#i kid u not i was cross eyed making sure i don’t double the pictures lmao

[makeuhwa]

[hansolmates]

here comes the bride, all dressed in pride

summary; You and your cousin Doyeon have had beef with each other since the sandbox. When she plucks the last straw, you decide to end your long-simmering fight by claiming that you and her ex—Jeon Jungkook, are now boyfriend and girlfriend pairing; jungkook x reader (f) genre/warnings; fake dating!au, fluff, crack, mentions of cheating, lang, alcohol, mc eats meat, tw sexual harassment, toxic family, dick talk, making out, if u have that one family member that pulls bs on you constantly this is it, this fic is for all the people who have a huge ass family who wont leave them alone w.c; 17.3k  a/n: my second fic for gcn’s 23 birthday project! the fact that wedding szn zoomed by us like that... and so bc im sad that so many weddings had to be postponed this fic was born! a huge thank u to vivi @eerieedits​ / @chillingtae​​ for creating this BEAUTIFUL fic banner and separator pls check vivi out to make your fics all purty

prompts used: “You’ve always been beautiful to me, don’t you know that?” and “I never knew love could be like this, feel like this.”

if you enjoyed this pls consider giving a like and a share💕💕

Doyeon likes to call Jungkook, “the one who got away.” 

You like to call Doyeon, “the one who drove him away.” 

In secret, of course. In fact, the only person who knows how much you loathe Doyeon and her behavior is your father. And all your co-workers. And your boss. And your boss’ ex-husband. 

And Jeon Jungkook, but of course you haven’t seen the man in two years and back then he was far too polite to address his concerns of your hatred of his then-girlfriend. 

Okay, so everyone and their mother knows how much you don’t like your cousin. Kim Doyeon and you have had beef since the sandbox, and for whatever reason is always out to one-up you. A strange competitive nature in everything, academics, family, and even boys. The sick, twisted part of you has come to enjoy it. While you’re not a fighter as devout as Doyeon is, you have your own callous tendencies farmed from the seeds Doyeon has planted in your brain. She gives you a comment? You can’t help but throw one back. Since you’re a painfully mature soul you don’t have any mortal enemies as far as you know, Doyeon is the perfect amount of hot water to keep you on your toes. 

“I’m really sorry that you couldn’t be a bridesmaid,” Doyeon cooes next to you, swirling her champagne glass with a too-jutted pout, “but if I did there’d be an odd number of pairings and you’re a little too old to be walking as a bridesmaid, am I right?” 

Your nails. Are digging. Through your dress. Alas, you’re in public and you have class. Doyeon smiles at you with all teeth, reminding you of the Beldam from Coraline. Aside from that she looks absolutely stunning in that Lirika Matoshi strawberry dress that has her Instagram aching with likes and love from her baseless followers. 

“I don’t know,” you reply lightly, leaning back in your seat, “I mean, if Yoojung and Rena can be bridesmaids and they’re three years older than me, wouldn’t I make the cut? It’s okay to be honest and say you just didn’t want me in the bridal party.” 

Doyeon laughs, slaps your thigh like you told her the most hilarious joke in the world. Anyone passing by would think you’re best friends. You laugh too, incredulous at the amount of power she thinks she holds. 

“Nice party,” you tack on, surveying the room. It’s filled with pastels and beiges, bright and airy.  It’s Parisian themed, and while you’re not a fan of theming cultures, you can’t deny that you’re loving the infinite supply of macarons. 

“Oh, yes. This is just a taste of the real wedding,” she laces her fingers together, as if she thinks she’s living an Elizibethean love story, “speaking of, you put on your RSVP that you’re bringing a plus one. Am I allowed to know who’s the unlucky date?” 

“As if you care.” 

“I care if you’re bringing Jimin. That tiny thing nearly gave Aunt Lillian a heart attack when he gave a striptease at Yoongi’s graduation party.” 

You smirk softly at the bold memory. That was the plan. 

Doyeon sighs dramatically, crossing her legs and popping out a cherry red heel. She plays with the back on the balls of her feet, letting the little pearly rhinestones glisten in the candlelight, “I should really commend you, cousin,” she drawls, “I mean, how kind of you to be so charitable and give your dopey friends a chance to have fun. After all, I’m sure it is difficult for someone like you to find a date.” 

It’s no surprise as to how you end up with a date at any family formal gathering. You say you bring a plus one, and then between Jimin, Taehyung and Hoseok. The three of them draw straws as to who gets to gorge on free alcohol and food for that night. 

“Difficult?” you arch a brow, “I get plenty of dates.” 

Doyeon giggles. She must be feeling extra vindictive today, high on her impending marriage and the taste of bubbly champagne. “By taking turns with those three? You gotta be kidding me,” she snorts, tipping back her crystal, “please y/n. Don’t get so defensive because I’m getting married first. Your time will come. That is, if you stop dicking around with your friends.” 

Normally you’d smother any attempt at Doyeon to call out your friends, but now she’s just done that and insulted your ability to get some, and you are livid. 

“Actually,” you quip sharply, “I’ve been dating someone. It’s been a couple months, actually.” 

“Oh?” Doyeon’s genuinely interested, face falling slightly, “you’ve never mentioned anyone, I don’t see anyone on your social media.” 

“Yeah well,” you feign sympathy, pressing your lips together and tilting your head accordingly, “I’ve had to keep it private for a couple of reasons.” 

“What, is he ugly or something?” she chuckles, “but really, who’s the person who has the misfortune of being in a committed relationship with you?” 

Maybe it’s because Doyeon’s right, the both of you are too old. The two of you have been running around each other for years, with no end in sight. Maybe, the words that linger on the tip of your tongue will be the final nail in the coffin. 

“Jeon Jungkook,” you state proudly, clear as day. “Jungkook and I have been dating for three months.” 

And you pick up the vanilla macaron that sits innocently on your plate, ravishing it up like it contained all the tension in your table. Between you and Doyeon’s bubble, you could hear a pin drop. 

“Jungkook?” her smile is concrete-solid, “my Jungkook?” 

“My Jungkook,” you correct, giving her a puppy-eyed look, “I’m really sorry I never told you. I mean, is there ever a right time to tell your cousin they’re dating their ex-boyfriend?” you laugh, either to lighten the mood or because you love the way Doyeon pinches her face, you don’t know.

“How did you two even meet?” 

“We reconnected through Seokjin. You know how the two of them play Starcraft together, I just ended up joining the call and he was so funny and nice. We just sorta… felt it.” Doyeon nods like a slow bobblehead, still comprehending in her pea-sized brain, “I just hope it isn’t too awkward. I know it’s been awhile but, if you really don’t want Jungkook to come I can always take Hoseok or something.” 

“No, it’s fine,” Doyeon says a little too quickly, masking on her picture-perfect smile. “I’m with Namjoon now, and I’m totally happy. Water under the bridge, it’ll be totally fine.” 

“Really?” your eyes practically sparkle, thankful for the amount of glitter and highlighter you’ve dumped on your face today, “I really appreciate it, Yeonie.” 

And she quickly downs her champagne glass, and gets up from her seat. It’s haunting, the way she gets up, pink tulle billowing around her ankles. “I have to attend to the other guests,” she says. 

“Of course,” you raise your glass.

“But, be careful,” she gives you a little smile, one filled with a last-ditch attempt at a jab, “Jungkook, he’s a little hard to deal with.” 

“Oh don’t worry. I know how to deal with Jungkook’s hardness,” you wink, and Doyeon’s face falls like a ton of bricks. 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“I know,” you shrug loftily, “that’s what I meant, though.” 

And you don’t bother watching Doyeon stomp off the metaphorical stage, double fisting two new glasses of champagne from an awaiting butler as she finds some other poor guest to pick on. Now, the matter of securing your date. Conveniently so, the most important man in the room is walking your way, and you manage to snag his tie just as he passes your table. 

“Ow—ow! I’m choking!” Seokjin grabs, nearly throwing his tall body onto your lap, hands grappling to release the tension on his neck. “Leave me alone, woman! I just wanted to get some chicken tenders!” 

“Jin,” you say sweetly, opening his blazer to retrieve his phone, “I need Jeon’s number, now.” 

“Jungkook?” your favorite cousin pales, eyes widening as you take out your phone of your own, copying down the digits, “what did you do?” 

“Don’t ask questions.” 

Seokjin says your name again, firmer. “You’re playing with fire.” 

“It’ll be fine, it’s the last time,” you quell, already knowing how much Seokjin hates being in the middle of your fights. Once you’ve secured the phone number, you place Seokjin’s phone back into his pocket, patting his breast. “Thank you. You know you’re my favorite cousin, you know that?” 

He grumbles a “damn right I am” before stomping away, resuming his race for his chicken tenders. 

You: hey jeon it’s y/n. I see you’re doing great, i saw on instagram that you released your first app w/yoongi! Totally amazing, been playing for weeks, really upset that i can’t get past the flaming frog boss :((

You: Feel free to ignore this, i won’t blame you if you do. Im at doyeon’s rehearsal dinner, and she basically snubbed my friends and said i couldn’t get some prime dick even though im?? Me??? Anyway, im tired of her shit so im gonna throw it back at her, one last time before she ties the knot. I told her you and i have been dating, and im bringing you as my date to her wedding. Really sorry, the demons took over my brain and made the worst and best comeback of my life. So… if you’re up for being the hottest couple on the floor in three weeks and showing how madly in love we are, please text me back? Or not. You might think this family is crazy and i accept partial responsibility. 

You: I’ll buy u every meal for every practice date we have if u agree.💕💕💕

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: thanks, i appreciate that. To defeat the frog boss, go back to the coconut cave and find the garnet garter. It absorbs his fire and u can easily defeat froggo w any level 15 weapon

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: and as for the real reason u texted me. Im in. let’s get pork belly tomorrow. 

Two years ago, you were surprised that Doyeon could manage to snag a man as fine as Jeon Jungkook. Also unsurprised, because Doyeon is gorgeous and could snag any man she wanted, and has snagged every man she wanted. 

Jungkook was different though. He had an air of innocence to him. He loved her, a little too much to be safe. Your heart would betray you every time you would find him at a family gathering, making her plate and counting the calories she so meticulously measured. How can someone so sweet be with someone like Doyeon? 

Your heart ached for Jungkook when they broke up a year later. From what you heard, Doyeon was Jungkook’s first serious girlfriend. And then you wanted to rip your heart out a week later when you caught Doyeon smooching with her favorite graduate professor Kim Namjoon, wanting to erase any possibility you’d have at love. At that time, you never wanted to feel the pain you imagined Jungkook was going through. 

“Y/n! Over here!” you’re a little taken aback at how much has not changed in Jungkook. His eyes still sparkle like fresh dew, his smile is still pearly white and infectious. He’s even early, snagging a table at his favorite barbeque place and waiting for you as if he is the one organizing your first date. 

At the same time, there’s so much that’s changed about him. He’s confident, even going so far as to walk over to you and slip your jacket and purse in his grasp like a gentleman. He leads you by putting a hand lightly at the small of your back, making you feel impossibly small in comparison to his Dorito-shaped body, broad shoulders and a deliciously trim waist. 

“How was the walk over?” 

“Not too bad,” the conversation is casual, easy. You wipe the sweat off your forehead with a napkin. “Could use a little exercise now and again. I did eat a whole tray of macarons at that rehearsal dinner.” 

Jungkook laughs from his belly, causing you to smile. “Nonsense. You look great, by the way,” you don’t mind it, actually, you enjoy it when his eyes rake over your body. After all, he’s now your boyfriend and he needs to get familiar with all the important bits. He leans his arms forward, bracing him against the wooden table so his face is closer to yours. 

“You’re not doing too bad yourself,” your eyes gloss over the veins and intricate tattoos that paint his muscled upper half. Your smile morphs into a smirk, letting him know you’re enjoying the view just as well as he is. 

And as soon as the tension sparks, it ends just as fast when your waiter comes up to light your grill. 

“So,” Jungkook wastes no time in decorating your stove, making sure to add all the appropriate aromatics and infusions to season your lunch, “do you know why Doyeon and I broke up?” 

“Cheated on you with Namjoon, I assume,” you keep your eyes trained on the darkening meat. 

Jungkook slips a piece of meat in his mouth. Any expression of pain (whether it be from Doyeon or the barely cooked meat) doesn’t reveal itself as he stops to take a sip of water. “Who else knows?” 

“Just me and Seokjin. The family loved you too much and Doyeon made up some sob story about how you two were going different life paths.” 

He chuckles to himself, taking great care in flipping the meat. “I really was a fool in love, wasn’t I?” 

“It… was mildly cute.” 

“Tell me the truth, you have no reason not to.” 

“Okay, you made me want to vomit rainbows and glitter every time I saw you.”

The two of you laugh, faces crinkling shamelessly as the two of you busy yourselves with setting up the table. Most of the food is done and the aroma of fresh onions wafts around your grill. As you place chopsticks on his side of the table, you think about all the times Jungkook made it abundantly clear how much he loved Doyeon: the love letters tucked into her purse, 100 day anniversaries, even just a simple Americano for her in the morning. 

“Is that why you never hung out with us?” 

“No,” you reply lightly, “Doyeon made it clear that I shouldn’t talk to you.” 

Jungkook frowns, “You really don’t like each other, do you.” 

You shrug, “Just always been like that,” you quirk a smile when Jungkook places the freshly cooked meat on top of your rice before serving himself. 

“So what’s the plan?” 

“We go to the wedding, make out a little, get Doyeon boiling. Even if she’s not interested in you, she’d still be upset knowing we are together.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Because it’s me,” you grin into your glass, staring at a water-stained Jungkook through the blue tinted glass. “And all you have to do, is enjoy your night and look pretty.” 

His eyes crinkle, chopsticks pressing between his lips. “You think I look pretty?” 

With a roll of eyes you don’t respond, preferring to dig your chopsticks in your rice. No need to inflate Jungkook’s ego too soon. 

Pinning the main theme of your hangout to the side, the both of you dig into your meal. You throw conversation back and forth like pebbles, grains of sand that build and build until you’re caught up with each other’s lives. It feels so strange to admit it’s been two years since you’ve spoken to the man, and all of a sudden the once luscious meat feels dry in your mouth. 

“Jeon,” you put your chopsticks down, “are you sure you want to do this with me? I mean, I know it’s all my fault and I dragged you into it. Don’t feel obligated to agree to this.” 

“I’m a hundred-percent sure,” he doesn’t stop eating, shoving two spoonfuls of rice in his mouth. His cheeks puff up considerably, and your eyes trail down to his neck as he swallows, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna.” 

“Right,” you don’t need a big explanation or a personal confession from Jungkook, just his consent. “Partners, Jeon?” you hold up your glass. 

“Partners,” he agrees easily. The smile on his face disarms you, a full-fledged grin decked with pearly whites. Clicking his glass to yours he adds, “And it’s Jungkook, babe.” 

Oh, this is going to be interesting. 

Seokjin thinks the two of you are the most boring fake-couple. 

His eyes dart back and forth between your spot on the couch and his desk, where Jungkook is currently seated. Seokjin is hovered over Jungkook, who’s typing and clicking furiously over his PC game. You’re on your phone, feet pulled up to the coffee table while some old Netflix movie plays in the background. To top it all off both of you didn’t even try to dress like it’s daytime, nearly matching in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. It doesn’t look like a couple coming to visit Seokin, it looks like Jungkook is playing video games with Seokjin while his cousin hangs around like she owns the place. 

“Shouldn’t you guys like, I don’t know, go on dates or something?” Seokjin feels like he’s talking to the air. “Maybe get to know each other before the big day?” 

Pulling your phone down to your lap and Jungkook taking off his headphones, the two of you shrug at each other, “No, we’re good.” Jungkook says. 

“We know enough,” you agree cooly, “Jungkook likes Valorant.” 

“I do like Valorant.” 

“He likes pork belly.”

“I do like pork belly.” 

“He’s ripped as hell.” 

“I am ripped as hell.” 

“Okay but have you guys kissed yet?” Seokjin interjects, probably compensating for the nonchalance in the room with his own brand of freaking out. You two only see each other when you’re hanging out at Seokjin’s apartment, and while he’s happy that you two aren’t doing the whole 9-yards and creating an elaborate scheme, the both of you are almost too relaxed. His anxiety is spiking.

“Yes,” Jungkook answers, “at the barbeque place we went to.” 

“It was nice," you tack on, "Jin, we got this. Don't worry." 

"How can I not worry when you're trying to upset our cousin on her wedding day?" he's sweating in his fully air-conditioned apartment. “I get that she’s the devil’s spawn and everything, but she’s still a human being.” 

“In second grade she pushed me on the treadmill because I was going too slow. I got caught on the roller and got a bald spot for two months.” 

“Okay yes one bad example—” 

“And in senior year she accused me of plagiarizing her essay just because we chose the same topic. I almost didn’t get into college!” Seokjin sighs, crossing his arms. All valid points, and arguing with you isn’t a route he wants to take. “Jin, the point is that she’s constantly pushing my buttons. I’ve always been the bigger person and now that I’m old and confident I just want one jab.”

“That’s valid,” Jungkook pipes up, pressing the spacebar a few times, “I want a jab too, she cheated on me.” 

“See? It’s a mutual decision.” 

Seokjin asks, “Why aren’t you more worried about this?”

"Because Doyeon isn't going to chew me out on her wedding day," you checked your aunt's seating chart last week and you are far, far away from the bridal table. "We're just going to show off a little bit. Get drunk, eat some bomb steak. Break up in three months or less.”

"You don't have to just convince Doyeon, it's your entire family! Not to mention you also have to go to the bachelor party!" 

"Oh I almost forgot," you reach under the couch for your laptop, "Jungkook, in two weekends from now we're flying to Las Vegas for the bachelor party and wedding. I'll buy your ticket now." 

"Thanks, babe!” Jungkook sends a cheeky grin to Seokjin, who is unimpressed. “See? I remember to call her babe.” 

“Alright, get out of my house,” Seokjin tugs Jungkook away from his computer, causing the younger man to swivel around in his plush gaming chair. 

Jungkook frowns at the monitor, “But I’m still bronze one. I’m aiming for silver one by this weekend.” 

“Don’t care. As much as I don’t like this plan, I’m not letting you two slip-up.” Seokjin pulls out his phone, revealing Doyeon’s Instagram story, “Doyeon and Namjoon are at the mall buying swimsuits for Vegas. Go to the mall and ‘accidentally’ run into them.”

You sit up straight, tilting your head to the side. “That’s not a bad idea, actually,” you bound over to grab your jacket, giving Seokjin a big fat kiss on his cheek, “Thanks Jinnie, do you know you’re—”

“I’m your favorite cousin. Yeah whatever, bye.” He waves you off, plopping in his own chair so he can enjoy his games in peace. 

“I’m driving,” Jungkook declares, swiping your keys from Seokjin’s opal dish. 

“Oh, hell no,” you jump on your tippy toes to reach Jungkook’s grasp on your keys, but he’s so freakishly tall there’s no way you can reach. “I drive my car!” 

“I’ve always wanted to drive your car back then,” Jungkook cooes, leaning in so your noses touch. “C’mon, you can trust me.” 

“You two are gross already,” Seokjin admonishes from the other side of the room, “see, it’s working!” 

Poking his cheek so he gives you some space, you whip your head to hide the flush that burns on your cheeks. “Fine, but if you crash you’re buying me a new one.” 

“They’re over there,” you hiss between the racks, shuffling between the plastic hangers to point to Doyeon and Namjoon at the women’s section of the store. They look disgustingly adorable together, with Doyeon pointedly telling Namjoon which swimsuit suits his stature better while Namjoon nods along and goes with whatever she says. You crouch down lower, fearing Namjoon’s tall frame would catch you. “Now we just gotta act all couple-y and they’ll notice us. Or maybe we can walk over to them? What do you wanna do?” 

“Do you think we should get matching swimsuits?” Jungkook pays no mind to your sleuthing, holding up a red pair of swim trunks to his thighs, “we could pretend to be sexy lifeguards.” 

You tilt your head away from the pair, only because Jungkook has been genuinely interested in this store since you’ve arrived. Putting a hand under your chin, you scrutinize the dark red cutoff shorts. “They’re cute,” you nod appreciatively, “It’ll make your thighs look thick.” 

Jungkook’s grip on his hanger lowers, and he regards you with dark eyes. “You think my thighs look thick?” he asks, leaning in and putting one hand on the curve of your waist. His fingers dance on the surface of bare skin between your top and jeans, and while you’ve agreed beforehand that you two could touch each other wherever in public, it still surprises you when gooseflesh rises to the surface.

“Easy there, tiger,” you chuckle, putting a hand on his chest to stop his sudden bout of flirting. “I’m just stating the facts, we get it. You lift.” 

“You’re so cute when you try to put your guard up,” he’s brushing noses with you now, and you feel the plastic of the hanger crumple pathetically between you two as the gap closes further. “But you can’t hide from me.”

And just as his lips move to press against yours, a shrill “Jungkook!” echoes throughout the large store.

You nearly flop over the boardshorts rack if not for Jungkook’s arms secured around your waist. Oh right, you think dumbly, this is all for show. Doyeon and Namjoon are right in front of you, purchases already made and looking at you two in curiosity. Well, Namjoon is definitely curious, because you know for a fact that Doyeon speaks very little of you to him and you’ve only conversed with him a handful of times. Doyeon on the other hand, looks a little stiff in the grin. 

“Hello to you too,” you remark to Doyeon, who’s barely acknowledged you. You reach over to squeeze Namjoon’s arm, “Hi Joonie,” you crinkle your eyes, and you fight back a squeal when he smiles back with dimples. Doyeon has such a cute fiancé, and if you’re keeping score he’s way too good for her. 

Doyeon’s eyes glaze over to where you’ve touched Namjoon, and she links her arms with his. “What a coincidence, you two are buying swimsuits where we’re buying swimsuits.” 

