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luxekook · 4 years

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chapter six.

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 4.6k (may have gotten a bit *cough* carried away)

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, general chaotic energy, poly relationships, switch!reader, jungkook being a lovable idiot, bad driving, taehyung trying (and failing) to catfish the reader, bar bathroom smut, oral (m receiving), light choking

Chapter Six

Habitat Worksite – 11:25am

The rest of the morning goes by pretty smoothly much to my surprise. The group that I help Eddie orient is from a pub in the neighboring town. They’re so much nicer than the last scarring group I had to deal with, and they’re actually listening to my directions.

I’m pretty sure I have tears in my eyes as I supervise them cutting plywood like professionals – but that could just be the sawdust.

When I become confident that no one is going to injure themselves with the power saw, I recruit some other volunteers to help me transfer the cut wood inside.

As we walk into the house, I almost drop the plywood onto my foot. Jungkook is shirtless, mixing cement together. When had he even arrived? I stare unabashedly at him – The height. The build. The broad shoulders. The veined forearms. The ridged stomach. The tattoos…

Tay, the middle-aged mother of two helping me, follows my line of vision, “Oh my... please tell me you’re hitting that, darling.”

“Tay!” I hiss, my eyes darting around to see if anyone heard her. Sure enough, Jungkook is looking at us and smirking like he was just crowned king of the fucking universe. “I am not hitting anything, thank you very much.”

She makes a derisive noise, “I might be old, but I'm not blind. He’s looking at you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread.”

Jungkook hands off his mixing duties to Matt and saunters over to us, “Hey, noona. You look nice today. Do you need any help?”

“Not hitting that, my ass,” Tay mutters and shoots me a triumphant look as she walks back outside.

I roll my eyes at her antics and turn to Jungkook, “Hi, Kookie. What happened to your shirt?”

Jungkook blushes, “I may have taken it off, and then it may have fallen into the cement.”

My eyes wander around the room until they fall on a sad lump of fabric and semi-dried cement in the corner. My lips twitch.

“Noona-a,” Jungkook whines, “Don’t laugh!”

My body doubles over, shaking with laughter. Tears stream down my face as I try in vain to catch my breath.

“Is she okay?” I vaguely hear Hobi ask before I feel his hand run soothing circles on my back, “(y/n), are you crying?”

I straighten, wiping my tears, “H-he… cemen-nt… sh-shirt…” My cackles resume.

“She’s lost it, hasn’t she?” Yoongi enters the house with eyebrows raised, “It was only a matter of time. Jungkook has that effect on people.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook punches Yoongi in the arm.

"Am I wrong, Hobi?" Yoongi turns to the other boy, who's hand is still firmly on my back.

Hoseok shoots Yoongi a dirty look, "Don't drag me into this. The last time I tried to argue with the two of you I almost got a concussion."

Jungkook smirks, looking way too pleased to receive such an accusation, "I seem to recall you liking it, Hobi-hyung. What was it you were screaming?"

Yoongi snickers as he leans into Jungkook, effectively teaming up on poor Hobi, "I believe the phrase was 'harder, oh my god, harder!'" He and Jungkook collapse onto each other in fits of laughter as Hoseok turns an amusing shade of magenta.

I turn to face Hobi. "Is that how you like it?" I murmur, tilting my head to stare up at him, "You like it hard? Rough?"

Hobi swallows as his pupils dilate. His hand on my lower back suddenly clenches, crumpling my shirt within his fist. "Yes," his voice comes out deeper than I had ever heard it.

Vaguely, I notice the other two boys have stopped laughing. Good. No one would tease my sweet Hobi in front of me and get away with it.

My decision solidifies. "Well," I say, "Then that's how I'll give it to you."

"No one will be giving anything to anyone until we finish this project," Namjoon's voice booms, breaking up your little moment with Hoseok.

The four of you swing to face him, blinking owlishly.

Namjoon's eyes are shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, "Jeon Jungkook, for the love of god, where is your shirt?"

An hour later, I found myself stuck in the backseat of Jungkook's black Range Rover. After Hobi, Yoongi, and Jungkook had loudly voiced their opinion in front of the entire worksite that it was their turn to drive me, I had quickly jumped into the car to avoid further humiliation.

Now, I sat wedged in between Hobi and Yoongi who both refused to sit in the front next to Jungkook and also forbade me from doing so. I only agreed because I was not one to miss an opportunity to be pressed up between two hot guys. Sue me.

Glancing down at my thighs, I marvel at the way both of the boys have placed possessive hands on them. "This is so lame," Jungkook complains for the hundredth time as he glances at the three of us in the rearview mirror. "I want to touch noona, too!"

We ignore him.

Yoongi's slim fingers dig in slightly into the softness of my inner thigh, "(y/n)," his hushed words ghost over my neck, "Come home with us?"

"Please," Hobi echoes from my other side. His hand is more brazen in its placement. His pinky just a fraction away from the apex of my thighs.

Perhaps I could close my legs like the proper lady my grandma wanted me to be... but fuck that. I would woman-spread however I damn well please. "Hmm," I pretend to think about it, "No."

"But why?" Hobi pouts, making puppy-dog eyes in my direction, "You said you were going to give it to me."

I shrug, noncommittally, "I never said when."

Jungkook sighs from the driver's seat, "Ah, I love it when noona is evil."

"We fucking know, Jungkook," Yoongi groans, "You only bring it up a thousand times a day."

"Hey!" Jungkook whirls around in his seat, "Stop exposing me, hyung!"

"Eyes on the damn road, JK!" Hobi grips the 'oh shit' bar as the car begins to veer into the bike lane. Jungkook whips back around and quickly rights the car. Meanwhile, Yoongi smirks like the little shit starter he is.

