, he was more hooked on watching her than the movie, but he kept up slightly.  At some point during the movie – Matthew didn’t pay attention when – Effie’s hand settled on his abs, and it was all he could think about for the rest of the night.  He was acutely aware of its placement.  Then, the sadder scenes started happening, and he’d feel the hand grip his t-shirt, and his body would seize up.  She’d soften it, but then grip again when something emotional would happen.  Then the scene where Ennis visits Jack’s parents after his death occurred, and Ennis was let into Jack’s childhood bedroom and found his old shirt.  Matthew watched as Ennis smelled it and clutched it against his chest.

Then he heard Effie let out a sob.  

She gripped him tighter than she ever had.  He tightened his hold on her too, shifting slightly and letting his shirt ride up against the couch, just so she could cuddle into him even more than she already was.  He could feel her hand on his skin now, gripping at his side tenderly as the tears still rolled down her face.  He took the opportunity to place his hand in the small sliver of space where her shirt had ridden up too, squeezing and massaging it gently to comfort her.  “Y’okay?” his voice was barely above a whisper.

She didn’t respond.  Her eyes were glued to the TV.  As the movie continued, Matthew left his hand exactly where it was, and Effie left her hand exactly where it was.  Holding each other.  Clutching each other.  

When the movie ended, Effie didn’t move for a long time.  Not even when the credits began rolling on the screen.  “Are you okay, Effie?” Matthew repeated his question from earlier, albeit a bit louder and more pronounced this time.

“I think my heart is broken,” she finally let out, bringing the hand that was squeezing his side to her face so she could wipe her tears away.  “That was beautiful.  Beautiful.”

“It was,” Matthew agreed.  It was very obvious the movie was affecting her a lot.

Effie moved so she could look up at Matthew, craning her head and bringing her hand up to cradle his face so she could kiss him.  When their lips connected, Matthew could feel the wetness of her cheeks.  “I can’t believe I was ever scared of that,” she whispered against his lips when she pulled away.

“Doesn’t matter.  What matters is what you think now.”

Effie nodded.  He always knew the right things to say.  He was helping her change her past and way of thinking one way or another.  “I think I want to kiss you again.”

Matthew kissed her.  And even as the credits finished, neither of them would let go of the other.

***

The Calgary Flames home opener at the Saddledome had Effie buzzing with excitement.  She wore a brand new pair of jeans for the occasion, and arrived at the game with Jenna, Annica, and Geneviève.  As was normal for them, Annica was wearing her tried and true Lindholm jersey, while Geneviève was sporting a Markstrom one.  Jenna wore Levi’s old Iginla jersey.  

Effie had Tkachuk sprawled across her back.  

“Do you want to go down near the ice and wave?” Annica asked, and Effie nodded her head.  “It might get a big crowded, so stay near me.”

The ladies descended down the steps, joining the pretty big crowd that had formed against the glass beside Jacob’s net.  A bunch of kids were up against the glass with homemade signs, their parents near them taking pictures.  Some men around Effie’s age were there too, drinking beers with their jerseys on and taking videos on their phones.  Other girls her age were there too, taking pictures of all the players.  “Can you see Matthew?” Geneviève asked as she looked down at Effie.

“He’s over there,” she smiled, pointing at Matthew across the ice.  He was practicing his stickhandling, in such deep concentration that he didn’t look up for a while.  When he finally did look up, happy with his stickhandling, he began skating around the ice, bumping into Noah and Andrew along the way.  

Effie waved excitedly.

Matthew stopped when he saw her.  Even though there was glass streaked with puck shots and some distance between them, she could see him smile from ear to ear, his mouth guard hanging out.  He waved back, his hockey glove looking like a giant bear claw.

“God you two are insufferable,” Geneviève said jokingly.

Matthew continued to skate around, shooting the puck at the net, each of them going in.  Geneviève noticed all of his glances back at them, and the small smile constantly on his face as he went about his drills.  When the practice was almost over, she kept an eye intently on him, watching as he skated over.  She knew what he wanted to go.  “Go closer,” she said to Effie, urging her with a little nudge.  

Effie took her cue and stepped down, closer to the glass.  Matthew had flipped a puck over the glass towards a kid with a sign for him.  Now, as Effie watched, he pointed to her and made sure everyone around knew who he was pointing to.  She turned around slightly, pointing to his name on her back.  He smiled wide and flipped another puck, perfectly, right into her hands.  

Geneviève watched as the young women around them eyed Effie suspiciously.

***

“Matthew!” Effie squealed once he finally emerged from the locker room, his suit back on and his tie tied loosely around his neck.  She hugged him excitedly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he reciprocated.  “Great game!”

“Thanks, Effie.”

“And your goal!” she continued.  Now that she actually understood hockey, and now that she wasn’t scared about every little thing around her at the arena, she could actually enjoy the experience and know what was going on.  “What a great goal!”

He had the puck in his pocket, and had planned to give it to her, but right now his mind was elsewhere.  Seeing her in his jersey at the beginning of the game did things to him, and although he was able to focus throughout the sixty minutes, now that he saw her again with his name sprawled across her back, his mind was right where it was the moment he first saw her that night.  “Wanna come over mine and watch a movie?” he asked, his voice low so no-one else would hear.

To his complete surprise, Effie nodded her head immediately.  “Of course.”

They left inconspicuously without saying goodbye to anyone.

***

Effie broke down during the first scene.

Matthew had changed out of his suit and into a sweater and track pants, and Effie had taken off the jersey and hung it up in his front closet.  They cuddled on the couch together, exactly as they’d done when they watched Brokeback Mountain, and Matthew pressed play on Netflix.  The first scene was the main character, Esty, packing up her most valuable belongings, including a small picture of her grandmother, and running away from her Hasidic community.  All before the opening credits.  When the show’s opening played, he heard Effie let out a loud sob.

“Hey hey hey,” he cooed, watching as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth to try and control herself, but there was no use.  Tears were streaming down her face.  “It’s alright, it’s alright.”

“It’s me,” she said softly, through tears.  “It’s me.”

“C’mere,” he said, pulling her even closer against his body, if that was possible.  Every inch of her was touching him now, with his arms wrapped tightly around her, and he hoped that brought her at least some reprieve.  She was wiping her face with her hands, and he could see her chest heaving, though he could tell she was taking deep breaths to calm herself down.  Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.  “We can stop it or watch so—”

“No,” she interjected sternly, looking up at him.  “I can do this.”

“I know you can Effie, but—”

“No buts.  I can watch this,” she was adamant.  

Matthew lost.  He knew he would.  He bit his bottom lip and nodded his head.  “Will you promise to tell me if it becomes too much?”

Effie nodded.  She snuck her hand underneath his sweater to feel his skin again, and she – surprisingly – game him a quick peck before laying her head on his chest again.  “Press play.”

Matthew kissed her forehead, then the crown of her head, then laid his cheek there before pressing play.  

Effie broke down again less than ten minutes later, when the grandmother was listening to an old German song, An Die Musik sung by Elisabeth Scwartzkopf.  And again, when Yanky was searching her childhood bedroom and found her personal items and her music.  The last scene she cried to was near the end, when Esty’s biological mother showed up and gave her documents to prove German citizenship “just in case you need somewhere else to go”.  When the episode ended, Effie was shedding her last tears.  Matthew paused Netflix before the episode could switch over.  “You okay?”

Effie nodded, despite her tears.  “I know it’s different religions, but a lot of things were just, like, so similar,” she explained.  “The…the beginning brought me back.”

“I can only imagine,” Matthew whispered.

“The grandmother crying listening to that beautiful song.  Esty’s music.  Her mom still looking out for her despite abandoning her.  It all just…it all just really hit home.”  Matthew nodded.  It was the only thing he could do.  If Effie wanted to elaborate, she could, but he wasn’t going to force her.  Instead, he shifted her body so she was sitting more in his lap as opposed to right beside him.  She steadied her breathing, and her tears had stopped.  “When I went to live with the proph—Abraham, as his wife,” she began, “he made me leave everything at home besides my clothes.  I couldn’t see my favourite things unless I was visiting, and even then, I’d never be alone in my room for more than two minutes because he knew I’d be reminiscing, and he said it was a sin to dwell on my past life when I should have been looking forward to my future as his wife and as a mother to his son of God.”  She paused, biting her bottom lip; Matthew could tell she was remembering it all vividly in her mind.  “After a year my mom threw out all my things anyway.  Because she agreed with him.”