“Well, there’s only one mall in this town and we’re going on the same trip in two weeks,” you reply blandly, and you feel Jungkook pinch your side. “Oh, Namjoon. Have you met my boyfriend Jungkook?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Namjoon reaches over to clasp Jungkook’s hand, “nice to meet you, man.” 

While Namjoon and Jungkook exchange small talk, you pointedly ignore the waves of negativity Doyeon sends your way in favor of observing the two large men. Namjoon just said it was nice to meet him, therefore he has no clue who Jungkook is. Interesting, considering Doyeon two-timed in favor of Namjoon. It gets you a little antsy, and you wonder if Namjoon is faking this whole interaction or if Doyeon is hiding something. 

“Baby,” Jungkook rests a hand on your shoulder, regarding you with concern, “you spaced out there, are you okay?” 

“She’s like that, Jungkookie,” Jungkook gently presses your shoulders down, blocking your view of Doyeon as she regards your not-boyfriend as Jungkookie. “My cousin’s a bit of an airhead,” her tone is sweet and jesting, the backhanded jab going right above Namjoon’s head. 

“I’m just hungry,” you say, forcing a tight-lipped smile. 

“Well, that’s perfect,” Namjoon clasps his hands together, “Yeonie and I were just about to go grab some dinner. Why don’t you join us?”

Doyeon and you both reply immediately, “That really isn’t necessary—” 

“Nonsense,” you don’t even have the heart to be upset at Namjoon because he looks so damn genuine, “It’s been two years and I haven’t even bought you a meal, y/n. After all, we’re going to be family at the end of the month.” 

“Right,” you answer reluctantly. 

“We’re gonna make reservations at the Cheesecake Factory,” he pulls out his phone, ready to make a call, “but you and Jungkook can finish shopping, okay? The wait will be a little long but by the time you’re done our table should be ready.” 

You and Jungkook wave off Doyeon and Namjoon as they make their way to the restaurant. Your hand is caught in the air by Jungkook, who regards you with worry in his eyes. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you looked spaced out,” he says, “tell me what you were really thinking.” 

Subconsciously, you squeeze his palm for comfort. “I don’t know, it just feels weird knowing Namjoon doesn’t seem to know you at all. Normally Doyeon loves to talk shit about her exes.” 

Jungkook scoffs easily, “I mean, if she’s marrying the guy I’m sure she doesn’t want to let him know the details of how they ended up together.” 

“True,” you decide to let it go, and follow Jungkook to the register to pay for his swim trunks. 

“So,” the little ‘ding’ of the register opens up the money box, and Jungkook quickly hands the clerk his cash, “we’re having dinner with them after this?” 

“Only if you want to.”

“We need to, right?” Jungkook thanks the clerk, holding the bag in one hand and threading his fingers through yours as you head out the store. 

“Well, do you want to?” you ask again. Jungkook stops the two of you on the sidewalk. It isn’t a fast stop, but a slow down that makes his walk a little more thicker, more deliberate as he trudges you down the lane. You move in front of him, clutching your hands between his. “Are you okay? You barely even acknowledged Doyeon.” 

“I’m fine,” you flinch at his harsh tone, and he immediately moves to remedy it by squeezing your hand back. “I’m sorry. It’s just been awhile and I’m definitely over her but,” he bows his head, feeling embarrassed, “she hurt me, you know?” 

Going into this is definitely one of the more selfish plans you’ve put your mind to. Your heart pangs thinking about what must be going through everytime he sees her. If he’s reminded about all the good times they shared, or how much he’s over thought every single conversation he’s had with her up until this point.

“Of course,” you completely understand, knowing from the beginning that this whole mess would end up with some dicey feelings someway or another. “I’m just thankful you chose to stick by me. And we can talk about it if you’re comfortable,” both of you being victims of Doyeon’s brand of torture, you hope the two of you can at least be friends after all of this is over, “we don’t have to go have dinner with them.” 

“But, Namjoon got us a table—” 

“Namjoon will be fine. We can always have dinner with him another time,” you smile softly, “what matters is that you’re okay.” 

His gaze melts, and you feel his grip loosen in your hold. He regards you with weak eyes, betraying the confidence he held himself to moments before. “Thanks, y/n,” he says, “I really appreciate that.” 

“Anytime,” you reply honestly. “We can go to Cheesecake and order to-go. I can make some excuse about how my stomach hurts and that we should do a raincheck.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“Do you wanna eat at one of our places or eat at the park or something?” you’re already pulling up your phone, checking out the menu. “We could invite Jin too.” 

“The park sounds nice,” neither of you acknowledge the fact that you’re not inviting Seokjin, and for some reason that’s okay.

“Yeah,” you agree simply, “the weather’s beautiful.” 

Under any normal circumstances, you would’ve been friends with someone like Jeon Jungkook, easily. A little part of you wishes that you could’ve met Jungkook first, but Doyeon has better connections than you and always had a good crowd around despite her inner motivations. No awkward exchange happens when you suggest to Jungkook to eat together. Even though you’re not technically dating, the two of you know that eating together is better than eating alone.

And you have to admit Jungkook’s great company. The two of you drive to a reserve nearby, overlooking a tiny lake. Instead of a fancy Italian tablecloth the two of you move your car seats down and set a spare picnic blanket in the trunk. Instead of a candlelit dinner the two of you find some emergency electric tealights in the glove compartment, lighting it up between you two as you dig into your to-go boxes. 

You’re a little envious that so much time has passed by. You could’ve been a little sneakier and made a better effort to communicate with Jungkook when you saw him regularly at family parties, and maybe you two would have a better friendship today. Nevertheless, the two of you mesh like peanut butter and jelly, exchanging conversation that has your cheeks sore from smiling too hard. 

By the time you get to dessert, the moon is out and the stars are floating above your heads. The two of you are at war, fighting with your forks over the last strawberry in your cheesecake slice. After some careful stabbing Jungkook manages to nab it with his fork. 

He almost puts it in his mouth, but instead swipes up some whipped cream to press the last strawberry to your lips. 

“I think it’s working,” Jungkook says randomly as you chew the sweet fruit, “you could see it on Doyeon’s face today. She’s unsettled.” 

“Yeah,” you agree, lying down on the lavender gingham picnic blanket. 

“Do you know why she fights with you all the time?” 

“That’s a question I’ve been asking myself since the dawn of time.”

“I think I know why.” Jungkook looks down at you with his large doe eyes, licking innocently on a spoon of whipped cream. 

“Pray tell.” 

“She’s jealous of you.” 

“No,” you disagree easily, “she’s jealous that I have you.” 

“Bzzt! Wrong,” Jungkook puts his empty container in your makeshift trash can, falling beside you and knitting his hands under his head. You have a little window on the roof of your car, so both of you are able to stare at the navy sky, “she’s always been jealous of you. Think about it. The two of you have similar lifestyles: same career path, confidence, taste, education. But even after all of that? People still like you more.” 

You scoff, hands immediately reaching to fiddle with the frayed corner of fabric next to your fingers. “I don’t think so.” 

“I’ve met all of Doyeon’s friends,” he informs you, “they’re weird. Like yeah, they care about each other on the surface level. But they’re nothing of substance. They’re not like your friends.” 

“Please, Doyeon has everything she could ever want,” you don’t know what kind of complex you have supporting Doyeon’s life, but something deep and insecure wants to separate you two as far away from each other as possible. “Like… she’s Malibu Barbie and I’m Polly Pocket.” 

Jungkook turns to face you, resting his head between his palm and leaning on his elbow. “Do you not think you’re beautiful?” 

“Yeah, but compared to Doyeon—” 

“You’ve always been beautiful to me, don’t you know that?”

You choke on your saliva, feeling small and skittish at the implication behind his words. It’s been two years. You’ve only been friends for two weeks. How can he possibly say that? 

“I uh, saw you once,” Jungkook coughs, and you watch the way his pale cheeks unmatch the moon and instead flit to a crimson hue, “we were at some party and you were wearing this really cute black dress with a white bow in the middle. Doesn’t even matter what party because it was random, y’know? I was gonna go talk to you but Doyeon got to me first and well, the rest is history.” He breaks eye contact with you, unable to handle it. 

You remember that party, vaguely. It was random, some sort of poetry slam in a shady part of town. Doyeon and you didn’t even go with each other, you were with Taehyung and she just happened to stumble in there from another nearby party. You didn’t even know Jungkook was there that night, or how you were a hair's breadth away from meeting him before Doyeon. 

“Don’t ever think you’re lesser than her just because out of all the people she chose to pick on, she chose you. It’s why she never lets you get to know her boyfriends. She’s threatened by you because you’re just as special,” something low sparks in your chest at his words,  “and now that you’ve finally decided to stoop to her level and fight back with a taste of her own medicine, she doesn’t know what to do.” 

Feeling like your body is on a beach and you’re sinking in sand, you soften over your picnic blanket, mulling it over. “Did I make the right choice? Stooping down to her level.” Your voice is quiet, comparable to the chirping birds and buzzing gnats outside. 

“We won’t know until after the wedding,” Jungkook answers honestly, “but I do know I’m sticking with you until the end. We’re friends now, got that? You have no excuse to ignore me anymore.” 

You don’t want to ignore Jungkook, never in a million years. Now you know that you are envious of Doyeon, for having an opportunity to love and care for an amazing person like him. So in a sudden bout of emotion, you roll over to straddle Jungkook’s waist. 

He’s shocked, hands flying to your waist to make sure you don’t wobble off. But you’re determined, and lean down to press your lips against his. He tastes like cheesecake and strawberries, the taste melding with your own as you relish in the feeling of his soft lips against yours. You melt a little when he squeaks, breaking into a soft moan as he reciprocates the gesture. He’s warm and large and he makes you feel safe. Once your brain returns to your body, you break for air. You only pull back a few centimeters, and there’s no way for you to get off because Jungkook has locked you in place. 

“What was that for?” he asks breathlessly. 

“Don’t know,” you’re whispering against his lips, unable to pull away, “just felt like we needed a little more practice.” 

He blinks, before relaxing in a silly smile. “I agree,” he says simply, dipping you on your back so he can be on top the second time around. 

“We’re in Vegas, baby!” 

Every single terrible comedy movie set in Las Vegas has brought you to this very moment. You’ve always wanted to say that line. Dumping your luggage next to Jungkook’s, you flop on the nearest mattress. Thank goodness you only wore leggings and a t-shirt on the flight, it’s the optimal sleeping outfit after a long day. Feeling something hard and plastic dig into your brain, you hold up the culprit and squeal excitedly. “Look, Kook!” you wave the crinkly confection in your hands, “they put mints on the pillows!” 

Despite your room being a square with two queen beds, the hotel does not skimp on quality. The decor is ornate, the white and gold trim on the doorknobs and metal appliances shimmering beautifully. The beds feel like clouds, as you try to imagine what a cloud could possibly feel like, this is it. 

Jungkook immediately follows suit, ripping off his outer clothes until he’s left in his undershirt and boxers, flopping next to you on the mattress. He immediately opens his mouth when you shoot a mint, catching it easily. “I feel like we’re in a deleted scene of Crazy Rich Asians,” he says, letting the hard mint clink around his teeth, “is this the part where you tell me your family comes from old money and I’m gonna be your sugar baby?” 

“Don’t be so hopeful,” you narrow your eyes, booping his button nose with your finger. 

“I’m just saying, the first class flight threw me off.” 

You giggle, slapping his chest, “No. If that was true, we wouldn’t be sharing a room with my cousin. Sorry you have to share the bed with me, I got the hotel with Jin and he doesn’t want to sleep with you.”

“S’okay,” Jungkook replies softly, leaning closer to make grabby hands at you, “you’re softer.” 

Tentatively, you scooch over so you can lean on Jungkook’s chest. You two have a little time before Doyeon and Namjoon’s combined bachelor and bachelorette party. The past two weeks have been nice—scratch that, the past two weeks with Jungkook have been wonderful. You never cared to measure how much time passed before meeting him, but now that you’ve begun fake-dating, time is the only thing you regard. You’re already beginning to miss him, knowing that in a week, this whole arrangement will be over.

Well, not exactly over. Jungkook says you’ll remain friends after this, but you don’t really want that. You want more, and it scares you to think he may not feel the same. 

But right now you’re snuggling like an old couple, sleeping comfortably between pillow-like sheets and minty breath. Your pretend boyfriend, now your pretend boyfriend with benefits, looks soft and huggable and you want to bottle up this moment forever. You say benefits because, well, the cuddling is an added bonus. Practice practice practice, Jungkook sing songs the words you used that one night under the stars, excuses to seal his lips to your lips. You’ll never argue with that. So when Jungkook’s hand tightens around your waist and pulls you closer, you relent. 

One second, you’re closing your eyes and the next, you’re waking up to Seokin’s wide eyes staring back at you. 

“Eep, you creepo!” you shriek, scrambling away from him. That’s when you realize Jungkook’s missing from bed, the scent of his laundry detergent lingering between the eggshell Egyptian cotton. 

“Jungkook’s in the shower,” Seokjin immediately reads your mind, pulling away so he can unpack his luggage. “My flight just got in two hours ago, you both were out like a light when I arrived.”

“Ugh, I’m really not ready to party.” 

“Doyeon just texted the family group chat. She reserved the rooftop, the party starts in an hour,” he talks mindlessly, rifling through his stuff. Seokjin is fiddling with his clothes, despite the fact that you know Seokjin prepares his outfits days in advance so he doesn’t have to choose. He looks concerned, pulling out a flamingo pink boardshort and setting it down on his mattress. Finally he says, “I’m worried about you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because. It’s clear that you’re starting to fall for Jungkook.” 

The words strike you straight in the place you’re trying to avoid. You’ve been living in a fantasy these past two weeks, thinly veiled by the whole reason you two are together in the first place. Doyeon’s wedding is just around the corner, and what then? 

“I’m not saying that he doesn’t feel anything for you either,” that gets your heart skipping a beat, and you secretly hold a hand to your chest under the blankets, “but do you really want to start off a relationship like this? A relationship all messy and morally objective because it’s built on revenge?” 

“Don’t worry about me,” the words easily fall from your lips, “I can take care of this.” 

“I hate it when you say that,” the words are curt and harsh against Seokjin’s plush lips, “I’m allowed to worry about you, y/n. You know why? Because, because you’re my favorite cousin too,” he bites his lip, walking over so he sits on your side of the bed. “So don’t tell me what I can and can’t worry about. I want you to be happy, I want you to stop holding in this anger you have for Doyeon and move on.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, leaning over to press your cheek against Seokjin’s shoulder. “You’re right.” 

“For the first time in a long time, you’ve finally decided to lean on someone,” and both of you know who that someone is. “I don’t want you to lose him over some petty family issue. You should tell him how you feel.” 

“I will,” you wrap your arms around your cousin’s slim waist in a silent thanks. 

“Am I interrupting a tender family moment?” 

The two of you pull away to stare at Jungkook, leaning against the doorframe that leads to the bathroom. He’s in a plain white t-shirt and the red board shorts that you bought at the mall, cutting off mid-thigh and revealing the bulky muscle underneath. You were right, the shorts do make his thighs look thick. 

Seokjin groans exaggeratedly. “Yes, yes you did.” 

Jungkook immediately goes to replace Seokjin’s spot, and some stray droplets fall fresh from the shower due to his slicked-back hair. “Do you wanna get ready? First party’s soon.” 

“Not really,” you admit, “you’re gonna meet the family all over again.” 

“Second time’s the charm,” he winked, “I’ve already met your parents and everything. Not feeling nervous at all.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Really,” and the facade cools down a little, “well, maybe a little nervous for your Aunt Lillian. Her stares give me the heebie-jeebies.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from Aunt Lillian.” 

“God the two of you get worse every day,” Seokjin has magically changed into his shorts, tucking himself into the bed, “don’t wake me up until we pre-game.” 

Doyeon and Namjoon don’t skimp on the festivities, although in taste the ideas are Doyeon’s in its entirety. It’s lavish and colorful, with a beautiful infinity pool in the middle decorated with lavender and pink headlights. There’s a buffet table overflowing with tasty food. There’s petal pink champagne overflowing from fountains, decorated with fresh strawberries bobbing around the fizzy drink. 

“I don’t know,” Namjoon and Jungkook have been talking for well over an hour, and it’s clear how well they mesh together. Heck, you’ve accepted that Jungkook may like Namjoon more than he likes you. Jungkook’s eyes sparkle as Namjoon discusses the various genres of rap and hip-hop music, explaining the potency of mature themes in a young community, “but I will say music is like another language, knows no boundaries when it comes to sending their messages to others.” 

You fight the urge to chuckle when Jungkook sighs dreamily at the music theory professor. “Wow, that’s so deep.” 

Getting up from your cabana, you nudge Seokjin, who’s currently flirting it up with one of Doyeon’s bridesmaids. “Hey, wanna get a drink?” you ask, throwing your wrap on the cushions to reveal your strappy red bikini. 

“And chicken tenders,” Seokjin presses a kiss to the bridesmaid’s cheek, bidding her goodbye as he follows you out of the shaded area. 

“Do you two lovebirds want anything?” you stare pointedly at Namjoon and Jungkook. While Namjoon’s eyes stay in contact with you, you can’t help but smile a little more when Jungkook has a hard time keeping his gaze in one place. 

“I think we’re fine,” Namjoon answers for both of them, swirling his beer bottle. “I’ll meet you two at the bar once I’m done.” 

“Sure thing,” Seokjin puts a hand on your back to lead you to one of the open bars. As much as you like being in a handsome hotel with money to burn, nothing beats the fact that your entire family is here to celebrate. The elders have corroborated two cabanas for poker and other games, while your younger cousins are playing ping pong and air hockey on the other side. 

“Namjoon sure is a dreamboat,” Seokjin bemoans, handing you an electric orange drink. You take a sip of it, and bug out when you realize it tastes nothing like alcohol. You’re definitely in for a night. “Like I can hear him wax music thingamajib any day.” 

“I thought you were into that bridesmaid.” 

“A mere diversion,” he sighs, leaning his tanned arms against the bar, “can’t ignore the deep voice Namjoon has, it’s intoxicating.” 

“I’m sure Jungkook would agree,” you egg on. 

“What are you two talking about?” you straighten up when the man of the hour shows up at the bar, absolutely glowing under the sunset. He orders a round for the three of you, and you immediately chug your own drink to get to the next one. 

“Talking about how you’re stealing Jungkook away from me,” you joke, accepting another fruity drink from Namjoon. Damn, this stuff tastes like candy. 

“Oh, never,” Namjoon replies brightly, waving the thought away, “do you see the way he looks at you? Hopelessly in love.” 

Maybe it’s the copious amounts of alcohol, but you feel your stomach flip-flop at the thought of love. You’ve always known what love felt like, the warmth of Namjoon’s cheeks whenever he sees Doyeon, when your mom takes care of you when you’re sick, when Seokjin makes sure you’re not emotionally constipated 24/7. But the thought of Jungkook and you in love? It’s a feeling you secretly yearn for. 

“Right? It’s disgusting,” Seokjin groans with an eye roll, “like, Jungkook wasn’t like that with Doyeon at all when they were together.” 

The slip up has the three of you choking on your own thoughts, staring at each other like the three have just been told you’re on a prank show. But it is no prank, and you look at Seokjin who’s absolutely horrified. 

“Oh shit,” he squeaks, looking at Namjoon guiltily, “did I say something I shouldn’t have said?” 

“I don’t know,” Namjoon replies coolly, “did you?” 

The ominous response gets you going, and you quickly place a hand on Namjoon’s arm, placating him. “They dated, yes. But it was only for a short time and we’ve sorted everything out. Nothing for you to worry about.” 

“Oh,” Namjoon quirks his head, and regards you two with pursed lips. “I’m not one of those guys who freak out over other people’s exes. I’m just surprised that I’ve only heard this now,” Namjoon takes a slow sip of his drink, and despite your drink also being cold and refreshing, you’re absolutely sweating. 

“Well, I’m sure Doyeon didn’t want to worry you.”

At the mention of his future wife, he beams. “You’re right, she’s considerate like that,” and the conversation ends just like that. He holds up his drink to the two of you, and you and Seokjin do the same. With a sharp clink he leaves you two to mull, happily conversing with the next round of guests he needs to entertain for the week. 

“That guy is too nice for his own good,” you shake your head, asking the bartender for your third drink within ten minutes. 

Seokjin leans over you and warbles, “So you’re telling me that Namjoon has no idea that Doyeon cheated on Jungkook in order to date him?” he’s sweating just like you are, following suit to your actions and asking to make his drink a double. 

“I don’t know,” you bite your lip, your teeth worrying the dark skin, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while though. I just don’t want to get involved, you know?” 

“But this is different!” 

“But Doyeon’s family!” 

“And all of a sudden you care about Doyeon’s feelings?” Seokjin gripes back, “it’s not about Doyeon, it’s about the both of them. And if we know something that Namjoon doesn’t, wouldn’t it be in our best interests to warn him before he seals a marriage deal that costs him over a zillion dollars?” he gestures to the extravagant wedding party. 

“But we don’t even have any proof that’s the case,” you frown, “Doyeon could have changed—a little, not a lot—since meeting Namjoon, maybe she thinks it’s best to reveal as little as possible.” 

Seokjin wonders what kind of family he has. One as chaotic as his takes a lot to stomach, and Seokjin likes to pride himself in his strong appetite. “Fine, let’s just keep a close eye on both of them this week. And if anything remotely fishy happens, we strike.” 

“Deal.” 

You return to the cabana alone, with a plate of fries for both you and Jungkook. Jungkook is also alone, laying on the lounge chair with his eyes closed. It gives you a chance to ogle your fake-boyfriend a little bit, reveling in the sight of his toned body. 