"Looks like I'm not the only evil one here," I roll my eyes, "You're a menace, Min Yoongi."

"Yes, I am," the boy puffs up his chest and grins that gummy smile that he knows makes me melt, "But I'm your menace."

"Ah, gross!"

"Ew!"

Jungkook and Hobi yell as I try not to smile at Yoongi's rare display of cuteness and fail miserably.

"Stop trying to butter me up so that I'll come home with you, Yoongs," I smile and thread my fingers through his.

"Why?" He leans into me, "Is it working?"

"Not at all," I breathe, eyes darting to his lips as his tongue slips out to wet them.

"Liar," Yoongi moves in closer. My eyelids lower in anticipation.

Jungkook slams on the breaks and jolts the three of us forward, "We're here!" Grumbling, I pull my seatbelt away from its death grip on my body.

"Well played, Jungkook, well played," Yoongi comments from beside me.

"Tell that to my fucking neck," Hobi moans as he massages the front of his neck where his seatbelt must have dug in.

"Aw," I take pity on the poor boy and offer half-jokingly, "Want me to kiss it better?"

"YES!" Hobi's hand flies off his neck at the speed of light and thrusts his neck out in my direction.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he is adorable.

I place the lightest of kisses against the growing pink mark on his skin and revel in the shudder his body emits.

"Bye, Hobi," I place one last kiss on him and slide out of the car, using the door that Yoongi vacated from.

"Bye, angel!" Hobi cries out after me, waving furiously. So damn adorable.

Once I exit the car fully, I am faced with a pouting Jungkook and an annoyed-looking Yoongi.

"What now?" I eye them warily.

Yoongi gives Jungkook a dark look, and the younger boy backs off slightly. Turning back to me, Yoongi steps forward. "Bye, (y/n)," he says lowly, brushing a fallen strand of hair behind my ear. A light dusting of pink floods his cheeks at his own soft actions. I bite the inside of my cheek to contain my innate reaction to shower him with affection.

That time would come later, I'm sure.

"Bye, Yoongi," I press my mouth his cheek, "Keep your menacing ways to a minimum while I'm not around, would you?"

"No promises," Yoongi drawls, before hopping back into the car.

And just like that I'm left with one tall bashful boy.

"Oh, Jungkook..." I walk towards where he is propped up against the front of his car. His lean body slouches against the hood as his left leg props itself up on front tire. He still has yet to put another shirt on.

"I'm sorry, noona," he speaks to the pavement in the tiniest voice, "I got jealous that I wasn't getting to be that close to you."

I lift his chin up with my finger, "Baby, you were the only one who had my nipples in your mouth last night, and you're jealous of them?"

He swallows hard before grinning, "Well, when you put it like that..."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," I give into the urge to trace the muscles of his stomach. They bunch up under my touch and I smile at his responsiveness. "You know," I continue, "You're going to have to get over this jealousy thing if I do decide to date you all."

"I know, noona," the pout returns, and this time it's paired with a devastating pair of imploring doe eyes. "I just like you. A lot.”

"Well," I smile, "It's a good thing that I also happen to like you. A lot."

"Really?" Jungkook's neck snaps up at an alarming rate, "You do?"

"Yes, you giant idiot," I grip the back of his neck, "Now, kiss me goodbye."

He kisses me. His teeth pull at my bottom lip in a faint bite, and goosebumps spread across my body. I bite him harder in retaliation, but it only seems to urge him closer against me, body hard, warming me everywhere we connect. His fingertips drag down my skin until they reach my waist. His hands slide up under my shirt, and he rests his palms against my skin, fingers splayed down over my hips.

His hold is undeniably possessive. And that would not do.

I lean up and kiss him harder, digging my nails into his back as I tug him against me, feeling every inch of his body respond to my touch. A groan rumbles deep from within his chest.

“Do you think they’re going to come up for air soon?” An amused voice cuts through our make-out session.

Jungkook rips his mouth from mine, “Fuck off, Hobi.”

I open my eyes and blink a couple times before focusing on the smirking faces of Hobi and Yoongi. Their heads are sticking out of the open back window of the Range Rover as they cackle in amusement.

"Hobi," I say sweetly, "Do you need another mark on your neck today?" My hand flexes tauntingly in his direction.

Hoseok's eyes widen, "N-no! Bye again, (y/n)!" He retreats back into the car as Yoongi continues to chuckle before rolling up the window once more.

"You can mark my neck, (y/n)-noona." Jungkook's voice jolts me from my second thoughts on not going home with them.

This boy really is shameless, I think to myself as I shake my head.

"Maybe next time, Kook," I grin at him, "It'll give you something to look forward to."

"For as long as there are next times with you, noona, I will look forward to them."

My heart swells. "You're such a sweetheart, baby boy." The nickname has its desired effect as Jungkook's cheeks blush and his smile widens.

"I'm baby," he nods.

"Yes, you dork, you are," I place a swift peck to his cheek and head into my apartment before I get any more tempted to jump back in his car and initiate a foursome.

God, what were these boys doing to me?

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 4:15pm

A few hours later, I am deep in an argument with Luna over who the best Queer Eye guy is when my phone buzzes.

[Unsaved Number] 2 New Messages

Luna notices my confusion. "Who is it?" she asks, leaning over to look at my screen.

"No fucking clue," I reply, swiping open the messages.

[Unsaved Number] 4:15pm: “Hey, babe! It's me! Namjoon!” 4:15pm: “Want to meet at Hannigan's tonight? Just the two of us!?”

"What the everliving fuck?" My eyebrows rise at the completely obvious way that someone was poorly attempting to impersonate Namjoon.