“What did you have?  What were your things?” he asked, sad and angry and disturbed all at once.  

“Just simple things.  Nothing special,” she said.  “My…my own Bible that I’d been using since I was a kid.  A journal I had where I recorded my favourite verses.  A doll I had when I was a kid that another member made for me.  Just stupid things.”

“They’re not stupid things if they were special for you,” Matthew said.  “I can’t believe your mom threw them all out.  My mom has kept my kindergarten paintings.”

Effie smiled slightly.  “That’s because you have a good mom who knows how to be a mother.”

Matthew digressed.  Effie obviously hadn’t meant Chantal yet, but Matthew talked about her enough that Effie knew a lot about her.  “I know I keep saying this, but you’re so strong, Effie.”

“It’s a lot to overcome,” she whispered, nodding her head.  They sat for a while in comfortable silence, just being with each other.  Matthew’s arms were still wrapped around her.  Effie was still in hip lap, looking at him.  “Will you kiss me, Matthew?”

Matthew smiled slightly before dipping his head down and capturing her lips in a kiss.  It wasn’t long before – once again – Effie took the initiative to slip her tongue into his mouth.  There was kissing – so much kissing – and Matthew took it upon himself to start to lay Effie down on the couch, his body looming over hers slightly and—

“Stop,” Effie said, her hands on his chest, pushing him off her slightly.  Matthew immediately stopped and moved away from her.  Her chest heaved up and down once before she pushed herself up.  “I’m sorry.”

“Never apologize,” he said.  “Did you see him again?”

Effie didn’t answer.  “I think it happened because we laid down,” she said, her lips puffy from all the kissing.  

Matthew was catching his breath.  He was thankful that he was wearing track pants or else Effie would see how…excited he’d become.  “How about you stay on top then?”

She furrowed her brows.  “What do you mean?”

“We—we can stay upright,” Matthew explained.  “You can sit on my lap if you want…facing me.  Or you could just…you know, like, sit…” he was losing his words.

Effie looked confused.  Nervous.  Like she didn’t know what to think.  Like she was picturing the scenario in her head and couldn’t really make sense of any of it.  “W—Women are allowed to do that?” she asked softly.  Matthew couldn’t speak; he could only stare at her flabbergasted.  He nodded his head slightly, and Effie thought about it.  How women could be ‘on top’.  What that would look like.  What that would entail.  “C…Can you—can you show…” she was too embarrassed to even be asking.  

“C’mere,” he said, extending his hand.  She put her hand in his and he pulled her towards him.  “Put your one leg over here,” he said, patting to the space on the other side of him.  She did so slowly.  “And your other leg goes here,” he explained, and she did the same movement, “and now you can just sit on my lap.”

Effie took a deep breath as she lowered herself down until she could feel his thighs as her seat.  Both she and Matthew had barely blinked the entire time during his simple act of showing her how to straddle him, but she had never done it before (and it wasn’t like she would have been allowed to), and so everything about it was new to her.  Now, she was face-to-face with him, her hands resting on his chest, his hands resting near the bend in her knees.  “This is new,” she said.

“Are you comfy?” he asked.  She nodded.  “D’you like it?” he asked again.

“It’ll take some getting used to,” she admitted.  “But I can see it being nice.”

Being nice.  Matthew couldn’t help but grin.  “It’ll be nice.  Trust me.”

Effie nodded.  She did trust Matthew.  So when she went in to continue their kisses, it was nice, and it was beautiful, and it wasn’t so bad anymore.  Which is why, when Matthew’s hands moved from her knees up her thighs, it was okay.  When his hands squeezed at her flesh through her pants before going higher, it was okay.  When his hands moved to her hips and pulled her even closer, it was okay.

It was okay.

[gashinabts]

Camera Boy (m)| Part I

Words:4.5k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, MATURE, 18+

Summary: Jungkook loves filming. Jungkook takes up your offer on filming you throughout the day...and night.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, hair pulling, sex filming, slapping tits and ass, degradation, humiliation kink, mention of public sex, teasing, slut is mentioned a lot. 

A/N: I haven’t posted in like months. I’m sorry for the lack of posting I haven’t been in the right mental state at the moment. I promise I will be posting more!! Thank you for the people who comment and like my fics.  It really means a lot for me!!!! Yoongi, Jungkook, & Reader are the same age (18). There will be THREE parts to this :))))

Part 1 2 3

*** This is my work, no reposting this and my other works on any other platforms. I do NOT take plagiarism lightly.  

Jungkook is a quiet guy, who spends his time filming and editing videos. He is in the audiovisual club and was always seen around school with his Panasonic Lumix gh5 filming the school events since he was also part of the year book club. Not many of his classmates knew him by his name but as JK, even during roll call teachers would call him by JK. His fashion taste was dark, often dressing in all black and wearing bucket hats. Sometimes he would just fade away in the background but he didn’t care. 

Jungkook was editing a video for the cheer team in the audiovisual club classroom, but his fingertip halted at the mousepad when he felt a presence entering the room. He sees you walking in with your white tennis skirt and pastel green cardigan. He doesn’t understand why you would dare walk in this room. You’re Y/N, the school’s sweetheart, nice to everyone and everyone wanted to be your friend. He watches you smile and come closer to him, grabbing a chair and sitting next to him. “ Hey, Jungkook. What are you up to?,” you lean over to see his laptop screen.  He smells the light floral perfume and he feels like he shouldn’t have the privilege of smelling your floral scent. 

This wasn’t the first time you spoke to him, a couple times you would say hi to him during the events he filmed. But you did that to everyone saying ‘hellos’ and ‘how are yous ?’, because you didn’t want anyone to feel left out. “ Uh-editing this video for the cheer team. This would be my last video I would do for this school,” he scratches the back of his head. In the next three days he wouldn’t be a high schooler anymore. He would leave this place and major in film in a college in California. 

“ Cool, I really like your videos. I heard that you were going to UCLA and doing film. That’s pretty exciting, maybe we’ll bump into each other around campus,” you smile gently. 

Jungkook was shocked to hear that you knew what school he is going to attend. In the back of his head he wished that you guys would bump into each other and become friends. “ Maybe...so what’s up?,” he closes his laptop to face you. Which he regrets since he won’t be able to focus on anything you say since you are so pretty. 

“ I want you to film me...I want to give it to my friends as a goodbye gift,” you cross your legs. “ I’ll pay you for your hard work,” you reach into your bag grabbing your wallet. 

“ No, it’s fine you don’t have to pay me,” he stops your manicure nails from grabbing some bills. 

You shake your head and he watches as your diamond earrings sparkle, “ No, I insist. I would feel really bad about it, Jungkook. Your work is top quality, better than those shitty Youtubers, even better than some of Quentin Tarantino works,” you proceed to take out the money. 

Jungkook eyes widen at your statement. No one has ever complimented his videos like you did. The closest compliment he has ever gotten from someone is ‘Looks good.’ Your soft hands brush his as you hand him the money, “ Thanks. We can start after I’m done with the cheer video,” he quickly puts the money in his pocket. 

You get up, tugging at your skirt since it rose up when you sat down. “ Great! I’ll see you later,” you gave a small wave and left the classroom.

----

“ I’m going to start filming, alright?,” Jungkook asked as you throw some things out of your locker in the trash can. 

“ Go ahead,” you smile at him. “ Look at how much stuff I have. It’s all useless stuff now,” you throw some more math tests away. He films you walking around the halls and greeting some people. Along with some chit chat, he admires the way you genuinely care about what your friends are talking about. He likes the way your hands move while you talk, and how touchy you are with your friends. He notices that you playfully hit your friends’ shoulder when they make you laugh really hard. Jungkook learns more about you when you answer the questions he gives you. He learns about what you love about your friends and how much you are going to miss them. 

You invite him to your house and he films you baking a cake for Mina’s birthday. You tell him the story of how you and Mina became friends. The fondness of your voice can be heard at spreading the strawberry icing on the cake. “ Want some?,” you ask, showing him the leftover frosting on your index finger. He looks confused by what you're asking. “ The frosting. Have some,” you bring your finger closer to him. 