Setting down your plate with a sharp rap of the glass, Jungkook opens one eye. “Hey,” he smiles, drinking in your muted expression, “you okay?”

Damn Jungkook for being able to read you so well. “I think so. It’s nothing, really.” 

“Well, will you tell me if it’s something?” 

“Yeah, I will.” 

“So, I do have something to tell you though.” Jungkook sits up, regarding you wearily. “Can you… stand in front of me?” Confused, you shove a fry in your mouth and walk up to him as directed, your back blocking the entrance as you stand in front of him. “Okay, come closer. Now bend down,” you bend your back 90 degrees, and he presses a hand to your shoulder to stop you, “no, no. With your breasts out, just a little—there! Arch your back. Like you’re doing the Sorority Squat.” 

“Excuse me—” 

“The music isn’t even that loud,” he mutters to himself, “no one would need to push their boobs in my face to hear me.” 

“Jungkook, is someone pressing boobs to your face?” 

“Why,” he breaks into a playful grin, “jealous?”

“Not if it’s Aunt Lillian.” 

“Unfortunately it wasn’t,” he twiddles with the drawstrings of his shorts. “It was Doyeon.” 

Doyeon? She didn’t walk by your cabana all day. Heck, she barely greeted you when you arrived with Jungkook. But when Jungkook’s alone is when she decides to pounce? And with what motive? 

“I don’t know,” he’s rambling to himself, “maybe I’m overthinking it. It was only half a second.” 

“Jungkook, I have something to tell you,” you say instead, panic in your features. 

“Is it something urgent?” 

“Well, no but—” 

“Then tell me when we get back to the room,” Jungkook easily pulls you onto his lap, and you instantly heat up when you feel your bare butt press against Jungkook’s golden thighs. “Like you said, we’re in Vegas. Let’s have fun while we can.” 

“Okay,” you tuck your head between his neck and collarbone, reaching to press a kiss to his smooth jawline. 

Relaxing against the plush lounge chair Jungkook feeds you fries while talking about the things he wants to do this week. It’s his first time in Vegas and he wants to make the most of it. He wants to visit all the buffets he sees on Buzzfeed compilations, relax at the pool, maybe catch a show. The thought of spending all week with him and your family is nice, and suddenly you don’t feel so awkward sitting on his lap, and eventually he pulls you between his thighs so you can lay on his chest. 

“And between you and me,” he fake whispers against the shell of your ear, as if he’s telling you the biggest secret, “we’re the hottest couple here.” 

The next three days leading up to the wedding are relatively uninteresting. 

Uninteresting in the best way possible. On Monday you and Jungkook spend time with your little cousins, taking them to The Adventuredome, one of the resort's indoor theme parks. On Tuesday you and Jungkook go shopping at the outlet malls with your parents, blowing hundreds of dollars on cheap Levis that have your luggage bursting with a new wardrobe. In between all of that Seokjin and occasionally Namjoon joins you two in your buffet journey, hitting up the top spots and filling your tummies to the brim with delicious food. 

On Wednesday, Jungkook brandishes two gold-foiled tickets in front of you, waving them around like a fan. With one finger, he pushes away your Pokémon battle, “I got us tickets to Cirque du Soleil,” he announces proudly, “waited in line for an hour.”

You gape, scrambling off of your bed and throwing your Nintendo Switch to the side. “Jungkook,” you marvel, “these are so expensive. How’d you manage to get a show for tonight?” 

He shrugs, “Looked around.” 

“You’ve been impulse buying a lot this week,” you tease, “like really, you don’t need three pairs of the same ripped jeans.”

“This wasn’t an impulse buy,” he says, “I’ve been looking around for shows. Just managed to pick them up today, so go get dressed for our date.”

Did Jungkook just call it a date? Giddy with excitement you throw the covers off, running into the bathroom to get ready. What a surprise, you didn’t think Jungkook would be into spontaneous things like this. 

Seokjin left the bathroom open, so when you walk in the room it is steamy and warm. Your dear cousin is still in the shower, probably waiting for his conditioner to pass three minutes of set-in time. 

“What are you getting ready for?” Seokjin asks over the rain shower.

“Kook got us tickets to Cirque du Soleil,” you chirp happily, looking through your skin care products. 

“I wanna come!” 

“Nope! Jungkook called it a date.” 

“Oh, a date,” Seokjin drawls, putting his head under the water to rinse his hair clean. “Well then, should I vacate the room for tonight?” 

“What, no!” you’ve closed the door, so thankfully Jungkook can’t hear you talking about him. “We’re not doing anything. We’re just two friends who are fake-dating going on a date.” 

“Sounds like a real date, though,” Seokjin wraps a towel around himself to cover all his important bits before getting out of the shower, bumping elbows with you so he can brush his teeth. “Either way, I’ll be gone tonight. It’s my turn to watch the baby cousins. Don’t have too much fun while I'm in their room watching Despicable Me for the millionth time.” 

“We’ll be sure to stop by with some pizza or something,” you tease, a little wiggle in your hips when you vacate the bathroom. 

By the time you and Jungkook are ready, you two are dressed impeccably. Jungkook is wearing one of the ripped black jeans he bought on Tuesday, combined with a white button up and black blazer. A classic outfit with a little bit of Jungkook-themed flair. And to Jungkook’s surprise, you’re wearing the dress that he first saw you in, all those years ago. You’ve gained a little weight since college, but you still fill out the little black dress beautifully, the little white bow in the middle adding a simple yet adorable touch. It took a little sleuthing and searching through your old college clothes, but you were determined to find it when Jungkook reminded you how much you love the design. 

Clearly from the way Jungkook is currently gaping at you like a bloated fish, he loves it too. 

The show is beautiful and colorful, leaving you speechless and in tears by the end of it. Jungkook lets you hold his hand the entire time, feeling a bout of anxiety anytime the acrobats fall gracefully despite the large height. 

Overall, it was a wonderful show, paired with your equally enamouring date. It’s getting harder and harder to distinguish what’s fake and what’s real in your heart, and throughout the night you’re sorely reminded that you should tell Jungkook how you feel. 

But by the time you get to the room your parents are calling you, asking to get their suit and dresses out of the car so hotel service can do a last minute press and dry clean. 

“I’ll be back,” you say to Jungkook, “I need to go get their clothes out of the car. They’re always so forgetful.” 

“Want me to come?” he offers, hand shying away from inserting the keycard in. 

“No, I’ll only be fifteen minutes, tops.”

“So I guess this is this the part where I get a goodnight kiss?” he asks cheekily, leaning on his heels so his tall frame reaches yours. You don’t hesitate to give a short peck to his pretty pink lips. He pouts at the brevity, “that was too quick.” 

“Go inside,” you insist, “the sooner you get ready for bed the sooner I can get ready for bed.” 

“Then more kisses?” 

“Then more kisses.” 

Jungkook breaks into an all-teeth smile, unable to control himself when he dips down and steals a longer, more lingering kiss to your lips. “I had a great time tonight,” he says, mimicking every single teenage rom-com protagonist who’s deeply in love with the popular jock. “Don’t take too long, okay?” 

You nod, pushing him inside, “C’mon, if you stopped talking I’d be back by now!” 

Once the door closes shut, you let yourself do a little dance in the hallway, wiggling your butt and giving yourself a mini-celebration. You quickly text your group chat that you just came back from the Cirque show.

Jimin: what, a date with your fake date?

Hobi: jeon jungcock? 👀👀

Jimin: whaaaaaattttt. U’ve gotta have sat in his lap at least. 3 times since you’ve started this ting

Hobi: i’ve heard things in college… 

Taehyung: u are all gross and i hate u 

Taehyung: but so am i bc im very curious 

Just as you’re about to send a heated reply, the elevator dings, revealing a pissed off Doyeon. She’s bare-faced, in a fluffy lilac bath robe and matching puff ball slippers. You slip in right beside her, making sure there’s a comfortable amount of space between you two. 

“You’re going to the parking garage too?” you ask, eyes lingering on the lit button. 

“Yeah,” she’s looking at her phone, a few stray hairs from her mahogany bun falling onto her forehead, “Aunt Lillian left her medication in the car. I don’t know why she has to send me, I’m busy getting married.” 

“My parents left their formal clothes in the car,” you shrug, “you know, my parents and Aunt Lillian share the same brain cell. Gotta help them out once in a while.”  

The icy silence in the elevator is probably the calmest you and Doyeon have been since you’ve announced your relationship status with Jungkook. You fight the sigh, opting to take out your phone and open some unread messages. 

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: hurry up, the bed’s cold without u 

You: lool, why do u look constipated 

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: because i am, hurry up. Im bringing ur switch to the toilet and playing on your profile 

You: JEON WAIT YAMPERS AT 5HP GO TO THE POKEMON CENTER U HEATHEN

You tilt your head a centimeter, feeling Doyeon breathing down your neck like Puff the Magic Dragon. You look at her with wide eyes. Her long, slender neck manages to snake its way next to your head, “Can I help you?” you ask amusedly, clutching your phone to your chest. 

“Are you two really together?” she asks, batting her lashes. All this week she’s left you alone, and you’ve been wondering when she’s going to make herself known. It’s a little self-absorbed you have to admit, but ever since Namjoon’s ignorance to Doyeon’s previous relationship, you’ve been on edge. 

“Of course we are,” you spit back, “I love him.” 

And you must be very convincing, because Doyeon’s gaze falters just a fraction. You glare at her, staking your claim. Ever since Jungkook told you the reason Doyeon hates you is because she’s jealous, you’ve started to feel a bit of sympathy for her. Doyeon is beautiful and smart, she has no reason to feel this way. But the brain holds fickle thoughts sometimes, bringing darkness to the mind. 

“He loved me first,” she bites back, lifting her chin. 

“And why do you care?” you laugh tonelessly. The elevator dings open, and you’re met with the open air and concrete of the parking garage. “He may have loved you first, but he’ll love me last.” 

You leave the elevator first, a little pep in your step as you make your way to the rental car to gather your parent’s things. While the words you uttered are white in nature and may not hold any sort of weight to them, it manages to bring Doyeon to her knees, absolutely quaking in the elevator. 

You’re tasting revenge, and it’s sweet. 

“Okay, you need to leave,” Seokjin pulls away the shot glass from your lips, “I didn’t spend days planning the itinerary for you to mess it up. Bridal party in Doyeon’s suite and the groom’s party in Namjoon’s parents suite.” 

“That’s dumb,” you chastise, crossing your arms, “we’re all meeting at the same club at 10. Why can’t we pre-party together?” 

“Because it’s tradition!” 

“Screw tradition,” you stumble on your heels as you purse your lips at Jungkook, “Kook, when we get married I don’t wanna do a whole boy-and-girl party. We’re equals, right?” 

“Of course, baby,” he cooes, being careful not to smudge your makeup when he presses his lips to the crown of your head. “But for the sake of Seokjin’s sanity, you should probably go to Doyeon’s. It’ll only be an hour or two.” 

You gasp exaggeratedly at the blatant betrayal. He only grins cheekily in response, dipping down to press a wet kiss to your cheek. “Fine,” you cross your arms, snatching back your drink from Seokjin’s grasp to knock it down. 

Leaving the bachelor pre-party pains you considerably. They’re having such a good time joking around the suite, telling each other fun stories and relaxing in chairs as they watch TV. This is your kind of crowd, not to mention that you can peacefully check out Jungkook’s ass in those tight dress pants without any crazy club lights distorting your vision.

From past family party experience you already have a feeling what’s coming for you in the ladies’ suite. 

Loud music pours from Doyeon’s suite, and it’s completely unlocked. The bridal party is raving, ten seconds away from being completely drunk and immobile. The lights are being manually shut on and off like some sort of cheap rager, and you have to tell Yoojung to tone it down before you get a seizure. 

The stench of acidic drinks and the tang of alcoholic air is palpable, and instead of a shot you opt for a glass of peach champagne to slow you down. 

As you walk deeper into the suite, you notice a crowd forming by the balcony. Tapping your cousin Nari on the shoulder, you regard her with a hug and kiss. “What’s going on over there?” you ask, heels not helping you see any better. 

Nari’s all blushy and pink, hiccuping as she gestures to the balcony. “Her maid of honor got Doyeon a very special gift!” 

Managing to weave through the women blocking your view, you fight the urge to gag when you have a clear view of the scene in front of you.

You really don’t understand the purpose of bachelor and bachelorette parties. “One night to be single all over again!” they all say, even though they’re not actually single? Like why does the couple suddenly get one night of forgiveness when you’ve already spent years being in a committed relationship? 

Why is it okay that Doyeon’s dry humping a stripper on the balcony? Her white silk dress is ruched dangerously high, soon close to flashing her family. Aunties and friends and the like are cheering her on, and she flips her head perfectly to all the phones shoved in their faces, making sure to get the perfect angle. 

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you turn back in the hopes that your other family members would be willing to have a good old-fashioned tip back with you. 

You squeal when your hands accidentally land on a bare, oiled chest. You look up, mortified at the large man covered in black harnesses. “Hey babe, I’m Wonho,” he says, faking a sultry gaze as he looks at you up and down, “you’re part of the bridal party too? Wanna dance?” 

Feeling naked, you push past him, careful not to get anything on your dress. Wonho? Wonno.

Jungkook loves your family. 

(Except Doyeon.)

As much as he told you not to worry about him, and he’ll be completely fine when he meets your family, he couldn’t help be a little wary on the flight over. After all, it’s been two years and he didn’t know how things would be different. 

Chaoticism and all, your family is a thing to be cherished. Even though Yoongi has been on mood swings that make Jungkook question his sanity from time to time, and Seokjin is secretly breathing down Jungkook’s back every time he so glances at you, he thinks things are right where they should be.  

But despite all that they regarded him with familiarity, hugged and kissed him like old friends, something is different. They’ve turned over a new page for him. They don’t bring up Doyeon. They ask about his family, his job, his life in the city. They ask about how you and Jungkook met, and how happy they are for you. How happy they are for him.

Oh, how he wishes everything could be different. In another world, you two would already be together. 

He wasn’t lying back at the cabana when he said you two are the hottest couple at the resort, including the bridal party (but don’t tell Namjoon). You look absolutely stunning in your sparkly red dress, accentuating all the right parts and lighting up the whole room. 

When he finds you in the club you’re sitting down with your Aunties, keeping the elders company while the younger ones are flagging down the bartenders. He thinks it’s cute, how well you fit in between them, coddling you like you’re still a child in their eyes. 

“Dear, your boyfriend is here!” your one Aunt yells over the loud EDM.

You lift your head up quickly, giving him the prettiest smile. Your teeth glow purple under the neon lights, and he fights the urge to laugh when he holds out a hand. “Mind if I steal her from you?” 

“Of course, she’s gotta live a little!” 

You pout, a little wobbly but nevertheless still in the right mind as you shuffle out of the booth to meet his awaiting arms. “Hey handsome,” your voice is thick and sweet-smelling, “come here often?” 

“Only when my girlfriend does,�� he replies cheekily, hands immediately coming to your butt to smooth out your dress. He shys a bit when your Aunties hoot and holler at his public display of affection, but all he wants to do was pull the hem down a little bit. No way is he going to let anyone get a flash of your goods. 

“Let’s dance!” you take your hand in his, leading him to a comfortable corner of the dance floor. 

Clubs aren’t really your scene, aligning with Jungkook’s sentiments towards the loud generic music and terrible smell. But you’re in Vegas, and he feels that it’s all part of the package to experience the nightlife at least once. He puts his hands on your waist and you giggle like you’re in prom, hands coming to rest on the collar of his button down. 

“Hey,” he says with a lopsided smirk, “wanna make out?” 

 “Sure,” he notices that you don’t even check if anyone’s seeing, and it makes his heart flutter when you don’t hesitate to get on your tiptoes to meet him halfway. 

He’s always hoped for a moment like this, a moment where the room stops spinning and both your minds click into place. It’s almost comical, how he distinctly notes that the music fades once his lips touch yours. The kiss is hot, yet intimate. Even though he makes excuses to kiss you all the time because of practice, it goes to show that you two definitely never needed it. Your tiny hands grip the collar of his button down, bringing you two impossibly close despite the hot air. His larger hands grip at the strings that hold your measly dress together, grappling at any excuse to get to your soft skin. The two of you are a natural when it comes to each other’s intimacy. 

The two of you pull away, mesmerized. You haven’t kissed like that before. He melts under your stare, his thumb reaching to nick off any lip gloss that’s moved in the process. 

Seokjin comes down the floor to haul you both by the shoulders, “C’mon lovebirds, they’re taking wedding shots!” 

The two of you follow your cousin to the crowd of people that is your family, already with their own drinks in hand. Doyeon and Namjoon are sitting atop the bar, making a very loud toast that consisted of a quick “thank you!” and “we love you!” before downing their drinks with their arms linked together. The room is thrumming with excitement for tomorrow’s festivities, and surprisingly, you and Jungkook included. He tucks himself in your body like a puzzle piece, hugging you from behind while he watches Namjoon’s eyes sparkle with love under the neons. 

The nightclub gets a little blurry after that, with the copious amounts of alcohol and shameless actions from your family and friends. By the time it’s twelve Jungkook notices you swaying at a rate that you can’t handle. He knows your limits and knows when you have to urge to pee every five minutes, it’s time to go. With a chaste kiss you leave him at the bar, deciding to make a pitstop to the bathroom before telling Jungkook you want to head up.

You’re locked in a stall when you hear Yoojung’s voice. 

“Ugh,” she groans, voice echoing through the tiny room. “Jungkook is so sexy. Do you see the way he’s dancing out there? He’s a literal babe magnet, I can’t believe he ended up with someone like y/n.” 

You don’t move a muscle, pressing your ear against the door that hides you. The silly slander isn’t news to you, Doyeon has been feeding her friends all sorts of bullcrap so they wouldn’t bother talking to you. 

“Yeah, Jungkook’s a real treat but he dated Doyeon first. Sounds like she’s into sloppy seconds,” Elly replies, another bridesmaid you’ve met in passing. “But I don’t know, they do look happy together.”

“Please, I’m sure Jungkook’s just using her so he can get one more chance at Doyeon before she ties the knot,” you bristle, the thought of Jungkook still having feelings for Doyeon makes your heart thud painfully against your chest, “like, what a downgrade. Namjoon and Doyeon do not deserve this drama. If Jungkook ever liked Doyeon at all, he wouldn’t have come. Period.” 

You slam the door open, causing Elly to squeal and Yoojung’s YSL lipstick to fall onto the sink. You’re the epitome of relaxation, walking towards the sink to wash your hands. The bridesmaids simply stare at you, unable to formulate a comeback. When you finally dry your hands, you say your next words. 

“Jungkook is here because he loves me,” an act act act. This is all an act. You shouldn’t be this offended because you know it’s all false. “And you’re wrong. It’s not Jungkook that doesn’t deserve Doyeon. Jungkook was too good for Doyeon.” 

And you slam your heels against the tile, stilettos pounding to the beat of the music. Your exit is full of anger and frustration as you ignore the burn in your step and the ache in your heart, flagging the first bartender you see to get you a double. 

Shot for shot, that anger soon melts into guilt as Yoojung’s words sink in. The thought of Jungkook using you to get to Doyeon is terrible, you can barely stomach the thought. But that’s exactly what you’re doing, right? You’re using Jungkook to get back at Doyeon. 

Why did you even want to get back at Doyeon anymore? Why do you have to prove anything to her? If she just continues to push you around, isn’t that more on her than it is on you? 

Jungkook soon finds you after you’ve nursed a few drinks, leaning unceremoniously against a barstool. His eyes widen at your state, and he immediately sheds his jacket to wrap it around your waist. 

“Why did you drink so much?” he chastises, “it’s the night before the wedding.” 

“Jungkookie,” you warble, clutching your stomach, “I don’t feel so good.” 

He sighs, bending down. “Get on my back. Make sure the jacket covers you up, okay?” 

He doesn’t even grunt when you put all your weight on him, feeling like a ragdoll as he hoists you up. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, letting him carry you to your room. Most of the older family already went upstairs to sleep, so none of your cousins could care less when they see you get hauled away by Jungkook. 

You inhale, he smells like sweat and cologne. “I like putting my head between your neck,” you babble, and you feel Jungkook chuckle through his chest, “you smell so nice there. It’s the bestset! Comfiest place ever, ‘specially when m’sleepy.” 

“Are you sleepy now, baby?” You love how smooth the petname falls from his lips. 

“I will be when we get upstairs,” you reply, happy to see the elevator is empty. “I’m just all up in my head.” 

“Is that why you were drinking so much? You said you were gonna stop earlier.” 

“Yeah, but,” you shamefully tuck your head in his shoulder, “I was frustrated.” 

“Frustrated? At who?” concern laces his tone as he struggles to hold you with one hand and fumble for his key in the other. You tighten your legs around his slim waist until the door clicks open, and he immediately walks over to your bed to plop you down. “Babe, are you crying?” he finally has a good look at your face, horrified to see the streaks of tears mixed with mascara running down your face. 

“I wa-was jealous,” you confess tearily, clutching your face in your hands,  “some girls in the bathroom were calling you sexy and that you were only here so you could try to win over Doyeon. I know it sounds ridiculous and you would never do that but. The thought of you getting back with her makes me so jealous and I hate it! I’m starting to feel so guilty about this, all of this. I put all of this on ourselves and I’m ruining it.” 

“Ruining what? You’re not making any sense.” Jungkook places a hand on your knee, crouching down so he can look up at you. 

“I’m ruining us,” you gush despondently, “I’m ruining any potential of us before we even start.” 

Jungkook freezes, hand clutching your knee like a lifeline. The potential of you two together? You’ve thought of that? Jungkook didn’t drink much tonight, so his mind is definitely running on all cogs. 

