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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

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.”

#jungkook x reader #gcn23 #goldenclosetnet #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst

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wendimydarling · 4 years

Text

Please Don’t Leave Me

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me

Summary: Talking about our past is not easy. What happens when it’s finally time to share what you’ve been through with Henry?

Pairing: Henry x First Person Reader

Word Count: 1635

Warnings: Angst; mention of being yelled at, personal hurt, self-harm, attempted suicide, emotional neglect, parental abuse, beginning stages of a panic attack, anxiety, depression, loneliness, and fear of abandonment. (If there’s anything I missed, just let me know and I’ll add it).

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY FREYA! I know it’s next week, but I’ll be off Tumblr because it falls on Thanksgiving this year. You asked me for this fic and I wanted to do right by you, as you’ve done so much for me. I love you, bish!

It had been a rough day. And not just your typical rough, I’m talking the kind of rough where you spill your coffee all over your blouse in the car, end up being late for work, forget your lunch, and get yelled at by the boss kind of rough. The kind of rough where every traumatizing past event in your life comes bubbling to the surface. The kind of rough where you want nothing more than to crawl back into your bed and sleep for seven years, and it’s only nine-thirty in the morning.

The one saving grace I held on to as I counted down the minutes of my shift was that Henry would be home tonight, waiting for me. God, I don’t know how I got so lucky, but somehow that kind and gentle soul had seen through the cracked and broken wall that I kept as my only defense mechanism, and had chosen me anyway. He knew some of my past and pain, but I hadn’t opened up about everything; I wasn’t ready to lose him, and I knew he’d be out the door once he heard it all. Just like everyone else. Perhaps that was selfish of me, but for once in my life, I knew what it felt like to be loved, and I was soaking in every ounce I could of that sweet nectar before it was gone.

Finally, finally, my work day was over. I headed to his place as fast as I safely could, anxious and burdened with unwelcome memories. The delicious smell of roast flooded my nostrils as I opened the door and Kal came bounding over. I noticed as I toed off my pumps and tamed the wild beast that Henry had built a fire, and gratitude filled my heart. He always seemed to know exactly what I needed, sometimes even before I did. I headed toward the kitchen, following my nose.

“Hey love,” Henry smiled wide, already pouring me a glass of red. He swallowed me in a warm embrace, his chin planted on the top of my head, and my body tucked firmly in his arms. I melted, sinking into the security of his hug and letting the stress of the previous hours wash away. I was here, he was home, and I was safe.

We ate quietly, talking here and there about random facts or tidbits. I pushed the food around on my plate, taking a bite here and there to satisfy Henry but I could sense him watching me carefully; his concern was evident, but he covered it well, masking it with simple questions or well-timed caresses. Even so, his next question caught me off guard, my fork halfway to my mouth.

“Will you tell me about it?”

The silverware clattered to the plate, forgotten in my fear. This is it, I thought, tonight’s the night I lose him forever. My chest constricted and I could feel the panic slowly rising, tears welling and threatening to spill. Henry quickly grabbed my hand and shushed me, cupping my face in nurturing kindness.

“You don’t have to,” he comforted, and I closed my eyes, exhaling the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Henry soothed his thumb over my cheek before pulling me onto his lap, cradling my head in his large hands. I burrowed deep into his chest, letting his scent wash over me in calming waves.

“I just want to help,” I heard Henry whisper. I sighed; he was right, it was time for him to know. I looked up at him, staring at that beautiful face that held so much promise. A face that said so much in just a look, with eyes that sparkled like the heavens whenever they landed on me. Once again, I wondered why his eyes looked like that when it was me they were viewing, but I shoved it aside. Self-deprecation would not help, not right now. Nodding softly, I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t tell him, not out loud. I dropped my head in defeat.

Henry shifted me off his lap, grabbing my hand and walking us to his desk. He sat in his gaming chair and patted his thigh, tugging on my arm. I hesitated, confused.

“Come here, love,” he encouraged, guiding me to sit. With both of us facing the computer, he opened a word document and offered me the keyboard.

“If you’re unable to say it out loud,” Henry crooned in my ear, kissing softly under my lobe, “Then write it. I’ll read it as you type, and neither of us has to say anything.”

This man. I swear to god. Relief flooded through me, though anxiety pounced instantly as I was reminded that once we were done, he would be gone. No one else had stayed, my problems were much too great... Why should he be the one to bear the burden of me? I took a deep breath anyway and eyed the screen, my fingertips trembling over the instrument of my demise.

Where should I even begin? Should I go all the way back to the beginning, to my birth? How I was nothing but a mistake, and every day I was reminded as such? Or maybe I should tell him what the scars are from? Perhaps I should simply tell him about failed relationship after failed relationship, both romantic and non. Those are all fun tales, I had no doubt he’d love to hear all about them. Maybe he wanted to know the amount of times I’ve come close to admitting defeat and ending everything. Spoiler alert… that number’s higher than it should be.

I swallowed thickly and began typing, slow and hesitant words forming on the page. Every thought was carefully constructed, worked over in my mind at least five times before I allowed it to leave my fingers. Henry’s comforting arms were wrapped tightly around my waist, his chin nestled on my shoulder as he read what I shared. Tears slowly brimmed in my eyes, kept at bay only by sheer force of will. Each stroke of a key sounded like a hammer hitting the nails in our relationship’s inevitable coffin; surely he wouldn’t, couldn’t love me after this. No one could. It’s simply too much for anyone to bear, too awful… too hard.

And yet in my ear were the sounds of something different. Encouraging grunts, empathetic hums. Henry kept his promise, he never said a word except for one small sigh of “oh, love” as I hit a particularly difficult moment. His hands rubbed my sides, kisses left tiny wet imprints on my cheek, and every now and then he would squeeze tighter, small reassurances to keep going.

The words started pouring out of me. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I tried; Every struggle, every loss, every tiring moment; every single thing that had ever happened to me found its way into that document in a flurry of clacking plastic. My hands moved of their own free will and the tears started to flow; long, silent trails of pain releasing years worth of pent up anger and hurt. The salty drops fell onto Henry’s forearms but he just left them there, rooted to his task of protecting me. I would miss how safe I felt in the protection of his arms.

The final sentence fell out of my hands, and I immediately turned and buried my face into Henry’s shoulder, bitter sobs wracking my frame as I clung to his neck.

“Please don’t leave me,” I begged, ashamed of myself for being so needy and undesirable. I expected him to untangle himself from my arms, to get up and open the door to excuse me from his home. To force me to leave his life and never return.

The last thing I expected was for him to burst out laughing.

I snapped my head up and stared at him in horror, which only made him laugh harder.

“I’m so sorry,” he wheezed, “I really shouldn’t be laughing. It’s just… I know why you think I would leave you, it’s all right there on the computer, but you have nothing to worry about.”

Henry wiped his eyes and mine and cupped my face, still chuckling.

“You think so little of yourself that you can’t see just how worthy you are,” he murmured, adoration and mirth mingling in his eyes as he tucked my hair behind my ear. I furrowed my brow and pressed my face into his palm, relishing the cooling sensation of calm that his skin brought.

“I know what it’s like to feel how you do,” Henry went on softly, “To feel unwanted and undeserving. But I’m not going to walk away from a flower as strong, as rare, and as beautiful as you just because she’s got a few bruises. I love you just the way you are.”

His admonition shocked the both of us. He loves me? I tried to process what he’d just said, but my mind was raw and I couldn’t think straight. He loves me.

“Yes, I love you,” Henry repeated as though he could read my thoughts, clasping my jaw and looking me straight in the eye. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere… I’m not going to leave you.”

I smiled widely as tears spilt over once more, happiness bursting from my heart. With anyone else I’d be doubtful, I’d have hightailed it on my own after a proclamation like that before the other shoe dropped... before they could hurt me worse. But this wasn’t anyone else, this was Henry. And being with him made me brave, which is why I found words leaving my lips that I never thought I’d ever say again.

“I love you, too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#henry cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill rpf #angst #fluff #birthday fic #littlefreya

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 16 of 18)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...

As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?

<- Previous part (15)

Next part (17) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

The Loss Of A Friend

You've never been to a funeral. Well, you did, but you were a kid and you didn't know the family friend who was being buried that day. In your child's mind, you didn't get why everyone was wearing black, in uncomfortable silence, crying all day long. You remember clearly that a blue bug got your attention, making your eyes follow its every move, making you smile despite the sad atmosphere.

It couldn't be more different today.

As the coffin is lowered into the ground, where Jason will forever rest now, you hold Billy's hand, the soft fabric of your black dress tickling your tights. You barely feel it though, all your sensations resumed to the weight in your chest, crushing, squeezing your ribs, smashing your heart.

You suddenly remember the day Monica introduced you to Jason. It was the Saturday before you started working at the pool, in the parking lot of Starcourt Mall. He had his little brother on one arm, and the girl walking beside him, tugging on the hem his shirt.

“So that's the new girl.” He said, a smile spreading across his lips as he reached out his hand for you to shyly shake. “I'm Jason, born to bear the weight of being Monica's cousin, but also the coolest guy you'll find in Hawkins.”

That, of course, started a small war of cheesy pick-up lines, insults, and sarcastic comments. You laughed, feeling easily welcomed by Monica's cousin.

Now, what gets your attention is how his young siblings cry, yell, calling out Jason as is he was just sleeping inside the wooden box and would wake up, smile, and start chasing them around again. He won't. Jason is only a memory now.

“I think we should go,” Billy says in a low voice, letting go of your hand to rub your arms softly.

Nodding, you let him guide you to his Camaro, driving you away from the sea of people dressed in black. You've known Jason for such a little time compared to everyone else here, who saw him grow up, studied with him, lived near him for many years. Your pain is just a speck of dust compared to theirs.

When you get home, the sun is setting. You decide to call Diane, just to make sure she's alright, but you don't tell what happened. It would make her come here immediately, and the last thing you need is someone else you care about being in danger. You have to lie, despite hating yourself for it, telling her that your voice is funny because you had to yell a lot with the kids at the pool. But it's better this way. There are more than enough people here you need to worry about.

“Come here,” Billy calls when you finally head to the bedroom. He sits in the bed, back against the headrest and you're quick to crawl into the bed and into his arms. “How are you feeling?”

“I don't know. Sad doesn't really explain it.” Putting your legs over his, you hide your face on his neck, breathing in your favorite cologne, the only one he uses since the day you told him that. “I can't believe I buried Jason. Jason. My crazy-ass friend.” Your voice cracks and you hold back a sob. “I'll never hear those stupid jokes again.”

“I'm so sorry, princess.” There's a pain in his voice too. Billy has been around Jason a bit, mostly with you. But you know he's actually sad because of how broken you are. You can see it in his eyes, that he wish he could take your pain away, and that he's desperate because he doesn't know what to do.

But there's nothing Billy or anyone else could do. You can't fight death. You can't hit it with a baseball bat full of nails until it gives your friend back. The only thing you can do is avenge him. Get whatever took him and destroy it.

“I wanna kill those Demothings.” The anger in your voice is tangible, and you clench your hands into fists. “I swear to God, Billy, I'll kill one of them myself.”

“Anger won't help. We need to be smart about it. We need a strategy.” Billy is often angry with things. Mostly with things that hurt you, but this time, you get why he's taking another path, trying to calm you down instead of putting more wood in the fire. “The meeting is set for tomorrow. We'll find a battle plan to kill those damn things.” His hand comes to lay on your thigh, fingers softly caressing your skin. “But for now you need to rest, ok? I'll cook something you like and then we'll cuddle watching some nice movie. How does that sound?”

“What if I cry through the movie?” You ask because more tears start rolling down, it doesn't matter how many times you try to get rid of them.

“Then I'll hold you tight.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Billy is kind enough to try and get you into some small talk. Nothing too complicated, nothing related to the Demothings or Jason. You're thankful for that. He even manages to get a few laughs from you, although they're always followed by a reality check when the events of the last two days hit you again, and the smile is gone.

A couple of hours later you're watching Jaws, your head on Billy's chest as you try to follow the events of the movie. But it seems way too fast for you, or it's just your mind that's refusing to process anything that's happening.

You just keep thinking about death. About how Jason's whole life was cut short. How all of his plans for the future were erased.

“Billy, can I ask you something?” Keeping your voice low, you speak up for the first time since you came to the living room after having dinner.

“Of course, princess. What is it?”

Biting your lip, you consider if you should really bring that up. It's selfish to talk about your future when someone else won't have one. But this whole situation made you want to make plans because it's a privilege to still be here. It's a blessing to still have time. “What you said to Joyce about... Marriage. Did you really mean that or–” Pushing yourself up from where you were laying on top of him, you take a deep breath. “–or were you just trying to get out of the conversation. Because it's ok if–”

“Haven't I made it clear that I want to be with you for the rest of my life?” He moves to sit up as well, pulling you close until you're placed in between his legs, a hand caressing your cheek. “Because if I hadn't, I'll make it clear now. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I don't know how it happened, and it did get me by surprise, but the day you walked in the Hawkins Community Pool, I knew something changed in me. I knew I had to get to know you, and I did thought it would pass, that I'd get tired of you as I got of the other girls, but I didn't.” Billy holds you closer to him, your foreheads touching. “You hit me like–”

“Bang.” You finish for him, the memory of the day he was unbelievably honest with you coming back. The day he admitted to you, and somehow to himself too, that he liked you. It was also the day he punched David, and the day he kissed your cheek, making your stomach burn like it has been set on fire.

“Like bang.” He breathes out, warm lips coming in touch with yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him as close as you can, the need to feel that he's here, with you, clouding the sound of the TV. Billy moves to lay back down again, and when you move to follow his change of posture, your knee slips and connects to his ribs. “Ouch!” He breathes out, cutting off the kiss.

“Oh, shit. I'm so sorry.” Covering your mouth, you bring the free hand to rub his side. “Sorry, baby.”

Taking a deep breath, he grabs your arm and pulls you down, making you collide on his chest, giggling. “Sorry. I shouldn't be joking around with you now.”

Squinting your eyes at him, you try to get up, but his strong arms come around your body, keeping you from moving. “I hate you, Hargrove.” The fake sentence is soon overcome by a giggle. “I'll kick you right this time, I'm warning you.”

“Oh, I'm shaking like a leaf.”

“Don't test me, Hargrove. Keep in mind we sleep on the same bed and I know all of your habits, baby.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Mumbling, you manage to stand up, moving back into a sitting position. You know he actually let you go, but there's no reason to acknowledge that. Taking a deep breath, the sudden happiness is stained again, as the memories crawl back. It seems like Billy notices because his smile softens. “I love living with you, you know that, right?”

“I love waking up next to you every morning.”

You can't help the smile that comes to your lips as you bend over again, kissing his lips.

On the next day, Billy calls Anthony to ask him to give you a few days off work. Obviously, you have to urge your hothead boyfriend not to curse the manager and risk losing his job. You feel fine to go to the pool, or you think you do, but the truth is you wouldn't be paying much attention anyway. And much to your dismay, Billy gets a total of zero days off. No discussion, what makes him hang up the phone so hard you thought he broke the poor thing.

Since you don't want to be alone, and Billy would absolutely never allow you to be alone in the house when you're friend just died, he drives you to Joyce's place, where the party will gather to make plans.

Saying it's hard to be away from Billy on the day after you buried Jason is a misunderstanding. Seeing him drive away from Joyce's porch makes you feel like he's taking your heart with him. He didn't seem pleased either, but there was no other choice. You wouldn't make him miss the day, since you know Anthony is a terrible human being, just looking for the right excuse to get rid of the lifeguards.

“Honey, come inside,” Joyce calls a hand on your shoulder. “Can I get you something to eat? We had pizza last night and I have a slice in the fridge.”

“No, thank you, Joyce.” Politely, you decline her offer. “Is there any bed I can crash in?”

“Sure. Come.” Walking through Jonathan and Will, you wave at them, muttering a good morning and trying not to cry at their sad faces. They know Jason was a close friend, and, like everyone else, they don't know what to do or say. “This is Will's and Jonathan's room. Just pick a bed.” Nodding, you choose the one on the left and lie down. “Do you need to talk?”

“There's nothing to say.” Putting your head on a pillow, you stare at the ceiling. You feel comfortable around Joyce, she has this mother thing about her. “I just want this to end. Before anyone else gets... Eaten.” The word makes you shiver as it brings the image of his body back. “I wish I wasn't the one to find him. To... See him that way. I don't think I'll ever forget that.”

“Honey, I'm so sorry.” She comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “When... When they found Will's body, it hurt. I knew in my heart it wasn't him, but the very idea of losing my baby was horrible. So I have an idea of how you feel. Losing someone is a pain that doesn't go away. You'll get used to it, but it remains. All we can do is learn to deal with it and honor them by carrying their memories.”

You're crying through her speech, and you can't help but sit up and hug her, crying on her shoulder. “We have to be careful because I can't lose anyone else.” You're not sure if she can even understand what you're saying, but since she nods, you think she did.

“Don't worry, honey. We'll all be alright.” She pulls away, rubbing both your arms. “The kids will be here soon, but feel free to stay here or join us, ok? Do whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Thanks.” Offering her a small, sad smile, you watch as she leaves.

You hear when they get here, the chattering starts, and you can understand a few words here and there. They talk about you, and about Billy and about the funeral. But soon enough it falls into the major problem. And that's when you tune out, staring at the ceiling, trying not to make yourself too comfortable in someone else's bed.

The only thing you want now is Billy. You want to go back to the time where there was no Demogorgon, Demowhatever lurking around. At least to you. It's weird to know what really happened in Billy's car accident, how he was almost the host for the Mind Flayer. You're happy it didn't happen, that he's here now. You need to thank Max for that, actually. If it wasn't for her and the others, your Billy wouldn't be here. He could be dead, and you'd never meet him. He'd never shoot glances at you, or drive you home, buy you tacos or punch David's face. Or kiss you, hold you, love you. The thought of a life without Billy in it is absurd. Now, more than ever, after you lost someone so dear, you have this need to be with him. Just to make sure he's here.

Breathing out and closing your eyes, your hand comes to hold the necklace. It makes you feel closer to Billy, and there is a silent promise here, one you hold close to your heart, together with the earring.