Jungkook wonders if you know what you are doing. He could have not possibly licked the sweet frosting off your fingers. “ I-I uh no, it’s okay,” he fumbles with his camera, turning it off and hastily putting it in his bag. “ I think this is it for today,” he puts his backpack on. 

“ Okay...see you tomorrow,” you walk him out of your house.

----

The cafeteria is filled with the tune of Happy Birthday, Jungkook films you as you bring the pink cake in front of Mina. Zooming in on Mina’s face, he sees the evident rose blush that turns brighter as all the attention is on her, your lips kiss her cheek as you wish her a happy birthday under your breath. 

“ Jungkook, you can stop filming and have some cake,” you say as you slice a cake for him. His eyes widen and you chuckle as hand him the cake. The lunch table is filled with laughter and he feels like he’s almost part of the friend group. Some of your friends ask him questions and bring him in some of the conversation. Jungkook starts filming again and asks more questions towards your friends on what they are going to miss the most about each other. By the end of lunch he feels like he’s got good content and wants to start editing. 

You walk with him towards the AV room, and you hug him just outside the classroom. He feels your slightly smaller body engulf him in your warmness. His arms are awkwardly staying by his side and his heart rate quickens as seconds pass. You pull away and smile at him, “ Thank you Jungkook. It really means a lot for you to do this.”

“ No problem. You did pay me for this…,” he awkwardly states. He wants to slap himself for always being too abrupt with you. “ I mean it was kinda fun filming you. You radiate this wholesome energy,” he tries to compliment you. 

Laughing lightly you hit his shoulder, “ Wholesome, huh? I was thinking maybe we should keep in touch so we can have eachothers back while in California…” you quirk your eyebrow, shrugging your shoulders nervously. Jungkook face blanks and you quickly retract your words, “ Nevermind, we don’t have to-”

“ No, I’d like that!,” his voice raises at the end. He rubs his head, “ Yes, let’s keep in touch.” Your phone pings and you smile at a text message quickly typing away. Jungkook clears his throat causing you to look up at him, “ I feel like we have everything for the video. I should be done editing by the end of the week.”

“ Cool, I’ll see you later,” you wave at him and watch him enter the classroom.

At home Jungkook is meticulously working on the video not wanting to disappoint you. He’s in deep entrance of you talking in the video, he jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Taking off his headphones he sees his mom staring at his laptop and he closes it immediately. “ Mom! Why did you knock?,” he whines. He doesn’t know why he feels embarrassed, it’s not like he was watching porn.

“ I did knock but there was no reply. Who’s that your girlfriend?,” she gleefully smiles wanting to peek more at the video.

Jungkook groans and leaning his head back,“ No, just a girl. She paid me to do this video for her friends.” 

She hums lightly brushing her son’s slightly long hair, not wanting to bother her son anymore she quickly states that dinner is ready. 

----

Jungkook thinks you're going to ignore him the next morning since he was done filming you but you don’t. Instead you walk towards him snapping a polaroid of him and laugh at his surprised expression. “ This marks the end of a chapter to the beginning of a chapter in our life,” you tell him waving the polaroid. 

Jungkook rubs his eyes from the sudden flash, “ What do you mean?,” he asked for more information for your vague providence. 

 The short white dress you wear waves in a similar fashion as gold hoops dangle from your ears, “ We are ending our chapter of highschoolers today but I’m now beginning a chapter with you...as in the beginning of our friendship,” you look closer at the photo smiling at his doe eyes.

“ Y/N!,” your name is called out by Chaeyong. 

“ I’ll talk to you later, yeah?,” you watch him nod and walk towards Chaeyong.

Jungkook sighs and puts his headphones on and plays on his phone as he walks to his locker. He bumps into someone and he is about to say sorry but the words couldn’t come out. Yoongi stands in front of him with a glazed expression. Never in his time of attending this school has he come this close to Yoongi. Yoongi is a quiet kid, he can’t be described as a delinquent since he doesn’t start in any trouble but he does voice his opinion from time to time and teachers hate that. Afterschool he watches the football team on the bleachers smoking cigarettes with his friends. The teachers don’t say anything because it’s after school hours and honestly they couldn’t care less if he would end up getting lung cancer in his mid thirties. 

Yoongi’s skin is soft and pale, and his eyes are dark, he has this intimidating aura that Jungkook didn’t feel comfortable with. “ Sorry,” Jungkook finally mutters out. Yoongi doesn’t say anything but walks past Jungkook, lightly brushing his shoulder with his. He can smell the dark cologne trying it’s best to bask the nicotine scent. Even though this may be the last time seeing Yoongi, he does not want to get on his bad side. 

---

Jungkook just got out of the shower when he sees that he got a missed call from you, he calls you back curious to what you have called him for. You immediately pick up,“ Hey! Are you busy right now?” 

Jungkook puts his phone on speaker, “ No, not really...why?,” he answers while putting on his boxers. 

“ Just bored...wanna hangout?,” you let out a sigh. 

Jungkook fingers combs through his damp hair, looking at his appearance through his bathroom mirror. He’s wearing comfortable baggy clothes and he wonders if he should dress up. “ Sure, what are we going to do?”

“ You ask too many questions. Just come over and bring your camera!” Jungkook wasn’t able to say anything afterwards because you hung up. His father was shocked to hear that his son wanted to borrow his car because Jungkook wasn't the type to hangout outside of school with his friends. Jungkook’s father was actually happy to hear this and asked if he needed any money and he politely declined his father. When arriving at your house he saw that no one else was parked on the driveway, his anxiety getting the best of him. He decided not to park in the driveway since he didn’t want to seem rude. He shoots you a text upon his arrival, and you open the door for him, greeting him with a smile.

“ My parents are visiting some family members and my sister is probably gonna spend the night with her boyfriend...so it’s just us,” you lead him to your room. He looks around your room and easily spots a minimalist aesthetic “ Sorry I just exercised. I’m going to take a quick shower,” you tell him, urging him to make himself comfortable. 

Jungkook gulps and sits on the chair by your desk. He sees makeup products and some old homework assignments that you yet to discard. There are several manga volumes and decide to read one hoping that you don’t mind. He’s a couple chapters in when he hears someone calling your name and coming upstairs, he freezes staring at the door wondering if your parents came home early. The door opens and he jolts when he comes face to face with Min Yoongi. 

“ What the hell are you doing here?,” Yoongi walks straight to Jungkook grabbing at the collar of the shirt. 

“ Uhh-I-I Y/N-,” Jungkook stammers out, cringing at how stupid he sounds. What the fuck why is Yoongi in your room? 

“ Yoongi!,” you yell at him. You come out of the bathroom only wearing a large t-shirt that covers just about to your mid thighs, your hair is still wet dripping on the shirt, and you come between the two men before Jungkook ends up with a black eye. Yoongi calms down as soon as you touch his wrist and he rolls his eyes at Jungkook gaping at the sight of him in your room. “ I didn’t expect you to come this early, Yoongi,” you look at Yoongi. You look nervously at the sight of Yoongi fuming ready to tear Jungkook's head.

“ What’s he doing here?,” Yoongi points at Jungkook. 

“ I’m just as confused as to why I’m exactly here…,” Jungkook is picking up his camera bag ready to leave the house. 

Your hand touches Jungkook's arm to cease him from leaving without your explanation, “ Stay please. Just let me explain,” you make eye contact with Jungkook. Nodding he sits down on the comfy chair, while waiting patiently for you to explain. Yoongi continues standing up despite you telling him to sit down too. “ I want you to film me and Yoongi,” you say confidently but there's a nervous shake near the end of your sentence, tugging nervously at the hem of your shirt, you look at Jungkook to see his reaction. 

Jungkook heart races,“ Doing what?,” his voice shakes, he knows what it is but he needs to be absolutely sure.

“ Me fucking her, you idiot,” Yoongi grunts looking at Jungkook. Yoongi looks at you with concern, “ You are not doing this because of last week. Baby, I was half kidding of doing a sex tape,” he comes closer moving some of the wet hair strands out of your face. 

Grabbing gently at his hand you kiss the back of his hand, “ I want to do it. When Jungkook was filming me I thought it wouldn’t be so bad for him to film us...just as long as no one else sees it, right?,” you look between Yoongi and Jungkook. Yoongi nods his head immediately in agreement but Jungkook looks hesitant scratching at his head.