"That's how Namjoon texts?" Luna sits back, "What a letdown."

"I don't think this is even Namjoon," I mutter and save the contact before swiping over to SnapChat. "Let's see if I have this person's Snap."

"Oh, your mind!" Luna exclaims, running to go grab a bag of pretzels from our tiny kitchen adjacent to our also tiny living room, "That is some top sleuthing right there."

"Why thank you, my good sir," I nod at her playfully before focusing back on my screen. Opening the 'Add Friends' tab, my eyes immediately hone in on the imposter.

"Oh, that little shit," I cry, chucking my phone onto the other end of the couch.

"What? Who is it?" Pretzel crumbs spew out of Luna's mouth as she ambles over to where I had just thrown my phone. She picks it up, turns it over, and lets out a long whistle. "Oh, fuck. What are you going to do?"

Luna hands my phone back to me, and I reopen the messages to respond.

Me 4:21pm: "Hi, Namjoon. I'll meet you there." 4:21pm: "9pm."

It'S mE! nAmJoOn! 4:22pm: “Yay! It's a date!” 4:22pm: “See you at 9!!!”

"Well," I lock my phone and set it down on the coffee table, "It looks I’ll finally get the chance to teach Kim Taehyung a lesson."

Luna springs up from the couch, "I'm calling Jenni. Let's do this."

Hannigan’s - 9:09pm

I'm nervous with anticipation.

Why?

Oh, that’s right – motherfucking Kim Taehyung thought he could pull one over me by impersonating Namjoon, and, so far, he's nowhere to be found.

I grasp my beer tightly as I slouch lower on my barstool. Since arriving about twenty minutes ago, I had set up camp in the corner of the bar. Luna and Jenni had immediately ditched me upon arrival, claiming that they were meeting friends.

I would have believed them if I hadn’t noticed that they just relocated to a table within vision of me and were scouring the room for any signs of Taehyung. I pull out my phone and once again debate texting him.

Fuck it. I'm just about to construct a text when my phone pings with messages from the group chat:

Bee Gang 9:10pm, Luna: “HE'S HERE” 9:10pm, Jenni: “HE LOOKS SOOOO GOOD KSKSKS” 9:11pm, Luna: “HOLY SHIT I THINK HE JUST SAW YOU” 9:11pm, Jenni: “TAEHYUNG IS LOOKING AT YOU LIKE YOU'RE THE HOTTEST THING HE'S EVER SEEN. HE'S GONNA FUCK YOUR SHIT UP I’D BET GOOD MONEY!!!” 9:11pm, Luna: “NAH DUDE *SHE* IS GONNA FUCK UP *HIS* SHIT” 9:12pm, Jenni: “OMG U RIGHT” 9:12pm, (y/n): “1) YOU BOTH SUCK AT HIDING, 2) NO ONE IS FUCKING ANYONE UP, 3) MAYBE THE SECOND THING IS A LIE”

I lock my phone and place it face down on the bar.

Looking up to see where Taehyung is, I immediately lock eyes on him. He's slowly making his way towards me with people constantly pausing him to chat. Taehyung’s all smiles, but I can tell he is a bit annoyed. That strikes me as odd – I thought he loved the attention?

The boy emerges free from the crowd, and I finally get to take him in.

Damn, he does look so good. His tight white t-shirt emphasizes his toned stomach while his overlying black leather jacket makes his shoulders look a mile wide. My gaze drops lower and take in his black pants with a black belt cinching the waist. I have to fight the urge to grab it and use it to pull him into me.

He’s almost to me when he turns his gaze to the bartender and flicks up two fingers. And just like that two beers and an annoying but hot-as-sin man appear in front of me.

“You don't look surprised to see me,” he says as his greeting, sliding me one of the new beers. He shoots a look at the group of boys occupying the stools next to me and they immediately make themselves scarce.

I arch an eyebrow, “You do realize I had all of your SnapChats to double check the number with, right?”

"God-fucking-damn," Taehyung plops down in the barstool next to mine, "No wonder it was so easy to convince Joon to let me do this." He shakes his head and glances up at me beneath his blue fringe, “You still came? Even though you knew it was me?”

I roll my eyes at his cute actions, "Yes, I figured you had something important to say if you went through all that to get me here."

He blinks, clearly still caught off guard that I wasn't surprised to see him. "I do," His voice cracks and he flushes deliciously, "I mean, yes, I have something to say."

"Okay," I nod and sip from my beer, "So, tell me."

His fingers fiddle with the label on his beer bottle as he begins, "I know I'm not your favorite person... I'm loud. I'm bratty. I know that. But I just have to know if you felt anything that night last semester; because, I did, and I can't stop thinking about it. I know that you probably haven't. It's been killing me to see you with everyone else that I love, and I just need to know if there's a chance you might want to be with me like that, too, and-"

I clamp a hand over his mouth. His eyes snap to mine.

"Baby," I sigh, "Is this what's been making you act out?"

Taehyung's head bobs as he nods swiftly.

"Now, that just won't do," I murmur, my mind whirring as I think of all the times I had thought he wanted to annoy me when all he really wanted was my attention.

"Listen," I continue, pulling my hand from his mouth, "I don't know where you got those ideas stuck in your head from, but they're wrong. I do think about that night last semester. All the fucking time, Tae. And, yes, you're loud, and you have a tendency to be a brat... But, it only makes me more interested."

Taehyung's eyes burn into mine as I lean closer, "It only makes me want to teach you some discipline."

I watch as Taehyung’s knuckles go white as he clenches his beer. Concerned that the glass might shatter in his grip and hurt him, I slowly place my hand over his, “Relax, baby.”

"You can't just say things like that, noona!" Taehyung moans, shifting in his seat.