Eyes open, you get up of the bed. You don't care if you got days off, you have to see him. Even if it's just for a hug. Leaving the bedroom, you make your way to the living room, which is crowded.

“We wait until it's late at night to make sure the Demodogs are out, sneak inside the tunnels, and spill insane amounts of gasoline all over it. Get the hell out, wait until it's morning, and set the whole thing on fire.” Dustin says, hands in the air and a smile on his face.

He's kidding, right? He can't be suggesting that as if it's the greatest idea of the world. “Are you completely insane?” You ask, making your presence known. Arms crossed, your eyes scan through the party. “You can't possibly think this is a good idea.”

“I agree with (Y/N), this is insane,” Joyce adds, her face making it clear she thinks this idea sucks. “I won't let you do that.”

“But–”

“The point is to kill them without getting ourselves killed. And every single idea you come up with has a hundred different ways to get us killed.” Steve says, both his hand on his hips as he paces around the room. “Who thinks this idea sucks raise your hand.” He's the first to do it, and Joyce, you, and Jonathan do the same.

“Count Billy in.” You say, raising the other hand as well.

“And Hopper,” Joyce states, giving you an approving stare.

“It's six against seven. We're doing it.” Dustin exclaims.

“No.” You basically shout, not caring one bit if you sound bossy. All eyes lay on you as you struggle to keep it together. “We're not doing it and that's final.”

“I–”

“I just lost a friend and I will not let you do something that might just end up in another funeral.” There are tears threatening to fall again, but you hold them back. “So come up with something else.”

The silence is deafening. You know you're breaking down again, even though the tears aren't rolling down. Yet.

“Please. There's gotta be something else.” Lowering your voice and looking down at your feet, you beg. You can't even think about someone else dying. You couldn't bear it.

“I saw this thing at school. Like a robot with remote control.” Lucas starts. “If we could build a bunch of them and attach a hose, we could guide it inside the tunnels and spread the gasoline.”

“Yeah, but there are seven holes. Which means a lot of ground we'd have to cover.” Eleven adds as you make your way to the group, sitting on the couch beside Joyce.

“Let's blow up six of them.” You burst out, crossing your legs. “A hell of a explosion that would take those things days to dig it back. Then there will be only one way in and out. Find a hell of a long hose or just connect a bunch of them and a million gallons of gas. The robots will spread it then we'll just need a match.”

“That's good. It could work.” Nancy says. “But we'll need to chip in to buy all these things.

“Hopper can get some for free I'm sure.”

“We start right now.” Mike stands up and the others follow. “Let's get started.”

The rest of the day is hectic. Lists are made, one of the kids teachers come over to help with what they called a summer project. For fun. And the materials started arriving. You don't really know what to do, so you help Joyce make lunch, keeping up with her small talk. Joyce is easy to be around, and you like to hear her stories about Will and Jonathan. You even manage to show a few smiles every now and then. After everyone is fed, you finally sit on the porch, trying to help as much as you can. The kids are genius, literally building remote control robots from random pieces and the instructions from books. It's amazing. Since you can't really be of much help in this aspect, you join Nancy, separating stuff or doing anything they tell you too.

When the sun is setting, some of them had to go home to gather their stuff. They'll crash here and take the robot construction through the night. By the moment you hear the faint noise of Billy's car, it's just Joyce's kids, Steve and Dustin. Leaving the small pieces of metal you were shaping into tiny little circles, you stand up abruptly.

“Where are you going? These circles aren't going to make themselves.” Dustin complains, raising his hands in the air.

“Billy is back.” There's no need for further explanation, so you tiptoe among the stuff, careful not to step on anything.

“It could be anyone.”

“Dustin, is there any other car in Hawkins that sounds like that?” As you speak, the noise gets louder and Billy's car comes to your sight.

“She knows her boyfriend's car.” Steve jokes as you walk to the yard, smiling when Billy stops the car and comes out.

“Miss me, princess?”

“Obviously.” It's a feeling of pure relief to see him. It feels like it's been so much longer than just some hours, but you feel that you'll have this insane need to be around him for a while. Just to enjoy the fact that you're still alive. You can't help but wonder for long the idea of death will hover over you... Probably forever.

“You ok?” He asks, his hand on your hair as you have your head on his chest.

“I will be.” Remembering the audience, you pull away, standing on your toes to kiss him. “Dustin had a terrible idea but I made him change his mind about it.”

“How did you do that?”

“I yelled.” With no intention of further explanation, you turn at the guys. “I'll be back tomorrow morning, alright? Have fun doing crazy science.” Waving at them, you get into the car.

You would like to stay at Joyce's, keep helping as much as you can, but you feel like you need silence and peace. The kid's laughter and jokes make you feel better, but you know that you also need to let the sadness creep over for a while. Keeping it hidden, disguised, makes no good. So as you dry and brush your hair, waiting for Billy to finish his shower, you cry.

For Monica, for Jason's younger siblings, his mother, his father, uncle, and aunt. For every friend he made since he was born. And for yourself too. Jason was one of the people that you imagined you'd be around for the rest of your life.

You're dragged away from your thoughts by the phone's ring. Rushing to answer it, you find it's Joyce, kindly asking if you can pick Mike up and drive him to her place, and of course, you comply.

“Billy.” You call when you hear him coming out of the bathroom. “Joyce needs us to pick up Mike. Nancy can't stop what she's doing there.”

“Sure. Let's go.”

Being out at night makes you anxious, but you try not to let it show. Eyes on the road, you bounce your leg nervously, tugging on the seat belt. Billy notices, and a hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“We'll be fine. Relax.”

“I'm trying.” Stretching your arm, you touch his neck. “I'm sorry if I can't stop thinking about Jason and what happened.”

“(Y/N), you just lost a friend. My responsibility as your boyfriend is to hold and love you through this process. Don't apologize.”

“I don't want this to be your responsibility, Billy.” When he turns his head to look at you, you run your fingers through his jaw.

He takes a deep breath, pulling over by Mike's house. You were about to get out, but since he doesn't move, neither do you. Billy looks like he's thinking, furrowed eyebrows and distant eyes. “Billy? Come back to Earth.” You decide to ask, taking off the belt and turning your body towards his.

“To have and to hold. For better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.” He squints his eyes through the words, trying to remember them. It takes a while for you to understand what he means, and when you do, your heart starts drumming in your ears. “To love and cherish till death do us part.”

“Billy...”

“It means I'll stand by your side. Not because I feel like it's my responsibility, but because I love you. And I'm more than happy to take the responsibility of being your–”

“Couldn't you save that up for, I don't know, someday when I'm dressed in white?” The words come out fast, and you're blushing hard, your cheeks burning. “No. You had to do this now. Drive me insane now in your Camaro.” You roll your eyes dramatically when his lips break into a smile, that smug, cocky smile he has when he knows he got to you somehow.

“Be my wife, (Y/N).”

“No.” It's an utter absurd how hard you have to fight not to say the exact opposite. You want to just burst out the word, here and now, because you're so damn sure you want Billy for the rest of your life. “No, baby. We'll graduate, save up money and you'll make a decent proposal.” You hope he can't notice your hands shaking as you step out of the car, almost stumbling on the sidewalk. His words burn through your mind, sending shivers down your spine. “I won't say I'll marry you in the middle of the sidewalk, in the middle of the night, in front of Mike's house.”

“Did I just make you nervous?” Billy's arms come to encircle your waist, his deep voice, and breath on your hair making you sigh.

“Shut up, Hargrove.” With the sweet sound of his laughter on your ear, you knock on the front door, trying to push him away before someone comes to answer. “Let go.”

“Are you using my cologne again?” As soon as he asks, you feel his nose softly rubbing your neck, what makes you giggle and try to push him away again, uselessly. “You are.”

It wasn't your intention to let him find out, but he always does. “Well, it was–”

The door is suddenly open, a yellowish light hitting your eyes as you try to stand up straighter. The woman standing there gives a step back as if she just saw a ghost. Her eyes fly from Billy and back at you, then all the way back to Billy. It hits you suddenly as you realize she's Mrs. Wheeler, the woman Billy was going to meet on the day the Mind Flayer almost got him. They haven't met or spoken since that day, and you weren't expecting her to look so... Perplexed. You try to read her expression, to understand what the look in her eyes means.

“Hello, Mrs. Wheeler.” You manage to say because Billy clearly won't even try to be polite. You feel his muscles tensing up, as he gets immediately uncomfortable under the woman's stare since she doesn't seem to even try to hide. “Sorry to disturb you. We're here for Mike.”

@chloe-skywalker @dpaccione @dreamin-of-dacre @funeral-7 @uncookspaget @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @halloweenbitch2764 @redlovett @multific @shinydixon @nikkixostan @clockworkballerina @nope-thanks

#imagine billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy stranger things #stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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bunnyywritings · 4 years

Note

May I please have headcanons on how hawks and grown up!midoriya would react if their daughter turned into a villain if it's ok? Thanks!!

their daughter becoming a villain

[a/n: this is such an amazing prompt! Thank you anon 💓I’m guessing the daughter is the reader? If that’s not what you had in mind then go ahead and let me know ☺️ I tried to make it as angsty as possible, I hope you enjoy! Uhh these came out longer than I thought...sorry -yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´-]

takami keigo

✾ he honestly had no idea you existed

✾ he was on parole one day and there was an incident

✾ he was too far to help but he saw the headlines

✾ the hero had completely disregarded the woman being held hostage and had gone for the villain

✾ this resulted in the woman being brutally murdered

✾ his stomach churned as he shut off the tv, she had looked vaguely familiar but he shrugged it off

✾ later on in the day, he got a call

✾ he had a kid...a daughter to be exact

✾ the woman he had just seen on tv was the mother, someone he had a one night stand with and forgot about

✾ so there he was, sat across from a 13 year old with his wings and her mother’s lightning, who had refused to talk to him

✾ it took a few months but you finally warmed up to him, even calling him dad/papa

✾ you had gotten accepted into UA and were very excited

✾ it wasn’t till the anniversary came up, you though you had repressed the memory but it all rushed back

✾ and as time went on, everyone saw the change

✾ you were questioning the principles of being a hero, questioning why heroes were in the right and all villains were automatically in the wrong just because they didn’t agree with the ideals of being a hero

✾ the last nail in the coffin was when you met Dabi

✾ it was completely by accident but you had recognized him and had asked him what it was like to be in the LOV

✾ he was gonna completely brush you off since he knew why your wings looked familiar but the tears in your eyes and the genuine pain in your voice tugged at his heart and he had taken you to the hide out and had somehow convinced shigaraki to hear you out

✾ he did and invited you to join...an invitation that you had greatfully accepted

✾ sneaking back into the house, you got a few things and left nothing but a feather on your pillow

✾ that was the last time your dad saw you

✾ until...

After having run away from home, you were confined to the LOV hideout for a bit because police and heroes alike were searching for you and Shigaraki didn’t want you to draw attention.

Taking a page from Dabi’s book, you bleached and dyed your hair. It was now a bright, fun color instead of the drab natural hair you had before. You quite liked it. Your wings, however, were the same maroon as before. There wasn’t much you could do about it, at least not until one day that Toga had rushed into the hideout with some pet safe dye she bough. It would effectively dye your wings without damaging them and without needing to use bleach. Whenever you looked into the mirror, you barely recognized yourself. Your hair a fiery red and wings a jet black. Dabi had even given you a few piercings per your request, your favorite was the tongue one.

“Hmm so what d’you think?” You hummed, sticking your tongue out to show the metal stud.

“Ooh (y/n)! You look so adorable!” Toga squealed in delight.

“I agree, it looks super cute!” Twice agreed before downturning his thumb. “Looks terrible! Any hero with a magnet quirk would rip it out!” You giggled and thanked him.

Dabi watched from the side, a small smile tugging at his lips. It had been a bout a year since you had joined and he had noticed that you were way happier than before. He had felt a connection with you and he couldn’t help but see you almost as a little sister. He looked out for you, made sure you were eating and sleeping well.

After you had been missing for around two years, Keigo gave up looking for you. He had lost hope of ever finding you. There was a new villain who had joined the league that he had to worry about, it didn’t seem like they were up to anything violent...just petty crime. He couldn’t help but notice that as the anniversary of your mothers’ death came up, the crimes got more and more violent. It wasn’t until he was called on the scene that he had realized why.

On that day, Shigaraki had called a meeting. You were finally going to get the chance to get justice for your mother and there was absolutely no hesitation when you had agreed to come along. You had just through you were going to go in and smack him around a bit. You definitely did and it was more than a bit, but he was still breathing when you left him a limp mess on the ground...just barely. What you hadn’t noticed was that Dabi had gone in after you and set fire to the agency, after making sure those who weren’t targets had made it out. So you were a bit surprised to see the building being engulfed by gorgeous blue flames. Dabi smirked and threw an arm around your shoulder.

“How’s it feel kid? He finally paid up.”

“Yeah, and I say good riddance.” You smirked along with him, absolutely no remorse in your voice.

“B-aby bird?” You cringed at the name. Dabi frowned as he felt you tense up. Both of you turning around to see Hawks and Endeavor. He couldn’t believe it was really you. “(Y-Y/n)...w-what did you do to y-yourself?” There was tears in his eyes as he looked you over. Watching as you rolled your eyes, reaching a gloved hand up and removing the muzzle like mask from your face.

“What do you think Keigo?” You spat, “I got justice. That disgusting excuse for a human being murdered my mother and was basically praised for it!”

“That’s still a human being...where’s his justice?” His mind was racing, trying to figure out what in the hell was going on.

“We just gave him his justice, bird-brain!” Dabi snickered from beside you.

“You’re more angry about this bastards death than my mother’s?” You stalked over to your ‘father.’ “HOW DARE YOU! My mother was INNOCENT! She was held hostage and murdered because a hero wanted to make it on the front page!” Your feathers ruffling up with your anger, lightning crackling to life around them.

“I thought-but you said you wanted to be a hero? W-what happened?”

Scoffing, you brought your finger up to your cheek and pulled down the skin under your eye, tongue sticking out and a wicked look in your eye. “Things change pops! Try and catch me if you can!” You felt Kurogiri’s warp gate ruffle your feathers and you tugged at Dabi’s coat sleeve. He threw his arm around you once again and stuck his tongue out at both pro heroes as well, Keigo took notice of the matching tongue piercings the both of you had. “I’ve got a new family, I don’t need a phony holding me back.” You winked, flapping your wings and both you and Dabi leaned back and fell into the the purple mist. While Dabi’s heart swelled with warmth at your words, Keigo’s grew cold and crumbled into little pieces. He fell to his knees, holding out both his hands to catch the stray feather that had floated down. He gently caressed it with his gloved thumb, gazing sadly at the faded black dye, the natural maroon was faint but it shone through.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Kicking himself and trying to see where everything went wrong.

He lost his baby...he wasn’t sure if he’s ever bounce back from it. Not only was it the day that your mother died but it was the day he lost you too.

pro! midoriya izuku

✰ never would he had thought that things would end up like this

✰ he had been blessed with a beautiful wife, but with a healthy set of twins

✰ a baby boy and girl

✰ however, you were both quirkless

✰ either way, you and your brother were loved and cared for

✰ you grew up idolizing both All Might and your father

✰ it wasn’t until the both of you were going to take UA entrance exam that it happened

✰ you both new that he had possessed One for All

✰ so when your brother had suddenly manifested a quirk, your heart broke

✰ Midoriya watched as tears cascaded down your cheeks, a blank look in your eyes

✰ you couldn’t believe it, he had passed it down to your brother...

✰ you withdrew your application for the hero course and applied to the General Studies course

✰ with your grades alone, you instantly got in

✰ and even as your father congratulated you, you could see the overwhelming pride in his eyes as he praised your brother for getting into the Hero Course

✰ it wasn’t until your third year that you had enough

✰ you watched your brother receive special treatment, how he flew through each semester with absolutely shit grades but he was going to take your father’s place as the symbol of hope

✰ you watched your brother become the pride and joy of the family

✰ your accomplishments never even got any attention, always being brushed off by your father who was too busy helping with your brother’s training

✰ even your mom ignored you in favor of babying your brother

✰ so you left

✰ it took them a whole three days to notice

✰ in the first week of working as what society viewed as a “villain”, you made quite the name for yourself, in your first year of working...well, let’s just say that there was a good amount of heroes on the look out for you

✰ in reality, the villains were the ones abusing their power to oppress those that lacked those insignificant quirk cells...those a re the people you got rid of

✰ you had captured a low level “hero” that had been framing innocent people for crimes they didn’t commit, all to get his name to the top of some stupid list

✰ that’s when your father saw you again

“How pathetic.” You spat, wiping the blood from your Bowie knife on your black cargo pants. The man whimpered in fear, still trying to escape his restraints. Relacing your boots, you stomped on his ankle. A sickening crack echoeing through the empty room. Tears leaked from his blindfold. “This would be so much easier if you confessed, y’know?” You chuckled manically, gazing into the camera before refocusing on the task at hand. “No? Okay then.” Shrugging, you pulled the cloth sack over his head.

You fixed the plain face mask that you had worn and made your way into the convenience store and picked up some cheap and quick things to eat before heading back to the abandoned warehouse that was working as your base for now

What you hadn’t noticed, was the person following you. They watched as you entered the building.

“Deku...I can’t believe I’m saying this but I think it’s her.” He spoke into the earpiece. “I’m going in.”

Back inside, you sighed and tossed the wrapper of your meat bun to the side. You were growing irritated. You had this man chained up for three days and he hadn’t said a word. No matter how much you cut at his skin, no matter how much you made him bleed. Growling, you went to your table of toys and grabbed a gun and reloaded the magazine. The sound of a cocking gun made the hero quiver in fear.

“Alright, I’m done playing games with you!” You pulled off the cloth hood and ripped off his blindfold. You placed the muzzle of the gun right under his chin. “Confess or pay for your sins!” His lips quivered.