“ I’ll do it. You can trust me, Y/N,” Jungkook finally says. Jungkook thinks to himself that this is the only opportunity he’ll ever see you naked so he’ll be an idiot to say no. The thought of him filming you in such a vulnerable way is erotic yet beautiful to him. 

“ Really?,” your eyes widen in excitement. Walking towards Jungkook you grab his hand giving him a comforting squeeze. Yoongi sighs at your actions but you ignore him looking at Jungkook’s pretty eyes. 

“ Yeah of course, Y/N. Let me get my stuff ready,” Jungkook feels your hand leave his and he goes through his camera bag. He watches you go to Yoongi and he hears Yoongi talking softly to you, caressing you as nod cutely to him. “ I’m all set,” Jungkook speaks clearly, interrupting the conversation that you and Yoongi had. “ Just do whatever you guys are comfortable with,” Jungkook gulps when Yoongi leads you to the bed.

Yoongi brings you on his lap, not hesitating to bring his lips to yours. You sigh at the feeling of his hands massaging your bare thighs feeling them move closer to your ass. The kiss grows more messier with each second, and you start grinding on him trying to relieve yourself. His hand grabs the back of your neck and he hums while forcing you to look at him. “ Who said you can do that?,” he tsk at the sight of your desparation. Yoongi turns your head whispering, “ Look at the camera.” Listening to his command you see Jungkook behind the camera and you feel more shy at Jungkook looking at you in a desperate state. “ Don’t act so coy. You like the thought of someone watching us,” he laughs lightly, his hand going under your shirt rubbing your stomach up and down not going anywhere you need him the most. “ Camera boy,” Yoongi sardonically calls Jungkook. 

“ Yes…,” Jungkook replies with hesisitance. 

“ Come closer to us,” Yoongi continues touching your body. 

Jungkook slowly walks closer to you and Yoongi, he has the camera focus on your face and smile shyly at him. Yoongi kisses your neck leaving a few love bites, finally letting his reach to your breast fondling it as you stare at the camera. “ Yoongi, I want more,” you squirm when he pinches your nipple at your plea. “ I’ll be good for you,” you beg and turn your head so you can kiss him again. It seems like he’s done with the teasing when he pulls your shirt over your head, quickly wrapping his mouth on your nipple. Tossing your head back you moan at the feeling, Jungkook brings the camera closer to your face. It turns you on more that he’s watching you in this state. 

Yoongi's mouth leaves your nipple and lets out a dark laugh, “ Look at her, she’s a whore for attention,” he slaps your breast causing you to hiss in delight.  Yoongi stares into the camera “ Did you know she would beg me to fuck her behind the bleachers?” The question is more posed for Jungkook rather than the camera. If Yoongi is honest he doesn’t like Jungkook. His distaste for Jungkook started when he noticed that his girl was taking an interest in Jungkook. Yoongi would see all pretty and perfect for the camera boy around school. He wanted to punch Jungkook when he sat too close to you during lunch looking at you like a kid in love. 

“ Yoongi don’t,” you whine at him for not to spill more stories about your devious sexacpades. Yoongi manhandles you, taking your panties off, throwing it to the side, and commands you to get on all fours. You love when he gets serious and mad since he takes all his emotions on you as he fucks you. His hands rub your folds spreading your wetness, the pleasure gets the best of you and you slightly drop your head down. 

He grabs your hair forcing you to look at the camera, “ Look at the camera,” he holds your hair tighter. He inserts two of his fingers in your entrance preparing you and you just want him to just shove his dick in you but he always makes sure you are completely prepared. “ Fuck, look at you soaking your sheets like a slut,” he laughs trying to make you feel more humalited. “ Always making a mess. Remember when I fucked you in the boys restroom at school,” he asked. Of course you remember he fucked you from behind and he gagged you with your own panties. You shake your head not wanting to let Jungkook know that you weren’t the model student in school. Yoongi let’s a boisterous laugh, “ Really? C’mon Camera Boy won’t tell anyone, right?,” Yoongi looks at Jungkook. 

Jungkook is all lost with words, he didn’t know you had this side of you. It was just twenty minutes ago he found out that he were dating Yoongi and now he finds out that you would have sex on campus. The thought of you getting fucked in the bathroom turned him on, he envisioned you trying to keep your cute little moans quite. He wondered if you went back to class as if everything was normal with cum inside you. A small part of him wished it was him doing those things to you. He finally answers Yoongi, “ I won’t tell anyone,” he gives you a look of comfort.

“ Good because I would kill you if you do. See Y/N, no need to deny how much of a slut you are,” Yoongi kisses your shoulder. Your cheeks redden despite how much of his statement is true. He lets go of your hair and you hear him rustling with his pants, turning your head you see him stroking his cock. You have the sudden urge to want to taste him in your mouth. He makes eye contact with you and you can’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach. Turning your head back you stare at Jungkook, noticing his pants gone tighter. You wonder if Yoongi would be open to having Jungkook join. Maybe have him jerk off at the sight of you getting fuck by Yoongi. Or have him fuck your mouth as Yoongi takes you from behind. The options are endless and you get more wetter at the dirty thoughts. Your thoughts get interrupted when Yoongi slides his cock into you. His hands grab your hips possessively fucking into you deep and slow. 

“ Fuck Yoongi,” you moan his name. His thrust is getting deeper and his hands tighten as you clench around him. “ Do I feel good?,” you look at the camera.

He groans and his thrust are faster, “Shit-yeah. I could fuck you all the time,” he slaps your ass. Nodding your head in agreement, “ Your gonna miss me fucking this tight pussy? ,” he slaps your ass again. You can’t answer because he spreads your legs further apart trying to hit you deeper. Making you land face first onto the mattress. Your face is probably not in view to the camera but you don’t care, you just want to get lost in the feeling of Yoongi fucking you to obilivion. 

Jungkook comes to the bed and Yoongi watches him carefully as he pushes some of the hair that completely covers your face. Pushing the hair back he can see your pretty eyes that swarmed with lust along with your plump lips leaving out moans. “ Her face was covered. I just wanted a better shot,” Jungkook tries to defend himself.

Yoongi scoffs, “ Whatever man,” and he continues to fuck you at a faster rate. Causing you to moan his name louder. “ Such a fucking slut. Prancing around in your short skirts around school knowing guys would stare at you,” his hand finds your clit and pinches it. “ My little slut,” he whispers.

You feel your approach coming “ Can I cum? Pleaseee,” you whine more with each thrust. He rubs your clit faster, and you cry at how good he is fucking you. 

“Come for me,” he slaps your clit. Your eyes roll back as you moan loudly as he keeps hitting the spot that makes you see stars. You can tell that Yoongi is about to cum as his movement gets sloppier, squeezing your waist. He groans your name as he cums in you. Yoongi slumps down on you, “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he whispers in your ear. You smile dumbly at his compliment. Yoongi gets up from your back, pulling himself out of you. Yoongi looks at Jungkook still holding his camera, “ You can stop recording,” he looks down and sees Jungkook sporting a boner. 

“ Sorry,” Jungkook turns off the camera. 

“ You’re good,” Yoongi disregards the needless apology. Yoongi hastily pulls up his boxers and pants, bending down he helps you turn around so you are now laying on your back. Leaning down he kisses you softly on your cheeks making his way to your lips. You sigh happily into the kiss. “ I love you,” he kisses you one last time. 

“ No, I love you,” you smile cheekily. 

Yoongi smiles pinching your nose,“ Brat.”

Jungkook stands in your room not knowing what to do just simply watching the interaction you have with Yoongi. “ I’ll have the video sent to you by tomorrow morning,” he interrupts the scene. He makes his way to his camera bag.

“ You should stay,” you tell Jungkook. Yoongi gives you a look, getting up from his position and going to your bathroom. You hear the water faucet and you assume he is getting a wet towel for you. Jungkook eyes widen, not knowing to accept or refuse your proposal since Yoongi is against the idea. “ Stay. I’ll order pizza and we can all watch movies. You know as a thank you for filming us,” you give him a hopeful smile. 

Yoongi comes back with the wet towel, grabbing your shirt on the floor along with new panties.“ Jungkook, you can stay,” he looks at Jungkook. “ Spread your legs for me baby,” Yoongi kisses your knee. You do as you're told and he cleans you.