"And why not?" I tease as he takes a long sip of his beer with his head tilted back and his throat muscles moving in a way that made me want to do bad things.

I blink, "You know what? Forget it. Let's just start over, okay?"

Taehyung bites his lip, “Okay, sure.” He gestures to the bartender for another round, “Let’s play a game.”

My response is automatic. “Alright, Jigsaw. What kind of game?”

“Just a nice harmless game of ‘Never Have I Ever’, (y/n). Nothing untoward, I promise.”

My eyes narrow at his way-too-innocent smile and his archaic use of ‘untoward’. “Fine,” I arch an eyebrow, “But I have a few stipulations.”

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t, noona,” he scoots his stool closer to me, “Lay ‘em on me.”

Oh, I will, my inner hoe responds.

Out loud, I reply, “The game can be stopped at any time, and you have to explain your answers if the other person asks.”

“Done,” he grins, “Never have I ever gotten my nipples pierced.”

“That’s targeting!” I exclaim indignantly, “You’ve seen them, you prick.”

“I haven't tasted them. At least, not yet,” his eyes squint at my boobs which are currently well-covered by a jean jacket. “Jungkook has… That fucker,” he mumbles under his breath.

These boys and their jealousy... I shake my head. How had they managed to stay in a relationship with all of this possessiveness they clearly had going on? It's truly a mystery.

"My turn," I grin, "Never have I ever dyed my hair blue."

"This is really more of a teal-ish green, noona!" Taehyung tries to argue, and I scoff.

"Fine," he relents and mumbles under his breath, "Should have brought my paint swatches." After taking a sip of his drink, he switches gears, “Never have I ever wanted to date a frat boy?”

I sip my drink. He immediately demands clarification. I grin, “Those EXO boys are fine.”

His jaw clenches. Ooh, he does not like that answer.

“EXO?” he snarls, "Over my dead body."

My eyebrow quirks up, “Well, that's a bit dramatic. They seem like nice boys.”

"Nice boys?" Taehyung cocks his head, "Noona, those aren't your type."

He's right. I push him further, “And what is my type then, Tae?”

“Boys that challenge you.”

He’s right again, but I’d rather not give him the satisfaction of knowing it. His ego is already inflated enough. I smile inwardly and say, “You think you have me all figured out, Kim.”

Taehyung surprises me as he breaks into a loud laugh, “No, not even close. But I’m a persistent boy so maybe I’ll get there one day.”

Just then I realize how close to one another we’ve gotten. Our sides are touching, and his hand has apparently been gripping my thigh for who knows how long. I stare at it, examining the adorning rings on his pointer and index fingers.

Are those fucking Gucci?

He must notice my gaze on his hand because he squeezes my thigh, and I smily at him. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

Taehyung looks at me like I’m something precious, something divine. I want to shatter that image. I want to ruin it. I want to ruin him.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, noona?”

“Kiss me.” And he does.

Taehyung kisses me over and over. I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed it. His mouth is tender on mine, and with every exhale, he lets out the slightest moan, which almost seems like a plea for more.

He’s gentler than I remember. His mouth is warm and soft; his caresses are leisurely and unhurried.

I pull back slightly to look him in his eyes. They are dazed, unfocused.

My lips brush his ear as I whisper, “Be a good boy and meet me in the bathroom in two minutes.”

With that, I saunter away towards the back bathroom which usually tends to be cleaner due to its slightly hidden nature.

Knocking on the door, I strain my ears for any sign of a reply. Nothing. I enter the dim room and immediately catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My hair is everywhere, and I immediately grab the hair-tie around my wrist.

I pause, a sinful idea coming to mind.

A knock sounds. “Noona?” A deep voice calls, and I open the door, grab Tae by the collar, and tug him inside.

“Noona, you’re feisty tonight I-” I cut him off with my mouth.

I don’t hesitate as my mouth consumes his and my body presses him against the wall. My tongue finds his as my hips grind into him. He whimpers, and it’s such a beautiful sound.

After feeling him throb through his clothes, the thought I had earlier returns.

Stepping back, I grab my hair-tie and tug my hair up into a ponytail. Taehyung whines as I slowly sink to my knees before him, “Jesus, fuck.”

“Is this okay?” I question, gazing up at the beautiful boy above me, “Do you want my mouth, baby?”

“Shit, yeah,” Taehyung wraps my ponytail in his hand and lightly pulls me closer.

Does he think he’s suddenly in charge?

I flick open his belt before tugging his pants down. His cock strains against his silky black boxers and I give into the temptation to suck on it through the fabric.

“F-fuck, please, noona,” the stuttered curse comes from above, and I smile.

I pull his boxers down, grasping his cock and stroking lightly.

And, without warning, I take the head of his cock in my mouth and suck. “Goddamn,” Tae hisses, fingers sliding into my hair. He pulls my hair-tie out and replaces its hold with his fist.

I take him as far as I can, blowing him and stroking the parts of his cock I can’t get to with my mouth.

“Shit, fuck, please,” he begs, looking down at me with wild eyes and a fucked out expression, “Don’t stop, (y/n).”

Stop? Never. The power trip is too delicious.

My mouth bobs on his cock as he bucks, trying to fuck my mouth. My hands grab his ass to control his movements as I slide my mouth off of him.

“Do you want to come in my mouth, baby?” I tilt my head to the side as one of my hands resumes its ministrations.

“Y-yes,” The boy gasps above me, his breath coming in pants, “Please, I’m so close, noona.”

“Hmm, are you going to be my good boy, Taehyung-ie?” My hand halts, and he whines, his hips straining to keep moving in my hand. I squeeze him, “Well?”