You were intimidating, despite technically still being a third year. You had a mask that was similar to Shinso’s artificial vocal cords, it distorted your voice and your eyes were wide with insanity. Your outfit could be classified as tech wear. You had a harness strapped above the black long sleeve you were wearing. Multiple knives and other weapons strapped to the harnesses on your thighs.

He stayed silent, eyes glossing over with more tears as you pressed the cold metal into his skin. “OKAY! OKAY! I DID IT!” His voice cracked as a satisfied smirk played on your lips.

“What did you do, Mr. Hero?”

“I-I framed all those people. The ones in jail, people that were put on death row. They’re innocent!”

“Good to know Mr.” You giggled. “The jury finds you guilty of all accusations, Penalty: Death.” You grinned.

“WAIT-!”

A gunshot echoed through the warehouse as he fell limp in his chair. The splattering of warm blood against your skin made you shiver.

“Great, now I’m all dirty...” You sighed.

Just before anything else happened, an explosion sent you skidding across the room.

The dust clearing and your eyes widened. “Uncle Katsuki?” You asked softly.

When Bakugo saw the blood, he panicked that he had hurt you but then he noticed the body that had fallen to the ground. Gun still in your hand. Anger bubbled in his chest.

“YOU DAMN IDIOT!! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-“ Before he could finish his reprimands, Shoto ran in.

“Uncle Shoto...” The fog in your head cleared as memories of simpler times flooded your brain. The days where you’d get spoiled by Uncle Katsuki and Shoto before they had their own kids. The comfort they offered you before you ran off.

Shoto took advantage of your distraction and slowly approached you. “(Y/n)...sweetheart I need you to put the gun down okay? You’re safe now.” The look in your eyes was too familiar. It was the way his mother’s eyes looked when he first saw her in the hospital. Broken, lost, terrified. He knew you weren’t in your right mind. Hope filled both him and Katsuki as your trembling hand held the gun out to him. Of course, that was until-

“(Y/N)!!” You flinched, snapping out of your docile state. Eyes hardening once more as you kicked away form Todoroki’s knelt form. Seeing your father filled you with absolute rage.

Midoriya froze, eyes running over the scene. Realization setting in as he saw the gun clutched in your hand.

“D-did you do that?” He asked, eyes glossy.

“And what about it?” You giggled. “Why do you care all of a sudden? HUH? DAD? WHY NOW?!”

“You’re a murderer (y/n)...a villain.”

“Better than being a phony and pathetic hero! I’M NOT IN IT FOR THE MONEY!” You growled, cocking the gun and pointing it at Midoriya. “But he was. He’s had dozens of people locked away for life, people sent to the electric chair for things they didn’t do...all because he wanted to be in the top 10.” You shrugged, biting your lip coyly. “He’s the real villain here, not me.”

Midoriya clenched his fists, holding in his tears. It felt like his heart was violently being ripped from his chest. “I thought I raised you better. How do you think your mom feels? Or grandma? Your own brother-“

“Uhm, news flash! This is all your fault! Plus, I couldn’t care less about my degenerate of a brother!” That’s what made Shoto and Katsuki realize what happened. “WHY?! WHY HIM?!” They were all caught off guard by the tears that drenched your cheeks. “I worked hard and did my best...but that wasn’t enough for you! He was failing all his studies but NOBODY CARED! He was your successor and that was enough! I got a B on my final exam and all you did was give me a lecture about the importance of studying...HE FAILED! HE GOT AN F AND ALL YOU SAID WAS TO TRY HARDER NEXT TIME!”

The tears finally escaped Midoriya’s eyes. ‘Did he really do that to you?’ ‘Had he been such a terrible father that it drove you to this?’

“HOW WAS A QUIRKLESS DISSAPOINTMENT LIKE ME SUPPOSED TO COMPETE WITH THE GREAT DEKU’S SUCCESSOR?! YOU BASICALLY SET ME UP FOR FAILURE!” The tears were streaming down your face but instead of sobs leaving your lips, they were replaced by deranged giggles. “It’s okay Papa...don’t feel bad. It’ll all end soon.” No one noticed when you pulled the pin from the sphere in your hand. Not until the flash bang went off and everyone turned to shield their eyes.

Once they regained their senses, you were far gone. Leaving behind empty meat bun wrappers and several cassettes taped with confessions of those that you had ruled guilty. He screamed. It was so gutteral that it hadn’t sounded human. His body filled with dread and anguish.

“I’m sorry (y-y/n)...I never meant to-“ A choked sob interrupted his whispers. Then another...then another. Both Katsuki and Shoto watched helplessly as their friend completely broke down. Their hearts heavy as well. The little girl they watched grow up was gone.

“I lost her...she’s gone.”

𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱(open) : @ohbois-biggay-bnha @yuiji-yuiji

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku x reader #pro hero midoriya #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #anon ask #anon request

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barnesandco · 4 years

Text

Blame it on the Heartache

A broken woman finds a lost man, and they try to put each other back together.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2020. Word count: approximately 2219. Square filled: “Morning Sex”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, warzones, and one brief mention of persecution of LGBT people in Chechnya. Oh and also smut. Lots of smut (18+ only). It was supposed to be just smut, but then angst happened, and here we are.

A/N: There’s some talk about blame in this fic, and honestly, I blame (and thank) @heli0s-writes, this post, and this one. Also, there will be a part 2 some time next week.

You find him by accident. Kiev bar just after dawn, with wooden bar tops and table tops all rotting with the steady decay of time and too little money, disguises his head of dark hair and grimy outline in a corner booth perfectly but your eyes lock onto the side profile, the slope of his nose and the bow of his lips arching against the light of the snow outside. The Winter Soldier, or the shell he has left behind, sits with a shot glass clutched loosely in a gloved hand, the other one’s fingers decorated with rings.

They’re intriguing things, that you watch closely from the bar, pounding head distracted by the scent of hot chocolate and the jewellery that is both the manifestation of wishes for a prettier life, and the mark of a roughened man at the same time. The light catches on a round ruby set on a silver band on his forefinger. It reminds you of the red star painted on gleaming gray you first saw smuggling political refugees from one warzone into another. The time you were a spy, before you were an activist, before you gave up all hope of NGO pretenses and took things into your own hands, helping people with only the wind to guide you.

Not that you succeeded much. Now, days after desperate depression and harrowing hopelessness thanks to only having managed to rescue half as many queer Chechen teens from their torture cells as intended, you are aching with the weight of your uselessness. The air around you, the tonnes of the morning sky are pressing down on your shoulders, and the whiskey in your hot chocolate is doing little to relieve the tension.

The sorrow is what you will blame, later. Or perhaps, the alcohol, although there is barely a syringe’s worth of it in your system with less than half your mug still empty and going cold quick. You’ll fault the loneliness of decades helping a world that does not want to become better for how you rise from your stool and sit down across from the man who thinks he is a stranger to you.

You’ve read the stories. Seen the videos of the helicarrier falling apart above the Potomac, the camera footage captured by a daring chopper, and the Smithsonian’s exhibit on Bucky Barnes. The eyes staring back at you, calculating, clever, above cutting cheekbones, are the same as the ones on the wall in the museum. He’s had a century of pain and you only tenths of one, but the hurt rings out and resonates clearly, a sonic bell of a distress signal, captured by wandering eyes and inexplicable want.

You wonder what he will blame for his response to you unbuttoning the top of your shirt, and your hand over his. Possibly, the fact that he’s been on the run for a year. A year out of the cryostasis detailed by the files the Black Widow leaked in D.C. A year of running, of being alone and sometimes worse -- only the haunting nightmares for company. Your sympathy, the same one that pushes you to keep at your job when it is forever hopeless, is what pulls your heartstrings closer to him.

His fingers tighten around yours, and you blame desolation. You blame the flaming burn of want that shines from his eyes when he sees a face that is not just friendly, but maybe familiar, too. Something tells you you ought to be scared, as he rises and drops a hryvnia bill on the table, and leaves, still holding your hand, but the strength of his grip deters you. The hold is gentle, calloused, the rings grazing your palm as he adjusts to intertwine your hands, so each metal band comes to rest against the sensitive skin between your fingers. Tight enough to feel coarse skin and trembling desire, but loose enough that you can easily leave. Run. You are not being forced anywhere.

The streets of Kiev become a shimmering, white backdrop to his face that looks even more stunning in the light. How much of your last encounter does he recall, if any? New Mexico, 2001, protection detail for war scarred children who needed to evacuate, one of which was an heir to a throne. A brawl in a market, sweat-sticky sundress flaring furiously, the heat of the American sun no match for that of his arms around you. A dance, a twirling battle, and the gasping from breath in the aftermath was one hell of a challenge. Something that restored your faith in your job.

But you’re far from Albuquerque, now, and are reminded of that fact as he leads you to the polar opposite of a southern tavern. It’s an inn. A quaint, small place, more wood, this one gleaming brown on the walls and the hardwood floors and the mahogany counter, all well kept. He strides past the burning fireplace in the lobby and climbs the stairs two at a time, as you struggle to keep up. Part of your lust-addled brain thinks to joke about how he has you panting before he’s even gotten you in bed.

All thought of laughter evaporates when he shuts the door and presses you against it with his human forearm pressing on your neck. Tight enough to threaten but loose enough to let you breath. Your heart beats faster, the pulse of your veins thrumming a little closer to the surface.

Who are you? he growls in Ukrainian, eyes shifting between threatening and offering little hints of fear. When you do not answer, he asks, who sent you?

The material of his jacket is rough where it pushes into you. You have to fight to speak. “Nobody.” The English makes his eyes widen, and you barely have time to question whether this move killed you or saved you, when he takes his arm off your neck and replaces it with his mouth.

Heavenly heat, hellish white light, blinding ecstasy erupts like a volcano where he begins to devour you like he hasn’t for centuries, for millennia of loneliness, and there, in the innocent hotel room, your head fills with images of everything but. Hands find his hair, knock the woollen hat off his head while his teeth trace a pleasure-trail down your neck and to your collarbone, his fingers clenching on your hips.

You push back, off the door and into the room, standing now, supporting your own weight on weak knees and shaking breath. He steals the last of it you have left when he leaves your collarbone -- a bruise blooming ripely in the color of a plum -- to find your lips, and this, this is what salvation tastes like. Vodka and whiskey and chocolate, on lips chapped but lush and soft beyond the rough exterior. A gasping sound of want released in a hurried exhale between kisses makes him growl from somewhere in his chest.

The vibrations reach your heart, heavy and loud and beating a march of deathly desire on your rib cage. You hold onto him with tight fists, like he will float away, because this is the only way to let go. There is a reassurance, in his hands clutching your jeans tighter, that he isn’t leaving. His fingers slip under your sweater, and then under your shirt, and you break away with a gasp as cold metal -- full hand on one side, and slim rings on the other -- meets your skin.

Then you press his hands to you tighter, let him tear your upper layers away, tug his jacket and sweater off his shoulders as he becomes well acquainted with the tops of your breasts, the parts visible above your bra. Head bowed in sacred confession, he finds rescue in your body, skin shining in the light of the beginning day behind you. A new start.

A new hiding place, he goes down on both knees, laving at your belly button, leaving you spit-shiny and cooling in the chilly air. He takes your jeans off slowly, a contrast to every other step made so far, and mouths at your mound, soaking your underwear further with slow, maddening movements of his tongue. You’ve had enough. This buzzing heat has turned to forest fire in your pulse, and you take your bra off and pull him up and towards you.

His chest is warm against you when you fall back against the bed, his weight recognizable. The Soldier -- James, you think, for now -- buries himself in your neck with a renewed vigor. Begins to move down your body to the apex of your thighs, where you are wet. Dripping, soaking wet, just for him. The first touch of his tongue to your honey-sweet slick is an electric spark, and he lights you up like the fourth of July with every touch after. Fireworks in your irises mirror the flames licking up your spine, and his eyes meet yours when he opens them in moments of reprieve from enjoying the taste of you.

Purgatory, this limbo between right and wrong, is the closest you have been to joy in as long as you can remember. It aches in your limbs as you inch closer to the cliff’s edge of delectable joy.

“Enough,” you say, when you ache for more, when you are empty and wanting only him inside of you, all of him, and he moves away. Trepidation in his eyes at the thought of being pushed away evaporates when you pull him back, the flow of your pushes and pulls echoing with the power of the moon, and how it brings the waves to lap at the land a reflection of how James’ chest meets yours when you have opened the buttons of his shirt.

It hangs open, a curtain around you, and you dexterously strip him of his jeans as well, toes pushing at the waistband and belt falling off the bed with a clink that sounds like the final nail in the coffin. You’ll gladly die a little death here, if he’s the executioner.

His cock is leaking with arousal, hard against the lines of his abdomen begin to smear a shiny trail against you as well, and you take him in hand and he groans. Throbbing hot in your hand, velvet heat over solid steel hardness, and you spit in your hand before slicking him up a little more, his moans louder and unreserved in your clavicle, teeth grazing the spots he has made tender.

Desperate man. Lonely, sweet, sad man. Your heart aches for him, and you want to give him more than his cruel lifetimes have so far. You want to give him warmth, starting with the warmth of your silk body, as he slips inside of you, slumping, his forehead pressing into your shoulders and murmuring what you think is a prayer into you.

His hands are moving with feverish intensity over you, metal warmer now, as he throbs and pulses and then adjusts to your heat. All that while, you hold him. Hands first over his shoulder blades, then moving your right hand to his left, slipping under his hold on the sheets to entwine his fingers with yours the way he did in the street that feels miles below wherever you’re flying.

He’s so big, and you are so full, nerves prickling with electrostatic lust, that you have to focus on the swell of him above you, the hand holding yours and the shape of the rings on his fingers not to lose it right there. Then he starts moving.

And you’ll swear you’ve never felt true bliss before this moment, because James moving inside you, with slow thrusts, stretching your walls in delightful pain, is a luxury you’ve never lived before. Stealing your breath, his pace picks up, and you feel every ridge along his length on the inside of your body. Fire pools in your belly, and his hand is drawn to it. He supports himself on his metal arm, and trails the other down your torso. Obsidian shimmers on his ring finger and there is the unmistakable wink of vibranium on his little finger, as his hand dips lower to your clit, and you watch the spot where he moves in and out.

Lascivious eyes watch you watch his fingers circle your nub, tracing the path to your gratification, and they shine when you mewl, arching up, circling your hips. Climbing higher and higher, he moves faster, hits a spot in you that burns brighter than the Sun rising in the sky, and everything explodes in a supernova of heat, color behind your eyelids and warmth flooding your insides as he spills deep, growls against your throat, hand clutching your wrist when he falls forward.

You are marked up in his artistry, a painting of pleasure in the mouth-made bruises on your neck and the fingerprints on your hips, and the circular indentations from his rings on your neck. He softens inside you, as you overflow with your combined pleasures, and you hum against the crown of his head, as you run your fingers through his scalp. Sated man, grateful man, miracle pleasure, purring in your arms, too dangerous to keep, but too comfortable a weight to let go of so soon.

#ayesha writes #SSB2020 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction

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thecandywrites · 3 years

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The Beginning of Stormbreaker Part 1

So, my treat to myself, for Orctober this year. Is going back to Heaven and Fire, how Warchief Drad and Warchieftess Rhosland got to be the head of the clan. Now there is an overview of this story that is in Of Heaven and Fire. But I wanted a chance to really tell this story that would explain a lot about Brock and his upbringing through his parent’s eyes.

So lets go around and introduce people shall we? Top row from left to right. Top left- Tar, next to him, Orcoth, Middle- Esri. Over towards the right- Sarg.

Next row down, Shadi, middle- Our Gurl, our Queen- Rhosland.

Bottom row, left bottom corner, Baka, and then to the right Drad. handsome, handsome Drad.

The Beginning Of Clan Stormbreaker

Part 1

Rhosland was washing the pearls she had collected that day from the oysters and other shellfish she and her sister had gotten while her mother was cooking yet another seafood stew with the meat from the shellfish while Esri took what meager tools she had to carve and shape the shells, shaving off the ugly sides and shaping up the pretty sides of the shells into jewelry for the Warchief’s eldest son Tar and his two wives Baka and Shadi since they were both due to give birth in the next couple of weeks since Tar's other brother's wives and even Tar’s sisters had already given birth in the last few months and all the previous births had produced daughters and Tar's wives were the clan's last hope for a male heir this year.

However Rhosland took the fact that all of the pearls collected not just today but all summer were green or a pale yellowish green as an omen of the opposite since in orcish culture, green was associated with girls, because green signified the goddess Angja, the goddess of fertility and her primary colors were black- signifying black, fertile soil and green- the color of rich foliage and food. Red was associated with males, and specifically Zighorh, the god of war and the battlefield- since orcs were a warring species and red signified the color of blood that the male would spill onto the ground, making it extra rich and fertile which in turn would be a blessing for Angja.

Rhos and her twin sister Esri had even searched far and wide for pearls that would either hopefully be white which was neutral, or any shade of pink or red. But all they had found all summer was green pearls and thus all their gifts to the new mothers in the warchief’s family had been green, which was appropriate, but disappointing and all Rhosland could feel as she washed these was dread because if Shadi and Baka gave birth to daughters again, she knew Tar would get another wife, as his brothers had done, while their wives were still healing from the births and therefore could not give or receive carnal pleasure, had taken more wives and whether those wives were with child, was still too soon to tell but it had stirred quite a bit of contempt between the elder wives and the new.

Shadi and Baka were supposed to be birthing males for their husband Tar, they had done all kinds of rather bizarre rituals and ceremonies so that they believed that they had conceived sons and would succeed where their sisters in law had failed and Tar would finally have at least one, if not two male heirs to continue his lineage after the last five years of having only daughters by Shadi and the last three years of just having daughters by Baka and he was getting desperate to have a son besides his combined eight daughters, all of whom he did not care for at all and was beginning to take offense that his wives had only given him daughters so far while others in the clan were having sons, everyone except himself and his brothers and other sisters.

Tar’s father, the Clan Chief- Zash was equally desperate for at least one of his five sons to have a son themselves because his shaman had foretold that the Skull Screamer Clan would die under a lone Clan Chieftess or even a Warchieftess. So male heirs to continue the clan was of paramount importance.