Coming to a conclusion, he rubs slow, soothing circles on your knee, his other hand reaching up to wipe the tears from your face. “You’re not ruining anything,” he declares firmly, “that’s impossible. I may have agreed to fake-date you because of Doyeon, but I stayed because of you.” 

His heart aches seeing you so upset, and he decides to take initiative to get you out of your clothing and ready for bed. You don’t have any words, opting to let Jungkook take care of you as you try to calm yourself down. He finds a spare t-shirt,  a long one so you’ll be comfortable. He doesn’t bat an eye when he unzips your dress, in favor of balling up the shirt and getting you clothed as fast as possible. He rifles through the bathroom to find your makeup wipes, and he’s gentle when he scrubs up the once pretty makeup you spent half an hour doing. Barefaced and fresh, you look sleepy and ready to crash. 

But before Jungkook can tuck you in, you clutch his arm.

“Jungkook,” you murmur sleepily, “I think I lo—” 

“I know, baby,” he doesn’t want a confession like this, and he’s sure you wouldn’t want it either. You still look a little green and you’re not sober, so he makes the executive decision to pin these feelings for later. “I’m not trying to invalidate you, I promise. I want you to tell me this, all of this in the morning. We’ll talk then.”

“Okay,” you melt in the sheets, pulling the blankets up to your chest. When you see Jungkook move away from the bed, you jolt, “Where are you going?” 

Jungkook smiles, reaching over to tuck you back in, “I left my blazer in Namjoon’s room. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

He walks out of your room as quietly as he can, making sure to close the door slowly. Once it’s sealed shut, he leaps up, giving himself a silent cheer as he bounds down the hall. You like him back! 

The smile on his face is tired but full of fervor as he makes his way to Namjoon and Doyeon’s suite. He doesn’t even care that he probably has to talk to Doyeon to get his jacket back, thoughts filled with the excitement of his requited feelings and going back to his room to cuddle up with you. 

He doesn’t even have to knock when the large double doors swing open. Dumbfounded, he looks down at Doyeon, wearing a tiny black nightie and dangling his jacket with one finger. It’s an outfit that leaves nothing to the imagination, and he feels his neck heat up at the feeling he’s encroaching on an intimate moment. 

“You left this,” she says slowly, a tiny smirk on her lips. 

“Uh, thanks,” he says, making sure not to touch her when he grabs his blazer. 

In her other hand she holds up her room’s designated ice bucket. “Could you also get me some ice, please? Namjoon’s fast asleep and I really don’t want to walk out all… exposed.” 

He swallows his sigh, knowing it’s going to take significantly longer to get back to you when Doyeon drawls like this. “Of course,” he replies tersely, “after all, you are the bride.” 

“Thanks, Jungkookie.” 

He makes quick work of getting Doyeon the ice, pumping his long legs down the hall. The ice room is cold and cramped, barely enough for his tall frame to fit in. He jabs the container in the holder, pressing the button ten times per second to get as much ice out as possible. 

As soon as he turns around with the ice, he drops the whole bucket. 

Like glass, it shatters onto the ground, hundreds of little clear pebbles skimming across the floor like marbles. Doyeon’s pushing Jungkook against the ice machine, freshly manicured hands splayed across his chest. Her body is flush against his, making sure that he feels all of her with her thin silk gown. 

“What the fuck, Doyeon get off of me!” a little part of him hopes she’ll come to her senses on her own so he doesn’t have to put his hands on her. 

“C’mon, Kookie,” her voice is a sickly candy sweet, her eyes wide with hunger as she takes in his form, “just one more night, you and me. Like old times. One more night before I tie the knot.” 

“You’re crazy,” he balks, running his hand through his hair, “this is sexual harassment, do you know that?” 

“You don’t mean that, Kookie,” Doyeon dips a red-tipped nail down his chest, “why settle for someone like y/n when I’m right here?” 

He grabs her wrists, firm. She winces at the contact, but doesn’t say anything when Jungkook delivers her a scary glare. It gets her quiet, fearful of this version of Jungkook. Doyeon’s never seen Jungkook like this before, so unwilling to bend at her whim and emanating all his power against her. 

“Why settle for your cousin?” he whispers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “because, I love her.” 

Her lip curls in disgust, nails digging into the palm of his hand. “But you loved me first.”

“And I’ll love her last,” he spits pack, letting go of her. His anger splits for a brief second, regarding Doyeon with sorrow, “this is low, even for you.”

Jungkook pushes past the ice, wobbling out of the ice room. He doesn’t look back, he just knows that he needs you right now. He needs to tell you everything, figure out a plan to cancel the wedding or something. 

But when he crashes inside the room, you’re dead asleep. He can’t find the courage to wake up Seokjin as well, who returned and is sleeping in his club outfit. He groans, feeling useless as he stares at the two of you, ignorant of what just conspired ten minutes ago. 

And Namjoon, what is he going to tell Namjoon? Poor guy doesn’t deserve any of this. 

Walking up to your side of the bed, he tucks your loose hair behind your ear. You look so peaceful now, so beautiful. 

It’s just going to have to wait until the morning. 

The morning of the wedding, you wake up alone. 

The first thought that runs through your head is that Jungkook has rejected you. The little, insecure bug that will never go away in your brain fills you with rash thoughts. He’s on a flight half way back home and he regrets this whole week. 

But after that exaggeration, you notice two aspirin and a bottle of water on your nightstand, along with your phone that’s fully charged. 

You pull up the screen to check the dozens of messages that flood your app. 

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: morning babe, im sorry i had to leave early. Namjoon showed up at our door freaking out that his suit is the wrong fit and shade. Now im running around vegas trying to find a replacement that doesn’t look like an elvis presley extra

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: but i didn’t forget what you said last night, i promise! Just go get ready and i’ll meet u at the chapel outside the resort. 

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: i also have something to say to you

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: wow i didn’t realize how ominous that sounds. Dw, everything will be fine

When someone tells you something will be fine, it’s a universal agreement that no, things will not be fine. 

So you get dressed, and put on your makeup mindlessly. You don’t really know what to make of Jungkook’s cryptic message, but you decide to leave those thoughts in the back of your mind as you go to the other rooms to help your family get ready. 

Seokjin is busy tying the ring bearer’s tie, looking handsome with his slicked back hair and polished grey suit. “Morning, cousin,” he sing-songs, “you look beautiful today!”

You smooth out your dress, a cascading silver number with starry sparkles. You feel like you’re living out your magical girl fantasies, wrapped up in layers of tulle and a sparkly sweetheart bodice.

“Right back at you. Say, you didn’t see Jungkook this morning, did you?” 

“No, but I heard he’s with Namjoon hunting for a new suit. Why?” 

“Nothing,” you lean against the guest table, “he just said something really ominous over text.” 

“I will never get a peaceful day so long as I’m in this family,” he says this directly to the ring bearer, a toddler who’s obviously confused at his uncle’s weird sayings. 

Your phone beeps conveniently, displaying Jungkook’s name. 

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: just got his suit. We’ll be there in fifteen. Meet me at the garden behind the chapel, please. It’s urgent 

Now you’re just worried. So you tell Seokjin your sentiments, and that he should have his phone on hand in case you needed him. With a confused nod, you leave him to go down to the garden.  

The groomsmen and bridesmaids are already at the chapel taking pictures. Only the wedding party is really allowed at this time, but you manage your way through the gardens virtually undetected. Jungkook’s already waiting for you, hiding under a white gazebo overlooking the hotel’s fountain. 

He looks gorgeous in his all black pinstripe suit, hair pushed back and pants fitted perfectly around his waist and thighs. When he sees you he gets up, full of skittish energy. You note that his hair isn’t even styled, only washed and curling slightly at the ends, as if he’s in a rush.

“W-wow,” he marvels when you rush up to him, “you look gorgeous.” 

You drop the handful of silver tulle, letting it fall to the floor. “Jungkook,” you clasp his hand in both of his, guilt flooding your eyes. You’ve been thinking about this all morning, and you need to cut to the chase. Jungkook tries to open his mouth but you silence him with a finger on his lips. “I can’t—I can’t do this. I know this sounds really stupid and you probably don’t want anything to do with me after this, but I shouldn’t have made this elaborate scheme,” you bite your lip, feeling even more antsy as Jungkook squirms in his grip. He however, is trying very hard to focus with his eyes, confused at your sudden confession. “I like you, Jungkook. I don’t want to parade you around like a revenge plot anymore, it isn’t fair and it’s wrong in so many ways—” 

“That’s great,” he says simply, brown eyes swirling with thoughts, “um, ditto. But—”

“Wow,” you frown, “I pour my heart out to you and this is what I get?” 

“It’s great that you want to be selfless right now,” Jungkook takes your hand, firm and tight, “but without this elaborate scheme, we wouldn’t be saving asses like we are right now.”

“What are you talking about?” You thought Jungkook rushed you down here so you could talk about each other’s feelings before the wedding. 

“Doyeon just threw herself on me last night. I got her ice and she took that as an invitation to seduce me like an episode of Sex and the City. Namjoon needs to divorce her, like yesterday.” 

Your face then morphs into something dark and ugly, and you fling your whole confession out the window. The thought of Doyeon going as far as throwing herself on Jungkook as a last ditch attempt to get back at you, has you seeing blood red. “What? Why didn’t you tell me this sooner!”

“You were asleep!” he shoots back, putting his hands on your shoulders. He rubs warm strokes up and down your bare arms, “please relax. You’re shaking.” 

“And why didn’t you tell Namjoon when you were driving around all morning?”

“I tried to!” he retorts, hands swinging in the air. You huff when his hands land back on your shoulders, preventing you from running to the chapel to extract Doyeon out yourself, “but he just kept talking shit about how much he loves Doyeon and he can’t imagine being together with anyone but her and I felt so bad! I’m sorry I chickened out. I really don’t wanna be the one to break Namjoon’s heart. I’m just the plus one!” 

You pinch your brows, mulling it over. “Fuck it, let’s crash a wedding,” you declare, “where’s Namjoon and how can we get him alone?” 

Jungkook exhales, a hand carding up to loosen his thin silver tie. “He’s taking pictures with the groomsmen right now. It’s gonna be awhile before we get a chance to talk.” 

“Fuck,” you curse, sitting down on the white bench. Jungkook presses soothing circles on your back. “We have no choice, we have to get to him before the ceremony starts.” 

“You’ll have to get through me, first.” 

Doyeon’s not even in her wedding dress when she strides up to the two of you. She’s in ballet flats with her hair and makeup done, but the only thing she’s wearing is the thin underdress of her actual ball gown, a simple silk negligee that reaches her ankles. You don’t even know how she’s managed to escape the bridal party, especially without her dress. 

Feeling protective, you step in front of Jungkook. “Before you say anything,” you murmur, “I’m not ruining your wedding, and I never wanted to. You’re ruining it because of your mistakes.” 

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Doyeon rolls her eyes, playing with her nails, “I didn’t even do anything wrong, everyone knows that on the bachelorette’s night she can do whatever she wants. Namjoon could’ve fucked whoever too if he wasn’t so faithful.” 

“Namjoon is ten times the partner you are and would never do that,” You’re seeing red, unable to comprehend the complete garbage spilling from Doyeon’s lips. “You touched my boyfriend without his consent, and I will never forgive you for that,” your voice is scarlet, angry and thin. 

“It’s not like he isn’t used to it, I—”

“NO!” the sound that comes out of your mouth has all three of you flinching, and you’re thankful the gazebo is far enough so that the rest of the wedding party is oblivious to your actions. “You’re not allowed to justify yourself anymore, Doyeon. What you did was fucked up, what you’ve done to all of us is fucked up!” You realize now that you didn’t need to get back at Doyeon with a fake date, what you needed was this. You needed a reprieve, a chance to lay down your law. “Jungkook was right all along. You are jealous. You’re jealous and selfish and have no shame. You think you own whatever you set your eyes on, but you’re wrong. We’re not objects, we’re people.” 

You walk up to Doyeon, eye to eye. You jab a hand at her chest, pushing her back slightly. You soak up your cousin’s expression, and you watch as Doyeon’s eyes pop out in surprise at your act of boldness. “So you have a choice here. You can either swallow your pride and leave Namjoon at the aisle quietly and save whatever dignity you have left. Take your pathetic ass on the next flight back home and pack up your apartment. Or, we can start a big scene at your ceremony,” you probably look manic, filled with freshly injected power, “I know Seokin’s always wanted to yell ‘I object!’ at a wedding.” 

“You have no proof,” Doyeon glares right back, taking a step closer to you. Your noses are practically touching, but you dig your heels in the white-stained wood, puffing up your chest and standing your ground. 

“Doesn’t matter,” you bite back, “what matters is that Namjoon will doubt you. Namjoon knows we’d never do anything to sabotage a wedding without a valid reason. Even if you do get married tonight, we have Jungkook’s word and proof of a relationship that overlaps with his. I find this option to be far worse because it’s prolonging the inevitable,” you shrug, “I hope you two didn’t sign a prenup.”  

Hot, angry tears mess up her meticulously done makeup. Black rivers carve through her porcelain skin, showing the feelings that have been dormant since been hidden under a facade. Doyeon’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of you. She’s practically vibrating in combined fear and rage, seeing blurry images and memories and regrets of what could’ve been if not for her self-absorption. And finally, your cousin comes to a decision. 

“I hate you,” she emphasizes each word with the most concentrated of venoms in her tone. WIth one last look at the two of you, she stomps away. Instead of going to the direction of the chapel however, she takes the shortcut back to the hotel. 

Her grave words are unsurprising, but nevertheless disappointing. A thinly veiled smile grazes your lips, sadder than ever as you watch your cousin go. “And I pity you.” 

As soon as she’s gone Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up, hugging you tightly as you fight the urge to cry again. “Oh babe, that was really hot. The way you stood your ground? That was amazing!” Jungkook takes out his silver pocket square to wipe the stray tears that threaten to ruin your makeup. “You’re so strong, don’t you know that? You did it and I’m so proud of you.” 

As much as you want to revel in the affection, go back and bed and fall asleep until noon, you can’t.  Grasping Jungkook by the hand, you tug him to the chapel. “C’mon,” you say, “we have to corner Namjoon.”

The groomsmen photos are done by the time you get there. Thankfully, the to-be-groom doesn’t look too occupied. His eyes widen upon seeing you two stumble from the garden of all places.

“Oh, y/n. Jungkook,” Namjoon tilts his head curiously at how winded you two look, equally flushed and out of breath. From your state, Namjoon muses that it must've taken a lot of effort to finally get to the groom unattended, save for a few random family members he’s making small talk with, “The wedding isn’t for another hour but I must say, you two look radiant together. Doyeon always thought you’d end up an old spinster-catlady, but I always told her that you’re too beautiful to be single for long,” he pauses to send the aforementioned man a wink, “Jungkook’s a lucky guy. What were you two doing back there?”

“Uh, things?” Jungkook scratches the back of his head, not wanting to reiterate the fiasco between Doyeon moments before.

Namjoon smirks at the ebony-haired man, “Couple things?”  

You can’t take this needless small talk anymore. With a teary groan, you throw yourself at Namjoon. You hug him tight, and you don’t even care when you feel a slosh of his water bottle sprinkle your hairstyle. 

“Joonie,” you bemoan, “please, please don’t leave me. You’re the best not-cousin ever. I know it’ll be a pain to face Doyeon after today but you’re a strong independent man and when you’re ready Jin is single and ready to mingle—ow! Jungkook! Did you just pinch my ass?” 

“Do you really think setting him up with the next cousin is the best idea right now?”

“I figured a little humor would lighten the blow,” you sulk.

“I’m sorry what—what blow?” Namjoon frowns, pushing you away from him. “Y/n, have you been crying?” 

The tears resurface at that moment, like a kettle on overboil. Namjoon’s face is knitted together, unable to grasp at any conclusion. Namjoon feels something grave is upon the sky as he tenderly brushes away your tears with his thumbs before releasing you. Instantly Jungkook pulls you to his chest, patting you soothingly. As much as you two do not want to be the bearer of bad news, the time is now. 

“Namjoon,” Jungkook says, finding the strength that was previously stuck in his throat, “we have to tell you something.” 

Needless to say, Las Vegas is very forgiving when it comes to last minute wedding cancellations. 

The whole wedding party, both Namjoon and yours, collectively feels like a whole ice bucket has been dumped upon your families. You would like to say that the whole issue was handled mess free, but that would be a bald-faced lie. 

There was screaming, crying, hysterical laughter from all sides. Doyeon’s parents were of course furious, embarrassed, unable to calm down a hysterical Doyeon as they haul her on the next flight home. You have a feeling they won’t be showing up to family events anytime soon. 

Namjoon’s family leaves quietly, frustrated, but classy. After all, they know at the back of their heads they dodged a bullet. Everyone leaves except Namjoon however, who isn’t quite ready to go back to his and Doyeon’s apartment. Namjoon invites Seokjin and some other close cousins to stay in his suite until their flight tomorrow afternoon, wanting to be surrounded by close friends and (almost) family. 

As for your family, they decide to find the silver lining. While the chapel was able to cancel the wedding, the reception wasn’t as easy to sway. At the very last second, your grandparents decided to make use of the reception and renew their Golden Anniversary vows instead. The ceremony will be a quick, sweet affair. At this very moment, your cousin Yoongi is getting officiated online. 

And for you? You’re in the place where you’ve wanted to remain all week. A fluffy hotel bed wrapped up with your not-boyfriend. 

Or? 

Would a not-boyfriend be snuggling against your chest like you’re the softest teddy bear in the toy shop? Would a not-boyfriend be hooking your leg atop his lap, forcing you to latch onto him so his hands can roam freely against your soft thighs? 

“We have to get ready for the wedding,” you whine against his hold, to no avail when he only holds you tighter. 

“But your grandparents are already married,” Jungkook whines right back, nuzzling his nose in your head. “This is like an afterparty fifty years later.” 

“I wanna get dressed,” you insist, pushing yourself up, “and we still need to talk.” 

Without Seokjin staying with you, the hotel room feels much bigger and freer for the two of you. Your clothes are scattered on the floor, uncaring of any wrinkles or smears that would get on the delicate fabric. 

All that matters is that Jungkook is still here with you. Doyeon’s wedding is called off, but he’s still lying in bed with you. You want to burn this image to memory, and keep it forever. Jungkook laying in only his white undershirt and boxers, looking at you dreamily as if he’s still in nap-mode. Hair that was previously windswept and exposing his forehead is now out of place, fluffy and sticking out in all directions. His cheeks are flushed with coral-colored warmth, and a little puffy because you two have been sleeping most of the afternoon. 

“Right, talk,” he repeats, letting you hand him his black button up so he can clothe himself. 

You throw off your shirt somewhere behind you, not wanting to face him as you walk to the full-length mirror. “So, I think my feelings for you are pretty clear and out in the open…” 

“Same, I think I made it pretty clear as well.” 

“What? You turn around, looking at where he’s still half-covered in bed. “You did not. I distinctly remember almost confessing my love to you last night. And then this morning, only for you to cut me off and say ‘that’s great’.” 

“Oh,” he stares at the white sheets that cover his lower half. “I guess I didn’t then.” 

You smile wryly, turning back to face the mirror so you can slip into your dress that’s been pooled around your ankles like a silver halo. “Maybe you thought it in your mind and forgot to tell me.” 

That seems about right. Jungkook has a tendency to be a little too passionate for his own good, windswept in thoughts and feelings until they consume him. He hops out of bed, walking only in his dress shirt and socks as he makes his way to the mirror. “Then let me do all the talking,” he says softly against your neck, hands on your hips. 

You shiver when you feel the cold silver of the zipper whirr up your body, Jungkook’s large hands splaying across your back to smooth out the waistline. 

“You of all people would know that being with Doyeon is a trip,” he chuckles into the crook of your neck, “I thought that was what love felt like. Being codependent, jumping through hurdles, trying so hard to please someone who can’t be pleased.” 

Jungkook’s hands wrap around your waist, hugging you tightly. He squeezes you and holds you like the most precious thing in the entire world. Through the mirror, you two are quite a pair. 

“But with you, I never knew love could be like this, feel like this.” 

“So… are you saying you love me?” you fight the urge to bounce around in his grip, the biggest smile on your face.  

“You really just want me to say ‘I love you’ and be done with it, huh?” 

Within seconds he’s pulling you from behind, whirling you around to the edge of the bed. He manages to flouce up your skirts to billow around his lap, sitting you down on his bare thighs. 

“You look like a cupcake, all sprawled up like this,” Jungkook says cutely, peppering kisses in a trail from your chest all the way to your lips. “You look like a huge, silvery cupcake and I love you. It’s so easy to love you.” 

Maybe it was kismet that Jungkook didn’t get to you first all those years ago. Maybe the right time is right here, right now. 

“I love you, too,” you say happily, dipping down to press a long, passionate kiss to his lips. He tastes like love and a happy future. When you pull away, you encapsulate his face in both your palms, regarding him like the sun and stars. “But you know, if we date you’ll never get away from my crazy family.” 

Jungkook snorts, pressing his forehead to yours, “And miss Yoongi re-marrying off your grandparents tonight, the next year of Seokjin and Namjoon running circles around each other, and a lifetime of happiness?” his hands snake under your dress, finding purchase in your soft skin, “not a chance.” 

[happytsukki]

boyfriend material

k. bokuto

in which you inquire bokuto to act as your fake boyfriend for a weekend, but you’re the one acting like you don’t have real feelings for him.

a/n: so you’re telling me i have to accept the fact that bokuto isn’t real?? real heartbreak 😔 anyway i love the fake dating trope hehe i hope u enjoy!! idk how i feel about the end ummm

“be my boyfriend, taro.”