Million things are going inside Jungkook's head.  Should he stay? Would that be weird? Wouldn’t it be more weird if he declined, he did see you and Yoongi naked already-- “ Jungkook what pizza toppings do you want?,” you ask while scrolling on the delivery app. He must have been spaced out for a couple minutes since you have clothes on. Yoongi is combing your hair through his fingers while looking at your phone. “ As long as it is not pineapple,” Yoongi comments.  

“ Anything is fine,” Jungkook finally answers. He hears you hum and you order whatever topping you want. Jungkook puts his equipment on your desk, he decides to sit at the end of the bed not wanting to cross the line. 

You finish ordering the food, laying your head on Yoongi’s chest, you stare at Jungkook awkwardly sitting on the bed. “ Come closer, we don’t bite,” you tell Jungkook. You pat beside you so he can come forward. Jungkook looks at Yoongi for permission and you roll your eyes. Looking at Yoongi, he nods his head as if to say okay. One Punch Man is playing and surprisingly there is no more tension in the room, but filled with careless laughter. The doorbell rings, “ Pizza is here, I’ll be back,” you kiss Yoongi on the cheek. 

Jungkook prayed that you didn’t leave him alone with Yoongi but you already left. “ Jungkook, you’re going to the same school as Y/N, yeah? ” Yoongi asked but he still continues watching the anime.

“ Yeah,” Jungkook answers nervously.

“ Take care of her for me,” Yoongi finally looks at him. 

Jungkook feels like Yoongi's words hold a deeper meaning but regardless Jungkook nods, “ Uhh-yeah okay.”

Yoongi moves his attention back to the anime once he hears your footsteps.  

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Scribbled Rainbows (Part 2): Keizo Arashi x Fem!Reader

synopsis: okay, so the secret's out. Will you follow your mother's advice or take another route? (a/n: this is a three-part series. Jesus, please help me.)

wc: 1.7k

tw: fluff

previous part ❤️ masterlist ❤️ next part

song recommendation:

"I'm so glad you could come over," Keizo murmurs, swinging the door closed behind you. "Mia has been asking for you to babysit instead of Takeomi for a few weeks now." You chuckle as the eldest child comes skipping around the corner, her braids flopping up and down.

"Ms. Y/n!" she shouts, her little arms extended out to hug you.

"Hey, Mia," you croon, stooping down for the display of affection before hoisting her up in your arms. "Where's Myra?"

"In the playpen," the girl announces with certainty, pointing her finger in the direction of the family room. You walk into the ample, open space and see the youngest standing up on her tiptoes and holding onto the edge of the enclosure. Myra squawks, the skin around her mouth decorated with splotches of orange paste.

"Myra just ate," Keizo clarifies. "Sweet potatoes. But there's still food in the fridge if she gets hungry again. Mia's dinner is in there, too, and you're free to order takeout or have anything in there that you want. I left a twenty on the counter if you choose to get something delivered." As you set Mia down, Keizo adjusts his cufflinks and shirt, his face furrowing into a deep frown. "Just gotta get this and the tie..."

"I'll help you," you offer, and Keizo's shoulders relax.

"Thanks, ba--" he cuts himself off, coughing suddenly. "Sorry, something got caught in my throat." You follow him into his room, taking in the neatness of his furnishings and surroundings.

"You keep this house really neat," you mention, and he laughs.

"I have two girls under the age of seven," Keizo mentions, walking into his closet. "I have to keep things clean." He picks a grey tie off the rack and tosses it around his neck, then walks over to you for assistance. "Not too tight," he chuckles, and you grin, tucking your bottom lip as you focus on tying it neatly.

As your fingers work quickly, your cheeks heat up. Keizo is watching you - you can feel his eyes on your face - and his breathing is uneven, but you do your best.

"It's the same color as your eyes," you whisper. Keizo smiles down at you while you smooth your fingers across the tie, his lips parting. But before he can say anything, Myra lets out another screech, this one a little more urgent than the last. You jump, but Keizo grabs your hands in his.

"That's normal," he mumbles. "She's a screecher."

"Myra stinks!" Mia yells from the living room, and Keizo sighs.

"You know how to change a diaper?" he wonders.

"Not really, but I can try."

After ten minutes of coaching and nose furrowing, you've successfully changed Myra, tossed the dirty diaper in a bag, and sent Mia off with it, her quick feet throwing it in the trashcan outside.

"My number's on the fridge if you need anything," Keizo mentions as he grabs his keys and tosses on his jacket. "Bye, loves." He plants a kiss on Myra's cheek and one on Mia's forehead. "Should be home no later than eleven," he whispers to you, and you nod, Myra's fingers planted firmly in your short, coiled hair. "Oh," he adds, hand on the doorknob. "And Princess Tea Time is at six, and bedtime is at eight."

"Bye, daddy!" Mia sings, waving her hands as the door closes. Once the garage closes, she turns to you and places her hands on her hips. "Daddy said Princess Tea Time is at six, but I suggest we have it at seven. Y'know, because bedtime is actually whenever?"

_____________________________________________________________

Post dinner, Princess Tea Time includes scooting Myra's mobile activity center up to the Tea Time table, putting on a crown, and pretending to drink as much tea while you gossip. Mia starts off the conversation with a wave of her sparkly wand.

"We should talk about kingdom stuff while the King is away," she elucidates, sipping her fake tea. "Like how we're going to find a new queen." You spit your (fake) tea out, which makes Myra cackle in delight.

"New q-queen?" you stutter, and Mia looks at Myra.

"Lord Takeomi says Myra isn't getting any younger, and Princesses always need a Queen around to help them with girl stuff."

"Well," you begin, placing your cup on the table. "What do you have in mind?"

"Hmmm..." The eldest princess taps her finger on her cheek. "I was thinking about asking what you would do." You look off into the distance, thinking hard.

"I would ask the King if he even wants to have a Queen. It would be his decision, after all."

"But what if he picks an evil stepmother?" Mia questions, bringing her cup up to her lips. "It wouldn't be good for either of us. Especially you, Lady y/n. Then you wouldn't be able to come to spend time with us!"

"True," you nod. "I would actually consult my mother on this one." Your suggestion seems to satisfy the six-year-old, and she approves.

"Good idea!"

After being Lady y/n for an hour, you shuffle them off to the bath, where they are eager to play with the bubbles - or eat them, in Myra's case - then off to bed.

"You have to read this," Mia grunts, shoving the book into your lap. "We read it every night."

You look at the title and frown: "I Stink!". But you read it regardless, garnering laughs from Mia and the odd gurgle from Myra. Before long, you're tucking them into bed, pulling the blankets over them, and shutting the door.

You amble into the living room and sit on the couch, sighing softly. Despite the day being hard work, you enjoyed it. Myra wasn't as much of a handful as you anticipated, and Mia... well, Mia was just Mia.

You switch on the TV to something mindless, trying to distract yourself until eleven - when Keizo is supposed to come back. Furthermore, you don't remember dozing off, but you slowly open your eyes when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey," Keizo whispers, grey eyes swimming in your field of vision. "How did it go?"

"Went great," you mumble, wiping your eyes and sitting up. "Princess Tea Time is exactly what it sounded like, too." Keizo laughs softly, the noise rumbling in his chest like a drum.

"Myra did okay?"

"She was perfect," you reply, shaking off the last dregs of sleep. "Couldn't have been any more amazing." You stand quickly - and almost fall over - but Keizo catches you by the arms.

"It's really late; you should stay the night," he breathes, still holding you in his gentle hands.

"What time is it?" you yawn.

"Three in the morning. I won't have you drive home this late."

"It's fine," you shrug, but Keizo shakes his head.

"You can stay in my room." You nod slowly, feeling some sleepiness return, and follow him to his room. He switches on the nightlamp and pulls back his neatly made covers, urging you to crawl in.

"I'm still in my day clothes," you note, and Keizo hums. "Shouldn't get your sheets di--"

"You can borrow a shirt and pants if you want. I don't have any underwear that could fit," he replies. rifling through the drawers. "But I won't be in here, so it's fine."

"Where will you sleep?" you wonder, taking the offered too-big shirt and massive pants.

"The couch is fine."

"No," you protest, handing him back the clothes. "I can just go to my mom's house if that's---"

"Seriously," he states, shoving the clothes back into your grasp. "It's fine."