Once Rhosland would be done washing the pearls, she would need to sort them and arrange them by size and hue of color and would be using a special needle to pierce each one to go on thread or cords for a necklace or earrings before there was a knock on the door before Rhosland’s mother Shari left the cooking fire to answer it to find Tar there.

“Well hello! Welcome Warlord Tar.” Shari greeted him respectfully.

“Thank you Shari, is Rosey here?” He asked hopefully as Rhosland looked at her mother’s back with disgust, she hated that nickname almost as much as she hated the man that gave it to her, who was her current caller and suitor and has been after her for the last thirteen years of her already 18 year old life and she had been repulsed by him since childhood, and into her teens and now into adulthood.

“Yes, she’s here, won’t you come in, we’re making a seafood stew for dinner, won’t you stay and have some with us?” She offered hospitably before she showed him in as Rhosland quickly tried to wipe her disgust off her face and put on a pleasant, respectful smile when he came into their mud brick hut and smiled at Rhosland as Esri was just grateful he wasn’t here for her this time as she stayed in the corner and paused in her working to keep from making any noise or movement and therefore attract any attention, wanting to blend in with the walls.

“I’d love to, the smell is what drew me. Did Rosey make it?” He asked.

“Of course!” Shari answered as Rhos had just rinsed the soapy water off of her hands and got up from the washing basin where the pearls were, grateful the soapy suds on the surface of the water concealed what was in it.

“Rosey has always made the best stews.” Tar praised as Rhos begrudgingly took her own meager wooden bowl filled it for him and handed him her own wooden spoon so he could eat the stew her mother had spent the last several hours making as he sat down and helped himself and quickly scarfed it down and then had seconds and then thirds so that he ate over two thirds of it all by himself and of course most of the meat in it, leaving some broth and chunks of vegetables behind.

“Oh it’s amazing. Well this is a good sign, the day after tomorrow, we will be going on a raid and I came by to inform you all that when we come back successfully, my father is stepping down and making me Clan Chief's Warchief, and my wives should be delivering sons to me in the next couple of weeks and I wanted to inform you that when I come back, I will give you all the spoils that I will be taking on the raid and it should be more than enough gold especially to give you Shari- for supplies for a proper house that I and my captains and commanders will make for you so that you can live in a proper house of timbers instead of a house of mud and mud bricks because no mother in law of a Clan Chief Warcheif should ever live in a mud house.” He announced and Rhos felt like she was being put into a coffin and Tar was the one driving the nails of the lid in as panic and dread filled her as she looked pleadingly at her mother to please decline the offer but her mother’s own excited smile told her that her own mother would not rescue her from this fate this time.

“Oh that’s wonderful, of course Clan Chief Warchief Tar, which of my daughters will you be taking?” Shari asked as Esri practically shrunk down as Rhos was too frozen in fear to move, much less blink or breathe.

“Why Rosey of course since she is the eldest twin because she is by far the prettiest in the clan, but if I am to elevate her I must also elevate your whole family and then once your house is built, then I will happily take Esri after that.” He answered happily.

“Oh happy day, may you know nothing but victory on the battlefield then!” Shari offered as she elbowed her eldest daughter as Rhos offered a polite smile but inwardly she was panicking.

“Well I know you’ll be successful, you should take your Rosey home with you so that she can be with child before you go!” Shari suggested as she tried to push Rhosland towards Tar but Rhos was rooted into the ground she was standing on.

“No!” Rhosland blurted in a booming voice as Shari and Tar both looked surprised by her objection.

“Please, no, Clan Chief Warchief Tar, I would hate to aggrieve your wives who are due to give birth soon and I would hate to give them any reason to be jealous of me and chance them going into labor too soon and something bad happening to your future sons. I think it would be best if we waited until you’re back and my mother’s house is built to her comfort and by then your sons will be born and your current wives will still be healing and will not be able to receive their pleasure from you at that time so you’ll need us then.” Rhosland offered desperately grasping at anything she could think of to give him a reason not to take her right then and there.

“Oh that’s a good point, yes, for now,” Tar said before he forced a kiss onto her lips as Rhosland forced herself not to bite his face and endured it before he did the same to Esri before he left and they both quickly wiped his kisses off their lips as spit out onto the ground in disgust.

“What is wrong with you girls?” Shari asked her daughters.

“He has no affection for me outside of feeding him or draping him and his family with pearls.” Rhosland bit out hatefully as she washed her bowl and spoon so that she wouldn’t taste any more of him than she absolutely had to.

“And he is selfish for claiming both of us at the same time and eating most of our dinner.” Esri complained.

“But you two would only be only the third and fourth wives of the Clan Chief Warchief who would be second only to his father, your father in law, the richest and most powerful family in the whole clan, it’s not like you would be the sixth and seventh or 12th and 13th or anything. And he promised to elevate our whole family, that means that all of us would be taken care of and all we have is what’s around us which isn’t much of anything. Why must you fight this so insistently?” Shari urged her daughters as Esri and Rhosland both shared a meaningful look.

“Esri? It’s getting to be fall, we need to go on a hunting and gathering trip, try to get something for the winter, we should leave first thing tomorrow and since Tar is going to Rush Fang which is to the Southeast, let’s go in the opposite direction, Northwest, over in the neutral land between us and Hurricane Breaker, they would take no quarrel with two women gathering and fishing there, especially unarmed ones.” Rhos pleaded with her younger twin sister who nodded yes emphatically.

Then Rhos gave herself a third of what was left of the seafood stew and quickly ate it then left again to go for a walk to cool her head and try to see the positives instead of feeling like she was going to die as she found a little stream near the estuary and sat on one of the rocks on the shore and stuck her feet into the cooling waters and just cried into her hands, surrounded by a cocoon of tall marsh grass as her crystal tears came flooding out of her eyes as she did her best to catch them all and put them into her little and mostly empty coin purse.

Meanwhile Drad was feeling panic grip his own chest as Tar was proudly bragging in the town hall about his latest soon to be conquests of “his Rosey”, and after he would come back, he was going to actually be taking both Rosey and Esri, as he continued to eat the roasted wild boar on the spit as Drad and his brother Sarg both looked guiltily and worriedly at each other before Drad could hear no more of it and got up and left, and went to his house and got his old bow and set of arrows. Since he had just made himself a new bow with new arrows just for this raid and went looking for Rhos, letting his heart lead him to her and found Rhos sobbing in the thick tall grasses that the little streams flowed through and knew just by the sounds, it was Rhos and it broke his heart to hear her be so upset as he wanted nothing more than to go to her and soothe her hurt and take her far away from here.

Because Rhos had made it abundantly clear to everyone that she was not interested in Tar since childhood and Drad had loved her from afar ever since they were toddlers and was just waiting on Tar to lose interest so he could move in on her himself because she was not just the most beautiful woman in the clan in his eyes but the most excellent one as well.

She danced with more grace than any water sprite and sang better than any singer and played wonderful music on any instrument she picked up and she was a natural healer and had healed Tar and himself and their warband on so many previous occasions and even though she was in one of the poorest families in the clan and lived in a mud and mud brick hut, it was always clean as were her clothes and her person. She was also the most humble, unassuming, discrete, modest and meek and mild but didn’t let others trample on her either.

But she had dignity and grace and self respect and he held her in such high esteem and always took her excellent council when he sought it and they had always been good friends and he had always been attracted to her and he knew in his bones that she must have felt the same way at least a little bit, because she looked at him differently than she looked at anyone else. Because she had admitted to him that she had always admired him and especially the loving and caring way he treated his own mother and the other elders in the clan and always treated her with respect and dignity even though she was of a lower station and class than him.

She smiled more at him than anyone else, she laughed with him more than anyone else and she sought out his company just as much as he sought hers and they got along amazingly and had so much natural chemistry but because of Tar, he couldn’t claim her as his own and thankfully no one else could either and vowed he would never marry unless she did. And now that she was officially betrothed to Tar, he felt he was going to swear off women forever because if he could not have Rhosland, no other would do.

He had even flirted with the idea of swearing off the clan and taking her away and start a new clan or join another. They would be alienated from the rest of their families but they would have each other because right now, even at his position of First Commander of Captains to Tar as Tar was Warlord of his own warband, it didn’t matter as much as losing Rhos to Tar and he resented Tar more in this moment than ever had before. And he felt if he didn't at least make an effort now, he was going to regret it forever.

“Rhos?” He called out as he was a little ways away and saw her head bolt up but the tears were streaking down her face as she tried to use her sleeves to wipe them away after she put the crystal tears away.

“Who’s there?” She asked.

“It’s just me, Drad.” He answered before he came over and saw that she was curled in on herself as her hair was down to cover her face, that gorgeous gold neck tattoo on the back of her neck glimmering and shimmering in the sea of green and tan seagrasses as her dark curly hair was a curtain of soft black silk.

“I take it you’ve heard “the news”.” Rhos croaked as even more tears welled in her eyes.

“I have, I’m sorry.” Drad offered as he came and sat down next to her and took his boots off to put his feet in the water with her and smiled sadly at their wavy reflections in the water side by side, wishing he could capture this as being one of the few moments they could be together.

“That’s a weird way to say “congratulations”,” Rhos tried to tease as she tried to wipe her new tears away and force herself not to cry and was failing miserably.

“If those were happy tears, I would be offering congratulations, but since they are clearly not, I will offer my apologies and sympathies.” Drad stated simply.

“Please don’t say anything…” Rhos tried pleading.

“About what to who? I take it he didn’t give you a choice this time.” Drad gathered.

“No he did not, neither did my mother, he offered her more than she could refuse. He offered her all the spoils of the raid you’re all going on so that she could buy enough wood for a timber house and have all of his commanders and captains help build it for her, because ‘no mother in law to a warchief should live in a mud house’.” Rhos paraphrased in a condescending tone as Drad frowned deeply and if only he had known that that was her mother’s price, he would have done that for her a decade ago when he was building his own house for himself.

Orcs aged quickly, they were considered grunt sized at 10 or 11 which for them were their teenage years, adults by 12 or 13, fully mature by 15 and middle aged by 17 or 18 and getting old past 20. But because Rhos was only half orc she grew and matured at a much much slower rate, being a child still at 13, barely a teenager at 14 through 17 and only in the last year had she seemed to physically mature and “finish” growing up, just in the last year, finally getting her last big growth spurt so that she wasn’t less than half the size of everyone else, she was now only about 20% smaller than everyone else, getting that final growth spurt at 17 instead of at 12 for all the other orcs, which is why Tar had not claimed or mated with her yet cause she had been too young and way too small before now, but with her finally getting that last growth spurt and her previously barely budded breasts getting larger growing fuller along with her hips too so that her shape was now perfect and voluptuous even though she was still on the petite side, that must have been what Tar had been waiting on as was Rhosland’s own mother as well it seemed. But for Drad, for her to take so long to mature as a child, teen and young adult, that meant that, provided no one killed her off and cut her life short- she would live much longer as would her children after her because obviously whatever her father was- was also something that lived long too and such a long life would surely lend to stability.

“So what will you do?” Drad asked.

“Esri and I are going on a hunting and gathering trip, I’ve heard Tar talking about going to raid Rush Fangs, so my sister and I will go in the opposite direction, over towards Hurricane Breaker since there’s another estuary that’s neutral land between us that might have some good fish or shellfish in it or even some game, last winter we all froze so if we could get a deer hide, at least we would get leather for decent boots this year, or if not, I can still hold out hope that a bear will come and eat me so I won’t have to marry Tar.” Rhos answered as she looked at their shared reflection and sadly much preferred this reflection to Tar’s ugly face and even more hideous personality.

“Then take this, I hope it serves you as well as it has me.” Drad offered his bow and arrow and even his good hunting knife to her.

“Why are you giving me this?” Rhos asked suspiciously as she looked at them but made no move to take them.

“Because you’ll need it. I just got done making myself a new bow with new arrows, I have no need for it and you do. It’s not that I’m at all happy about your match with Tar, because I’m not. And I’m not condoning it or celebrating it or encouraging it in any way because you have never liked him and always made it abundantly clear that you never wanted him and you’re being forced into it and it’s wrong and I’m sorry. But you shouldn’t give up hope, not yet anyway. There’s still a dangerous raid between now and then. Plus Tar could always fail in the raid or fall to his death in a sink hole or something on the way there and he hasn’t come back successfully yet and he hasn’t mated with you yet so there’s still hope that you won’t have to go through with it. So take the bow and arrows, and use them and show Zash, Tar, Shadi and Baka that you’re not one to mess with or dominate and they are the ones who will have to watch out for you. And if anyone else asks though you can always say it’s a gift. Aren’t new brides supposed to receive gifts from the future Warcheif’s family and stuff? And if you do face off against a bear and can kill it, Tar’s wives might think twice before being domineering or aggressive towards you.” Drad tried to console, wishing he had the balls and the guts to say more but his hands were figuratively tied at this point, had been all his life. Because once a Warlord even claimed a woman in name, all others were forbidden from taking her and Tar had had his eye on Rhosland since they were kids and she had managed to keep Tar at bay until now because of her slow maturity rate.

“Thank you Drad.” Rhosland thanked him as she took his gift and put the bow and it’s quiver of arrows into her lap and put the knife in its sheath on her belt.

“You’re welcome Rhosland.” He answered as he gave her a lopsided grin because even when she was in pain, she was beautiful.

“You’re not going to be calling me ‘Rosey’ too?” Rhos asked, trying to be teasing but all that came out was bitterness and resentment.

“Nope, because that’s not your name. It’s either Rhosland or Rhos. You’ve never liked that particular nickname so I would never use it because you don’t like it. Because even though you’re prettier than any flower I’ve seen around here, you definitely don’t smell like a rose, you smell like creek water or river water or seawater most of the time.” Drad tried to tease her which got her to laugh away the last of her tears.

“Thanks, I appreciate your honesty. Well I wouldn’t say no to any rose scented soap if anyone ever found any.” Rhos hinted as she gave him a fond, adoring, appreciative smile.

“I’ll keep on the lookout then.” Drad offered as he returned her smile.

“Rosey! Rhosland! Where are you?!” They heard Tar’s wives Shadi and Baka hollered for her.

“Oh for fuck’s sakes.” Rhosland growled under her breath before she stood up.

“Over here.” Rhos waived them over as both of them waddled over, their heavily pregnant bellies wavering with their steps on the uneven land.

“Shouldn’t both of you be in bed?” Rhos asked as she closed the distance between them and met them halfway to keep them from seeing Drad alone with her to keep Drad out of trouble.

“No, Tar told us to go ahead and give you welcome gifts, so here.” Shadi spat particularly hatefully as she pulled off her own pearl necklace that Rhos had made her as tribute instead of accepting the last attempt Tar had made to try and marry Rhos and put it over Rhos’ neck but used it to pull Rhos closer.

“If you ever come between Tar and I, I will see to it that you never leave the water and sleep with the fish you’re so fond of swimming with- permanently.” Shadi growled as Drad was still sitting in the grasses and just shook his lowered head in shame. If only Tar could hear that as Baka did the same as Drad wanted to burst out of the grasses and confront them but stayed where he was because he didn’t want to make trouble for Rhos.

“Why do you have Drad’s old bow?” Baka asked Rhos after Rhos had assured and reassured them that she would never dream of coming between them and their husband.

“Because as Tar’s First Commander, he wanted to be the first to offer me a present for joining the warchief’s family. I’m also going on a hunting and gathering trip tomorrow, and he didn’t want me to lose my life to a bear or whatever.” Rhosland explained.

“Well then there’s still hope. Don’t forget if you shoot down deer, to save all the tenderloins for Tar and all the backstraps for us and all the roasts for our sons.” Baka and Shadi smiled smugly as they each tenderly rubbed their heavily pregnant bellies before they turned around and walked each other back before Rhos made an ugly face at their backs and walked back to where Drad was still sitting and waiting.

“That was a really nice warm reception.” Drad sarcastically quipped.

“Oh you heard that, did you? Well no point in saying you did. Tar would believe them over you. Because they are the mothers to his children.” Rhos sighed tiredly as she slumped back into her spot she had previously taken up, her shoulders sagging in defeat.

“And that’s exactly why I didn’t want to marry Tar because he has such lovely wives, how could I possibly compare?” Rhosland sarcastically quipped right back which got Drad to bark a laugh.

“Yeah, they’re real sweethearts.” Drad muttered before he made a gagging noise which made Rhosland laugh.

“Well I can tell you what, no son of mine would ever court or marry a daughter of theirs on the off chance they would turn out anything like their mothers.” Drad muttered lowly as he leaned over to her so he could say that softly so the whole world wouldn’t hear him.

“Me either.” Rhosland shook her head no.

“Thanks for the gifts though. I will put them to good use, good luck on your raid Drad, I hope you come back safe, if not for my sake, then at least for your mothers.” Rhosland offered before she left him be and walked back home, much happier and more at peace than she came to the marsh feeling. If only she could marry Drad instead.

Meanwhile Esri had left the house and walked in the opposite direction to do the same thing as Sarg found her already in the stream, staying under for way longer than normal, almost as if she was trying to drown herself as her own crystal tears fell to the bottom of the stream before she noticed he was on the shore and came up for air.

“I don’t see any...shellfish in this stream, so...what are you diving for?” Sarg asked awkwardly.

“For practice, to exercise my lungs to make sure I can keep staying under the water’s surface long enough to catch them.” Esri easily excused as she swam over to the edge and got out and sat on stream’s edge but simply sat there and sulked before Sarg came over and sat beside her.

“Have you heard the news?” Esri asked with a huff.

“About your impending betrothal to Tar? Yeah, the fucker won’t stop bragging about it. I’m sorry, I know you didn’t want this.” Sarg answered.

“That pig came and ate almost all of our dinner, told my mother that he was going to be giving her all the spoils from the raid so that she could get a timber house and then tried to take Rhosland tonight and will be taking me when he gets back. Thankfully Rhos bought us some time and we’re going away on a hunting trip tomorrow in the marsh between us and Hurricane Breaker while you guys go to Rush Fang. If my sister and I had been able to sell those god damn pearl necklaces instead of having to give them as tribute we would have been able to buy axes and cut down our own trees to make ourselves a timber house. But instead everything we have that’s good, Tar and his wives and the rest of the Warchief’s family just help themselves to and call it “tribute”. It’s not fair. I don’t want to be Tar’s fourth wife, or any wife to anyone in the Warchief’s family period, which is just another slave in his house and neither does Rhos, but Tar is Warlord and is so entitled and no one dares to go against him.” Esri complained as she scanned the area to make sure no one else was around to hear her as she sniffed and hugged her knees.