“Yes!” He moans, repeating, “I’m your good boy. I’m noona’s good boy.”

“That’s what I thought.” My mouth closes around his cock again and sucks him hard.

“Fuck.” I watch enraptured as Taehyung’s head falls back against the wall, and then he’s coming.

His body convulses above me as I swallow ever last bit of him. After he finishes, I pull my mouth away to kiss the underside of his cock, his balls, the insides of his thighs. Above me, he’s muttering my name like a prayer.

“You can let go of my hair now, Tae,” I laugh, my voice slightly hoarse. Reaching up, I lightly tug his hold from me and slide my discarded hair-tie off of his wrist. Standing, I pull my hair up into a messy bun and turn to face him.

He’s tugging his pants up and staring at me with a darkening expression, his nostrils flared. “Let me taste you, noona. Ride my face.” The tenor of his voice washes over me, tempting me with its rough words.

“You haven’t earned that yet.” I start towards the door, but Taehyung darts in front of it, effectively cutting me off.

“I just want to please you, babe. Come on,” his begging only solidifies my resolve.

“You already have pleased me, Tae,” I swipe a thumb across his cheek as he pouts.

“But I could please you even more with my mouth!”

This boy. I grab his neck lightly, “Listen, baby, I’m going to say this once. When I ride your face, you’ll be tied up across my bed at my mercy. Got it?”

His body becomes pliant under my words and my light grip. I gently shift him out of the way of the exit. “Now, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon, my good boy.”

The parting smile I send him is absolutely lethal, and it only grows bigger when I hear him blurt out a grumbled “holy fuck” as I strut away from him.

a/n: yeeeeeee things are really heating up *fans self* hope y’all liked it!! ALSO, s/o to tay aka @loveejoon for being featured UWU

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modosphere · 5 years

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All I Want For Christmas Is You

“Soph! Can you come down for a moment, please? Your father is calling you!”

“Down in a sec!” I yelled back, closing my bedroom door again, so I could say my goodbyes to Rose. “Okay, drive safe and text me, alright? I want to know how everything goes. I’ve got to go, my parents want me.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to you later, bye!”

I hung up and head downstairs, throwing my phone onto the bed before I did.

“What’s up?” I asked, walking into the dining room. Mum and Dad were sitting at the end of the table, a cup of tea each and a packet of biscuits between them.

“Sit down.” Dad told me, a small, smug smile on his face. Oh dear God, this wasn’t going to be good. Not for me, anyway. “Don’t look so worried, Soph, relax.”

More reason for me to be worried.

I sat down on the other end of our table, opposite my dad, at the head. Bring it. This was bad. Either Dad was having another mid-life crisis and had decided to moan about his life more publicly than usual, or they were adding to my weekly quota of family time again.

“Soph, Zayn’s parents just rang.” Mum told me calmly. Dad watched me carefully beside her and I felt my stomach flip at his name. Okay, I was definitely not ever going to get used to that. His name, I mean. Even from my mother’s mouth it sounded ridiculously appealing to me and that in itself was so dysfunctional beyond words, I almost shuddered in disgust.

“Oh, did they?” I tried to sound neutral. It kind of worked. “What did they say?”

Dad took a sip of tea and looked over at me.

“They’re inviting us to their Christmas party.” He said the last two words with contempt and I tried not to wince and roll my eyes at the same time. Dad was still having... Issues about that. “It’s next week on Christmas Eve and then they invited us to spend Christmas Day with them, too, to have... Lunch.”

“That was nice.” I opted for saying, going with the neutral answer. “A bit short notice, isn’t it?”

“Well, apparently, Zayn was meant to mention it to you.” Mum turned to me and I felt my body tense slightly at the icy look in her eye. “You see, this is why we don’t like our young, Muslim daughter working in journalism and finding her own husband, because we can’t control your exposure to him and find everything out last.”

I couldn’t help but feel my anger rise slightly, even though I knew I was rising to the bait.

“Well, not really, you know exactly what happens and when I see Zayn.” I frowned, irritation seeping into my voice.

“Yes, darling.” Mum said patronizingly, in that way that made my skin itch. “But if we had from the beginning, you wouldn’t be engaged right now, would you? You didn’t tell us when you met Zayn before, because you knew we’d disapprove.”

I scowled, even though I’d heard that wasn’t a great look for somebody who had graduated.

“I think what your mother is trying to say,” Dad interrupted coolly. “Is that it would be nice if you didn’t withhold information from us, sweetie.”

He called me sweetie.

Yeah, I wanted to kill them both.

“So either Zayn’s parents are lying, which I don’t see any reason for them to do.” Dad continued. “Or Zayn didn’t tell you. Or you didn’t tell us.”

“And if Zayn didn’t tell you, that’s not a very trusting relationship, is it, darling?” If my darling mother patronized me one more time, I was going to jump across our stupid glass dining table and rugby tackle her to the floor.

“He did tell me, I just didn’t think it’d be your thing.” I said defensively, not liking the way my parents automatically wanted to blame Zayn. It wasn’t because they even wanted to think their daughter perfect; no, it was because the more dirt they had on Zayn, the more they could rub it in my face.

“Leave it to us to decide whether it’s our thing or not.” Dad said, sounding slightly menacing now. I clenched my jaw and tried to envision happy thoughts. See? I couldn’t win. If I didn’t back up Zayn, I was marrying a total loser and my parents would be on my back about it. If I took his side, they felt all pissy because I wasn’t a part of their crappy little gang. Urgh, I hated them both. “Now-”

“I just thought you guys wouldn’t want to go and anyway, you wouldn’t unless they called to invite you.” I frowned.