"It's not," you whisper back. "You've been out, and I know the couch isn't as comfortable as the bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"Not a chance," he quips. "You're a guest. One night won't kill me."

"But it's--"

"It's fine--"

You both stop arguing, and you turn to the bed, noting its size. "Well, we can share. It's big enough."

"You don't have to," Keizo holds his hands up. "I--"

"We'll share." You walk into the conjoined bathroom and shut the door with finality. When you emerge - smelling like men's body soap and lotion - Keizo is sitting at his desk, scribbling away at something, still in his dress clothes. "All yours." He walks past you, whispering a "thank you," and then shuts the bathroom door behind him.

The sheets are terribly soft, you note, crawling under them and sighing. They're almost too smooth. But you're only half asleep when the shower cuts off, and Keizo emerges from the bathroom fully dressed.

"Did you eat?" he wonders while drying his hair with a towel.

"Mmm-hmm." Keizo doesn't reply but instead climbs into the bed beside you. For a moment, he doesn't shut the light off, and you turn to see him laying on his back, eyes closed. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Hmmm."

"What happened to their mom?" Keizo doesn't open his eyes. In fact, you feel as if he's prepared himself for this moment. He inhales deeply, then murmurs:

"They're actually my nieces." You frown, but you don't ask anything else. Keizo continues anyway. "My sister... my sister wasn't a model citizen by any means. Her life was rough, and I tried my best to help her. When she..." He pauses for a moment. "When she passed away, the girls barely knew who she was. My mom and dad are both out of the picture, so it fell to me to take care of them or send them to foster care."

"And you could never do that," you whisper.

"Never. Myra was barely a month old. I'd never forgive myself if I abandoned the last family I have." You reach a hand out to touch his, squeezing it gently.

"You're doing a great job."

"Am I?" he laughs wryly. "Hard to tell when you've never seen it done before." Keizo rolls onto his side to face you, smiling in the dim light. "Thank you for taking care of the girls tonight."

"Anytime," you smile. "They're angels."

"And for taking care of me." You're pulled by your hand towards Keizo, and his lips part slowly, head angled down slightly. "Can I kiss you?"

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

seeing someone else.

BISHOP LOSA. MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @encounterthepast: Hello lovely Aurora, can I request angst prompt number 7 with Bishop please, thank you, 💕

❝ prompt: “Don’t you dare to lie to me again”.

❝ request by @arveeee: Hello my dear, so I was thinking, and there is one sentence to that can't go out of my head. So it is: "let me in" with Bishop (I know I'm boring). Well I believe in you, I love you , and I love your writing. Say hello to Arya.

❝ request by anon: Hi, Aurora. I love your writing sm 🥺 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with my man Bishop? I was thinking of something like the reader and him being in kinda like a friends with benefits situation, but she decides to break it offf because she’s really upset. And maybe Bishop doesn’t understand so she eventually explains to him that she wants more out of their relationship and he reassures her they are more and they always have been? Maybe leads to like soft/romantic smut? Thanks so much!

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! so, that new trailer huh?😵 would absolutely love if you could write me something for a stressed out bishop with the prompts "Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!" and "Let me help you make it better." Thank you tons!!💖

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

Another tequila shot goes down your throat, ripping it off as you almost smash the small glass on the table. Tossing your head back as you rest your back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, you take a look around you. The gloomy has taken over your house as the night has fallen a couple of hours ago. It's the fourth night you are trying to forget about Bishop and whatever you two had. But you can't dismiss from your mind his caresses —his fingers drawing patterns on your back, his lips touring your neck with delicate kisses as if he was afraid of breaking your skin, his mustache tickling your inner thighs, his raspy voice articulating your name in moans. It's the fourth night miserably failing, remembering the last time you spent together, the way he was holding his back pretending he wasn't sad because you were leaving him.

“Obispo, it's over. Don't make a big deal. We're just friends who occasionally fucks”. You scoffed somewhat annoyed because of him and his interrogation, but how could you tell him you were falling in love with him?

“I ain't making any deal, (Y/N). I just want to know what made you change your mind and keep a wide berth”.

“I'm seeing someone else”.

"Don't you dare to lie to me”. He growled, taking a step closer towards you with the intention of stopping you from picking up and packing the less stuff you had in his house.

“Think what you want”. You replied, rolling your eyes.

The first tear flows in the left corner of your mouth not appreciably at first, but then, some more until finding yourself crying. You miss him so much. You miss watching him sleep peacefully in the small hours, drifting slightly when you caress his cheek using your fingertips. Flexing your knees to your chest, you wrap your arms around trying to contain the loud sobs, hiding your face between them. How have you been so stupid to fall for him like that? The two of you made it clear from the very first moment. Friends with benefits. But after a couple of weeks, you started to notice that he used to push away any other woman that it wasn't you, he didn't spend much time in the clubhouse preferring to do it in your house —cuddling, watching movies, playing poker; kissing every single inch of flesh covering your anatomy.

Reality hit you the moment he murmured something like you're a miracle, thinking you were calmly sleeping between his strong arms and your back stuck to his chest, no distance among your bodies. You knew it was a thing produced by the alcohol running through your veins and it wasn't fair for you to fantasize about the idea he was catching feelings for you. So you just ran away, like a coward.

Some clumsy knocks on the front door of your house bring you back to reality. At first, you try to ignore them. It's not like you're in the mood for visits, knowing that probably it's Leti at the other side of the place, worried because you haven't replied to her text all day. But she insists and insists. And you know how stubborn she can be sometimes. Serving yourself another shot and drinking it in just one gulp, because you're too sober to endure another of her Ted talks about positivism and what he has lost, you stand up on your bare feet. Everything around you spins dizzyingly for a second until you can react, feeling every knock like a hammer hitting your brain.

“I've heard you the fi—”.

Opening the door to receive her, your vocals get frozen as you face Bishop in a deplorable drunk state. Just like you are.

“Let me in”. He barks, not being able to look at your eyes, trying to pass you away to the inside, but you stop him.

“Go home, Obis—”.

“I'm home, shut the fuck up”. He frowns taking a sip from a bottle of whisky you haven't noticed till now. “You think you can kick my fuckin' ass outta your life by saying you're seeing someone else? You think I'm fuckin' stupid, queri— Were you crying…?”

From anger, his tone of voice falls to one lower and lower, as the concern and the worry cover his annoyance completely. Throwing away his drink to somewhere over the grass of your yard, he holds your face onto his palms. His touch causes you to tremble. His warm touch causes you to break into aching sobs, panting as you can't breathe properly. All this time you've been thinking you have missed him, but you didn't have a real idea of how it feels until his fingers have been laid on your wetted skin.

Bishop comes closer to you, touching the tip of your nose with his. You can smell the mixed scent of cigarettes and whisky emanating from his cracked lips, it doesn't bother you, tho. “Don't kiss me, please”.

Until this precise moment, he has loved your begs and pleads to his bones, but now he hates them more than anything he could ever hate in his life. It breaks his heart. He can't deal with your rejection one night more.

“Why…? Why can't I kiss you?” He asks desperately at the edge of his tears. “Please, stop ignoring me, it's driving me crazy. I can't even take care of my own shit without you by my side”.

Your knees feel weak at his words, still believing he only says that because you're just a good lover, the best in the sheets, as he told you once.

“I… I…” You babble nervously, trying to not place your hands on the laps of his leather kutte to finally push him into the needed kiss you've been craving for the last four days. “I love you”.

And why the confession doesn't take him by surprise? Why doesn't he look confused? Why does it seem like he already knew it? Bishop can't help but draw a fleeting grin across his face.

“Do you think I came here, falling into pieces, just because it feels like being in Heaven when I'm deep inside you?” He whispers, clicking his tongue slightly. “I didn't believe you when you told me you were seeing someone else. But the minimal thought I could have about it made me lose the less sanity I have”.

You blink stupefied at his own confession about his feelings. Your fingers tour his abdomen up in slow motion, starting to have some faith in his words.

“Mi amor…” Bishop mumbles in soft giggles shaking his head. “I adore you, mi amor. I don't want anything else than to share my life with you, and only with you”.