Sarg felt like an idiot for not realizing how much worse off they were than he realized and if he would have just traded a carved shell totem for an ax. Her mother wouldn’t be so desperate to give her daughters away for just one raid’s worth of goods for such a simple thing as a house of timbers. He should have done that years ago. He should have spoken up and said something years ago. And because he waited, he was losing her altogether because just being friends was all he could manage until now and just like Drad had been waiting for Rhos, he had been waiting for Esri and now that Tar was taking her, he had never felt more anger or resentment towards Tar. Because Tar and all of his brothers were just being greedy now in their quests for sons.

“You’re right, it isn’t fair. What if…” Sarg began before he stopped himself.

“What if what?” Esri asked curiously.

“What if I don’t go raiding, and instead go with you on this hunting and gathering trip? That’s still a dangerous area, I’ve seen bears over there. I don’t want you getting hurt.” Sarg offered.

“If you were to do that, Tar would demote you or pug you and call you a traitor for not supporting him. Plus your mother depends on what you and Drad bring home especially since your father died. Your mother is a widow just like mine. At least your mother had sons instead of daughters to help take care of her and go on raids and support her in the clan. It’s not worth the backlash.” Esri gently argued.

“I appreciate the thought though.” Esri offered as she reached over and squeezed his hand as he gently held her hand, wishing he could be holding all of her and just about the time he was mentally saying ‘fuck it’ and would be throwing the hierarchy of the clan out the window and take her anyway because he wanted her more than he wanted his place as Drad’s First Captain in Tar’s warband, he wanted to spend these last moments giving Esri the greatest pleasure he could because he knew for a fact that Tar was a shitty lover and Esri deserved to recieve so much more than he could ever give her before they heard Shadi and Baka hollering for Esri.

“Stay here,” Esri whispered to Sarg before she let go of his hand and got up and waived them over and went over to them so they didn’t need to go too far and see that she was alone with Sarg and possibly get him in trouble.

“Ugh! Why are you always wet? You’re betrothed to the Warlord and future Clan Chief Warchief, you can’t go around with your clothes sucked to your body, it’s inappropriate and unseemly or do you just like to walk around like a whore?” They chastized her as Esri bit back her argument because she didn’t want to start anything with them especially if she was going to be sharing a roof with them.

“Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” Esri asked.

“Yes we should but Tar insisted that we needed to give you bride gifts, so here, the totems you made for us. I’m sure they’ll be just as prosperous to you as they have been to us.” They said as they grabbed her wrists roughly and put the leather ties that had the carved shell totems on them and tied them to her wrists.

“If you ever get between Tar and I, I will see to it that you carve your own fingers off.” Shadi hissed.

“And I’ll see to it that you go swimming and never come back up for air if you ever come between Tar and I either.” Baka growled before the two of them left and went back home, happy that they had dealt with Esri and Rhosland and made their points in private and if Rhosland and Esri were smart, they would never say a word about it to anyone.

Sadly, once a betrothal gift was given, the potential bride was never allowed to sell or trade it or else it was seen as bad luck.

Sarg though was practically seething in the grasses as he obediently hadn’t moved but had heard the whole interchange. If only Tar had been there to hear it but he also knew that if he tried to say anything Baka and Shadi would most likely kill him themselves and get away with it too because any word said against a Warlordess or Warchieftess was seen as disrespectful.

“Is it too much to hope that they get eaten by wolves?” Sarg offered to Esri when she came back and sat back down in her original spot.

“Is it too much to hope I get eaten by a bear so I don't have to marry Tar? Probably. So don’t invite bad luck or ill fates, they will reap what they have sewn soon enough.” Esri countered even though the thought did bring her delight, except that they were both pregnant and no baby deserved to die or suffer on account of their mother.

“But they are spoiled brats!” Sarg argued.

“I know they are, and I have to be subordinate to them because they are the first and second wives. I can’t afford to offend them or give them any cause to treat me any worse than they already do. Besides, it would be a bad reflection on my own mother who has suffered from their own mothers. Too much is at stake. Just...good night Sarg, I hope your raid goes well and you come back home safely, especially for your mother’s sake.” Esri offered before she got back up and went back home only to find that word had spread to the whole village and every family had come to give their “bride gifts” as suddenly their little mud hut was full of food and goods for the first time in their lives as Esri began going through it and taking what would be useful to Rhos and herself and packed it into the rowboat to use on their trip as their mother was so happy and at ease to finally get something instead of always giving when she had so little to give.

“Where did you…?” Shari asked when she saw Rhosland come home with the bow and the quiver of arrows around her back.

“Drad gave me the bow and arrows and the hunting knife, as my bride gifts, also just in case we run into a bear or something, we have a fighting chance.” Rhosland readily defended.

“Oh good, that will be very helpful.” Esri smiled happily.

“It will be.” Rhosland readily agreed as her mother was telling her girls who had given what to them before she started making bread dough to rise overnight so she could bake it first thing in the morning as Esri was getting things packed up and loaded up into their little row boat with two mismatched oars.

Meanwhile Sarg and Drad had met back up and brain stormed about what they could do and how they could help Rhos and Esri and were now buying two special stone timber axes from the blacksmith since Sarg had already bought a really good fishing net from the best net weaver and extra fishing lines with hooks on them for fishing and special poles for them to be tied to as they did their best to think of things that Esri and Rhos would need and like to use on their hunting and foraging trip to make it as easy and successful as they could since all the other men in the raiding parties and warbands were in the clan hall eating and drinking and not noticing their absence at all, before they seemed to be satisfied that what they had managed to collect would be good enough for Rhosland and Esri before Sarg went home since he still lived with his mother, being the younger son while Drad was on his way to his own home and found a wounded shaman stumbling into the clan village and immediately came over to help him.

“Do you know anyone here?” Drad asked as he helped carry this elderly man down the village’s main road.

“Oh I know you are Drad, son of Grat and Wolvish, and that in less than a week’s time you will mate and pairbond to the most beautiful woman your eyes have ever been on and she will bear you many children, the first of which will be a son.” He answered before Drad brought the shaman to his own home that he had built for himself, it was basically a one room hut of timbers, it wasn’t much but it was all he had and all he needed because he was a bachelor. It had the basics, a stone firepit that had a chimney of stones up around it in the middle surrounded by a bed on one side, a kitchen on the other and on the back wall was where he stored his clothes and armor and weapons.

“How do you know that?” Drad asked as he helped the shaman into his chair at his little table in his kitchen.

“I saw a vision of you and knew I had to make my way here to you, to tell you myself, but my hip has long since been injured for many years and the path to get here was much more tiring than I thought it would be.” He answered.

“So...how can I help you?” Drad asked.

“If you will allow me to rest for a short time, and permit me to stay here while you raid. I shall adopt you as my honorary son since my own sons have left this world without me.” He offered.

“Of course, you’re more than welcome to stay. What is your name?” Drad asked him.

“My name is Orcoth.” The shaman stated.

“Well my name is Drad, First…” Drad began.

“Oh yes, First Commander of Captains under Warlord Tar Skull Screamer, first born son of Clan Chief Zash and Clan Chieftess Zorba.” Orcoth finished for him.

“So what is the beautiful woman’s name?” Drad asked Orcoth curiously.

“You already know her name. Here, the rose scented soap you promised her in your heart. She will be better to you than seven wives and is smarter than seven wisemen because you have already discerned that the other half of her that is not orcish, is in fact a very special being, known for long lives, extraordinary gifts and wisdom beyond age and experience. Her natural instincts are enhanced, as is her intellect. She will be best for you as your only wife, and as long as you treat her as the cherished companion she is and not a slave, you will make her happy and capture her heart and loyalty forever and she will see to it that you not only prosper, but live longer than any other orc you have ever heard of, for you know she is a long lifer, and being paired with her, will lengthen your own life considerably. Her betrothal gifts will be beyond perfection and without equal and they will set the standard until your own daughter in law sets a new standard of perfection when she gives betrothal gifts to your son- in time of course.” Orcoth offered as he pulled a bar of rose scented soap from his satchel and handed it to Drad whose eyes got wide as he took it reverently and sniffed it as his pupils got wide and smiled when the scent was something he had never smelled before but it smelled better than anything else he had ever smelled in his life.

“When you come back from the raid, build her a house where you find the wild roses growing, whose scent is in the soap- so that she can make her own from now on.” Orcoth advised as Drad took the bar of soap and wrapped it in the nicest piece of cloth he had, wanting to get at least some silk to wrap it up in for her as he felt so happy and pleased that Rhosland, the most beautiful woman he had ever known was going to be his wife and would be courting him and giving him courting gifts as he knew that this would be the first of hopefully many courting gifts they would exchange in the future.

“How do you know such things, are you a mage or a shaman of some kind? Practice some kind of magic?” Drad asked.

“I am a shaman.” Orcoth confirmed as Drad noticed that Orcoth’s eyes were that of dragons and could plainly see that Orcoth was wearing dragon wool.

“Then since your sons have left you, will you take me as your adopted son since my father has left me also?” Drad requested.

“Of course, that is why I came Son.” Orcoth smiled proudly as she clasped Drad on the shoulder and gave him a proud smile.

“Thank you, I am especially honored to have you as my father then. I will take your council all my days.” Drad promised.

“And you will reap the benefits of it. When you go raiding, there will be a very thick fog, where it will be almost impossible to find your way through, death will be all around you but will not take your life, follow the scent of the smoking venison and smoking fish, it will lead you to safety and will be your salvation.” Orcoth advised.

“Thank you father, I will do as you say.” Drad vowed.

“Good, so what will we be having for dinner Son?” Orcoth asked curiously before Drad immediately got to work feeding Orcoth what he had, giving Orcoth the better and greater portions which Orcoth appreciated before Drad put Orcoth in his own bed and took his camping roll and rolled it out onto his own floor to sleep as Orcoth waited until Drad was asleep before giving him a sweet prophetic dream of Drad’s house that he and Rhos were going to be building together and the family that they would be having in it and the happiness that would be found in his own home. All the peace, joy, love and contentment he would have in it and how handsome his sons would be, especially his eldest son, how smart and amazing and great he would be, but always saying that he was only following in his father’s footsteps and how proud Drad would be of him and how he would look quite a bit like his mother as he set a spell to give Rhosland the same dream while giving Sarg a similar dream about Esri and gave to Esri - Sarg’s dream as well along with giving Drad and Sarg’s mother Grat a dream of her own so that she would know what to do while they were gone on the raid.

#Of Heaven and Fire Prequel.#The Beginning of Stormbreaker #The Beginning of Stormbreaker Part 1 #orc love story #orctober 2021

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misterewrites · 4 years

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Threads of Fate 2: Electric Boogaloo (Jason Todd X reader)

Hello everyone, E here with another story! this time it’s part 2 for the story i wrote for my good friend @hains-mae last year for her birthday! so naturally it’s her birthday again cuz that’s how they work! Red Hoodie X reader. I hope you all have an amazing week. I will be trying to write my original story and post it sometime this/next week but we’ll see what happens. Stay safe, take care of yourself, for the love of all that is holy stay inside! wear masks! PLEASE! GET THE FLIPPING VACCINE IF YOU CAN!

E out, byeeeeeee! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAE!

Here’s both parts conveniently in one place for you (cuz tumblr hates me and my tags)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955270/chapters/73737858

“Romeo and Juliet? You’re so cliché that troupes are rolling their eyes at you.”

I shoot him a dirty glare “Says the guy that has Pride and Prejudice in his jacket pocket. Yeah yeah” I cut him off before he begins to throw out excuses “I know you say it’s thick enough to stop bullets but you’re not fooling me. You love some classic romance.”

“You’re no Lizzy Bennet” he grumbles behind his mask.

“And you no Mr. Darcy yet I tolerate you all the same.”

“It’s for my charming personality.”

“Certainly not for your face.” I playfully throw back “Smooth, featureless and red isn’t exactly my type.”

“I’m surprise you have a type given your lack of taste in books.”

I roll my eyes “Oh great now the former crime lord is giving me crap about my tastes in book.”

He rose his hands in surrender “Hey, that was my edgy phase.”

“Was? You’re still dressing like a goon from indie action film.”

“You kidding? Goons wish they looked this good.”

“I don’t think any respectable goon would shop at the thrift store.”

“Low blow. Low blow.”

I give the costumed vigilante a sideways smile as we settle into a comfortable silence.

It’s been about two years since Red Hood decided to intrude my quiet life (well as quiet as life could be in Gotham) and we have developed this strange friendship.

Every moment he wasn’t on patrol or at a briefing (coughfamilymeetingcough) he spent here. At first, I thought it was just him checking up on me like some overburdening mother worried their child couldn’t handle a minute in the backyard but I soon realized this became some sort of haven for him, a place for him to just exist. Not quite relax and let his guard down but just to be. No appearances of brutality to keep up, no disappointed glances from his estranged father figure. Just him picking on me because he’s a jerk.

But then again so am I.

I nervously glance at the red string tied snugly around my finger. It pulled off to the side though not too much further from me as its other end was wrapped around Red’s finger.

Strings of fate mom used to call it. My power to see the threads of destiny tying two people deeply together. At first I thought it was love or something junk like that but now I’m thinking maybe it just leads you to someone you need and someone that needs you back.

Or maybe it is love, what do I know? All I know about my power is it makes walking the streets harder than it needs to be. Ever see those old pictures of cities with powerlines just in every freaking direction? The strings are at least ten times worse than that! Luckily they’re not real? Well more an abstract concept that I see and not physical and you know what don’t worry about it.

“So” Red spoke up after a moment “Hungry?”

“After you insulting my taste in books?” I gave a fake pout “Starving. Oh shoot, I forgot to go to the store.”

Red chuckled “You didn’t forget, Penguin decided to try to extort it for protection money.”

“Oh” I blush in embarrassment “Right.”

“And you fell back asleep.”

I waved him off “Sometimes you just wake up, see the news and decide it’s not worth it.”

“I never get to sleep in.” Red rose to his feet “but honestly I’ve always had trouble sleeping.”

The nightmares. He mentioned it once in an off hand comment when he asked me why I toss and turn at loud noises. Gotham just does that too you. Eventually you learn to get ready to bolt at any loud noises over 190 decibels. Fun fact, that’s the noise level of a shotgun fired by your ear or a rocket taking off.

Or Joker laughing on the roof of your apartment building. Let me tell you, nothing’s louder than that madman. Thunder sounds like cats and dogs once you hear the Joker’s manic chuckle just a few feet away from you. One time years ago and I can still feel the chills run down my back whenever I think of it.

“So are you going to order pizza or what?” I asked quizzically “Since you’re aware I don’t have any in the fridge.”

I could practically hear the sarcasm dripping in every word out of his mouth as he held a bag of groceries aloft “I was trained by Batman. I’m always prepared.”

Batman. Whatever his relationship with the dark knight currently is, he always spoke of him with a soft, gentle voice. A quiet pride that out of everyone in the world, the Bat chose him. But with that pride was a hint of shame. Everyone knew Red Hood hadn’t exactly made it easy on the old bat and while Hoodie was changing his ways, there was still some friction between them.

I didn’t say anything though. No point. He knew where he stood with his father figure and bringing it up would just make him sully. Besides I was way too curious to know how good of a cook he was.

I marveled in an awe silence as he expertly placed the various ingredients across my messy counter. He chuckled to himself as he cleared it to make space for dinner. I could feel my cheeks burn.

Watching him was oddly mesmerizing: His movements were precise yet graceful for someone with his build. He glided across the floor effortlessly, smoothly dicing whatever he brought one moment then by the time I blinked, he was warming up the frying pan by the stove.

Soon an incredible smell filled the air while the sizzling of meat practically had me drooling.

“Your chin.” Red motioned to my lip with a spatula. I brought up my hand and flinched at how moist it was. Okay so it was drool. Sue me! You’d be drooling too if you had to deal with waiting for whatever heavenly meal he was cooking, okay?

Desperate to change the subject, I piped up “Should be I concern how well you handle that knife?”

He gave a casual wave with said instrument “I hold the power of destruction and creation in my hand.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

Red coughed loudly “I’ve trained with various weapons knives included. You’d be surprised how much overlap happens between cooking and weapons handling.”

“Right. Sure. That’s a totally normal statement.”

“What about me” He gestured to himself “Is normal?”

“Fair point.” I conceded.

-----

“Am I forgiven?”

I grumbled a half answer as I tried not to let on how delicious this meal was. I don’t make the best money and let me tell you before this the fanciest thing I ever ate was some overpriced pasta from some restaurant chain. This easily beat anything I have ever tasted except mom’s cooking but I hadn’t had that in years.

Red snorted, his voice smooth and melodic not filtered through some robotic alternation. I didn’t really had a dining room or a dinner table so we sat comfortably on my couch, tv playing some nonsense in the background as we both took in the sight of the city beyond my modest window. The lower part of his mask retracted backwards via some kind of high tech witchcraft and allowed him to eat his food without needing to show the rest of his handsome face.

I mean I think it was handsome. I assumed it was handsome given I accidentally figured out who was under the whole persona he set up for himself. I never told him that I knew though I suspect he knew that I figured it out. He was smart even if he acted like an idiot and it really was for the best. Plausible deniability. If I never asked, he never needed to answer.

“You know if you want me to cook again, you need to forgive me. Otherwise I’m not gonna waste my time anymore.” Red threatened with a tease.

I let out an exasperated groan “Fine, fine! It’s good. It’s the best food I’ve ever had! Is that what you want to hear?”

“Naturally. Though I could never compete with Alfred. He has no equal in the kitchen. Better than my brothers though. They can’t cook to save their lives. Tim practically lives on fast food.”

I stopped shoving food into my maw as an icy chill ran through my body. The comfy silence that filled my humble apartment turned tense.