“woah woah woah, slow down y/n. technically you haven’t even confessed to me yet,” stuttered bokuto, his eyes darting around the nearly empty library just to avoid your gaze. heat rose to his cheeks and the tip of his ears, showcasing a pink hue that he was embarrassed to let you see.

sure, your friends loved to giggle about how good you and bokuto looked together or how you two were basically soulmates because you shared the same music taste and movie favorites. and you two would shyly refuse, believing that you were simply friends. right?

but nothing would’ve prepared bokuto to hear something so bold come out of your mouth. wasn’t he supposed to be the bold one? but why was he suddenly the one being flustered and feeling knots grow in his stomach?

you shook your head profusely. “shut up taro. not like that, what i mean is that my parents think i have a boyfriend to bring home this break—which obviously i do not.” you placed your hands together and pouted, “so please be my fake boyfriend.”

the boy scratched the back of his head in confusion. “wait, why exactly do your parents think you, of all people, have a boyfriend? and besides, why can’t you just say you don’t?” questioned bokuto.

he was right. you were never really adept at dating, and who knows why your parents fell for your silly lie but you knew one thing for sure: if you didn’t go to the family reunion with a boyfriend, you would be disowned by your entire family.

“well it started with a small lie— for a good reason of course! see, we have a family reunion around this time, but my snotty cousin loves to show off every year and i was fed up.” you huffed and rolled your eyes just at the thought of her, “so i told my parents that my boyfriend and i had a date planned for that day so i couldn’t go, but no. they refused to let me miss it and insisted on introducing him. now i have to see my annoying cousin again and bring my nonexistent boyfriend.” you sighed heavily and threw your arms up in frustration.

“okay. i’ll do it. but first, you have to tell me why you picked me.” he crossed his arms and stuck his nose up, waiting for your response. ah, it was bokuto’s daily need for validation that you were expecting.

“you’re obviously the best candidate to not only make my parents proud of me but also to rub it in my cousin’s face. i mean who else can i bring that was one of the top 5 aces in the nation, now part of the msby black jackals and just as scrumptiously fine and hot as y–“ bokuto’s eyes widened at your last statement and his hand quickly went to cover your mouth. you almost doubled over in laughter, shy bokuto was a rare sight so this was quite enjoyable to watch.

he laughed nervously, “woaaah, okay i get it now. thank you y/n....or should i say girlfriend.” winked bokuto. though it came off as a joke he could feel his heart race so fast that he felt like he was high on cloud nine, a feeling foreign till now.

desperately seeking a breath of fresh air from the situation, bokuto scrambled to gather his books and bid a short farewell but not before giving you an awkward pat on the head and a high-five. yes, a high five.

“bye y/n!” smiled bokuto, dashing out of the library like it was a 100 meter race.

but bokuto failed to realize that his exuberant heart seemed to beat in rhythm with someone else’s, yours.

your two years of friendship seemed to suffice for a decent cover story, or so you thought. but once you stepped foot onto the front lawn of your home, the growing tighteness in your chest would say otherwise.

maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

your mind was spiraling out of control causing you to be paralyzed with a million thoughts on your mind.

“earth to y/n— are you okay?” asked bokuto. he waved his hand in front of your face, snapping you out of your frozen state.

“i-i think i’m stupid for thinking i could pull of this crazy plan. maybe you should just go home kou,” you admited. your eyes wouldn’t dare look into his eyes, instead redirecting your attention on the hem of your sweater.

bokuto wasn’t a quitter and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let you go into there alone. he grabbed your hand and gave it a small squeeze, his other hand raising your chin up.

“i’m not letting you admit defeat, y/n. besides, i’m wearing the perfect sweater.” beamed bokuto.

“sweater?” you puzzled. “check it out, it’s made out of boyfriend material.” he joked, earning a simple smile out of you and washing away your doubts.

you couldn’t help but marvel at the look of pure determination on his face. you’ve seen it plenty of times, mostly during tough volleyball games. the way you could look into his eyes and see a fire set ablaze made you feel strong and fearless. bokuto just had that effect on people. without a second thought, one hand interwined with bokuto’s, you pushed open the door.

unfortunately, your rush of adrenaline was cut short by the disgusting sight of your cousin, chiyo. her eyes immediately landed on you but soon shifted over to the mysterious attractive man to your left.

chiyo was vile, cruel, judgemental, rude, bossy, selfish and the list goes on. since you were children, she made it her life goal to be better than you in everything. you were usually able to tolerate her childish attempts to make you feel inferior but ever since she got an internship with alexander wang while you were still stuck in college, she just couldn’t stop tearing apart your life.

“oh my, look who it is. hello y/n, is this your friend?” questioned chiyo, her eyes running bokuto up and down like tiger finding her next prey.

oblivious to her true intentions, he offered her his usual friendly smile. you rolled your eyes, anger stirring deep within you.

you wrap your arms around bokuto’s waist and lovingly rest your head onto his chest.

still in his embrace, you turn your head to face chiyo again “no, this is my boyfriend bokuto. but i don’t think i see your boyfriend, is he around?” you retorted. chiyo gasped in response, and after failing to find a snarky rebuttal she stomped away in annoyance.

while cheers of victory rang through your head, you peered up at bokuto. “did you see that taro? we really showed her” you laughed.

but bokuto didn’t laugh. he nodded trying to keep his calm but inside he was screaming hysterically. he felt like absolute jelly in your touch, wondering why he wanted to play this role forever.

“come on, you should meet my little cousins!” you say as you drag him to the backyard.

needless to say, the kids absolutely adored him.

“hey hey hey!” boomed bokuto, his voice resonating through the yard and catching the attention of the horde of children.

your five year old cousin yuta gaped at his towering height “woahhh mister— you’re a giant!” another boy began climbing his body, tugging at his white-grey streaked hair, causing bokuto to yelp in pain.

it was a sight that made your heart swell with happiness. the way bokuto sat on the grass, surrounded by children ooo-ing and ah-ing at his stories while he showcased a huge grin made you appreciate the little things. and of course you just had to snapping a quick picture of bokuto before he could even notice. after the initial excitement died down, he returned to your side with the same grin painted on his face.

“excuse me, y/n-chan. is that your husband?” a tiny voice whispered, tugging at the hem of your cyan-colored sweater. the girl, small and doe-eyed, pointed a shy finger towards the boy.

oh my god. you were mortified, completely frozen in your spot. you couldn’t believe she just said that, why would she say that? suddenly you hated children. but at that moment you just desperately wanted the earth to open up and swallow you whole.

before you could awkwardly announce that he was just your boyfriend, bokuto already had the situation under control. he placed one knee on the grass, now eye-level to the girl. with a hearty laugh he said “not yet...but would you like to be a flower girl at our wedding?” the girl’s eyes lit up with pure bliss, nodding her head aggressively to his suggestion.

for a split second, you thought bokuto deserved an oscar for his exceptional acting skills.

because at that moment, you were beginning to fall for him, wondering if one day you would be lucky enough to walk down the aisle to meet a teary-eyed bokuto at the altar.

“oh y/n i’m so happy you’re dating bokuto!!” your mother exclaimed, clapping her hands together at the dinner table.

you’ve been dreading dinner time the entire day, and of course your mother just had to prove your point exactly.

“y/n has always been gushing over him, i’m so glad she finally made a move— how did you two finally get together?” your mother questioned, placing her chopsticks down, leaning forward to give you her full attention. the rest of your family turned their heads towards you and eagerly waited for your response as they continued eating.

“oh, i-um” you stuttered. why didn’t you prepare more? you thought, mentally facepalming your poor decisions.

luckily, bokuto interrupted, “actually i confessed first, at my last game..” he offered you a small smile, and placed his hand over yours. it was a gesture that made you let go off the breath you were holding, it meant “i got this.”

“i thought she was perfect from the first time we met..”

you laughed. what a lie. the first time you met bokuto was far from elegant. you still remember it vividly, you standing on the sidelines chatting with kageyama when suddenly bokuto’s hard serve accidentally hits you in the back of the head. lets just say you weren’t exactly pleased to meet the perpetrator.

“and i thought she hated at first. we had mutual friends so we hung out more, and the more i got to spend time with her, the more i fell for her. i loved how she greeted me with a congratulatory hug after every match or how she would constantly sends me random songs that reminded her of me. i’m glad she’s mine..” professed bokuto.

he had the entire room swooning over every word, the story stringing together like it came straight out of your typical romantic movie.

oh how you wished bokuto wasn’t such a good actor. you wished he was the terrible fake boyfriend that all the kids loathed. you wished he was the terrible fake boyfriend that your mom didn’t look at with complete and utter adoration. you wished he was the terrible boyfriend that didn’t make your entire world stop on its axis with one look, one touch or one word.

falling in love with bokuto kotarou was easy; it’s admitting to yourself that it happened that was hard.

“mind if i join you?” asked bokuto.

after a long and tiring dinner, you decided to lay down outside, gazing at the blanket of stars that lit up the pitch black sky.

you longed for peace and quiet, away from your crazy family and your fake boyfriend. but you couldn’t escape from the feelings you harbored for bokuto.

“no.” you said, not daring to even glance at him. he laid down beside you, so close that his warmth radiated and his hand lightly grazed yours. silence filled the air, begging someone to say something, anything.

“thank you taro.” you whispered. “you’re suprisingly a good actor.”

“you ever heard of method acting?” he asked. you shake your head in confusion and he continues,”its when an actor completely embraces his role by developing sincere and genuine emotions..”

he sat up abruptly, diverting his gaze from the stars to your face, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. his fingers lace through yours, your hearts thumping joyfully in a familiar unison.

“what i mean is— acting isn’t hard when it’s real. none of my feelings were fake” expressed bokuto. “i don’t wanna be the fake boyfriend anymore.”

and for once, neither you or bokuto question your feelings, everything became so clear.

“because, frankly, i think our hands fit perfectly and i wouldn’t mind holding yours forever.”

[lloydskywalkers]

There’s Insurance for That

In which Skylor buys lunch, stops a criminal, and learns the best way to blow up the kitchen electronics section, which is a pretty normal week for her, she guesses. Or, five places the ninja are no longer allowed into, featuring Skylor.

(been hitting a bit of a writer’s block with everything else lately, so here’s this...disaster, i guess?? because these ninja are definitely a disaster in this, but i was having fun so. this is the bed bath & beyond fic btw, in case anyone was wondering gdfkgdh)

1. My. Kazami’s Ramen Place

At this point, sadly, Skylor’s used to it.

It’s around a quarter to noon on a Monday, just as she's leaving the noodle shop for her well-deserved lunch break, when a familiar scream splits the relatively-quiet afternoon air on this side of Ninjago City.

The only reason Skylor does not immediately dissolve into panic at said scream is because she is — also sadly — familiar with the variations of it, and this one sounds less like it’s Lloyd’s “I’m-in-terrible-danger-and/or-pain-again” scream, and more like his “I’m-free-falling-on-purpose-from-the-sky-again” scream. Which is, in and of itself, not entirely concerning. In fact, it’d probably be more unusual not to see Lloyd go falling from the sky at some point during any of the ninjas’ higher-than-eight-feet battles, because somehow that’s become a habitual thing. The sky is blue, fire is hot, Kai uses hair gel — Lloyd is going to drop screaming from the sky at some point this month.

So instead of panicking, Skylor figures she’ll just stand in the vicinity until Lloyd either climbs out of another dumpster, or lands on top of her. Kai doesn’t seem to be around to catch him, so Skylor’s prepared to step up, even though it looks like Lloyd’s got a pretty good handle on landing, at the angle she’s watching him from.

Still though, she muses. You’d think he’d have started actively wearing a parachute at this point.

“Kai suggested that,” Lloyd says, after he’s finally able to stand straight, and he’s not quite as cross-eyed. He frowns at his reflection in a store window as they pass by, scuffing at his windblown hair again. “But it gets in the way, you know? It throws off my backflips.”

“That’s a nail in the coffin right there,” Skylor agrees, leading them across another sidewalk. Lloyd’s attracting a lot of looks, with his bright green battle gi and razor-sharp sword strapped across his back, but fortunately no one’s started crowding them yet. Probably because the razor-sharp sword strapped to his back. “Can’t have your fighting style completely crippled,” she adds.

“I don’t backflip that much,” Lloyd huffs. Yes, you do, is on the tip of Skylor’s tongue, because she’s seen him fight, but she decides not to pick that battle…this time.

“Besides,” Lloyd continues. “I don’t really need a parachute, anyways. I always make sure to aim for like, somewhere safe to land. Relatively safe. Safe-ish.”

Skylor eyes him. “You landed in a dumpster.”

Lloyd bristles in offense. “I did not! It was a perfectly respectable recycling bin.”

“Same thing, if you ask me.”

“Not even close. Dumpsters are gross. Recycling bins you just crash through a whole bunch of cardboard and old newspapers. It’s luxury trash diving.”

Skylor just sighs, shaking her head, and edits the text she’s been tapping out for Kai.

Skylor > found your kid in a recycling bin

Skylor > taking him to lunch bc you’re clearly starving him again

Skylor > he’s alive btw

Kai > oh thank fsm

Kai > tell him he’s grounded

Kai > u never take me for lunch :(

Skylor > maybe if u dropped on me from the sky sometime i would

“Hey, are the others busy?” she asks Lloyd in afterthought. “Like…fighting anyone?”

“Huh?” Lloyd blinks. He then flushes, rubbing the back of his head. “Ah, no. We’d pretty much finished up the fight when I, uh…there was a break-in, on the Bounty? We had the guys all taken care of, but they blew part of the mast up, and it left debris all over the deck, so I kind of…maybe….tripped…”

Lloyd is bright red by the time he finishes the sentence. Skylor wouldn’t feel so bad about it, if she wasn’t doubled over laughing at him in the middle of rush hour traffic.

“You are a trained ninja,” she breathes out, between snickers.

“I know,” Lloyd moans.

“You’re like, part god.”

“I know,” Lloyd moans again, into his hands this time. Skylor has to grab his shoulders and forcibly drag him along down the crowded street, trying not to cringe inside at all the looks they’re getting.

“Kai says you’re grounded, by the way,” she says, as the last of her laughter fades.

That snaps Lloyd out of it. “He can’t ground me,” he scowls. “I’m leader.”

“Stop falling from the sky, and maybe he’ll give it a rest,” Skylor replies, glancing down as her phone buzzes again.

Kai > I’d join u but I’m stuck on prison delivery

Kai > nya’s coming to pick up the demon spawn tho

Skylor > nice I’ve been wanting to buy her lunch

Kai > cruel

“—don’t know what you mean, I don’t fall that often, and most of the time it’s on purpose, anyways—”

Skylor chooses to ignore Lloyd’s slightly-concerning, sulking rambling, and pats his shoulder instead. “Nya’s coming for lunch, too,” she says. “Does ramen sound good?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lloyd brightens, seemingly cheered by the reminder he’s getting food out of this. “It’s been a while since I’ve eaten out.”

“I can tell,” Skylor says, eyeing him. “Cole hasn’t been cooking for you, has he?"

“No, but we put Zane on mandatory break so he could relax a bit, and we’re all suffering for it.”

Lloyd and Skylor both jump at Nya’s voice, not having heard her coming up behind them.

“Nya!” Lloyd beams. “Skylor is — ouch, hey, let go!”

“That’s what you get for giving me gray hairs again,” Nya scolds, digging her knuckles into Lloyd’s hair. She looks up from the hold she’s pulled him into, and smiles brightly at Skylor. “Hi, Skylor. Nice to see you.”

“Hi, Nya.” Skylor gives a little wave, watching Lloyd squirm out of Nya’s grasp in amusement.

“So, ramen?” Nya says, giving Lloyd one last elbow in the side before joining Skylor.

“Yeah,” she says. “I was thinking the place down on seventh, the Sobahouse, I think?”

Lloyd and Nya both stiffen, their steps slowing. Skylor pauses, turning to stare at them in confusion. “That’s not the one owned by someone named Mr. Kazami, is it?” Nya finally asks, hesitantly.

“Uh, yeah, it is, actually,” Skylor blinks. “He’s pretty nice, we go to the same grocer on weekends.”

“Ah,” Lloyd says, carefully.

“Hm,” Nya hesitates.

Skylor looks between the two of them, now completely stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.  She really hopes no one is getting pictures of her like this. There are enough flash articles about the rumored orange ninja cryptid on the internet as it is. “Is that…a problem?”

Nya pointedly stares at the sky as if it’s the most interesting thing she’s seen all day. Baffled, Skylor tries the weaker link. Lloyd swallows, avoiding her eyes as he bounces from leg to leg, as if the mere thought of trying to enter the restaurant is terrifying. Which is mildly alarming, because this is the same kid who power-walked straight into a prison full of escaped violent criminals, his psychotic ex, and his undead murderous dad without hesitation.

“We can’t,” Lloyd finally mutters, staring at the sidewalk. Nya elbows him in the side, hissing “weak link” as she does. Lloyd just glares at her.

“O-okay,” Skylor says, unsure. “I mean, that’s fine if you guys want to go somewhere else. I just didn’t know you…didn’t like this place…”

“No, we do,” Lloyd grinds out, and he looks more embarrassed than terrified now, so Skylor aborts her half-formed plans of speed-dialing Karloff. “We just can’t. Go in, that is. We’re not allowed to.”

Skylor stares at him. “You’re not allowed in? Why not?”

“Because,” Nya forces through gritted teeth. “They banned us.”

“They what?” Skylor gapes.

Nya presses her lips together tightly. Lloyd stares very hard at the ground, as if desperately trying to convince himself to keep quiet. Skylor can pinpoint the moment he breaks, his expression contorting as he throws his hands up wildly. “You blow their electrical system up one time—”

“Oh guys, no,” Skylor groans, before bursting into laughter at him for the second time that day. Lloyd looks incredibly unappreciative, his expression scrunching up in annoyance like she hasn’t seen since that one stupid skating match with Chamille, and that just makes her laugh harder.

“We were trying to save them!” Nya defends indignantly. “It’s not our fault they had weak wiring—”

“I just got a little too into it, it’s — it’s Nya’s fault, she’s the one that said it’d be cool if I tried to do shockwave thing like in—”

“That was a mutual thing and you know it!”

“Oh guys, no,” Skylor wheezes into her hands.

“It worked!”

“Poor Mr. Kazami,” Skylor manages, through snickers. Lloyd’s shoulders slump, his upper lip pouting, and Nya crosses her arms, as if refusing to look ashamed.

“It’s not like the other guys aren’t banned from anywhere, either—”

“Alright, alright,” Skylor waves her hands, taking pity on them. “We’ll go somewhere else.”

“Good,” Nya mutters, as Lloyd exhales in relief. Skylor just snickers again, leading them down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. She bites her lip, shaking her head, before a thought occurs to her.

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘it’s not like they aren’t banned from anywhere’?” she frowns. “You guys are banned from more than one place?”

“No,” Nya says firmly, before Lloyd can even speak up. “Forget I said anything.”

Skylor will do no such thing, but she decides it’s in her best interest not to pursue it. Nya is not the sort of person to trifle with, and she does want that ramen.

She gets her answer soon enough, anyways.

2. Ninjago City Aquarium

While Skylor has the early shift on Tuesdays, she does get the afternoons off, which is pretty nice for the most part, if it didn’t mean she’d be bored for the rest of the day. So she hits the grocery store and decides to take the long way home, partially because walking is supposed to be good for you, and partially in hopes that one of the ninja will drop in on her again.

She’s not disappointed.

Granted, a minor explosion going off from inside the Ninjago City Aquarium wasn’t exactly what she was expecting today, but the figures in bright red and white arguing furiously outside the security perimeter are par for the course.

It’s a little odd that they haven’t already rushed in yet, Skylor notes, but with the way they’re loudly yelling at each other in the middle of the street, she figures she’ll find out soon enough.

“No, Kai, it is our civic duty to follow the laws put in place for the safety of civilians—”

“Oh come on, you get brainwashed into a slightly-murderous emperor one time and now you’re a stickler for everything?!”

"One time was enough, Kai!”

“Uh, hi guys,” Skylor approaches the two, hesitantly. “Is everything alright?”

“Skylor!” Kai whirls on her, his eyes wild. “Thank FSM, you’ve gotta help us out — they won’t let us in!” He shakes his fist at the aquarium doors, before springing for the security gate. “Let us in, let us in—”

“Shaking the gate like an animal is not going to convince them, Kai!” Zane pleads, prying Kai away. He shoots Skylor an apologetic glance as he wrangles Kai into a gentle chokehold. “We would greatly appreciate your help, if possible. There’s a low-threat criminal with an unfortunate assortment of weaponry who ran into the aquarium, and we’re legally unable to pursue. If you could try to drive him out, perhaps?”

“I — you — you’re what?” Skylor has the weirdest sense of déjà vu, before it’s lost in confusion. Her head swivels from the frustrated expression on Kai’s face to the pleading one on Zane’s, then to the grocery bags in her hands. She looks back up at Kai, who’s now giving her the puppy eyes. Something from inside the aquarium explodes loudly.

“Sure,” she sighs, handing Kai her grocery bags. “Just one guy?”

“Just one guy,” Kai exhales in relief. “You’re a lifesaver, Skylor, I — hey, are these those snack cakes they made to look like us?”

“Yes, eat them and you die,” Skylor hisses. She turns to Zane, holding her hand out half-hesitantly. “Lend a girl some ice powers?”

“Of course,” Zane nods, letting her take his hand. There’s a brief moment as Skylor melds her power with Zane’s, absorbing the icy force and mimicking it to her own — a part of her notes vaguely that it’s stronger than the last time she borrowed it, but she shakes it off, pulling her hand back and tugging the hood of her jacket up, mentally hoping no one writes another article about the possible existence of a cryptid orange ninja after this.

“Alright,” she says. “Be back in five.”

“Thank you,” Zane says fervently, as Kai sputters, “Hey, why didn’t you borrow my power?”