He doesn't wait for a signal from you to kiss your lips, he just takes what it's his. And you can't hold back a painful gasp, expelling in it all the sorrow you've been carrying for the last four days being separated from him. Your hands grip his shirt in two fists, pushing him as much closer as the two of you can be, about to melt in the same figure. All this time you have been trying to not love him, to forget him; and you were just delaying the inevitable. You are made for each other, that's a fact. Your lips fit to perfection —your bodies, your hearts.

“Tell me you love me”. You whimper against his mouth, causing him to smile because of your need of making it real by these simple three words.

“Love isn't enough to express what you make me feel”.

Bishop bends down without prior notice to wrap his huge hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump onto him and surround his waist with your legs. You haven't forgotten how good his warmth takes over you when he holds you like that, walking inside your house and kicking the door close. Guiding his steps across your place and its hallways, he reaches your dark dorm barely illuminated by a post light outdoors. He lies you down on your bed —a bed that has welcomed you for the last eight months in every kind of state. Drunk, tired, happy.

Now, you're a mix of them. Drunk in tequila, tired of crying, but happy for having him back for the rest of your life.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame1240 @regalbanshee @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell @codenamewife

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha

[satorinnie]

love and war

pairing; gojo satoru x f!reader

genre; angst

wc; 3,6k

warnings; jjk manga spoilers

notes; i think its obvious the ending is a bit rushed but i still tried my best :/ got the motivation to write the ending but then lost it again...but i wanted to post it today so here it goes. would love to hear feedback on it!

it wasn’t meant to play out like this. no, he wasn’t meant to find out about it, not like this at least.

that was the last thing you ever wanted.

everything was going so fine, maybe too fine, but still, nonetheless, things were perfect between the two of you just this morning. how did it come to this?

he was looking at you, blindfold off, crescent blue eyes reflecting each emotion he held so so openly. the only times you saw him this vulnerable was when the two of you had talked about his past, his regrets, and what if’s. his eyes were full of adoration at that time, looking at you like you were a pure blessing from the heavens, an angel sent to save him from his drowning thoughts, to let him be himself.

but now, now they were looking at you with so much hurt, anger, regret, and oh so heartbroken.

you had seen, witnessed, first-hand what the receiving end of gojo’s furious gaze ended with. it wasn’t pleasant, that’s for sure, and you had sworn to yourself you would never be on the receiving end of it.

oh, how the tables have turned.

it was understandable why he was so mad; god knows you would be too. because you, who had delicately pieced back his broken heart and trust after the events of getou, had now broken it, by your very own hands at that.

how did it all come to this? you had no idea. you knew starting a relationship with him was wrong and off-limits from the very beginning, but the temptation had surpassed your rationality just like eve when she bit the apple. you never thought you’d fall this deep down the hole, so deep that you forgot–no, ignored your true mission.

to monitor gojo satoru and sukuna’s vessel and kill them when you got the order.

it was last year when the head sorcerers in england had given you this mission. if gojo was unbeatable and unrivaled in japan, you were the same in england. perhaps your curse technique wasn’t as strong as his, but it was versatile and a very reliable technique.

after itardori yuuji became the only sukuna’s vessel, japan wasn’t the only country sour about the thought of it; in fact, it had caused a panic in europe as well. and as england was the country that ruled the jujutsu world in europe, you were assigned with monitoring the vessel and the owner of the six eyes. they wanted their eyes and hands on the boy with the infinity.

but you befriending everyone there, joking with the curse himself, and becoming lovers with the one and only gojo satoru was definitely not how you planned for things to go. it spelled trouble from the beginning, getting close to the shaman who had an ego and power rivaling the gods. but, unfortunately, you were now too deep to just leave without explaining everything to him, and even hoping for a chance that he’d forgive the lies you fed him throughout your times together was a little farfetched.

how could you make him believe that everything you said was genuine, and out of true love? the answer was you couldn’t because the betrayal in his eyes was enough for you to gulp down those hopes, taking a deep breath to prepare for the argument that was about to come. “look–satoru, please let me explain and don’t jump to conclusions.” you lifted your hands in front of you as an act to calm him down, walking closer to him with a futile attempt to hold his hands.

“explain what?” a laugh escaped his throat, one mixed with desperation and madness, “that everything between us was a lie? a mission for you? how do you plan on slithering your way out of this now, huh?” his voice rising with each word he was spitting out of his mouth.

you were desperately trying to keep up the expression that you had everything together, when in fact, you didn’t at all. your hands were starting to shake because you were scared of losing the man in front of you whom you were utterly in love with. the boy with the infinity held your heart in his palms, and he had no idea about it. “nothing was a lie, alright! i know how that document looked, and i can’t lie and tell you that isn’t true, but my love for you is–”

“keep those fucking lies to yourself y/n–you know, everyone knows already. megumi, yuuji, maki, even shoko–”

“stop cutting me, gojo! i know it might be unforgivable, but you have to believe me when i say i forgot about the mission. i love you, okay? i am undeniably and utterly in love with you, and that’s why i’ve been ignoring every call, every message they’ve been sending me about the task because i can’t do it!” you were screaming now, hands in the air, trying to voice out every single emotion you were feeling in that moment.

“well, it’s too bad that i don’t love you anymore! you know, i’ve known about this for a few weeks now and was hoping you’d open up to me about it, but–”

you froze at his last sentence.

“–you what? so you’re telling me that everything that happened in between us during those weeks was an act? all fake? you were just waiting for me to open up so you could what, break my heart in a more grand way?” now you had to give it to him, not only was he secretly smart, he was also a great actor who had you fooled for weeks now. the room was silent after your words, both your eyes staring deep into each other; you, waiting for his answer.

and you watched as he opened and closed his mouth, not sure how to answer your question. but you knew what that meant; with his hesitance, you had found your answer. breaking your eye contact, you looked down at the floors of the home you used to share; you could hear your heart shattering into millions of pieces with just the sound of his breathing.

“alright,” you whispered into the air. running your hand over your face, you leaned back against the kitchen counter. “so how will this go? are you going to let me go or are we gonna have a full-on fight right now? or is everyone already waiting outside the door to capture me?” you were doing your best to avoid eye contact, it was already too heard keeping your tears from falling, and you knew one more look at the eyes you loved so much would break you.

there was silence for a few minutes, but in your eyes, a few minutes was an eternity long. the fact that he was debating the question you left was heartbreaking already. but you weren’t afraid to fight; you had come to japan prepared for the worst-case scenario, and getting to know satoru up close, you believed you had a fair chance at winning.

“–im giving you twenty-four hours to leave this country. if you don’t–you know what’s to happen.” this had you lifting your head in the speed of lightning, eyes wide mouth agape, you could only watch as gojo satoru left your shared house without sparing you a single glance.

he was oblivious to how he carried your heart out the door when he left you stranded in the middle of the kitchen.

it was an hour after your discussion, and you were still in the same spot he left you. still standing, still too paralyzed to move. the reality of things being over was just starting to weigh on you, but you knew you had to start packing because not only gojo; but england was going to be after you too.

you failed the mission. and you didn’t plan on returning back.

war is a slippery slope. what would you do? becomes what will you do? becomes what have you done?

looking around the now-empty home, you built with gojo; tears started falling from your hallow eyes. so many memories resurfaced in one moment; it was overwhelming. the day your first saw him when he was trying to crack a joke at nanami to get him to smile. or the time he first asked you out admitting he had found you a force to be reckoned with and how you had managed to bewitch him. the day you accepted, the day he made you see stars behind your eyes from pure bliss. the day he proposed living together. the day you danced around the living room with his obnoxious music playing at the back, head laid against his chest humming to the melodies. how you felt like a family when you saw him and the students act so close–

how long has it been? how long have you been pushing your actual task behind the lies and excuses you fed yourself. was that person you? the ever so stone-hearted y/n breaking her facade for the boy with infinity.

my god, my god, whose performance am i watching? how many people am i? who am i? what is this space between myself and myself?

it was all getting too much. when had you fallen down the hole to never leave again? should you be grateful, or should you curse the fact that despite all misfortune, you can still feel love and unearthly love but still for earthly objects?

finally getting a grip on yourself, your feet moved down the hall to your shared bedroom, and without wasting a glance at his side, you quickly started to pack your stuff to leave japan.

gojo wasn’t doing well himself. he thought he had finally found true happiness after all the loss he had to go through, and it all turned out to be nothing but an act built on lies. after he left your shared home, he had wandered around in the streets with no destination in mind and the cold chilly air blowing past him. his blindfold was still off, the moon making his crystal blue eyes shine even more, still with unshed tears at the brink of it—a dam about to break.

he knew he lied to you when he told you he didn’t love you anymore and only hoped the years of the facade he had to keep up was enough to fool you into believing his words when in fact, it was the very opposite. he loved you so much–so much that it broke him when he read the document that was mailed to you weeks ago. you and him were an inseparable duo–the strongest and his tamer. the boy with the infinity and the girl who held him down with gravity.

upon wandering the streets for god knows how many hours, he found himself in front of a riverbank. the light of the moon was radiating, creating a painting of a million stories for the broken boy. but while being so engrossed with the view in front of him, he had failed to feel someone creeping up behind him; with his infinity down, nanami was able to lend a hand on his shoulder. “i’m assuming you talked with her.” he broke the silence.

his silenced gaze worried his friend; they promised to keep it between themselves. while nanami believed letting the kids know would be the better choice, gojo was adamant about keeping your good image in front of them. he knew how much they adored you, and he would hate to be the one to break it to them. “i did.”