One of those names I could pretend away: Tim? Alfred? Every day common names. But together? Tim AND Alfred. Everyone knew every member of the Wayne family because they were the only rich family in Gotham who didn’t want to screw everyone else over. And he brought up his brothers. That was the final nail in the coffin.

I put down my fork slowly. I could feel myself breath heavily but I refused to see him. I refused to meet his mask with nothing but my own shocked reflection to look back at me.

“I know you know who I am.” He said simply.

I could feel the syrupy urge to look at him ebbing at my resolve.

I swallowed uneasily “What now? What happens to me?”

‘Us’ I left unasked.

Silence.

“I don’t know”

I tried to calm my breathing but I could feel panic grip at me: Does this mean he’s not going to come anymore? Does this mean I have to go into witness protection? Is Batman going to scold me?!

“But I want to.”

I couldn’t help myself. I turned to him and for one of the few times in my life I was left speechless.

I was not staring at Red Hood. I found myself not looking at the smooth, featureless mask I had grown accustom to these last two years but Jason Todd.

Out of all of Bruce Wayne’s children, Jason was the one who seemed to just fall off the face of the Earth. There was a rumor he had died a few years back but those were debunked when he appeared without warning, just walking the streets of Gotham like he went on an extended vacation.

There wasn’t too many pictures of the enigmatic Mister Todd but that quick glance I had gotten forever ago did not do him justice: He was my age. His eyes were a piercing blue that I did not know could be that shade. I know it’s cliché but I felt like he was staring directly into my soul. His face was rugged, rough but still handsome. His hair was a messy jet black but there was few streaks of white that looked too natural to be dyed.

“I….didn’t see anything?” I offered helpfully, giving him a chance to put the mask on and pretend this none of this ever happened.

His nose wrinkled as he gave me a playful scoff. I could feel my heartbeat roaring in my ears.

“I’m not that ugly. Better looking than Dick.” he joked playfully.

“I dunno. Dick’s got the better ass.” I mumbled out, still too caught guard from the whole reveal.

“But I got the muscles.”

“Yes you do.” I eyed his body carefully then flushed a bright pink.

That knocked me out of my stupor.

“Are you sure you want me to know?” I whispered, unable to keep the fear out of my voice “I mean I didn’t mind pretending I didn’t know.”

“I do.”

His face soften and for a moment he didn’t look like Jason Todd, wayward son of Bruce Wayne or the Red Hood, moral gray compress of the batfam.

He just look like a regular guy who needed someone.

Evidently me it seemed.

I took a calming breath and offered my hand. He stared at me like I’m crazy but I kept it outstretched.

He took it gingerly and shook carefully, still unsure what was going on.

“Hello Jason Todd.” I beamed cheerfully “It’s nice to meet you!”

He said nothing, instead opting to smile softly.

“Nice to meet you too.”

I stared at the metaphysical string that tied us so neatly together.

I have never seen it that red before. And has it always been that thick?

I wonder what that means.

Eh, it’s probably nothing. I had other things to worry about.

#My story #Red Hood #Reader #Red Hood x Reader #Birthday!

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greytoiletpaper · 4 years

Text

Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the same-ish street-siblings universe as First Contact by @cryptids-and-muses and @a-sketchy-character @streetsiblings (they’re still awesome). I present to you... Angst.

Drizzle | AO3

Chapter 2: Deluge

Felipe Garzonas falls.

Jason cannot find it in himself to care. The man was human garbage at best-

A shriek of anguish rents the air, a woman's, while the stalking man pounces on her and bays with his manic glee.

-and they were just going to let him go? No dice. Jason did not push him off the edge, but it’s still satisfying enough for him to know the man is gone now.

It is here, on this rooftop, that Jason understands that the horrors of the world can never be contained, only controlled. In what ways, he isn’t sure yet, but when he thinks of killing, all he can imagine is a figure adorned in a red helmet, ruthless and proud.

When Bruce takes Jason away from the scene, long crimson snakes flow off Garzonas’ body with the deluge, painting the face of Gotham.

Cass believes Jay when he says he didn’t kill Garzonas. He can lie like the best of them, but he can never hide anything from her. Bruce still doesn’t believe him even when she says as much.

“You’re a danger to yourself and the people around you,” Bruce is saying. Cold is the only way that Cass can describe his body.

For as long as she has been with Bruce, Cass has not thought of David. But looking at him now, a small, insidious part of the man that projects the urge to control (something she had only seen from David) starts to slip through. She is so thrown about what to think that she almost misses him firing Jay as Robin.

“No.”

“But Cass-.”

“No.”

Jason resists the urge to groan at his sister. Above them, the three names of his potential mothers are displayed clearly and brightly.

“I get why you don’t want me to. But think of what will happen if we manage to bring one! We could- we could-.”

“My brother,” Cass says, with finality. She gestures to the names (although ‘Sandra Wu-san’ in particular catches both their eyes). “Not theirs.”

Cass makes that stance she always does when she wants him to stop, her back hunched and her eyes pleading. He hates it when she does that, which is why he bites back a sigh.

“Fine. I’ll leave it alone,” Cass has been trying harder to get her smile right. Her effort shows when she gives him a mega-watt grin when he relents.

“My family, love,” She says as she hugs him before leading him away to raid the freezer for Neapolitan.

Later that night, Jason leaves his copy of Huckleberry Finn on her nightstand. He has to make sure that she doesn't think he'd left her behind when he goes. As Jason leaves the window wide open, his sole companion is the rain for the first time in years.

Gotham feels it as it happens. As the madman clubs her boy over and over with his crowbar. She feels every bruise, every bone that fractures, every act of pure, unadulterated cruelty inflicted on Jason.

Her eldest cradles the body, surrounded by a field of debris and smoke left in the wake of the monster that is the Joker. She washes the blood away with her tears.

When Cassandra wakes to see her brother’s prized possession on her nightstand, she instantly knows and never lets it go, even as the sky opens up in time with her tears.

As the casket lowers into the earth, she absently notes no rain, not a cloud in sight. Somehow, in the void that is the Jason-shaped hole in her heart, she realises he would have hated it.

“I think… I want to have my burial when it rains. Gives a whole ‘nother meaning to bleary doesn’t it?” Jason had confessed that once, a slight chuckle drawing from his chest. It fades as fast as it came. He looked away, then. “I don’t think I’d rest in peace without it.”

Cassandra fills the silence with the hymns of her tears – droplets staining the well-loved pages of the last piece of her brother – and hopes that it will be enough.

In her mind, her efforts are for naught when they devolve into wails as the first shovelfuls of dirt encase the ebony coffin.

The first thing she sees when she enters the cave is- is the atrocious thing. All the noise in the cave seems to phase out. The squeaking of the bats. The banter between Dick and Babs. The low murmurs of Bruce and Alfred in the corner. All she can focus on is the caricature of her brother in full view of everyone in the Batcave. She looks at it, and the world becomes a sea of pink and brown and white. The uniform he died in still bloody and ragged; all her thoughts a cacophony of wailing; iron on her tongue; roaring in her ears; she feels nothing in her but pain.

Jason Peter Todd

A Good Soldier

She hates it. Hates it with a passion because Jason was so much more than a soldier. He was her Jay, her brother, everything; all she has left of him is a small paperback and this disgusting mockery of his memory.

But he’s Batman, and he grabs her by the arms and pins her, even as her legs kick out viciously. She headbutts him and manages to push him off, nailing him square in the jaw with her knee as she flips back.

“Cassandra-.” Batman starts.

“Mine,” She snarls, eyes blazing and her hand pushing Bruce away from her. Even with the pads of his armour, she knows it hurts. She turns to leave.

“Not Robin. My Jay. My Brother. My Jason.”

Standing in Jason’s room, Cassandra closes the window he left open. She notices a picture frame on his nightstand. It’s of them, Huckleberry Finn spread between their legs and their foreheads pressed together.

Cass curls into a ball and clutches his treasures to her chest, sobbing because there is no rain to fill the vacuum she’s found herself in.

Far, far away, a man between worlds shatters the dimensions. The ripple disturbs Gotham, but she cannot deny her love of the results.

Gotham watches as her prodigal son begins his dramatic return; rising from below to walk above once again.

“So, is it really true that you took down Troia when you were only thirteen? All on your own?” The new Robin, Tim, is okay. Really. Cassandra just can’t look him at and see someone else in the uniform. When she doesn’t answer, the boy seems to fidget nervously. She doesn’t even know what his eyes look like.

“I–I guess, since I’m here to be Batman’s new Robin, I was hoping I could be the Robin to –.”

Cassandra doesn’t even let the boy finish before she leaves.

Jason wakes up drowning. It’s not water that enters his lungs, but an unnatural, sickly green liquid that vexes and rots and makes his body feel like he’s on fire. Nandra Parbat is where he is when he’s calmed down from being dipped into the Lazarus Pit, trapped in a fortress of assassins that want to mould a Bat into one of them. It’s an entirely different League.

This time, Cass is not here to keep them away.

When she meets Steph, Cassandra is enamoured because the girl smiles and laughs (except she still isn’t the same, no one is), almost just like Jason. But there are slight differences between the girl and her brother. Her hugs are great, but they don’t feel right. She smells like lavender instead of the rain. Despite how much the girl likes to joke with her, not one of them manages to draw out her smile.

Cassandra holds onto the girl like a lifeline anyway.

What bone she can throw, Steph has an uncanny knack of finding things that others take ages to locate, which is helpful enough for right now since Tim is still missing. It doesn’t help when Steph reads that Tim is in a warehouse with none other than The Joker.

He’s practising his aim when she comes in, almost plucking the gun out of his hand. Jason grips the girl’s arm and flings her over his back. Rose Wilson, a wolfish grin plastered on her face and snowy hair fanning under them, doesn’t even look fazed.

“Wow Jace, if you wanted to pin me you could have just asked,” His only friend in this place is what keeps him sane; when the Joker of his nightmares haunts the edges of his mind, she is there to let him know it isn’t real. Despite how different they are, she’s a breath of fresh air in this hellhole they’re in. He should probably tell her how he feels.

“You’re such a fucking chicken-shit,” Is what comes out of his mouth instead. Rose only smirks at him, silver mane and eyes with almost the same mischief his sister had.

“Your aim still sucks balls by the way.”

He growls, raising his arm to let his gun do the barking.

Ranting and raving greet her as she sneaks in through a window, a litany of nonsense and stammers echoing around the warehouse. She drops from the catwalk as silently as she can, but the madman obviously still hears her as his head bends at an impossible angle to look right at her.

“Oh. Look who showed for quality time with Uncle Jay!” She doesn’t mean to, but Cassandra flinches, and the Joker’s twisted grin shifts. Big mistake. “Oh? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” It takes every inch of willpower in her not to rasp the words, but Joker sees through it regardless.

“What? Don’t like my name?” The Joker pouts, but it looks more like a sneer. “It’s just me yaknow? Your Uncle Jay.”

Another flinch, and the Joker steps closer, a snake in the reeds.

“Mister Jay,” He’s stalking closer now; her body won’t move. “JayJay.”

“Jaybird,”

“Jay,” She is so still as the Joker seems to tower over her, his sick grin crueller and sharper (David flashes in her mind) than any other time she has ever seen it. Poison flows from his mouth like saliva as he croons.

“That’s what you called him, isn’t it? When he was still here, your precious Robin. Not this -,” He gestures to Tim, who is wide-eyed and struggling. “-phoney replacement. Want me to-? Let me tell-.” The Joker stops, frowning at the ground before continuing, his voice aberrantly low. “When I beat him over and over with that crowbar – pink with blood and brown with dirt over the white of his skin –, do you want to know what he was saying?

“The only thing that came out of that pretty little mouth of his was how sorry he was that he was for leaving ‘Cass’ behind.” The madman leers at her. “Was that you? Cass? I gotta tell you, the whole apology shtick got really boring after a while, but…

“I’ll tell you one thing. Something you can keep between just you and your Uncle Jay,” He leans in close to her ear. “I think that our Jay is almost just like me now!”

The madman cackles, his eyes sick and twisted, and his body is nothing but mania. Something in Cassandra, strained and twisted for the past three years, finally snaps.

She strikes him, harsher than she’s struck anyone ever before. So severely, she can feel his ribcage snap. His flesh becomes mince under her fists. He stumbles and contorts as she overwhelms him with every piece of her fury. The gale-force that is Cassandra Todd blows through the Joker, who laughs and laughs and laughs.

The monster scrambles for his gun, suddenly slick and focused. Cassandra snaps off the comic ‘Pow!’ that sticks out of the muzzle when he fires it at her. She backhands his face with the full force of her knuckles, knocking him down, and all he does is chortle. The Joker’s body twists and squirms as he is pinned in place. She raises the broken end of the comic and skewers his leg into the ground.

The Joker’s mouth froths. His eyes are bloodshot as he becomes more depraved and maunders yet, he’s still fucking laughing. Laughing as his spittle flecks onto every surface around them when he thrashes. Laughing even as she clenches the sides of his head and pulls. Laughing even as they both feel his flesh strain and shear as she tries to tear it off. The part of her that has so vehemently denied killing now cries for bloodlust. For this is justice, this is vengeance, this is for her, Jay. Cassandra, with all her might, prepares to wrench off the monster’s head and-.

And Batman pushes her off him. Batman blocks her assault on his body when Cassandra rebalances herself. Batman protects the god damn fucking Joker. She roars with her rage, her grief, and doesn’t even feel the sedative that Tim plunges into her side until it’s too late.

Glaring at Bruce, at Batman, all she sees from his body is fear and concern and all the latter is directed at the death-worshipping monster he cradles in his arms. Absently, before it all goes to black, she thinks she should leave. Leave without Batgirl, without Jason, without everything she has ever cared for.

She does, and like her brother, the tears of Gotham are the only family she has left.

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charincharge · 4 years

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Cruel Summer, Part 3

cruel summer masterlist

AN: I’m really sorry I like posting at 1AM, I guess? Same warnings apply. Drinking, swearing, sexual frustration. Excited to hear what you think about this one...

There are nice neighborhoods in Wendlyn. There are suburbs with sprawling lawns and white picket fences and wraparound porches and two car garages. But Rowan has never seen anything like the Ashryver’s Terrasen summer estate. It took him a full fifteen minutes just to walk up the driveway. He supposed he could have parked on the driveway – he sees most everyone else has, but he’s certain his loud clunker of a truck would have only marred the view.

The house is stunning. It sits on top of a stony cliff that overlooks the North Sea. He cranes his neck up, taking in the mansion. It looks as if it’s four stories tall, and each window has its own personal balcony. The front door is wide open, so he walks through, admiring the high ceilinged foyer. His flip flops clop across the beautiful black and white marble floor, echoing loudly with each step, making him feel more and more self-conscious.

He’s already running extremely late. It took him forever to decide what to wear. Stupid, he knows. But he’s fucking nervous. He’s never been to a party like this. With people like this. He ultimately decided on a t-shirt and board shorts and flip flops – it was a pool party, right? But as he looks around the back patio, at the caterers and full bar, Rowan’s not sure he made the right choice. He looks over his shoulder, desperate for some reassurance from the girl he brought with him for moral support, but can only gape, horrified.

His roommate Manon, has taken off her leather jacket and revealed her outfit underneath – an oversized band t-shirt she’s wearing like a dress, which… barely reaches the tops of her thighs. He knows the t-shirt well, and though it promotes the Beastie Boys innocently on the front, he knows when she turns around, in large yellow block letters it will read: GET OFF MY DICK.

“Fucking A, Man. Put your jacket back on. That is so not appropriate. We’re at my boss’s house.”

Manon flicks a piece of lint off her shirt with her long black polished nails and narrows her eyes at Rowan. “Maybe if we hadn’t just walked four hundred miles down the driveway I wouldn’t be so fucking hot.” She smiles, baring her white teeth from under her dark lipstick. “Anyway, no one’s going to care soon. It’s open bar.”

“I don’t know why I asked you to come to this,” Rowan sighs, running his fingers through his hair. This was a bad idea. Manon isn’t exactly… work friendly, he thinks, as he takes in the ferocious-looking dragon tattoo that wraps itself around her forearm and disappears up her shirtsleeve.

“You couldn’t bear the thought of leaving me alone,” Manon coos, batting her heavily lined eyes at him. “Despite my many protests.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

“Don’t fucking slander me like that, Whitethorn. You know I’m the best you’ve ever had.” Manon winks. It’s a joke between them. They’ve lived together now for two years. Manon saved him after a particularly terrible run of bad roommates, and they’ve been cohabitating since. He made the mistake of telling her she was the best roommate he’d ever had one night, and she’s been taunting him about it ever since. Manon loves being the best.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re the best I’ve ever had.” Rowan blows her a kiss, and she pretends to catch it and throw it back at him. He clutches his heart, wounded from her rejection. Though it’s par for the course with the two of them.

A throat clears loudly, and they both turn. Rowan’s boss stands with the one person he wanted to work himself up to seeing today. Aelin looks just as good as she did the last time Rowan saw her — if not better, all warm sun-kissed skin and long wavy hair in an ethereal white dress. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes glint with fire. Rowan’s beginning to think that’s just their natural state.

“Lorcan!” Rowan, stutters, unprepared.

Lorcan’s lips tug into a small smirk as his eyes slide over to Aelin. “Aelin, I wanted to introduce you to—”

“Rowan Whitethorn,” Aelin drawls his name and holds out her hand out to shake his.

“I guess your connections came through,” Rowan says with a smile, but it’s not returned, and Rowan feels self-conscious again as he pulls his hand back.

There’s an awkward pause as Rowan wonders what the hell to say next. Aelin doesn’t seem interested in continuing a conversation, and Lorcan isn’t exactly the most amicable guy in the world.

Aelin’s eyes narrow and turn to the girl on Rowan’s right. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

“What?” Completely flustered, Rowan’s forgotten that Manon is beside him. Manon looks at him, annoyed. “Oh. Uh, yeah.” He shrugs. “Sorry. This is Manon.”

“I’ve just been standing here the whole time, you asshole,” Manon chides, and Rowan sends her a warning glare, but she smiles widely and ignores him, holding her hand out to shake hands with Aelin.