“Because fire is explosive, and you’ve gotta be banned from here for a reason!” Skylor calls back, ice already misting over her fingertips as she sprints inside the aquarium.

“You’d be surprised,” Kai mutters, after her retreating back.

***********************

“So,” Skylor says, flexing her right hand and wincing briefly. That last right hook she’d thrown at the guy might have been a little too hard, in hindsight. But he was being a jerk, and threatening to set off a bomb near the little seahorses — and it did do the trick, so now the aquarium can have the host of cop cars off its back. Skylor feels pretty accomplished in her good deed for the day, actually. “Why, again, couldn’t you guys have taken care of that yourselves? Not that I minded,” she adds, quickly. Using the ice element had been fun. She’d forgotten what she could do with Zane’s powers.

Kai gives a nervous laugh that’s so fake it almost hurts, especially with the pained expression he makes at the end. Zane just rubs his temple with a hand, looking eternally weary.

“Like I said, we are legally not permitted to enter the aquarium, until…when was it again, Kai?”

“Five years from now,” Kai mutters. “Or whenever the director dies.”

“Yes, five years from now,” Zane repeats, with a dead sort of look in his eyes. “So your assistance was very much appreciated. Thank you.”

“It was no problem, but — wait, hold on, how are you banned from the aquarium for five years?” she stutters. “I mean, I can get Lloyd and Nya with the ramen place—”

“Ha! They told you about that? It was great—”

“Kai, please.”

“—and I can understand Kai, but you, Zane?”

She feels a little guilty for calling him out so bluntly, but it’s Zane. Zane doesn’t just get banned from places, she has to know. And he doesn’t look too upset at the question. Kai looks mildly betrayed, but not that much. They both know Skylor’s point is too valid for him to argue with effectively.

Zane gives another bone-weary sigh. “There is a small chance, that there was a time we were pursuing another villain here, and during that battle, I might have…underestimated the amount of ice I was putting out.” Zane shifts, looking pained. “Which in turn accidentally spread to any bodies of liquid that happened to be nearby at the time, which perhaps were filled with rather expensive aquatic life.”

“You froze a fish exhibit,” Skylor deadpans.

“They were merely in extreme hibernation,” Zane grits out. “They would have been fine, had Kai not tried to fix the ice.”

“Hey, it made sense! I could melt it quickest!”

“Except you didn’t just melt it, did you? No, you had an entire fish fry—”

“The poor fish,” Skylor says, staring at them blankly. “What were they?”

“Like, these rainbow fish, from way up north, I think?” Kai says. “I swear I didn’t make it that hot.”

“The water was boiling, Kai!”

“You fish murderer,” Skylor says, the corners of her mouth trembling with the laugh she’s holding back. Kai glares at Zane, then her, then Zane again.

“I didn’t freeze them solid.”

“Whatever the cause of their death, they died, and we’re banned now,” Zane says, hastily. “End of story. Would you like to take this back to the Bounty, Skylor? I know the others have been wanting to see you, and we can at least offer you tea in thanks.” He eyes the grocery bags Kai’s still holding. “Unless, of course, you wish to return home…”

“Nah, tea sounds good,” she smiles. “Besides, I bought the snack cakes for you guys to try anyways. They’ve got little squashed ninja faces in icing on ‘em.”

“You’re the best,” Kai says, looking somewhat relieved, and oh, he definitely ate one while Skylor was in there. She’s going to have to pay him back for that one…

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she says airily, figuring she’ll take her revenge later. “You can tell me more about the fish massacre on our way back. By the way, Pixal wouldn’t happen to have heard this story, would she?”

Zane gives her a look, and she almost feels bad about it. “I’m going to regret inviting you, aren’t I.”

“Maybe,” she grins. “Jury’s still out.”

3. An Entire Drugstore Chain

Wednesdays are always busy at the noodle shop, for reasons Skylor has yet to figure out. Fridays she understands, but the middle of the week? Nothing kills your drive like knowing you’re going to do this all over again in a day.

It’s good money for the shop though, she reminds herself as she locks up that evening. Any money is good money for the shop, because her stupid dad made sure she’d have a real hole to dig herself out of there, but Wednesday money is always especially good. Even if she ends up leaving the shop late and can’t get the noodle smell from her hair for the next three days.

Normally, she’d trudge home and crash into bed after these kind of shifts. But tonight is different, because she stayed long enough at the Bounty yesterday to get invited to game night, and once you’ve promised the ninja you’re going to bring snacks for Monopoly, you can’t just say no. Not unless you want Lloyd to shoot betrayed glares at you the rest of the month.

Besides, she’s promised Kai she’ll sneak out to the movies with him afterwards, and she can’t just go breaking that promise. Plus, she’s not heartless enough to deny Cole cake when he’s got the most spectacular black eye she’s seen all year bruising up around the left side of his face.

“Lucky hit,” Cole grumbles, after she’s been caught staring too long. She hasn’t wanted to ask him about it, since it seems a sensitive subject and he’s already taking the time to help her pick up (carry) all the snacks. But it’s impossible to miss, even in the dim streetlights they’re walking under, and Skylor cares about her friends, thank you very much. “We busted some drug dealers today, and I got too relaxed.”

“They normally really aren’t any match for you, to be fair,” Skylor offers.

“They weren’t this time either, that’s the sad thing,” Cole says, scrubbing a hand through his thick hair as they wait at the stoplight. “This was all on me. I kinda deserved it.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Skylor tries to console him, even though the ugly red at the edge of his eye says otherwise.

Cole gives her a bleak look. “Jay made a joke, and I laughed at it. And then I got hit across the face with a baseball bat, mid-laugh.”

“Ouch,” Skylor hisses through her teeth. “Never mind, that’s bad. Was it a good joke, at least?”

“No, that’s the thing,” Cole groans, as the light finally turns red, allowing them to cross the street. “It was terrible. And I still laughed hard enough not to notice a bat coming for my face.”

Skylor grimaces. “You were just being a good friend, I guess,” she says, and Cole snorts. “Like you are to me, right now,” she continues, glancing ruefully at the shopping list she’s been sent. “I was going to say I had it handled, then I actually looked at everything you guys asked for.”

Cole laughs sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s…that’s us, I guess. Sorry about that. We’re paying for it all, don’t worry.”

“What?” Skylor blinks. Oh no, no way. The ninja have done enough for her, the least she can do is cover a couple bags of popcorn and like ten things of M&M’s. “No, I got it. I owe you guys, anyways.”

Cole bristles. “No way. We owe you, if anything. The amount of times you’ve covered our tab at the noodle shop?”

“How about the amount of times you’ve saved my noodle shop?” Skylor shoots back. “That outweighs a few measly tabs.”

“The only reason we had to save it was because we were there in the first place,” Cole points out. “We’re danger magnets.”

“I’m sorry, I’m the daughter of Chen, remember?” Skylor huffs. “I can attract enemies all by myself.”

“Not as many as we do,” Cole says. “Also! You helped us beat Chen, and get Zane back. We’re eternally indebted to you.”

Skylor narrows her eyes. “Only after I stabbed you all in the back. So I eternally owe you.”

“Bold of you to assume we haven’t all stabbed each other in the back at some point,” Cole scoffs. “Trust me, you’re nowhere as bad as Lloyd — he like, single-handedly ruined our whole month by letting a bunch of snakes out.”

Skylor pauses at that, torn between refuting his argument and asking how in the world Lloyd, of all people, could possibly manage to wreak enough havoc to—

Actually, she doesn’t have any trouble believing that at all. But to be sure— “Lloyd let the Serpentine out? All by himself?”

Cole looses a bit of his fire, and scuffs his shoe awkwardly across the sidewalk. “I mean, we did give him a pretty hard time when he was like, eight years old and homeless and starving, so uh, it might’ve been a little...provoked.”

“FSM’s sake,” Skylor mutters, staring at the sky and trying not to be surprised, because she really shouldn’t by now. “I can’t believe you guys are all still alive.”

“Neither can we, if it helps,” Cole shrugs, grinning. “But you know, technically—”

“If you make another ghost joke, we’re skipping the cake section,” Skylor says, firmly.

Cole sulks. “Jay would’ve made a ghost joke,” he mutters.

“Jay also got you hit in the face by a bat, so his judgement is questionable as it is,” Skylor shakes her head. “Oh! There’s a drugstore right here, wanna hit that instead?”

“Sure,” Cole says. “As long as it’s not…oh.”

Skylor makes it another three steps before she realizes that Cole’s fallen behind. Confused, she turns to stare at him where he’s frozen on the sidewalk, looking up at the bright red drugstore sign and biting his lip.

“Everything okay back there?” Skylor says, wondering if he didn’t get hit in the head harder than he’s let on. Cole nods, but he also takes several steps back out of the streetlight, hiding himself from view of the store.

“Here’s an idea,” he says, suddenly. “How about we go anywhere else.”

Skylor stares at him, a sinking feeling in her chest coupled with the slowly-growing-familiar sense of déjà-vu. “Cole.” He doesn’t meet her eyes, and Skylor sighs. “Please tell me you haven’t been banned from somewhere, too.”

“It’s not just me, Lloyd and Jay also got banned,” Cole snaps, before realizing his mistake and ducking his head.

“You’re kidding me,” Skylor says flatly, looking back at the drugstore, then to Cole. “This is like, the shadiest drugstore on this side on Ninjago. How?”

Cole mumbles something under his breath, and Skylor strains to make it out. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I kind of, um, threw Lloyd through their wall,” Cole mutters again, looking as if he’d like very much to disappear entirely into the street side. Which is funny, because—

His sentence finally registers, and Skylor blinks rapidly. “Wait, you what?”

Cole’s eyes widen, and waves his arms quickly. “Not like — not like Garmadon-throwing him through a wall! He was fine after.”

Skylor has a brief, bizarre kind of moment to digest the fact that there is a distinction for throwing the youngest of their team through a wall, before Cole continues.

“I was aiming for the window — that one right there, see? The robbers were already on the move, so Lloyd was like ‘launch me, Cole’ and I said ‘great idea’, but we were also maybe high on adrenaline at the time and I forgot how much of my lava punch I had going, so I overshot and ended up smashing him through their wall, a little bit.”

“You smashed him through their wall. Just a little bit.”

“Hey, it worked. He took out all five guys in one go and only had a tiny concussion after—”

“How do you even have a tiny concussion—”

“I still don’t get why they were so mad, I mean we stopped the robbery! Sure, half their storefront wall sort of collapsed afterwards, but like, we got their money back.”

“So that’s why they were closed six months for renovations,” Skylor groans into her hands.

Cole crosses his arms, glaring stubbornly at the store’s sign. “It wasn’t six months,” he protests. “It was only like, four. I don’t see how that gives them the right to ban us for life.”

“For life—” Skylor can’t decide if she wants to laugh at him, or cry because her list of places she can hang out with the ninja is shrinking faster than she’d thought possible. She finally blows her breath out, rubs a hand across her face, and glances back down at the shopping list.

“You aren’t banned from the one on eighth street, are you?”

Cole bites his lips. “We’re uh, banned from all of them. It’s a chain store, so…”

“Of course,” Skylor sighs. “Walmart it is, then.”

And if anyone pesters them about being late, she’s going to ask how many times, exactly, somebody’s smashed Lloyd through a wall. Because really. This is getting ridiculous.

4. Bed Bath & Beyond

Thursday is normally her day off, but whatever she had for dinner last night gave her freaky dreams, so Skylor ends up puttering around the shop early that morning just to take her mind off it. It’s a bit overcast outside, and the forecast predicts rain, so Skylor’s already making plans to curl up in her bed and watch movies all day, and maybe get a bit of laundry done.

She should know better.

It’s a commonly known fact that the ninja, Kai especially, would do pretty much anything for their pseudo-little brother. Skylor’s actually heard Kai, on multiple occasion, threaten to die for Lloyd, then immediately try and make it reality. No one ever really appreciates that, Lloyd especially, but Skylor can give him credit for trying.

However, it’s a commonly overlooked fact that Lloyd would do anything for his pseudo-older siblings. It’s an even more commonly overlooked fact that Lloyd is the spawn of satan, and was raised at a boarding school for future villains and terrible children. Combined, these two facts mean that while you should definitely fear Lloyd trying to die for you, you should probably fear him trying to look out for you more, because it’s likely going to end with somebody dead. Or at least the total disruption of your plans for the day, as Skylor opens the shop windows to come face with an absolutely terrifying expression on Lloyd’s face, followed up by a deadly calm “Kai came home sad last night.”

Skylor scrubs at her eyes, and thinks, it’s too early for this.

A while back, when she was still stuck with her jerk of a father, Skylor might have found Lloyd’s part-Oni expression of doom intimidating. Now, however, she just rolls her eyes, and sticks one of the little ‘50% Off!’ stickers she’s been putting on rice cakes across his forehead.

“The dog died in the last movie we saw last night,” she explains, as Lloyd sputters at her.

He pauses, nose wrinkling. “Oh,” he says. “Boo.”

“Yeah,” she says, stepping back and allowing him to neatly front-flip through her window. Darned show-off kid, she thinks despairingly, watching him land perfectly on her freshly-waxed floors.

“Well, you’re good then, I guess,” he says, expression lightening. “That makes sense. How many movies did you make it into this time, by the way?”

“Only four this time,” Skylor sighs, turning to plaster the rest of her stickers on the nearly-expired rice cake packages. “We caught the beginning of that new superhero movie, then the opening fight of some spy movie, and the middle of that one horror movie with the dolls.” Lloyd shudders. “Yeah, Kai wasn’t a fan either. Anyways, we made it into this new romance one, but we ran into a theater employee on the way in and Kai had a guilt attack, so we stayed until the end of that one.”

Lloyd tsks. “Oh, Kai. And he’s so sold on his bad boy image.”

“One day he’ll embrace the fact that he’s just a big softie,” Skylor nods. “One of these days.”

“Yeah, when hell freezes over,” Lloyd snorts. He glances around at the empty shop, then back at her. “Hey, today’s your day off, right?”

Skylor gets a sinking kind of feeling in her stomach at that, alarm bells going off in the back of her head. “It might be,” she says, warily.

“Good,” Lloyd grins. “You should come to Bed Bath and Beyond with us, then.”

Well, she wasn’t expecting that. “Why…would you be going there?” she asks, blankly. Do they have a secret ninja weapon bargain bin she’s been missing out on? Is Bed Bath & Beyond secretly hosting an illegal crime ring she’s been unaware of? Does she need to return the shower curtain rings she bought there last week on basis of being a good citizen?

“Zane froze the blender solid before practice this morning,” Lloyd explains, his mouth twisting a bit. “We were making smoothies and someone accidentally brought up the Never Realm.”

“Ouch,” Skylor winces sympathetically. She’s still not heard the entire story of what went down during the ninja’s jaunt out of realm, besides a whole lot of panicked texts from Pixal and half-explanations from Kai, but she knows it wasn’t fun, especially for poor Zane.

“Yeah,” Lloyd sighs. “So now our blender is dead and we can’t make smoothies anymore, so we’re buying a new one before Nya can start strangling people. Wanna come?”

Skylor eyes him shrewdly. At face, it’s an innocent enough request. She’s certainly been invited to worse places than a household furnishings store, and picking up a blender is quite possibly the simplest thing the ninja have ever asked her to do. Which probably just means it’s going to go horribly and the store’s going to blow up ten minutes in, but hey, Skylor’s day was looking pretty boring anyway.

“Sure, why not,” she shrugs. “Lemme stick the last of these on, and I’m in. Just — hey, no, I’m selling those!”

Lloyd freezes in place, the rice cake package dangling from his fingers. He gives her the most pathetically sad-eyed look she’s ever seen, and not for the first time, Skylor finds herself wondering how this is the same kid who runs a highly-skilled ninja team of unimaginable power.

“Just the one,” she finally relents, because Skylor is a spineless weakling when it comes to puppy eyes, apparently. Lloyd beams, snatching the cakes up happily. “And just because you look like a starving vagrant again.”

“I do not,” Lloyd protests, through a muffled mouthful of rice cake. “I’m just super in shape. I’m jacked as heck.”

Skylor rolls her eyes. “Sure you are, you — hey, I said just one!”

***********************

So Skylor ends up at Bed Bath & Beyond on her day off, five minutes after the store’s opened for the day, and already wishing she’d slept in later.

Nya brings her coffee, though, and their bright-eyed enthusiasm at reclaiming their means of smoothie-making is infectious, so Skylor finds herself in high spirits as they walk through the store doors, almost to the point where she lets Lloyd go for stealing all her rice cakes.

However, she’s already let him get away with too much as it is, so Skylor decides to take her revenge by ruffling Lloyd’s hair, before informing the sales lady that it’s her “darling little brother’s thirteenth birthday, and he’s finally outgrown his kiddie bed, could you point us to the big kid ones, please?”

Lloyd’s attempts at strangling her are thwarted by Nya as the lady smiles airily, before pointing them to the back, and Zane has to drag Kai along with them before he suffocates on the laughter he’s choking back.

“Family shopping trips are always so much fun,” Jay remarks, as they browse the bedding section, having been successfully distracted by the animal-shaped pillows. They’ve already had to flee the lamp section, after Lloyd and Jay started having a little too much fun, despite Kai’s despair over being robbed yet again of a new lava lamp.

“One day,” he mourns. “One day, I will own another.”

Skylor pats his back consolingly. “I’m sure that’s what everyone else whose lava lamps got smashed by a giant stone colossi say.”

“I still don’t see why we can’t invest in a cappuccino maker,” Nya pouts, as they pass the coffee appliances section. “Look, there’s one on sale, too!”

“Because you can and will abuse the use of it, and then someone will end up going to the hospital for extreme heart rate elevation,” Zane glares pointedly at her. Skylor smothers a laugh as Nya scowls.

“I’m not that bad,” she grumbles under her breath, only for the others to all chime “ice cube incident” in unison. Nya goes a dark shade of red and glares at the floor as if she’s capable of lighting it on on fire with her eyes, but she doesn’t argue back.

Skylor doesn’t even want to know.

“Alright, here are our options,” Cole announces, when they’ve finally fought their way to the blender shelves. “We can get the same one we had, just a little smaller, or we can get this other one that’s half-off.” He squints at both tags. “Having looked at our bank account recently, I vote the half-off one.”

“No way,” Jay argues. “Do you see how small that one is? I can’t make my triple-espresso energy-drink smoothie with that!”

Lloyd stares at him in concern. “That’s…probably a good thing?”

Jay glares at him. “You’re one to talk, Mr. night owl.”

“I’m with Jay, that one’s way too small,” Nya says. “It won’t do.”

“What, and the other one’s better?” Kai shoots back. “Look how cheap it is, I could break this thing in my sleep.”

“The online reviews for both are perfectly fine,” Zane adds, half-heartedly, as if he already knows they’re all going to ignore that particular statement.

“What about this one?” Jay says, his eyes lighting up as he gestures to the extra-large, fancy blender. “Think of all the smoothies we could make, Cole. Think of the milkshakes.”

Cole pinches the bridge of his nose. “We are not investing in some fancy blender, just for you to complain it’s too complicated five seconds in.”

Skylor crosses over to the blenders, glancing at both. “I mean, you could always just return it…later…” She trails off, realizing that everyone’s suddenly gone deadly silent. She looks up, and starts as she comes face to face with the store manager, who is frozen in place, his mouth half-open as he stares at them with wide eyes. Behind her, Skylor is highly aware of six ninja going similarly still, all utterly quiet.

“You,” the manager finally squeaks out. “You are’t supposed to — you can’t be in here, not again—”

“On second thought, let’s get a blender next week,” Cole says, quickly.

“Yeah, I can live without smoothies a little longer,” Jay agrees, rapidly paling.

Skylor’s at a loss. “What’s going—”

Before she can finish that sentence, Kai and Nya both have hands on her arm and pull, hauling her along as they break into a dead sprint for the exit.

“Explain later!” Kai yelps, dodging employees as the manager shakes his fist at them, his yelling following them through the doors.

“I filed six restraining orders! Six!” he shrieks as they slip out. “Do you know how long that took?! Two of them don’t even exist in the legal system!”

Skylor doesn’t miss the incredibly unsubtle fist bump Lloyd and Zane share, nor the near-tears  sigh of despair from Cole.

She really, really doesn’t want to know.

***********************

Except that maybe she does, so there’s nothing stopping her from asking as they walk home, having bought smoothies from the corner store instead (that they are not banned from, which Skylor is starting to think might be miraculous).

“I don’t know why I’m surprised at this point, but how did you get banned this time?” she asks them, after a particularly long sip of smoothie. “Did you demolish half the store there, too?”

The ninja are silent for a moment, all refusing to meet her eyes. Then—

“It was Jay’s fault,” Cole declares.

Jay whirls on him, his expression wounded. “I trusted you,” he whines. “And you — you bed bath and betrayed me.”

“Because you bed bath and blew up the bedding aisle!”

“It was the kitchen electrics aisle, give me some credit.”

“Oh, because that’s so much better.”

“It is, do you know how hard I’d have to be trying to blow up the bedding aisle? It’s all weighted blankets and like, silk and stuff, no conduction at all—”

Skylor returns to her previous stance on not wanting to know, sips her smoothie in silence as they break into loud arguing in the middle of the street, and hopes once again that no one’s getting any pictures of this.

5. Jamanakai Village Candy Shop

Friday’s her busy day, so Skylor’s spared any chaos other than a jammed mixing machine for the day. It doesn’t come to a head until Saturday, when she cautiously accepts the ninjas' invitation to scout out potential terrorist activity in Jamanakai.

The terrorists turn out to be punk kids who got a little too obsessed with the idea of the Golden Master, which is an unfortunate choice of role model for them, when they have to face up to the ninja. Zane just looks mildly annoyed though, and Lloyd stares into the sun for a full minute before rolling his eyes, so the kids make it out alive.