“and what choice did you go with?”

“i gave her a full day to leave, and if otherwise–” he gulped down the lump forming in his throat, “–if otherwise, i told her i would fight her.” tears now slowly starting to trail down his porcelain skin, an odd view to see for his foes.

“you did the right thing.” nanami tried his best to console him in a way. this was a new image for him; he never saw gojo break down like this; the last time he saw his best friend (he would never admit that to his face, though) like this was when he had to kill getou, even then he had managed to keep up the aloof facade. but he knew his feeling for you ran much, much deeper than that. he has witnessed what your companionship had done to him. it was what pieced him back, and now what broke him.

it’s been years since you left, but you were back now. back in japan after two years of staying away, traveling to many different countries, on the runaway from the higher-ups in england. you would’ve preferred your return to be on good news and such, but unfortunately, it was the opposite. your friends back in england had informed you about how they planned on ending gojo’s life once in for all today with a team of experienced sorcerers, and although you wanted to keep away from trouble as much you could, you couldn’t let the man you love die.

with your hood covering your face, you walked down the streets of shibuya, the once war zone that led to many disastrous events in the past years under your feet. you heard about everything; the culling game and the capture of gojo satoru, thank god those were all in the past now, and everyone was well–except nanami, and the new had broken you. just like gojo and the students, he also had a special place in your heart, his calm attitude always grounding you. you don’t think his last thoughts of you were good–considering what gojo had told you the night you left, but still, his death was unexpected news to you.

you didn’t know how you were going to approach the topic; there was a big chance they’d attack you the second you entered their line of vision, not allowing you to voice out the news–but it was worth the try nonetheless. taking your hood down, you entered a cafe; the need for caffeine after the long flight back here was strong, the anxiousness and stress not allowing you to sleep. what you didn’t expect was seeing the three first years–now third years–you loved so much sitting in the cafe chatting idly, not noticing you. you wanted to keep it that way, but on your way out, a feminine voice called out your name. “y/n sensei? is that you?”

your steps halted, freezing in your stop. the confrontation was inevitable now, causing a stir in a crowded place was the last thing you wanted so you turned around to see nobara staring at you with wide eyes, megumi and itadori behind shocked just as her. what you didn’t expect was her running straight at your engulfing you with wide arms; a big grin plastered on her face. “where were you! you disappeared out of nowhere, and gojo sensei wouldn’t tell us anything! we were really worried; you left me alone with these two idiots–you know you’re the only one who understands my pain–”

“–i’m sorry, i had to go on an abroad mission, and it took too long. it’s good to be back.” you hugged her back tightly, still trying to process the new information she threw at you. gojo had lied, and that made you question everything you believed in. had he also lied about his love for you back then? but that was for later–for now, you wanted to cherish this news and spend time with your favorite students, learn about their well-being and their stories.

“come on, let’s sit shall we? we got lots to catch up on.”

it was now midnight, and you were waiting somewhere in the middle of the forest for your dreaded meeting with gojo. you managed to convince the kids into telling gojo to meet you here without actually letting him know it was you. they were excited, to say the least, talking about how you and he were the epitomai of soulmates, two pieces meant to find each other, filling up the gaping hole you both had. you were very nervous, fidgeting in your spot, hiding behind the tree waiting for him to arrive, and when you heard footsteps nearing you–you knew this was it, heart pounding like crazy.

walking out of your hiding spot, you slowly made your way over to him, hands stiff at your sides anticipating his reaction. “gojo.” he looked at you, blindfold on this time. still, you could see his displeasure from how his body stiffened at your voice, looking at you with a straight face. “what’re you doing here? i thought i told you to leave.” you sighed, walking closer to him, “i know, and i am going to leave again, but before that, i need to tell you something–” you were cut off by the powerful shake of the ground, throwing you off balance resulting in you falling to the ground.

behind you were your old friends from england, standing tall and mighty together–a force to be reckoned with; you were once one of them, but alas, that was the past. “thanks you leading us straight to him y/n.” elizabeth smirked looking at your fallen state, “you made things a whole lot easier for us.” she continued. looking back at gojo, you were surprised to see his hands locked in some type of chain. how did they manage to get past his infinity–unless he didn’t have it on in the first place. did let his guard down once he saw you? why would he do that?

“no, no, no– leave him alone, elizabeth! i swear to god i’ll rain hell upon all of you!” you stood up desperately trying to leave the makeshift cage your friend had put you in when a sudden idea came to you. it was risky, but it would save him, and that–that was all you needed, your purpose of coming here in the first place.

“lover boy is being quite over there. what is it? cat got your tongue?” she was taunting you and definitely enjoying it too. walking closer to you, she neared your face while the others were beside gojo, “you’re both fools believing you guys could be together in the first place, that’s how it works–” she was cut off by the stomp of your foot on the ground lifting a piece of rock–the one gojo was on, up to the air, away from your ex-friends. if you couldn’t save yourself, you could at least save him; apologize for your past mistakes.

from where you were, you couldn’t do much, but you used all your might to send rock flying in the air towards them meanwhile keeping gojo away from them. your cursed technique was called upon the tainted sorrow, the ability to manipulate gravity, and it was unrivaled in europe. you trained too much to reach where you were, the strongest just like gojo, but even the strong can fall, and all it takes is the blink of an eye.

you were on the ground again, but this time blood pouring from your insides, a deadly piercing through your abdomen. while you were so engrossed with trying to keep gojo safe, you hadn’t realized he was already off the piece of rock fighting the rest. and he had made the mistake of underestimating them, resulting in the struggle. but that distraction was enough for elizabeth to pierce the cursed knife through you.

one second you were on the ground; the next, you were in someone’s arms. looking up, you were met with the crystal blue eyes you had grown to love staring right back at yours. this reminded you of the moments where you used to lay on his chest, hands tangled in his snow-white hair, his hands keeping you tight against him, eyes staring at each other with nothing but love. how unfortunate things weren’t that way now. you bleeding onto his hands which hopelessly applied pressure to your wound in hopes of saving you, his blindfold now off, tears slowly caressing his face. it was a sight for the eyes. you lifted your hand up to cup his cheek, imprinting a red hand mark right where you touched him, “satoru–”

“save your breath, i called for shoko; she’ll be here any minute, and we can save you–” you silenced him with your thumb on his lips, “satoru, this was inevitable, even if you save me now, they’ll still be after me. it’ll be a never-ending cycle.”

“no, i can keep you safe, y/n. remember? it’s us against the world, baby. always has been and always will be.” he kissed your forehead, still keeping you close. his eyes were shut tight; he could feel your consciousness slipping away and knew he couldn’t save you. but can’t a man hope? and as you uttered your last words, body temperature turning cold, breathing stopping, he knew right then and there this was where he lost it all. this was how he lost the light of his world, in his own hands, between his arms.

“for what it’s worth, i love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard.” and he knew those words would haunt him for an eternity. follow him wherever he went. the ghost of you will always be with him, never leaving. you will hold him down by gravity with just your soul. yet he still wanted to curse the gods for taking you away from him, his fresh breath of air, his anchor.

your love was strong, but the timing was wrong, and love decided that you both didn’t belong.