“See, there, it wasn’t so hard to tell the truth, was it?” Dad smiled patronizingly and again, the urge to rugby tackle somebody took me over. I shook my head to protest, but Dad just shook his head at me. “Now, now, Soph, we’re just trying to help, we’re not throwing accusations, are we, Ruby?”

Mum just raised an eyebrow at me.

“So, what did you say to them?” I sighed in defeat, clenching my fists under the table. “Do you want to go, then?”

“Well, I was going to tell them we’d think about it, but your father thought that would be too abrupt.”

I decided to not look in my mother’s direction. When she was like this, I only wanted to gauge her eyes out with a plastic fork.

“Do you want to go?” Dad asked me carefully.

Oh, God, I knew this was a trick question.

“Are you here that weekend?” I asked, proud of the neutrality in my voice. “And doesn’t that mean we’d have to stay in Bradford for a few days or something?”

“You leave that to me.” Dad told me calmly. “Do you want to go, Soph?”

I was tempted to tear my hair out. I mean, what a stupid question. Did I want to spend Christmas with Zayn? As opposed to staying, okay, yes, in London, but with my family, awkwardly fighting for volume control as I tried to watch the Doctor Who special?

Then again... Even if Matt Smith was no David Tennant... There was still the Doctor Who special.

“I think it’d be nice.” I said carefully, ignoring the triumphant looks on my parent’s faces. You’d think they’d be a bit more mature. I mean, for goodness sake, Zayn was my goddamn fiance, the least they could do was understand that that meant something.

“You won’t just be seeing Zayn, his entire family will be there.” Mum told me coldly and even though I knew she was only playing Bad Cop so Dad wouldn’t, she was still seriously pushing it. Whether she admitted it or not, she liked Zayn, so I didn’t see what the goddamn fuss was. “I hope you’re not just doing it to please him. I mean, God forbid you should try and please your parents, but this boy comes along and oh, you’ll do anything for him-”

“Alright, Robina, do you want to have this conversation with her when I’m not here?” Dad snapped. Ah, there it was. Dad’s false sense of manliness. What difference did it make if we spoke about feelings? Not that I did that anyway, but I did simply loved the way my Dad acted like we were talking about periods or something whenever my feelings for Zayn came up. Not that I really... Had anyway. I mean, a second ago I’d referred to him as my fiance and no matter how true that was, IT CREEPED ME OUT TO SAY IT. “Soph, if you want to go, we’ll go, okay? Do you want to go?”

I nodded reluctantly. Hadn’t somebody once warned me that love was all about sacrifices? Well, I was screwed. I refused to admit I had any type of positive feelings for Zayn and I was still sacrificing the years of teenage rebellion I’d built against my parents for him. What even.

“Right, then your mother can call them back now and we’ll tell them we’ll see them next week. It’s not a problem.” Dad smiled at me and it was one of those rare moments that I didn’t know whether to accept his sudden niceness and forgot he was mostly a prick, or be suspicious. Mum opened her mouth to complain, but Dad just glared at her. “Oh, for God’s sake, Robina, she’s already marrying the damn boy, what more embarrassment can she cause us?”

Yeah... Prick it was.

“Hey, Adam!” I yelled over the din of surround-sound Power Rangers. “Do you want to go to a Christmas party next week?”

“No.” Adam shouted back, before shuffling in, in all of his eleven-year-old glory. “No, wait, whose party is it?”

“Zayn’s parents.” I told him calmly, feeling slightly better as our parents watched us, confused. “I think it’s in Bradford, though.”

Adam thought for a minute.

“Is Zayn going to be there?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, that’d be cool, we’ll go.” Adam told us importantly, before going back into the lounge and watching whatever crap it was he was watching.

“Adam, why should we go and see Zayn?” Mum shouted out, teasing. I heard Adam grunt at the interruption. He’d finished his studying for the day, I knew what that meant; his brain was officially dead until he had to wake up for school tomorrow. “Don’t you think it’d be more fun to stay at home, just us four?”

“No.” Adam said back, snorting from the other room. Mum could see him from where she was sitting, but I didn’t need to watch him to know what face he was giving her; the look that clearly meant she was crazy. “Zayn’s cool, he said he’d play COD with me.”

“When did you meet Zayn?” Dad asked sharply.

Adam was so good, I didn’t even bat an eyelid.

“I didn’t, but he follows me on Twitter.” Adam said. “I’m watching TV now.” Translation; shut up and leave me alone.

So we did.

. . .

1 WEEK LATER

“Make sure Zayn knows the boundaries.” Mum was telling me quietly as Dad parked the Range Rover somewhere we wouldn’t get blocked in. “If your father sees him touching you, he’ll kill him.”

“I know!” I sighed, rolling my eyes as we waited for someone to open the door. The driveway to the new house was packed with cars. I knew the boys would be here. Rose was going to be late – Harry was picking her up from the station, he’d been running late anyway – but the others should be here.

Including Zayn.

I’d gone for the natural look today, not that I’d had much choice, what with the whole no-red-lipstick-until-the-wedding-day thing. I was still wearing more make-up than usual, though. Black eyeliner, mascara, tinted moisturizer, fairly natural looking pink lip-gloss. The clothes I had chosen myself, for fear my mother would make me so feminine, Zayn wouldn’t recognize me. I was wearing skinny black jeans, a stripy jumper that screamed “festive season” and some navy high-top Converses to match the stripes.

Adam clearly looked the smartest out of all of us. He also looked way too much like a rockstar for my liking. Skinny black jeans, a white shirt and a black blazer, with his own black Converses. He and Mum had argued over the shoes, but Adam had argued that if I was the only reason we were all going and I wasn’t being forced to glam up, he shouldn’t be either. And Dad had just agreed because we’d been running late.