“Manon Blackbeak. Thank you so much for having me.” Though Manon sounds sincere, Rowan knows Manon is being anything but. She’s going to be mocking him about this party for days.

Aelin returns her handshake, and gasps upon seeing Manon’s nails — intricate black and white designs on long talon like shapes. Manon says they’re coffin shaped. Because that’s apparently a thing. Rowan shudders. Manon’s nails are the one thing about her that truly frighten him.

“Oh, I love your nails,” Aelin says, admiring them thoroughly. “But it’s such a shame you’ve broken two of them.”

Manon’s amber eyes flash with glee as she gives Aelin a practically feral grin. “Oh, sweetheart, those aren’t broken. I keep those two short on purpose, so I don’t hurt pretty things like you.”

“Jesus, Manon,” Rowan barks out, blushing for Aelin. Watching Manon flirt with the girl he’s had his eye on is enough to send him into an early grave. Rowan scans Aelin’s face for any signs of offense. He doesn’t see any, but feels the need to apologize for his roommate, regardless. “I’m so sorry for her. Honestly.”

Aelin looks confused, her eyes darting between Manon and Rowan at a rapid pace. “…I don’t get it,” Aelin admits, and Manon is about to explain when Rowan cuts her off.

“It’s better that way.”

Manon rolls her eyes and twists her long platinum hair over her shoulder. She preens, admiring her manicure and picks off a nonexistent hangnail before looking back at Aelin. “Something you should know about Rowan is that he’s absolutely no fun.”

“So it seems,” Aelin says, her brow furrowed. Aelin’s demeanor changes in an instant again, giving them a terse smile. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Manon. And to officially meet you, Rowan. Enjoy the party.” And with a flounce of her skirt, she’s gone.

As Rowan watches Aelin disappear back into her house —

“What’s the story there?” Manon asks. “You piss in her cereal or something?” Rowan quirks an eyebrow at Manon, and she laughs. “That girl does not like you.”

Rowan crosses his arms defensively. “Why would she not like me? I’m very likable.”

Manon poked a sharp talon into his arm. “That’s debateable. Regardless, I know you did something.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Rowan can feel the anger swirling around his stomach. There was some fundamental reflex to being disliked that always got the better of Rowan. It wasn’t that he had a compulsive need to be liked, but — okay, maybe it was that a little bit. But also, he hadn’t done anything wrong. And why was he so damn upset about being blown off by a person he’d spoken to just a handful of times?

Lorcan snorts as he finally pipes up. “Aelin’s a handful. Steer clear that drama.”

It’s the most candid Rowan has ever heard Lorcan ever be, so he nods, taking in his warning. Though he’s not a hundred percent sure he’s going to adhere to it.

“Let’s get drinks,” Rowan suggests and Manon follows him willingly. Drinks are definitely an idea she can get behind.

Rowan meets up at the bar with the rest of the Cadre — that’s what the group of his coworkers has named their text thread. He’s not exactly close with any of them yet, but it was nice to be added to the group chat. Fenrys and Gavriel are already wet from the pool and the twins, Connell and Vaughan, pass around beers to everyone.

Rowan’s taken his first swig of beer when he realizes he’s lost Manon along the way. He finds her mid-conversation with Elide, one of the other Playland managers. Rowan isn’t super familiar with the petite girl, and he’s shocked to see that his roommate is.

“You found a friend,” Rowan says, handing a beer to Manon.

“Manon was my Resident Advisor my freshman year at University of Terrasen. Can you believe that?” Elide squeals. “She was the absolute coolest. She always let me sleep on her couch when my roommate kicked me out for slutty sleepovers.” Elide leans into Manon’s side, and Rowan expects the cold, white-haired girl to shake her off, but she doesn’t. She shocks the hell out of Rowan and wraps her arm around Elide’s shoulders and squeezes her, looking down at her with a fond smile. A small pang of jealousy blooms in Rowan’s stomach. He didn’t expect Manon to have her own friends at this party. She was here to be his support. Which he obviously, desperately needs. He’s floundering here.

As Rowan tunes in and out of Elide and Manon’s conversation, giving the appropriate mhms and wows, his eyes wander the patio, searching for the blonde who disappeared on him earlier. He can’t shake her dismissal. He wants to talk to her. Know what’s behind those blue and gold eyes of hers. Know why the hell she walked away from him. He spots her by the pool. She’s reemerged from the house with her hair tied up in a messy bun, wearing only a white bathing suit and freshly painted bright red lips. Rowan can’t help but stare as she slowly makes her way into the pool, the water rising until it hits right at her chest. It’d be indecent if the swimsuit weren’t so modes. The girl certainly knows how to command attention.

“Rowan.” Manon snaps her long claws in front of his face.

“Hm?” Rowan brings his attention back to his evilly grinning roommate.

“I asked if you wanted to get into the pool,” Manon says, her eyebrow raised.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Manon raises up onto her tiptoes and whispers into Rowan’s ear. “Think she’d be down for a threesome? She is fire.”

Rowan’s cheeks heat as he pushes Manon away. “Stop that.”

Manon grins. “But you’re so easy to rile up.”

Rowan finds a free chair for their things and strips off his t-shirt, and Manon does the same. He sighs upon seeing Manon’s black mesh strappy bikini, which looks more like lingerie than swimwear, showing off the artwork inked all over her body. Not that he can talk. He has his own tattoo, which runs up his chest and down his back.

As they make their way towards the pool, Rowan pauses. Aelin is in the pool with another man. He’s pale with floppy brown hair, and Rowan can tell he’s a rich kid just by looking at him. Their hands are all over each other. Aelin smiles and lets him kiss her cheek as she hoists herself onto his back.

“Uh ohhh,” Manon drawls. “Looks like Barbie’s already got herself a Ken.”

Rowan elbows her in the ribs. Perhaps a little harder than intended. Manon scowls at him. “I’m never taking you as a wingman anywhere ever again,” Rowan grits out.

“Ahah! So you admit it. I am here as a wingman because you have a crush on the boss’s daughter.”

Rowan flicks his pine green eyes at Manon. He doesn’t have to confirm anything. Manon has figured him out. So what? He thought Aelin was cute, and yeah, he thought maybe today would be a good opportunity to talk to her again. Get to know her a little better. Maybe start a friendship. Maybe more. Who knows? But it looks like that’s not in the cards. The dismissal was her way of letting him down easy. She’s already involved. Whatever. It’s better this way, Rowan thinks to himself. This way he won’t put his job at risk. Or his heart. It’s fine. He doesn’t know anything about the girl other than how good she looks in a bathing suit. He’ll get over it. He’s sure of it.

Except he doesn’t. The rest of the day is torture. Aelin avoids his gaze, shifting away from him at every opportunity. And it drives him absolutely insane. She splashes around the pool with her cohort, whose name he overhears is Dorian. He swears if he hears her shout out “Dor!” with unbridled affection one more time, he’s going to crack his teeth by how hard he’s grinding them. He tries to distract himself by racing with the Cadre, who’ve taken up the entire deep end, but he tires quickly.

Water-logged and exhausted from the sun, Rowan pulls himself out of the pool. He leaves Manon in Elide’s company and tells her he’s going for a walk. Rowan needs to clear his head. He grabs another beer and heads down the walkway to the beach. There’s something about the salt air and the sand that soothes him. Rowan walks a ways down, admiring the row of mega mansions that overlooks the water, though he can’t help but feel like even more of an outsider than he already is. He does not belong in this neighborhood. By the time Rowan makes his way back to the Ashryvers’ the sun is halfway dipped into the horizon, and dusk is upon them.

He finds a side gate to the house and makes his way through it, surprised that it leads to a beautiful rose garden. Vines crawl and wind themselves around arched trellises creating a magical canopy of flowers. His mom would love this garden. He sits to take a picture for her when the garden lights turn on, lighting the flowers with delicate twinkle lights, giving the garden an ethereal glow.

Rowan’s phone buzzes with a text from Manon. People are leaving. Where u at, bitch?

He laughs to himself and texts her back quickly. Be right there. Just paused to take a pic.

Loser.

Rowan ignores Manon’s reply and snaps another photo of the garden. He wishes he had his real camera and not just his camera phone to capture the light of the garden, but he thinks he manages to take an okay snap of the lit roses with the fading sun over the ocean in the background.

He’s about to head back to the patio when he hears a voice from overhead call out, “Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou, Romeo?”

He looks up, and sure enough, Aelin is dramatically leaning over her balcony, hand placed over her brow, as if she were searching through the crowds for her paramour.

Rowan is positive she doesn’t see him in the dusky twilight, so he chuckles somewhat loudly and gives her a short wave to get her attention.

Aelin straightens up immediately, her posture suddenly rigid with tension. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t see anyone out here.”

“I figured,” Rowan says, running his hands through his hair, a nervous habit of his. He spots a silhouetted shadow emerging from behind Aelin and smiles sadly. “By the way, I think your Romeo is behind you.”

Confused, Aelin turns, and sure enough Dorian appears next to her. He pulls her into his arms, and Rowan’s heart gives a small sad tug as he watches Dorian spin Aelin and lower her into a low dip. His footsteps feels heavy as he walks away and hears her peals of laughter ring out into the slowly encroaching darkness.

~*~*~*~*~

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asagi-s-garden · 3 years

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WB is the worst when it comes to DC. It's no coindence that Constantine is leaving 'Legends of Tomorrow" in the wake of the upcoming HBO Max show. And this pandemic ruined a lot of plans. As you said "BL" wasn't meant to be in the Arrowverse put when it happened they were all gung-ho for it. They had plans for Jeff to visit Central City and for Anissa and Grave to chill in Gotham. But then the pandemic and whatever BTS drama that got "BL" canned. Like *something* happened. It got an early renewal in Jan then it was cancelled in Nov. And CW didn't even bother to have proper trailers for new episodes. Don't tell me somebody on the show didn't rub the network the wrong way to result in that level of pettiness

Yeah, WB isn't just the worst with DC, but really the worst with favoritism in my personal opinion

They tried so hard to make the DC streaming service a huge success but as soon as they saw it wasn't going to be they got rid of everything like it was on fire, HBO Max is the new golden child so they're cutting their own throats in other areas to make it succeed- IE: Theaters

My poor Suicide Squad 2 ;_; no I won't say "my THE Suicide Squad" it won't roll off the tongue it was a sacrificial lamb to the damn streaming service :(

I know it's an unpopular opinion to not be all over streaming but they're really clearly cutting way more than just corners in order to feed that specific beast and try to make it compete with Disney+, that's why they're starting to draw the string on the Arrowverse :/ The same thing happened, I think, with the DC streaming service though, when they saw that the biggest success of DC was the Arrowverse, they decided to pull their dying streaming service as well as the DCEU into it to pump the Arrowverse up more, now that the Arrowverse is starting to go under- with three shows being gone, Batwoman being in questionable territory, and the two biggest successes of the year being largely disjointed from it (Superman and Stargirl), I think they're going to try to scramble it like eggs :/ They're doing the same with the DCEU to a degree though, by having loosely connected stories that do more universe hopping and tone changes (IE: Joker coming out just months before Birds Of Prey and having been preceeded by Shazam!) I think since they're seeing more promise in that approach right now for the movies, they might be trying to do the same for TV- or they're just trying to let the Arrowverse die of neglect so they can pump up HBO Max like you said

Ofcourse now that WB has been bought by Discovery, we might get some big changes to this; Discovery already said they wanted to pour seven BILLION dollars into DC properties specifically in the first year alone, and I know the rumor is that they're only going to try to gloss up DC so that they can sell the assets to the highest bidders once their "probation" period ends but like.... seven billion is a hell of alot of gloss..... and if they can start pulling in more numbers like Joker, Superman & Lois, and The Suicide Squad (wich may have not been a huge hit at the box office but wich reportedly smashed the HBO Max numbers enough that WB is circling James Gunn like a starving shark), then I have a hard time believing they'd be wanting to get rid of it, especially when, let's face it, DC is easily the most well known and most marketable asset Discovery has ever had and probably ever will have purely because of Superman alone, you can't find a person anywhere who hasn't atleast heard of Superman, regardless of how much the film properties are hit-and-miss financially, I have a hard time believing anyone would just throw that kind of name power to the wolves....

But onto Black Lightning, I actually have a pretty strong theory about that one

I'm almost certain that China Anne McClain is why the show was canned

And do not get me wrong, I don't mean that in a snippy way, but China quit Black Lightning pretty urgently- to the point that she only wanted to do limited episodes for the final season

Backing up a moment here though, let me explain why I think this was the nail-in-the-coffin

Black Lightning was very quickly becoming centered around Lightning specifically

That doesn't mean to say that it wasn't still Jefferson's story and that Anissa wasn't still important, but Jennifer was getting set up to be The Powerhouse of the show, with the bulk of the drama probably surrounding her and the thought of her potentially taking on her father's mantel

It seemed like the idea of Black Lightning retiring or atleast putting on the suit a little less was starting to become a thing, and with Jefferson firmly accepting his daughters as part of the world of Metas at that point, that would have lead to Anissa and Jennifer taking much more of the spotlight than they had in the beginning- that's a natural progression of things, and although I actually prefer Anissa's storyline (it's just more my personal cup of tea), I will readily admit that Jennifer was the one who had the ability to carry an entire season's worth of story on her shoulders.... not so much Anissa, who has her wife (so romantic subplots are pretty toned down), her powers are developed and stable (nothing quite like the learning curves Jennifer was facing), she has a stable job and a stable superhero identity- two, in fact-, so no literal schoolyard drama or issues with "Am I in my father's shadow? Is this how the world sees me and do I want them to see me this way?" much like what Jennifer was starting to experience in the end of the show either

TLDR Anissa mostly had her shit together, wich is great for her, but it doesn't lend to being able to carry the most dramatic storylines like it does with Jennifer, who's still figuring out pretty much everything

I think Jennifer was already starting to take a very large amount of the story as of the last season and even starting to steal the spotlight before that, if they were to come back for more I feel like she would have been in a place of being much more obviously groomed to take on the main charector status wile Jefferson stepped back just a little bit to be more supportive to her journey instead of the other way around

And the show could still exist very much as Jefferson's story wile that story happened to center on Jennifer

.....Buuuuuuuuuuuuut that's where the problem comes in

China said before the show was cancelled that she was going to step down from playing Lightning because she wanted to focus on her faith more and be removed from anything that wasn't "in service to God", wich is totally fine for her, but it does put Black Lightning in a bit of a difficult position because the charector they were gearing up to make their breakout star was suddenly going to either have to pull a Winn and just... be.... gone.... or have to get recast

To be entirely honest, I'm not sure why they didn't stick with the recasting instead, I thought Laura Karuki did a fantastic job as Jennifer and the "Am I Jennifer or am I JJ?" story would have been a great thing to explore for an entire season, but if I had to guess, they maybe just didn't want to mess with it?

Black Lightning had good numbers but it wasn't in the top five or anything to my recollection, not since it's premiere season anyway, and it could have been a compound decision of "We weren't going to keep this up much longer anyway so let's just take this as a sign to wrap it up", although I think that the way the recast was done could have presented a stable option for them if they had decided to give it a go for a full season, although maybe that's just my opinion and they initially made the recast so that the people behind the curtain could see if Laura would work well enough as Jennifer and when they decided that the vibe wasn't right they went on ahead and pulled the plug rather than risk getting the same um... resistance.... than Batwoman met over their recasting choices

Although I could go on for days about why that situation is different (to be clear: I do like Ryan quite alot but I don't think the Batwoman situation was nearly as seamless as Black Lightning's in terms of recasts, but that's another story for another day)

TLDR I think if China had stayed aboard they would have gone on for atleast another season or two, but there are some shows where members of an ensemble cast are so essential that their leaving is too big of a blow to stay through

It's much like when Dylan O'Brien had to bow out of Teen Wolf for a little wile, I think you'd be hard pressed to find a fan who absolutely loved season six, and even before that people were having a hard time staying with a lack of Tyler Hoechlin, with some even stepping away when Crystal Reed left, even though- at both of those points- most of the core cast was still there and at no point did the titular main ever leave, I feel like Black Lightning's situation is very similar, people were just too invested in Jennifer

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petri808 · 4 years

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Do You Believe Me Now?

The original post & Reblogs. Since I added more to the original post including smut and it’s at 4k words, I cleaned it up and posted the story to AO3. @bmarvels enjoy lol.

Hakyona, modern AU setting. NSFW

“Psst, Yona?”

I sit up, shielding my eyes to the sunlight. “What is it Lili?”

“You’re missing out on all the hot studs walking around, that’s what!”

“Lili, I told you I came to the beach to relax before finals, not gawk.”

I lie back down on my towel and close my eyes again. It didn’t matter to me what kind of eye candy I was missing out on. Books, studying are all I have time to focus on and besides, there already was one person who’d stolen my heart. Too bad he didn’t seem to notice it. Or at least I wasn’t sure. It was so damn hard to tell with him! He was such a sarcastic ass that I couldn’t tell if he was flirting or just being a punk to me. A groan fires off in my head, and yet through all that, I still fell in love.

But I couldn’t help it! I swear! We’ve known each other since we were kids and once I’d realized I cared more for him then as a friend, I fear that’s all he sees me as. Like a little sister. He is two years older than me after all, and both his guardian and my parents told him to always protect me. Pfft. A frown shadows my expression. Well I’m not that little girl anymore!

“Yona get up, get up, get up!”

“Lili, for the last time...”

“Isn’t that Hak over there?”

Quickly, I sit up and look over to where she’s pointing. My heart skips or more like takes a dive. Heaven help me that is Hak! He stood out in the throng of beach goers not just in height but presence.

“I think he’s gotten even cuter,” she snickers. “Damn, all his friends are hot too! Why didn’t you tell me he’s got such cute friends?!”

“I-I never noticed.”

“Are you blind? Oh, wait, I get it.” She pokes my side, “just blind to him, right?”

“Ugh!” I cover my face as I feel it heating up. “Lili stop trying to embarrass me, please?!”

“Oh look, he’s heading this way. Hey Hak?!”