“We weren’t going to kill them, geez,” Jay says. “Maybe just…lecture them, a bit.”

“Oh yeah, lecture them,” Kai scowls, cracking his knuckles. “The Golden Master, are they kidding?”

“To be fair, they don’t have the same experiences we do,” Cole points out, but he doesn’t look too opposed to the knuckle-cracking, either.

“No harm was done,” Zane says, a bit wearily. “We should simply let it go."

“I dunno, I say we should’ve hung them from a roof for a bit,” Lloyd says, evenly.

The other ninja all cringe in unison, except for Nya, who smothers a coughing sort of laugh. Skylor stares at them, bewildered. “Why would you hang them from a roof?”

“Not sure,” Lloyd says, his lips twitching. “Probably because crime doesn’t pay, muchacho, or something like that—”

“Alright, alright, we get it,” Kai says hastily, clapping a hand over Lloyd’s mouth.

“The guys would know,” Nya smirks, ignoring the looks of utter betrayal she’s getting. “That’s what they did to Lloyd, wasn’t it?”

“Nya, why,” Jay moans into his hands.

“You — hung Lloyd from a roof?” Skylor repeats, thrown for a loop. “Why on earth would you do that? What if he like, fell and died?”

“He was fine,” Cole assures her, hastily.

Lloyd is quick to protest, glaring at them. “No I wasn’t, it was literally scarring! Look, I got this scar from scraping my arm when I fell — oh, wait, oops, that one’s from the Never Realm, it’s this one here.” Lloyd winces as he finishes, suddenly looking contrite as he shoots Zane an apologetic look. “The Never Realm one was from Boreal though, don’t worry.”

Zane looks down, his face shadowed. “It was still my—”

“Nuh-uh,” Jay cuts over him, wagging his finger. “Remember the rule?”

Zane hesitates, looking as if he’d very much like to remember no such thing, but he finally slumps, relenting. “Scars dealt to each other while under the influence of malicious possession by person and/or ancient malevolent artifacts do not count, regardless of extenuating circumstances or deep inner psychological issues that may be brought to light during said influence,” he quotes dully, on a defeated sort of sigh.

Skylor doesn’t know whether to be impressed at that, or depressed that it needed existence in the first place.

“Exactly,” Jay nods. “Which means that any scars from you, Zane, or Lloyd — oh, and Kai, I guess — and Cole, technically, with the Hypnobrai that one time— wow, that’s, hm, that’s a lot of us.”

“If you count the dark matter, we’ve all been possessed,” Zane says, drily.

“Not me!” Kai says, mock-cheerfully.

Jay shakes his head. “Nobody got scars while we were on dark matter! I checked.”

“Why are you saying it like we were on drugs or something?”

“Speak for yourself,” Lloyd scowls. “I’ve still got that stupid ankle one.” He glares at the offending ankle, as if it’s personally disappointed him.

“That was the Overlord, not us,” Nya reminds him. “And uh, your dad, technically.”

Lloyd’s scowl just deepens, his eyebrows tilting downwards hotly. “If I had a dollar for every scar that’s from my dad…”

“I hear you,” Skylor sighs. “Dad scars are the worst. They really know where to hit.”

“Right? It’s always personal with them,” Lloyd shakes his head. “Dads are the worst.”

A beat passes before they both realize the others have fallen quiet. Her and Lloyd blink, and Skylor fights back the urge to cringe at the looks they’re now receiving.

“Well,” Jay says, bleakly. “This is a, um, miserable turn.”

“Hey, hey, no sad faces,” Lloyd scolds, reaching for Kai’s face, which is indeed sporting a pathetically teary-eyed kind of look. “Get that look off your face, off, off—”

“I’m not — stoppit — I’m just— hey, stop it— that’s my face, you brat—”

“Guys, c’mon, cut it out, you’re making a scene,” Cole scolds, pulling them both apart. “How about we stop and get ice cream before we go, okay? To like, cheer us up. Because that was completely depressing, no offense, guys.”

“None taken,” Skylor says, as Lloyd nods in agreement. Cole looks relieved, even if Kai’s still looking a little weepy, and he directs them down another street, heading toward a brightly labeled ice cream shop. Skylor can see tiny rows of candy inside, and there are a bunch of kids gathered around the little stand the owner’s set up at the door. It’s a cute place, all in all — the candy looks good, and it seems pretty cheap.

So it makes zero sense that Lloyd, of all people, would suddenly go painfully tense in the middle of the street, and refuse to take another step forward.

“I can’t go in there,” he whispers.

Skylor’s having that sense of déjà vu again. The rest of the ninja trade confused glances.

“Uh, Lloyd?” Kai says, hesitantly. “They sell candy in there, you know.”

“I know,” Lloyd grinds out, his teeth clenched painfully together. “I’ve been in there before.”

“You have?” Cole frowns. “You — oh.” Realization dawns in his eyes, and he’s suddenly biting his lip, holding back laughter. “Oh, I forgot.”

“Forgot wha—” Jay looks between the two of them, then back at the shop, before something sparks in his eyes as well, and he doubles over in laughter.

“Shut up,” Lloyd hisses.

“Why are we laughing at Lloyd,” Skylor finally sighs, as Kai and Zane break into barely-stifled giggles as well, and Nya rolls her eyes.

“So, um,” Lloyd swallows, shifting anxiously from side to side. “You know how I said they hung me from a roof? There might’ve, uh, been a reason for that.”

“Of course there was,” Skylor says.

“I kind of threatened them, a little bit, and uh, tried to steal half their shop, one time.”

“Of course you did.”

“Lloyd,” Nya sighs. “That was forever ago.”

“I stole from them,” Lloyd bites out. “If I show my face in there again, they’ll kill me."

“I highly doubt they will resort to murder, Lloyd,” Zane says, flatly. “Besides, you did not actually succeed in stealing anything, because we caught you and hung you from a roof. Remember?”

“Yeah, and then I came back with the Serpentine, and made it worse!” Lloyd exclaims. “Just go in without me, I’ll sit out here and cry.”

“We’re not just gonna leave you outside,” Kai rolls his eyes. “C’mon, let’s mend some old wounds. Just go inside and apologize.”

“I would literally rather die.”

“Lloyd, seriously.”

“I’ve done it before, don’t test me.”

“Lloyd.”

“You can’t make me, I’ll fight you—”

“Alright, alright, we’ll find a different shop!”

***********************

“Okay, I have to know,” Skylor finally asks, as they pass the outskirts of the village, heading back to the Bounty. “How many places are you all banned from, in total? Because this is ridiculous. I can’t take you anywhere.”

“I mean, you can’t take us anywhere even without the bans, anyways,” Cole says wearily. “To be fair.”

“We’re not that bad,” Lloyd protests, only to wilt immediately under Skylor’s stare. “There are just…a few places…”

“Zane, how many is it now,” Nya asks, rubbing her temples.

Zane is quiet for a moment, slowly ticking off his fingers as he stares upwards. “Did we ever decide if that one museum counted?”

“The vote was yes,” Jay mutters.

“And the Explorer’s Club, did we decide that one?”

“I’d say that’s a pretty hard ban,” Lloyd winces.

Nya huffs, crossing her arms. “I still say it doesn’t count, because like, everyone’s banned from there, with their stupid stuck-up membership requirements.”

Zane takes this into account, his eyebrows furrowing. “That leaves us with…seventeen places we cannot return to, I believe? Unless I missed one.”

Skylor’s left wordless, gaping at them. She knew there was a lot, but seventeen—?!

“I’m almost a hundred percent sure we’re also banned from the Never Realm,” Kai points out. Zane gives him the iciest look Skylor’s ever seen. Kai simply shrugs. “What? Just stating the facts.”

Lloyd frowns. “I don’t think we are? I mean, Akita wouldn’t—”

“Oh, Akita wouldn’t,” Jay cuts over him, a gleam in his eyes. “Would she, casanova?”

Lloyd goes scarlet, sputtering. “I told you, she kissed me! On the cheek! I just stood there, you can’t—” He buries his face in his hands, and despite her amusement (and rampant curiosity, because this is Lloyd and kissing), Skylor feels bad for him. “I can’t believe I ever told any of you about that,” he whines, sounding tragically upset with himself.

“You were the one having a mental breakdown over it,” Nya reminds him, almost gently. “You need to work on setting boundaries, bud.”

“It’s not like I didn’t tell her I had horrible issues with romance!” Lloyd throws his hands up, frustrated. “Because I did, in painfully honest detail—”

“And yet you refuse to open up to me about it,” Kai says plaintively.

“Turn into a dog for a bit, you might get lucky,” Lloyd grumbles.

Skylor doesn’t want to know. She really, really doesn’t want to know. “Well,” she finally says. “I do know one place you aren’t banned from.”

They all look up at her, and Skylor shakes her head. “You fly me back to the shop in time for dinner, and noodles are on the house tonight.”

Six faces brighten considerably. “Seriously?” Cole says. “Skylor, you’re an angel.”

“Seriously, the best person ever—”

“Our favorite cryptid orange ninja there ever was—”

“Yeah, yeah, keep flattering me,” Skylor sighs, trying not to smile, and failing woefully.

She doesn’t know why she still hangs out with these people, getting banned from everywhere in the city. What a bunch of nerds.

[hopeswriting]

FANDOM: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

EVENT: Flufftober 2020

PROMPT: “Oh No, They’re Hot”

AUTHOR: @hopeswriting​

RATING: G

PAIRING: Adult!Colonnello/Adult!Skull

SUMMARY:

Colonnello officially meets Skull for the first time, and he finds him way more hot than a could-be, easy, bully target.

TAG WARNING: Swearing, Sexual Innuendos, Implied/Referenced Bullying

WORDS: 1603

*

How hard could it be to be a punctual human being?

Surely not that hard, seeing as Colonnello was one all his life.

You’d think he would have mastered the art of waiting by then, but if this Skull guy doesn’t show up in the next five minutes, he’ll just leave without looking back.

Or maybe he’ll stay until he shows up, so he can give him a piece of his mind, depending on how long he can make his drink last.

Colonnello rolls his eyes, bumps his head against the wall.

This whole “meeting the Arcobaleno one-on-one as your now teammates” is ridiculous. What is he, a new student at school trying to win the favor of the popular kids?

Colonnello was always among the popular kids, thank you very much. He can’t believe Lal would support this idea, but no matter now.

He just needs to meet the Cloud to be done with it all for good.

Colonnello hears it long before he can see it.

A black and purple motorbike rounds the street corner in a very sharp turn, an equally black and purple driver riding it.

He speeds past the cars in no time, driving around them but keeping so close it’s a wonder they don’t make contact, the sound of the engine revving and the tires against the concrete drowning everything else.

He speeds right past Colonnello, then makes an abrupt u-turn, his motorcycle tipping sideways so low Colonnello doesn’t comprehend how he doesn’t fall, switches lanes, and smoothly parks right in front of him on the sidewalk.

Is this guy… trying to show off to him?

Because it’s working alright.

Colonnello laughs breathlessly, goosebumps up his arms. A chill runs down his spine, adrenaline running through him from just watching.

Oh, he absolutely needs to earn himself a ride.

Skull casually walks up to him, not seeming to care about all the eyes on him. “Hi, I’m Skull. Sorry, I’m not too late, am I?”

Colonnello glances at his watch. Thirty five seconds before five minutes.

This fucker.

“Hi, I’m Colonnello. You are late. I thought we both agreed on the meeting time?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I got stuck in traffic.”

Colonnello subtly narrows his eyes. He just can see Skull grinning despite his helmet, and he sure as hell heard it.

This little shit.

“So. You met all the others already?”

“Yeah.”

“Right.” Skull puts his hands in his pockets, fidgets uncomfortably. “Well, I’m sure you heard all kind of things about me from them, but, you know, I wouldn’t exactly call them Skull specialists.” He shrugs, raises his hand to his head. It bumps against his helmet. “Oh right, my helmet. Hold a second.”

Colonnello’s drink goes down the wrong pipe. He doubles over in a coughing fit, his drink slipping from his hand entirely.

“Woah man, what the hell?”

What the hell?

This guy is hot.

“Are you alright?”

Colonnello pushes his helping hand away, still coughing a little.

Skull’s purple eyes watch him with amusement, highlighted by his purple smokey eye, with heavy mascara on his eyelashes that somehow only draws the gaze more to his eyes.

He nips at the piercing on his bottom lip, linked with the one on his earlobe by a silver chain. Plump lips smeared with purple lipstick spread in a smug smile, emphasizing the teardrop tattoo under his left eye.

His purple hair points in every direction in a stylish mess of a haircut, a fringe falling above his left eye.

And really, it’s a lot of purple, but holy shit the guy is gorgeous.

How did that not come up even once during Lal’s briefings?

“I’m fine, I just swallowed wrong.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

Colonnello straightens himself up, shakes his hand from the drink that spilled on him. He licks off the last of it, and oh, he knows that look in Skull’s eyes.

Good. Now they’re even.

“Sorry about that by the way,” Skull says. “These kind of accidents just keep happening around me, and I really just can’t figure out why.”

“Yeah,” Colonnello says, trying to play it off as casually as he can, “can’t imagine why either. I really don’t see anything that could provoke these kind of reactions.”

“Sure.”

“Listen, I’m a really smooth guy, alright?”

“I guess I’ll just have to take your words for it.”

“Fuck off.”

Skull snickers, something purposefully meant to rile him up further. Colonnello doesn’t take the bait, and bites the inside of his cheek to not laugh too.

Shit. Are they flirting? Colonnello can’t have that.

He has a reputation, and standards, and this guy... could very easily meet them, actually.

But he wears leather jumpsuits, chose purple as his defining color, and going on with the design on his helmet, octopuses of all things could get involved at some point.

And unfortunately Colonnello knows for certain it’s not just the symbol of the Carcassa famiglia.

“Oh shit, Immortal Skull?”

They both turn to the pair of teenagers, wide-eyed at the sight of Skull. Skull’s face lights up. He waves his hand excitedly, and poses for them to take a picture.

Colonnello raises his eyebrow.

Right. Stuntman shows, death defying stunts, famous guy.

He snorts. “Isn’t that cute? You have fans.”

Skull’s smile dims, and disappears entirely once the teenagers are on their way. “As a matter of fact, I do. It kind of comes together with being famous.”

“Yeah,” Colonnello scoffs, “famous for riding bikes.”

Skull doesn’t wince, not quite, but Colonnello catches his face twitching. He puts his free hand in his pocket, hunches his shoulders.

His voice is carefully neutral. “Yeah, for riding bikes. With hundreds upon hundreds of hours of training behind the handle, but no big deal right? Listen, can you...” he sighs deeply, meets his eye again “... just not? We literally just met? Or at least don’t come for the literal greatest passion of my life right off the bat, maybe? I don’t know man, just cut me some slack.”

“Sorry.”

Skull blinks. Colonnello blinks.

Well, that came out embarrassingly easily. And it did sound an awful lot sincere, if Skull’s more open face and posture is anything to go by.

Fucking hell, what is he doing? Playing nice? Is he actually trying to get on Skull’s good side?

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” Colonnello watches the last of Skull’s hesitance disappears in his eyes, a smile slowly pulling at his lips until he grins at him again. “So, should we wrap this up? Or maybe we could keep meeting each other for a bit?”

Colonnello peers above his shoulder, at the sleek black and unfortunately purple motorbike.

Now, how much does he really want this ride?

“Sure,” he says, walking past him. He puts a leg over the bike, and sits comfortably on the back seat.

Maybe if he’s really good, Skull will let him drive it.

“Excuse you,” Skull splutters, “do you think I just let anyone ride my baby?”

“Excuse you,” Colonnello shots back, “take another good look at me and maybe you’ll realize I’m not anyone.”

“Right, you’re doing me a favor, is that it?” Skull crosses his arms on his chest, in what Colonnello supposes should have been an intimidating move. “I mean, you’re really hot alright, but I meet plenty of hot people on a daily basis. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Take another really good look at me, and maybe you’ll realize I’m a category of my own among hot people.”

Skull laughs, very clearly despite himself, the hard-to-get act nowhere to be seen. He chews on his lip a bit, but Colonnello knows he already won the argument.

“You just doesn’t have any will, do you?”

“Oh, hush.” Skull rolls his eyes, shoves him playfully. “Maybe I’m just weak for pretty people.”

Colonnello mournfully watches him puts his ugly helmet back on, and rethink his life choices. Really, this goddamned Curse just might have affected his tastes too.

“You know, I did hear things. And I must say I don’t understand.”

Skull throws his hands up in the air. “I know right? You’d think I would have gotten laid with, I don’t know, at least three of them by now. Well, minus Luce of course.” Colonnello gets whiplash. What even—? “No offense to you. I know you have a thing going on with Lal.”

“No, let’s stay focused. That’s where your priorities lie?”

Skull shrugs, takes his place in the driver seat. “I mean, in exchange of all this shit I didn’t sign up for? I think it would have been the barest fucking minimum.”

Colonnello bursts out laughing, because really, what else is there to do?

Not that he doesn’t strongly share the sentiment. He met the others too, and does vividly remember what they look like.

Skull revs the engine, and hell yeah, here they go.

Colonnello wraps his arms loosely around his waist, leans a bit too comfortably maybe against his back, rests his chin on his shoulder.

“Tell you what.”

Skull catches his eye in the rear view mirror. “I’m listening.”

“If you impress me really hard right now—”

“What, with my driving skills you mean? Is that supposed to be a challenge?”

“—and make me spend a really nice time with you,” Colonnello continues, ignoring him, “I just might do an exception for you to the “not on the first night” rule.”

Skull chuckles low in his throat, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He lowers his visor.

“This better be a promise, because I’ll hold you to that.”

*

The anime watchers only might not know that, because the anime did him so dirty, but Skull is straight up handsome.

I, for one, at the very least, find him very pretty, really handsome, and yes, straight up gorgeous. And it’s a hill I will die on, and I won’t hear any criticism on that.

Also I enjoyed myself writing this so much. Could you tell? Because this is my khr otp as of now, and I wish they’d be hundreds more fics about them for me to read.

Rarepair hell is, well, hell lmao.

Thank you for reading! Any and all review are appreciated ^^.

[gamergirl929]

Say You Remember Me (Mallory Pugh x Reader)

@wonder-kid-pugh​: Can u do a USWNT X reader imagine where they get into an accident and temporally lose their memory and forgets the team. The r also forgets her gf Mal and just when they are about to give up they suddenly get back their memories

Buckle up guys, this is some angsty shit, but pretty light hearted. <3 

You wake with a pounding headache, your face scrunching up in pain.  

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Someone says and your brow furrows.  

“Who’s Y/N?” You ask, your eyes eventually fluttering open.  

They go comically wide when you realize you’re surrounded by nearly two dozen women, all staring at you, wide eyed.  

“What do you mean, you’re Y/N.” A short girl with dark brown, tear-filled orbs says and your brows furrow.  

“I am?” You ask, confused and one of the shorter women scoffs.  

“Come on Y/N, stop playing around.” She says, though you can see the way her throat bobs as she swallows hard.  

“So, my name’s Y/N? Who are you people? Where am I?” You ask your eyes narrowed.  

A doctor, along with a number of nurses push their way through the group.  

“Hi Ms. Y/L/N. I’d like to ask you a few questions.” He smiles and you nod.  

“Can you tell me who these women are?” He asks and your face scrunches up in thought before you eventually shake your head.  

A number of the women in the room turn away from you, doing their best to hide their tears while some steel themselves, though it’s obvious that tears are gathering in their eyes.  

One of the women beside the bed is immediately enveloped in a hug by a number of the women around her all of them holding her tightly.  

“Can you tell me who the president is?” He asks and you shake your head.  

“Can you tell me the year?” He asks and you open your mouth, though the words don’t come out.  

The doctor frowns sadly, turning to look at one of the many women beside the bed.  

“You’re in the hospital Y/N... You were in am accident this morning, a car struck you and you hit your head .”  

Your eyes widen as they dart around the room.  

“So, I forgot everything?” You ask, eyes doubling in size and the doctor frowns, giving you a singular nod.  

You look down at your hands, brows furrowing.  

“So... I know them?” You ask as you motion around the room and the doctor again nods.  

Your eyes dart around the room, taking in each and every face, hoping that one of them will trigger something, but it’s to no avail.  

Eventually, your eyes lock onto the woman from earlier, her dark brown orbs blood red as tears stream down her cheeks.  

Your bottom lip trembles as tears stream down your cheeks.  

“I’m sorry.” You frown, your shoulders hunched as you bury your face in your hands.  

A gentle hand settles on your back and you look up, bottom lip still trembling as you look at the woman with bright blue eyes who gives you a soft smile, even though she is also in tears.  

“I’m Alex Morgan.”  

                                                           ***

Over the next few months, you’d been introduced, well, reintroduced to your teammates.  

It was when you were shown a particular set of photos that you realized the brown eyed girl you’d first seen when you awoke, Mallory, was indeed your girlfriend.  

The picture on the phone had tears streaming down your face, the two of you were smiling happily after you’d gotten a goal.  

Mallory Pugh, was one of the sweetest girls you’d ever met and even though you didn’t remember her, you felt your heart skip a beat whenever she was around.  

You’re pulled out of your trance when a shout causes you to pick your head up.  

A familiar black and white ball zooms towards you and you catch it with your foot.  

It’s then you realize that everyone has stopped what they’re doing and all have their attention solely on you.  

You cock your head to the side and move to your feet, staring at the ball.

The group of women watch you with wide eyes as you start kicking the ball from foot to foot, it never touching the ground once.  

You then kick it to Tobin who catches it on the top of her foot with a massive grin.  

Though the two of you are only a few feet apart, the first person to get to you is Mal, who crashes into you as she wraps her arms tightly around you.  

The women around you are cheering and clapping excitedly as Mallory tightens her hold on you.