I rang the doorbell, chewing on the inside of my lip nervously.

“Soph, don’t be nervous.” Mum told me quietly, squeezing my hand. “You look hot, Zayn must be bloody blind if he doesn’t see that.”

That made me snort, especially as I saw Adam shoot Mum the most freaked out look ever.

And then the door opened.

“Louis, you wan-” Niall’s eyes widened as he saw me, eyebrows raised, standing with Mum and Adam. “Soph! You made it!” Niall shrieked, before grabbing me in a great bear hug.

Now, I love Niall’s hugs, I do. But my mother isn’t such a fan.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or not. He was so... Enthusiastic. I hadn’t seen any of the boys for the past few weeks, what with the second leg of the tour and everything. I’d spoken to Harry a few times about the whole thing he was going through and the other guys had emailed a couple of times... I hadn’t really spoken to Zayn much. Sure, he’d called and text, but I’d always found a reason to cut it short.

Don’t judge me, okay? The whole... Getting married thing was scary. Especially considering... Well, everything we had gone through to get here. But it all seemed so much more real now. I mean, I was getting married. To Zayn. Of all people in the world.

“Soph’s mum, nice to meet you.” Niall grinned, letting me go to hug Mum instead. Adam and I glanced at each other, trying not to laugh, as Mum politely hugged him back, looking confused.

“Hi.” Dad nodded to Niall as he let go, appearing out of nowhere. He had his polite voice on. “Shall we come in?”

“And you must be Soph’s Dad!” Niall yelled happily, shaking Dad’s hand enthusiastically. I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Lovely to meet you all, truly. And you must be Adam!”

“Hi.” Adam said politely.

“Welcome to the brotherhood, man, we’re all playing video games in the other room, so stick around.” Niall told him sincerely and I felt my shoulders relax as Adam smiled broadly up at him. It was one thing for Adam to approve of Zayn, but it was another for him to approve of the other boys. “I’m Niall, by the way.” Niall said to Mum and Dad, smiling. “I’m the token Irish one in the band, I work with Zayn.”

I knew Mum recognized him from my hardcore One Direction days, back when they’d just released the first album. Dad nodded and smiled like he knew what was going on and Mum brightened a little. I knew what she was remembering; me and her cheering Niall on as he Irish-danced on Alan Carr.

Niall hustled us in and I stared at how... Busy everything was. There were people everywhere, to start with. Drinking, laughing, talking – yelling at kids.

“I’d avoid her if I were you.” Niall told us cheerfully. “One of Zayn’s relatives friends or something, all I know is that she likes shouting a lot, she hasn’t made many friends.”

I shook my head at Niall, smiling, as he took our coats.

“Soph, I’ll go and find the rest of the boys, they’ll be so glad you’re here, we didn’t know if you were coming or not.” Niall grinned. “I mean, Zayn told us you were coming with family, but we didn’t know if you’d actually be able to make it or not, coming in from London and all.”

“Nice save.” I mouthed as soon as my parents back were turned and Niall shook his head at me, Adam giggling beside us. The boys knew about the constant battle Zayn and I were having against my family.

“Adam, come with me, you can join our little tournament.” Niall clapped a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Soph, I’ll-”

“Oh, you’ve arrived!” I heard somebody gasp and I turned, with a smile, to my future mother-in-law. God, that term was dysfunctional. “Niall, why didn’t you tell me? Honestly, you boys are useless – Robina, you look lovely!”

I let Patricia do the whole happy-hostess thing. Don’t get me wrong, I loved her to pieces, but I knew she had to play it up for my Dad. Which she did. She looked stunning, as always. Yaser – sorry, Uncle Yaser (future father-in-law, oh God) came out and he and Dad seemed to be getting along.

It was surreal, I’m not going to lie. Not the party; the 1D Mums loved me. Why wouldn’t they? I kept Harry in check, pushed Liam to get a love life, ate relatively healthily with Niall, made sure Louis didn’t let anybody use his minutes so he had enough to stay on the phone with his Mum and... And, yeah, okay, Zayn was my future husband. But still. The girls came over and said hi. The usual; hugs, kisses, “Oh my God, you look great!” being passed around.

“Oh, there you are!” Aunt Patricia – you see, I had no problem calling her Aunt, I mean, c’mon, I’m Asian, I’d been doing it for years, but it was weird, because the boys instantly thought it made Zayn sound like my cousin, which, just, ew, no – looked behind me, rolling her eyes. I felt my shoulders tense. She only reserved that equally loving and irritated tone for one person. “Look who’s arrived.”

I knew I shouldn’t have tied my hair away from my face, what shield did I have now?

I turned and saw Zayn standing behind me, his hands shoved into his pockets. I’ll admit it; my heart stuttered a little bit. He’d let his hair grown out even more than from the last time I’d seen him; it wasn’t gelled up, so was a thick, wavy mess. Black trousers, a black V-neck jumper. Of course, his black and purple Air Max trainers.

He didn’t have his studs in, because he knew it irritated my parents. He’d shaved properly, so there was no end-of-day stubble. He was standing slightly awkwardly and I quickly looked away, as I saw his head begin to turn in my direction.

This was utterly pathetic. He was putting the ring on my finger and making our engagement fully public in a couple of weeks. God, when I’d hated him I’d been way more confident, how was it that, having one of the hottest guys on the planet want to marry me made me feel all... Gushy?

Easy. Because I was still trying to pretend that it didn’t bother me that he’d made the first move, how much I truly cared for him and Hell, how I fully planned on jumping him repeatedly on our wedding night.

Ahh, wedding night. How about I didn’t think about that right now??