I grab her waving hands. “Lili!!”

“Oh hey,” Hak waves back.

I see him grin and his group starts walking in our direction. Can I die, like right now? It was hard enough seeing him normally, but since he’s at the beach, his attire consists of board shorts and no shirt. I don’t know how he keeps his body in such condition, but I swear it’s like it was sculpted by a master artist.

He runs a hand through his wet hair as he chats with the other males, laughing, and smiling. His blue eyes twinkling against the sunlight. I squeeze my thighs together at the sight. All the girls they pass by ogle him, and I don’t blame them. The man was just too handsome for his own good. Before he reaches us, the group shake hands or fist bumps and the rest take off towards the snack stand.

“Hey Lili, Yona,” he grins, “didn’t know you two would be here today.”

“Well, neither did we, unless Yona was hiding that information from me.”

“I was not! I just came to relax.”

“So, relax,” he teases. “What’s stopping you?”

A six-foot hottie, I mumble in my head. “Shouldn’t you go hang out with your friends?”

“Nah.” He stands his surfboard up and sits down right beside me. “We’re finished surfing and was about to leave, but I’d rather hang out with a pretty girl.”

I feel the blush blooming on my face, but I try not to react. Not exactly easy with Lili grinning like a crazy person egging me on. I narrow my eyes at her. If they could shoot daggers, they would.

“You should stop teasing me like that,” I cross my arms, “it’s not funny.”

“But I’m not teasing you, I’m serious.”

Right... “Hak, you always say stuff like that, but I know you just see me as a friend. It’s getting old.”

“Or maybe it’s you who doesn’t want to believe it.” He forces my face to look at him. “What am I supposed to do make you believe me?”

My throat seizes up into a sputter. “I-I don’t know!”

He rolls his eyes. “Lili what do you think I should do to prove it?”

“I think you should just kiss her,” the girl smirks.

“Now that’s a good idea!”

“Don’t you dare Hak!”

“Oh, but I dare.”

He grabs me before I can scramble away. I squeal, but he quickly cuts off my defenses and plants his lips against mine. My eyes widen. Oh my god he did it! He actually kissed me?!

In a blink it was over and as my brain comes back into focus, all I see is a cocky grin and a softened smile. “Do you believe me now?”

Oof! I cross my arms and turn my head away in a huff. “No, I don’t. You’re just putting on a show for Lili and once we leave, it’ll go right back to you treating me like a little sister again, picking on me and teasing me.”

He gasps, feigning indignation, then turns to Lili. “Will you excuse us? I think I need to make this stick.”

“Wait? What?!”

“No, not at all,” the girl snickers. She quickly shoves my belongings into my bag and into my lap. “Here’s your things Yona.”

“Come on,” he drags me to my feet, “my red-haired little princess. We need some privacy.”

“Whoa, Wait!” I tug at his hold. Damn it he’s too strong for me. “Where are you taking me?!”

Hak holds his surfboard under one arm and keeps his other hand gripped to mine. “You don’t believe me, so I need to prove it, right? Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder cause you know I will.”

“Ugh! Hak you’re so cruel to me!” I whine but give in to avoid any more embarrassment. “At least tell me where we’re going.”

“My place so I can shower and,” he grins down in a side-eye, “so we can have a private conversation.”

I gulp hard. Alone with Hak?!

The entire ride in his car, I sit there in the passenger seat running scenarios in my head. How was he going to prove anything to me? I’ve got years of dealing with his sarcasm under my belt, so it’ll take some effort to convince me I’m not just a friend. Though friends don’t normally go around kissing each other unless there’s more to it... Oh please, I scoff in my head. This is Hak, and to prove a point he just might. I’ve convinced myself of that notion.

“Tell me Yona, have you ever seen me with a girlfriend? Don’t answer, just think about it.”

“Because...”

He covers my mouth. “Just think about it until we get to my place.”

When he releases me, I stare out the window fuming. I know that answer! It’s because he’s always just focused on his martial arts and sports. When does he have time for one? I mean there’s nothing wrong with that, but don’t use it as an excuse to trick me. Ugh! And if he really wanted a girlfriend, nothing was stopping him from making a move.

He leaves the surfboard in the foyer and prompts me into the studio apartment. “Are you thirsty? There’s drinks in the fridge, help yourself.” I shake my head no. “Then come on, let’s take a shower.”

My jaw drops and cheeks flush the color of my hair. “S-Shower? With you?!”

“Why not? Gramps used to bathe us together when we were younger.”

“We’re not little kids anymore Hak,” I sputter out, “it’s inappropriate for us to do that now.”

He walks up and kisses the back of my hand. “Not, if I’m trying to seduce you.”

I roll my eyes. “You can drop the rouse now that we’re alone.”

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Yona, it’s not a rouse. I’ve always loved you. That’s why I’ve never had a girlfriend.” He turns to his bathroom with his head hung down. “You know what? I give up. Stay till I get out and I’ll take you home or you’re free to leave. It’s up to you.” He pauses his walk. “And for the record, I wouldn’t take advantage of you. I just wanted to see your reaction... guess I got it, huh?”

I watch the door close behind him and drop onto the edge of his bed. My mind is spinning, confused, this was the first time I truly felt like... I believed every word he said. The water turns on in the room, and the sounds of the shower curtain closing was like a nail being hammered into my coffin. Oh god, what have I done? No, no, no! I shake my cradled head. I hadn’t meant to push him away! But that’s exactly what I’ve done. The poor guy looked completely dejected now and here I am sitting on his bed alone.

The tears gather in my eyes and I no longer hold them back from falling free. This man really loves me? “Oh, Hak...” I’m such a fool. I curl up on his bed uncaring of being found this way as the tears stain the bedding. He deserves someone who trusts him, not questions what he does. I should know this man better by now. Hak would never do anything to truly hurt me, and yet here I just broke his heart.

Maybe I should just leave and take my shame with me. But I can’t bring myself to move nor get off his bed. So, I curl in tighter, clinging to the blanket, and covering my head with my arm. I want nothing more than to be with him...

The bathroom door opening doesn’t stir me. I don’t want to show my face. I want to hide, yet I’m too scared to lose him.

“Yona? Yona, why are you crying?!”

The concern in his voice make me sob harder. I feel the bed shift as he’s no doubt taken a place beside me. It makes me feel even worse to know I’d hurt him and yet he still cares too much to see me in pain. I don’t fight back as he gathers me into his lap. His warm body felt wonderful against my barely clothed skin, and his arms, so strong... I always feel safe within their confines.

“Please don’t cry Yona, you know I can’t take it when you cry.” He strokes along my back, soothing and gentle, with his voice soft near my ear. “I didn��t mean to hurt you, princess you know that’s the last thing I ever wanna do.”

“I‘m sorry,” I whimper through the tears. “But you really do love me, don’t you? Why’d I never realize this? I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you were right. I shouldn’t have teased you and just told you long ago,” he tips my chin up and softens his gaze, “how much you really mean to me.”

I reach up and cradle his cheek as he gently wipes away my drying tears. We gaze into each other’s eyes while time passes unnoticed. I have no idea for how long, but all I can think is how beautiful his eyes are... windows to the soul, and his is bared naked for me to see. I pull his head down and place a second kiss upon his lips. “And Hak, I’ve always loved you too. How could I not, even when you drive me crazy... in the end you’re the only one that’s ever made me feel happy.”

“It’s my body, right? You just love me because of my body.”

I smack his chest hard, “do you always have to ruin the moment and make a joke!”

As I move to hit him a second time, he grabs my wrist, laughing at my weak attempt. “I’m sorry, it’s just too easy to tease you. I’ll stop for now.” He kisses my fingers before releasing them. “I should get dressed.”

It was in that moment that I realize Hak only had a towel on leaving very little between us. My eyes widen, “o-oh!” One wrong move and the fabric would easily unravel.

“Are you gonna get off my lap?”

I take a deep breath, ready to make a move of my own. My eyes blink slowly, rising to meet his in a coy but stern flutter. “No.”

He chuckles, “no? Come on princess, let me get dressed.”

“Maybe... I’d rather you be undressed.”

Hak’s eyes shrink to pinpoints, with his mouth slightly agape in shock that I would say such a bravely seductive suggestion. I giggle, oh how quickly this bad boy crumbles. My hands weave around his neck, fingers ghosting along the skin.

This man has haunted my dreams and my loins for far too long, and now that I know he loves me, I’m not going to waste the opportunity. I shift my position to straddle his thighs comfortably, and lift my body pulling him to me, kissing, caressing, showing him, this was no fairy tale.

“Yona, wh-what are you doing?!”

“Showing you, I believe. Now shh...” placing a finger on his lips, “no talk, just drive.” I move his frozen hands from my waist to my ass where it’s bare warmth seems to revive them, for they squeeze gently and provide support. “Mmm,” I murmur against his lips; this was better than any dream.

“You’ll be the death of me my princess,” his lips press forward against mine. “But one I’ll gladly face.”

“Don’t worry Hak, we’ll slay the dragon together.”

He growls low, “careful. Do you have any idea how much I’ve pent up over the years?”

I narrow my gaze, “yes, I do.” Then unroll the portion of towel keeping it from unraveling in retort. “Now stop treating me like a kid.”

His blue eyes flashing wild are the last thing I register before finding myself flipped onto my back. I gasp, pinned below him, so small compared to his larger frame. He reaches behind my back and pulls the strings securing my bikini top free. I move to cover my chest on instinct, blushing fiercely from his lustful gaze.

“Now coy?” He teases lightly. So, I drop my hands slowly to the sides, baring myself to him. But I can’t bring myself to look him in the eyes just yet. “You know we can stop at any time, right? I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I know... this is just new and a little scary.”

“Then allow me to make those fears melt away princess.”

I nod my head, “yes, please don’t stop Hak. I do want this too.”

My top is tossed to the side as he lowers himself further, kissing at the nape of my neck. His lips burn trails along my skin in a ring of fire, suckling, in pressured kisses. I want to tell him no hickeys please, but the words die away in my throat when I feel his hands begin to massage my breasts.

The temperature of the room rises along with my moans muffled to the roar in my eardrums. I hear little, but the rest of my senses are on overdrive. Every touch like electrical charges and the smell of sex quickly enveloping my nose. I can still taste a bit of sea salt from his lips.

“I still can’t believe it’s not a dream,” he mumbles against the swell of my breasts. Me neither, I purr back.

I gasp loudly and my body reacts when his mouth covets a nipple, arching and pressing into his oral kisses. He sucks and pulses against the sensitive button, teasing with both tongue and teeth in a twin assault, playing with one breast then switching to the other. His hands mold and caress, guiding my body where he wants it to go, while mine react based on his movements. They run through his hair or trail his back and neck. My fingers squeezing, nails digging into his flesh when he hits a sensitive area.

As he moves lower down my stomach, my breathing hitches. He’d left my breasts swollen and tender and now there’s a sinister glint in his eyes. He watches me watching him as he places the softest kisses in a trail.

Down he goes, yanking my bottoms off as his body slides off the end of bed. I squeak loudly as he yanks me to the edge of the bed but before I can grasp what he’s doing my legs are over his shoulders and his mouth clamps down on my sex. A gasping moan cuts through the air and my body freaks out with a jolt. “Hak!”

His hands grip my pelvis, keeping them in his clutches. I see the wide grin on his face as his tongue sweeps slow and steady from bottom to top parting my folds. When it comes center with my clit, he sucks hard and I see stars. My hands flail, grabbing and holding tight to the bedding around me. I bite my lip to stifle my moans but it’s a fruitless effort when he’s eating me out like a lollipop.

How is he so good at this?! Every pass of his tongue, swirling, sucking on my bud sends delicious shivers rolling through my body. I can’t think, I can’t see, my mind is consumed by his ministrations like a puppet on a string.

“Look at me Yona.” His deep voice commands and I do as if under a spell to follow his beck and call. My eyes gaze back, moist and glistened, half-lidded in the throes of lust. “Time for the next level,” he smirks.

Next level? What d... “Ha—kaaaa!” I cry out as his finger slips into my entrance. My thighs clench against his head, squeezing it like a cantaloupe. But he doesn’t stop there, sliding it in and out a couple times, then adding a second. His hand moves and holds me down by my stomach as my body begins to writhe.

His tongue continues to suck on my clit, but his fingers add to the heat roiling in my core like a rubber band being stretched to its breaking point. I’ve given myself little orgasms before but nothing like the explosion evident on the horizon. I can feel the friction they’re creating against my entrance. How the palm of his hand bumps when he pushes them as deep as they’ll reach.

His fingers scissor and curl in a come-hither motion pressing along the inside walls. I jolt and squeak when they hit upon a spot. I hear him chuckle. What the hell is he—oh, oh!!! “Hak—u!” The fiery friction his fingers create coupled with the sucking on my clit are too much, snapping the final coil. His garbled name sputters out in waves like the orgasm rocking my body, but he holds me down easily, relentlessly to make sure my orgasm has me seeing white.

It feels so good it hurts! “S-St-Stop—“ I push on his head as tears of joy cloud my vision. The area was on fire, sensitive to even the slightest touch.

Hak sits up on his knees licking off the clear juices coating his fingers with the biggest grin of accomplishment I’ve ever seen him sporting. “You’re so beautiful all flushed and out of breath.” His smile makes be blush again.

He crawls back on, helping me to scoot over to the center of the bed. I swallow hard when I see the size of his erection. Being a tiny girl with a big guy... you do the math. ‘Don’t freak yourself out now Yona,’ I calm my racing mind. Already my imagination is running wild at how it will finally feel to go all the way with Hak.

Seeing a worried tremble in my lip, Hak cradles me close against his body. He tips my chin, running his thumb against my cheek. “It’s up to you Yona if you want to continue. It was my pleasure simply satisfying you.”

“I’ve wanted this w-with you, to have you be the first Hak. I-I wanna make you feel good too. Please, let me?”

“Okay, whatever makes you happy.” He sits up with his legs bent at the knee and rotated to the sides. Then he pat his thighs. “I’ve heard this position is easier for the first time,” he explains, “you get to control things, especially in the beginning and stuff.”

I nod my head nervously. Hak doesn’t need to elaborate for I understand exactly what he’s talking about. Girls talk, and sometimes there’s pain if it’s too fast or rough. The fact Hak cared enough to know that relaxes me a little and makes me feel relieved.

He rolls on the condom I grab from his nightstand. “Just go-slow princess. There’s no need to rush. And you tell me if there’s something you want me to do.”

“Okay,” releases out in a long exhale. I position myself, saddling his lap and raised, poised over him. He holds his dick steady for me as I lower myself. A shiver ripples through my frame when it barely makes contact; my sex still swollen and tender to touch.

I nibble my lip and close my eyes, pushing myself onto him, gasping when the head pushes through. The instant heat also takes me by surprise. Guess all that blood flow served a second purpose. But it wasn’t just me who’d gasped. I look up and see Hak’s head tilted back slightly and his eyes closed. Even his fingers are curled against my hips. I press on, slowly sinking lower until it’s all the way inside. This wasn’t so bad after all. No, it felt freaking amazing! I bring his face back to focus and kiss his lips. “Are you okay Hak? You look shocked.”

He groans and presses deeper into the kiss. “If I’d known sex felt this good, I would’ve seduced you sooner.”

“This is your first time?!”

“Of course, it is!”

“But you seemed so skilled...” I blush, “you know earlier, I just assumed.”

“Jaeha’s been schooling me,” he blushes too. “I wanted to be ready if this ever happened. But don’t tell him I told you that!”

I giggle, “my lips are sealed, but...” I look down shyly, “I don’t know what to do next.”

“Oh!” He chuckles and starts directing my hips with his hands, “rock from you waist, use your thighs to help you. Just go by how it feels, and I’ll help you too.”

So that’s what I do. “Like this?” My hips start rocking forward and back. His hands drop down and cradle my ass and I feel them squeezing as he groans yes’s and his eyes roll back. It feels so good I join his moans. Wow it’s hard to focus at the same time!

His forehead falls onto my shoulder and his breathing grows haggard as I press longer, harder into my strides. I almost giggle out loud when my brain equates this to riding a stallion. Yup a stallion named Hak.

My breathing shortens as I pace myself. The heat building up in my core is aching again. This grind is causing a delectable friction that if I don’t slow down, I’ll lose myself too quickly.

“Fuck, Yona you feel so good,” he moans and kisses at the nape of my neck. “It’s settled, I’m marrying you and I won’t take no for an answer.”

I pull his face back up, “I accept,” kissing him on the lips. But as I hold the kiss, I lift my frame, sliding up his shaft and stopping when I feel the head pressured at the entrance. A muffled groan is trapped in his throat, redoubled when I slide down again. Oh, I like how this feels!

Over and over I do it, allowing the length to rub against the pressured walls, before pushing back down again. “Fuck,” he moans. “Yona, don’t stop, don’t... stop...”

As amazing as it feels my legs are growing tired. “I’m sorry,” I whimper, “ I can’t keep this up Hak.”

He lifts me up and rolls us over until I’m on my back and he’s nestled between my thighs. Then he maneuvers my legs over his hips, and I comply by hooking my ankles into his thighs. Hak starts pumping; I gasp and arch my back pressing my chest to his. Wow it’s deeper!

His head is rested on the bed next to mine as he uses his elbows to keep his weight off me. But his hands are glued to my pelvis and applying a downward force on them and his hips press upward.

“Hak,” I whine. He’s gonna make me cum a second time! His thrusts outpace my ability to keep up and I give in to the heat waves of my orgasm.

“Fuck,” he groans too as his breathing falters and voice grows strained.

Hak pumps his hips a few more times and I can feel a pulsing sensation inside coming from his dick that I assume is from an orgasm. Finally, after one last thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside me and collapses in a panting mess.

After several minutes, he bundles me in his arms and rolls us to a side position while our breathing calms down. He kisses my forehead. “I love you so much Yona. That was more than I could have ever dreamed of.”

“Mmhmm,” I agree and nestle close to his warm chest. “I love you too Hak.”

“I meant what I said earlier, you know. I’m gonna marry you Yona.”

I lift my head and pull his lips against mine. “I believe you.”

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