“It’s not everything.” She whispers in your ear, pulling back to cup your cheeks.  

“But it’s a start.”  

                                                           ***

The fans are screaming as Tobin makes her way down field, the ball at her feet. She shoots the ball across the field and suddenly, Alex comes in from out of nowhere and slams the ball into goal, bringing the score up, 2-1.  

Fans erupt, as do your teammates on the bench while your team celebrates on field.  

The final whistle blows and you join your team on the field, the crowd of fans screaming.  

I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN!  

I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN!

I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN!

You watch yourself as you run in on goal, cutting the cross to Mallory who slams it into the back of the net.  

Seconds later, Mallory is in your arms, the two of you excitedly celebrating, both of you laughing ecstatically.  

The fans screaming the line that triggered your memory.  

I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN!  

I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN!

I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN!

You inhale sharply when you feel a hand settle on your shoulder, opening your eyes you turn to see Christen Press, her brown orbs darting worriedly around your face.  

“Are you alright?” She asks, the two of you being joined by other members of the team.  

“I believe that we will win...” You whisper, with a grin.  

“That’s what the fans were screaming when I shot the cross to Mallory and she got a goal against the Netherlands.” You grin and Christen smiles as she turns towards Mallory, who’d just joined the ever-growing group of USWNT players.  

“Are you okay?” Mallory asks and you grin.  

“Would’ve you have gotten that goal against Netherlands if I hadn’t shot that cross?” You ask with a wink and Mallory laughs as she throws her arms around your neck, holding you close.  

“You remembered.” She sobs and you close your eyes, nuzzling into her neck.  

“It’s a start.” You whisper.  

                                                           ***

Your skill with the ball had come back and according to the media, you were better than ever though you really had nothing to compare your skill to, old videos of matches just didn’t cut it.  

It wasn’t until your first game back, against Thailand, the first game in the Group Stage of the World Cup, that you and the coach were confident enough to allow you to play.  

The fans were screaming as the teams took the field, your teammates all pointing your way in solidarity before the game began.  

Your leg bounces wildly as you watch the game go on.  

“Hey, breathe.” You hear a familiar voice say and you turn, smiling at Mallory, though your leg doesn’t cease its bouncing, that is until Mallory places her hand on your knee, effectively stopping you.  

Your cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading inside of you as you looked down at Mallory’s hand.  

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is gently settling on top of Mallory’s.  

On the other side of you, Christen is grinning, along with Ali Krieger and Ashlyn Harris.  

Mallory’s eyes widen as she glances down at your hand, though when she looks up at you, she realizes you’re facing forwards, your cheeks beet red along with the tips of your ears.  

Mal smiles as she turns back to the game, nonchalantly flipping her hand and intertwining your fingers.  

                                                           ***

You can feel your heart pounding in your ears as you move to stand by the official, Lindsey Horan’s number on screen, alongside your own.  

Lindsey gives you a high five and a hug.  

“You can do this Y/N, we believe in you.” She says and you smile as you jog out onto field, the fans screaming as your teammates all high five you on your way to your spot on field, even Thailand players hold their hands out as you pass.  

Your injury had been a shock to everyone in the Women’s Soccer World, and beyond, everyone had come out in support of you, celebrities, musicians, talk show hosts, the whole nine.  

You take your place on field, bouncing on your feet as the ball begins circulating. 

It’s in the 83rd minute you’re given the ball and you take a deep breath, letting your instincts take over.  

Those instincts carry you down field towards goal, the fans on their feet as you kick the ball through a defender's legs and it ends up right at the feet of Mallory Pugh, who races towards goal, when she’s able, she fires the shot.  

The crowd cheers as the ball hits the back of the net.

Mallory darts across the field towards you, wrapping her arms around you in a bone crushing hug.  

“How’s that for a welcome back?” Mallory laughs as you lift her into the air, spinning the two of you around.  

You’re elated and there is nothing in the world that could bring you down in that moment, it didn’t matter that you couldn’t remember anything, what mattered is that since your accident, this was the first time you were on top of the world.  

                                                           ***

The World Cup, you and the USWNT had made it to the WORLD CUP, yet again.  

And you were in the starting line-up.  

Small bits and pieces had continued to come back throughout your World Cup Journey, but not everything.  

Not the handshake you’d made with Christen and Tobin.  

Not the idiotic dances you’d do with Kelley and Sonnett.

Not the relationship you shared with Mallory.

The doctors weren’t sure if you’d ever entirely get your memory back, and the thought of that was terrifying.  

As time went on though, you realized that even if you’d never regain the memories you’d lost, you could make new ones with your teammates, the closest thing you had to a family.  

“Nervous?” You hear someone say as you stand in line, waiting to leave the tunnel along with the other players.  

You turn around, smiling when you see Megan Rapinoe standing in front of you. 

“Obvious?” You smirk and Megan snorts, throwing her arm around your shoulders.  

“Just a bit, but you’re one of the best players on this team, look at what you’ve done in the little amount of time you’ve been back... And not to mention the things you did before.” She smiles and you nod, wishing you could remember what she was talking about.  

“You can do this Y/N, we’re all behind you.” You glance over your shoulder, smiling at the feel hands on your back, hands belonging to Kelley O’Hara.  

You nod as the players start making their way out of the tunnel.  

Show time.  

                                                           ***

Going into half time with a nil, nil score was stressful, for both teams, and it showed.  

The locker room was loud multiple voices shouting direction, talking tactics.  

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Mallory biting on her nails, remembering the nervous tick she’d had since you’d met her.  

You reach over, grabbing her wrist.  

“Remember, no biting your nails.” You smile, not even realizing that, that was something you’d just remembered about the woman.  

Mallory’s eyes widen and she smiles as she leans her head on your shoulder.  

You turn towards her, grinning as you lean your head on top of hers.  

It was a feeling you didn’t even realize you’d missed.  

It was a feeling, along with others that you hadn’t even realized you were starting to remember.  

                                                           ***

The score was now 2 nil, the USWNT up by 2, but the Netherlands had done everything but give up.  

It was in OT, 5 minutes of the 6 minutes added on to the clock had passed, and in that 95th minute, you race down field, the ball at Christen’s feet.

She sees you open out of the corner of her eye and sends it your way.  

The ball is at your feet as you race down field. You pick your head up, realizing the goal keeper is out of goal and though the thought that crosses your mind is crazy, you go for it.

You slam the ball high into the air, everyone on the field stops and the stadium goes silent as they watch the ball soaring through the air and over the goalkeeper’s head.  

Veenendaal runs backwards, getting  a hand on it, but not enough to keep it out of goal.  

The ball hits the back of the net and you fall to your knees, throwing your head back as tears stream down your cheeks.  

You’d come back from an injury most would never recover from, and scored the winning goal in the world cup.

You’re immediately swarmed by players, all hugging you tightly as they celebrate your World Cup Goal.  

Many believed that after your head injury, you’d never come back to soccer, but here you were scoring the third and final goal in the 2019 FIFA Women’s World Cup.  

The final whistle blows and the team swarms the field in celebration of another World Cup won.  

You’re pulled to your feet by none other than Mal, who throws her arms around your neck before leaning in her lips pressing gently against your own.  

You gasp, the kiss taking you by surprise, but the kiss wasn’t the only reason you were gasping.  

Everything, the first time you’d sunk a ball into goal when you were a kid, your first NWSL game, the joy you’d felt when you were called up to the USWNT, the first kiss you’d shared with Mallory, and the day you’d gotten the courage to ask Mallory on a date, the day she inevitably became your girlfriend, it all came flooding back slamming into you like a proverbial tidal wave.

The two of you pull apart, eyes wide.  

“Y/N, I’m... I’m so sorry I jus-

“The first time we kissed was during my first run with the USWNT after a game against Ireland.” You whisper cutting her off and Mallory’s eyes widen.  

“You had on that sticky ass lip gloss when I kissed you the second time.” You laugh and Mallory lets out a watery laugh.

“It’s not my fault when you finally decided to kiss me it was after I used that lip gloss.”  

You shake your head, tears running down your cheeks.  

“I’m so glad you never used it again.”  

Your teammates swarm you, all celebrating ecstatically not knowing what you’d just said to Mallory Pugh, your girlfriend.  

“Chris! Toby!” You call out and the women are quickly running over to you, both beaming.  

“Are you okay?” Christen asks when she realizes Mallory is in tears, from something other than the World Cup victory.  

You hold your hand out to the pair and they both stare at you, wide eyed as they share a glance.

The other players cease their celebration as they watch you, Tobin and Christen doing the handshake, you’d made during your first run with the USWNT, a complex handshake that you feared you would never remember again.  

The handshake ends and you let out a sob, along with Tobin and Christen, your other teammates watching on in disbelief.

“I remember.” You cry out turning around to lift Mallory into the air. She clings on to you for dear life, her face buried in your neck and legs around your middle as you fall to your knees, still holding her to your chest.  

“I remember everything.” You sob out, rocking back and forth.  

Your teammates surround you, all huddling around you as they pull you into a group hug, tears streaming down all of their faces.  

“I remember you.” You whisper in Mallory’s ear as you press playful kisses to her cheeks, her forehead, anywhere you can kiss her.  

Mallory lets out a watery laugh, her nose brushing against yours as the two of you laugh.  

Christen and Tobin have the two of you trapped in a bear hug, the two women refusing to relinquish their hold on you.  

Even after the World Cup is passed to you, the golden trophy in your hand they still have their hands on you in some way, the team crowding around you.  

You hold the trophy over your head, leaning forwards to press your lips to Mallory’s, confetti raining down from the sky.  

Your eyes flutter open, locking with the same familiar pair of dark brown, tear-filled orbs you’d first seen when you’d woken up in the hospital.  

“I love you.” You whisper.  

Even though the crowd and your teammates are roaring around you, your voice in the only one Mallory hears.  

“I love you too.”

[theajaheira]

happy birthday bb!!💟💕💞💓💓💟💕 💗💕 I hope this is ur gayest year yet!😚❤🍰🎂🎉 And hmm for prompts (im assuming u want candiles?) hmmm maybe can u imagine jenny meeting like giles' parents or some family anf seeing pictures of him when he was younger and just mocking tf outta him??? sbdihdidfnkf OR also imagine them both hooking up in band candy instead of joyce... dgjdbdjd what would young jenny be like hmm...

this turned out angstier than intended but uh. here it is. whoops.

read on ao3!!

Jenny was curling her already-curled hair nervously around one finger, the ringlets soft and bouncy in a way that looked unnaturally glamorous on her. She looked a bit like a movie starlet, with her long black wrap and even longer deep blue evening gown and impeccably done makeup. She didn’t look at all like herself, and Rupert didn’t like it all that much.

“You know they aren’t expecting—” he began, then decided to try a different tactic. “You could have just worn that red dress you wore to prom.”

“This is England,” said Jenny. “They’re a bunch of you.”

“I resent that statement,” said Rupert, affectionate and patient; he’d been with his love long enough to know that she was at her most sarcastic when nervous. He stepped forward, winding his arms around her stomach from behind, and felt her relax into his chest. “You look beautiful,” he said. “Truly, you do.”

And he meant it. He did, even if it was colored by worry. Jenny looked incredible, but what bothered Rupert was that she didn’t look comfortable with the way she looked. She had been breathless and smiling at prom, wearing a knee-length red number adorned with dark lace that left room for her to dance, and her hair had been done up in a haphazard bun. This polished, perfect look clearly wasn’t something she felt at home in—though she certainly did seem at home in Rupert’s arms. “You think so?” she said in a small voice.

“I’m an expert on the subject,” said Rupert, kissing the top of her head in a way that wouldn’t muss her hair. “You’re absolutely stunning.”

“Okay,” said Jenny, staring distantly at herself in the mirror and swallowing, hard. “But—I don’t know, I mean—we’ve known each other for what, one year?”

“Nearly two,” said Rupert patiently.

“And I don’t want them to start asking about marriage—”

“Marriage,” said Rupert, “is a wonderful gesture, but one that the both of us don’t really need to affirm anything.” He brushed a few locks of hair away from Jenny’s neck, pressing his lips there. She sighed. “If there are any questions you feel uncomfortable with, I’ll handle them.”

“What if they don’t like me?”

It was clear Jenny hadn’t meant to ask that question, because after she did, her face went sort of pink and she bit her lip, looking almost ashamed of herself. Rupert felt a strange, painful mixture of worry and a protective sort of love, and turned her gently around so that she was facing him. He placed a finger under her chin, tilting it up. “What my family thinks of you is positively irrelevant to me,” he said, and wished they were far enough into a long-term relationship that he could say everything he wanted to say without the shy hesitation in his chest.

Jenny seemed to get the words unsaid, though, because she gave him a whisper of a smile and rubbed her nose lightly against his. “I love you,” she said softly. “Like, kind of a lot.”

“I love you kind of a lot as well,” said Rupert, and kissed her, a soft brush of a kiss that only lasted a few seconds. Jenny was smiling fully when they pull back; a sweet, comforted smile that made Rupert feel quite warm. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” said Jenny, looking a little apprehensive at the notion, and reached up to run a hand nervously through her hair. Rupert caught her hand and kissed the knuckles, and her expression relaxed into another smile. “Yeah,” she said again.

The museum was full to bursting with various high-profile Watchers, most of whom did an almost comical double-take upon seeing the black sheep of the Council not only have the audacity to show up at an event, but show up with a date. Rupert kept his fingers interlaced with Jenny’s as he scanned the room for his father; Jenny shifted nervously on the balls of her feet and nearly tripped over her long dress.

It was his father who spotted them first, giving Rupert a small, polite smile as he crossed the room to them. Jenny was clutching Rupert’s hand with an intensity that hurt, and he had to make a real effort not to wince. “Father,” he said, and inclined his head. There always seemed to be some strange distance between him and his father, even now; he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Rupert,” said Mr. Giles, then eyed Jenny, very clearly sizing her up.

Jenny smiled, uncomfortable, and her eyes flickered to Rupert with a strange sort of worry—not for herself, but for him.

Abruptly, painfully, Rupert knew why she was so afraid—her own family, the one she gave so much of her life to, had cast her out and told her she’d failed them. She didn’t talk about it much, but there were certain days of the year that she was quiet and subdued, sitting in the living room with scraps of letters and photographs and a glass of wine half-forgotten on the coffee table.

She didn’t want that for him. She didn’t want her failings to cost him his family.

“Father,” said Rupert, and tucked his arm around Jenny’s waist, steadying her with a quiet strength. “This is my girlfriend Jenny Calendar.”

“Rupert,” said Mr. Giles again, somewhat dismissively, “I don’t entirely know why you’re here. This gala is invitation-only.”

Jenny flinched like she’d been hit, and Rupert felt a twist of worry in his chest for her sake. He was used to his father’s somewhat abrasive manner, knew there was an awkward sort of softness buried very deep underneath, but Jenny was fiercely protective of him and it showed in that moment. “He’s a damn good Watcher is why he’s here,” she said, and gave Mr. Giles a positively stunning smile, eyes glinting dangerously.

Mr. Giles took another look at Jenny, then looked back at Rupert with a somewhat disapproving frown, then turned to Jenny. “How old are you, Jenny?” he asked, sounding doubtful that he’d be pleased with the answer. “You look at least ten years younger than my son.”

Jenny turned pink, stepping away from Rupert immediately and giving Mr. Giles a nervous smile as though not quite sure what to do. Rupert kept on thinking about the way Jenny had reacted upon seeing her uncle’s corpse on the bed (arms crossed against her stomach, lips pressed together in a half-grimace, shaking where she stood) and suddenly realized that it had been an egregious mistake to bring her to meet his father before anyone else. “Excuse me,” he said, and took Jenny’s hand in his, tugging her away from his bemused father and towards the dessert table.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Jenny said in a strangled tone of voice, “I’m just—I don’t want—”

“I don’t give a damn about my family, Jenny,” said Rupert.

“You say that now because you have one,” said Jenny, looking up at him and forcing a smile. “Okay? I miss my mom and my cousins and all those dumb little nieces and nephews who thought I was the shit because I knew stuff about computers and I could fix a car. I even miss being told by everyone that I was a bad influence because then at least I was, I was part of something, you know? And I say I don’t miss it, but I do, and I know you would too if you didn’t have it to fall back on. You don’t realize how much you miss these things until they’re gone—”

“Rupert!” came a delighted voice from behind him, and Rupert turned, startled. Lavinia Fairweather was standing with a glass of champagne, looking positively delighted.

“A moment, please,” said Rupert, worried.

“Oh, no, it’s, it’s okay,” said Jenny, whose eyes looked suspiciously watery. She scrubbed at her face with her wrap, smiling nervously. “We’ll just, um, who are you exactly?”

Lavinia frowned, then softened in that horrible-maiden-aunt way that always made Rupert a little nervous. “Oh, poor thing,” she said, stepping up to Jenny and straightening her wrap. “Rupert, you didn’t take her straight to your father, did you? That’s no way to treat a lady friend.”

“Um,” said Rupert, who was getting the sense that he was losing a worrying amount of control over the situation. But Jenny was softening at a friendlier Giles relative, and the shy, hopeful look in her eyes was much too much for him to risk pulling her away from what might make her feel a bit better.

“I’m Lavinia,” Lavinia was saying to Jenny. “Rupert’s aunt.”

“You’re kidding,” said Jenny disbelievingly. “You look younger than me, and—” She paused, flushing, and Rupert caught her sneak a glance at Mr. Giles. “I’m probably way too young to be dating someone like Rupert, right?” she said, sounding only half-joking. Oh, Rupert was going to have words with his father about this one.

“Absolutely not,” said Lavinia. “Rupert’s always been behind the curve when it comes to maturity. Hold on, I have photos—” She dug in her purse, fishing about.

“Oh for the love of god I can’t believe she carries them with her,” Rupert muttered, and tried to decide whether to run and hide, drag Jenny away, or both.

Unfortunately, his resolve completely shattered when he saw the way Jenny was smiling. “That’s kinda what I thought,” she said, and stood on tiptoe to kiss Rupert on the cheek. “He’s always been a little behind the curve in all respects, and I love him for it.”

“Good lord,” said Rupert, and kissed Jenny properly, if briefly. She tilted her head up, eyes half-shut.

“Oh my goodness they’re sickeningly adorable,” came Sophie’s voice, and Rupert winced a bit, pulling back. “This must be the new lady friend, then?”

“Lover,” said Rupert, trying in vain to make himself sound like an adult.

“Do notcall me your lover in front of your aunts,” said Jenny, and whacked him lightly with her wrap.

“Pictures!” sang out Lavinia, brandishing a handful that looked like—oh god they were from his fighter pilot phase. Kill him. Kill him now. Jenny shrieked, nearly knocking Rupert over as she all but raced to get a better look at the photos. “Wasn’t he a darling?” said Lavinia innocently, giving Rupert a wicked smile over Jenny’s head.

“Please,” said Rupert. “Be merciful.”

“You inflict your father on this poor, sweet girl and tell us to be merciful,” scoffed Sophie, peering at Jenny in a way that wasn’t at all like Mr. Giles. “Goodness, but she has a lovely face! You two would make be-autiful children—”

Jenny laughed, biting her lip, and looked at Lavinia and Sophie with sparkling, almost hungry eyes. “My aunts back home,” she said, “they always used to harangue me about having children. I hated it. Still do, as a matter of fact.”

“Sensible,” said Lavinia. “I like this one.”

“Can I keep the photos?” said Jenny hopefully.

“Oh, of course!” said Sophie brightly. “We have many copies.”

“Holy fucking shit,” said Jenny, staring at one in her hand. “Rupert, are you wearing one of those dorky pilots’ helmets? How old are you in this picture?”

“Twenty-two,” said Lavinia cheerfully. “He was taking a trip down memory lane and I wisely decided to capture it.”

Rupert buried his face in his hands—mostly for show, and possibly to hide his smile.

They ended up finding their way back to Mr. Giles at the end of the gala. Jenny, though buoyed by time with Giles’s aunts, still looked nervous, but Giles had worked everything out.

“Father, to be quite frank,” he began, “I introduced you to Jenny because I wanted to make it clear that she is and will continue to be an important fixture in my life. We didn’t intend for the situation to become openly hostile—”

“I’m thirty-six,” said Jenny, cutting Rupert off. “And I have commitment issues, and one time I shot your son with a crossbow by accident. Also, I think the Watchers’ Council should start evolving with the times and stop being a bunch of creepy old librarians sitting around and making decisions about young girls.”

Mr. Giles looked vaguely bemused. Then he said, “Good lord, you two are a matched set.”

Jenny bumped Rupert’s shoulder. “That wasn’t a compliment,” said Rupert to her. Then, frowning, “Was that a compliment?”

“Make of it what you will, Rupert, I wash my hands of you,” said Mr. Giles exhaustedly. “Fired from the Council, showing up at galas with a woman nearly a decade younger than you—”

“I know, right?” said Jenny brightly. “He’s definitely doing better than you are, anyway, with that horrible suit you’re wearing.” Belatedly, she realized what she’d just said, and clapped her hands over her mouth, looking wide-eyed up at Rupert.

“We should go,” said Rupert immediately, and tucked his arm into Jenny’s to steer her out of the hall. He didn’t dare look at his father.

“Oh my god I just insulted your dad,” Jenny started saying as soon as they made it onto the front steps. “Oh my god that was not how I intended that to go oh my god I am so sorry I didn’t mean to insult your dad I just so cannot control the sarcasm—”

“His suit really was horrible,” said Rupert, and smiled a bit at Jenny. “And I don’t particularly appreciate when people are condescending to a woman who’s been nothing but kind to me.”

“Love really does make a man blind, sweetie, I spent the entirety of last year telling you off for dressing like a ninety-year-old,” said Jenny, and tugged on his lapel, pulling him into a kiss.