“Hi Uncle.” Zayn said with a small smile on his face, shaking Dad’s hand. He kissed Mum on the cheek. “Aunty Ruby, you look stunning-” I blocked out, wincing as I heard him high-five Adam. It was so wrong. Zayn and Adam getting along was just so wrong. I mean, Adam felt protective over me when Dad complained about his tea, but the guy I was marrying? No, Adam was cool with that.

This is what I got for brainwashing Adam into a Directioner in my teenage years.

I chewed on my lip, arms folded over my chest as I looked up, feeling Zayn turn to me.

I looked into his stupid, stupid, stupid brown eyes. They looked green in this light.

“Hey.” He said softly, smiling that stupid, horrible, cute, brilliant, sexy little smile he saved just me.

“Hi.” I managed to say, just as quietly, chewing on my bottom lip with a small, forced smile. Oh, God, I felt sick. Oh, God, Zayn was making me feel sick. See, this was a problem. Why couldn’t it be the way it had been when we’d hated each other? I’d had way more confidence then!

There was a flurry of instructions then. Uncle Yaser (FATHER-IN-LAW, SO VERY DYSFUNCTIONAL, PEOPLE) took Dad to sit with the other men, Aunt Patricia took Mum off with a wink, Niall whisked off Adam and then... It was me and Zayn.

“Why are you staring at me like you would the penguin enclosure?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him and feeling slightly more comfortable at how confident I sounded. Not felt, but sounded.

“You look beautiful.” Zayn told me, allowing himself to grin at me goofily. “I think someone made the effort for me.”

“Oh yeah, Mum was out to impress.” I nodded, knowing that was exactly what he hadn’t meant. I went to walk away, agonizing over the fact I’d have to walk past him.

I didn’t get far.

As I went by, Zayn subtly placed his hand over my wrist, our shoulders touching.

Ah, ah, ah, help, help, help, close proximity!

“I think you made an effort.” Zayn murmured to me quietly, looking into my eyes. Oh, God, it was really hard to be in denial when he was pulling out the eyes. I mean, that was unfair. I didn’t have eyes like his. I mean, they were brown, but they didn’t have freaking superpowers like his. “I appreciate it.”

“You know if my parents see you touching me before the wedding, they’re going to butcher you, right?” I managed to ask, my voice sounding slightly shaky, even to my own ears. I could smell his aftershave. I could feel his hot breath on my cheek as he spoke and dear God, I wanted to run away screaming. And not because I hated it. The opposite.

“I don’t see you complaining.” Zayn smirked at me. He shuffled slightly closer, so he was standing half in front of me, obscuring everybody else’s view, his chest not too far away from being pressed against mine. Help. Have mercy. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Not... Not avoiding.” I managed to stammer. Oh, God, oh GOD, his lips were RIGHT THERE... This had been a bad idea. “Just creating suitable distance.”

Zayn’s smirk widened.

“You’re going to be my wife in a couple of weeks, Soph, we’re going to be close.” Zayn’s eyes fell from mine and travelled slowly up and down my body, giving me tingles. “... Very close.” Okay, that was it. I was going to cry out of pure sexual frustration.

Yes, I said it. Sexual frustration.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I was glad (sort of) that it’d be... Special, when the time came.

But, in case nobody else had noticed, my fiance was ZAYN MALIK, okay? It was torture. Especially when he did... This. I mean, I hadn’t even kissed the guy. Not that I didn’t already know about the absolutely epic sexual chemistry we already had. I mean, come on, last week had been practically nothing to what was going to happen on D-Day (aka, Wedding Night, aka When Soph Stops Being Virginal).

“Sounds like you’ve got it all planned.” I cleared my throat first, sounding nonchalant. I tried to tell myself I just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting me flustered... But I knew that was a lie.

A LIE.

Because I knew the more I acted like he wasn’t bothering me, the more Zayn would try. And honestly, I didn’t want him to stop talking.

“Oh, yeah.” Zayn nodded neutrally, before smirking at me, his eyes smoldering from underneath those killer long eyelashes. Arrgh. I was going to throttle him, I swear to God. I was going to pull a total Lady Macbeth and stab him in his sleep. Was that Macbeth? See?! Zayn was messing with my brain so much, I was getting my literature mixed up! ME! “I should probably warn you, actually, so you’re prepared. I’m going to start with your-”

“Soph!”

I almost passed out with relief as Liam popped his head around the door, beaming at me. Zayn stepped back smoothly, letting go of my wrist, his head down as he hid his giant, triumphant grin. Smug bastard.

“Hey!” I forced a smile and stepped away from Zayn, feeling giddy. Arrgghh, Zayn was making me swoon. How pathetic. Hey, would he catch me? OH GOD, SOPH, NOT HELPING. “Sorry, I was, uh,-”

“Are your parents around? Or can I hug you?” Liam whispered, looking around.

I laughed and hugged him quickly, making sure to inhale deeply. Liam smell. Not Zayn smell. Zayn smell made me feel giddy, Liam smell just smelt good.

“Zayn messing with your head?” Liam asked me quietly, sounding amused.

“Aha, you have no idea.” I whispered back, before pulling away.

. . .

The party was... Great.

The food was great (though I didn’t say it in front of Zayn, because I knew he’d helped and he was charming my parents too much for my liking already), everybody was really friendly (except that one lady who we’d seen when we’d walked in, but Adam and I had mostly avoided her) and even my Dad was having a relatively good time. I mean, I’d seen him laughing.

Shock, horror.

“He’s fitting in well.” Zayn nodded towards where Adam and Louis were battling each other on the X-box, sidling up behind me.

“Too well. He’s adapting better than I am.” I smiled, shaking my head and turning to face Zayn – freezing as I saw how close he was. His face was inches away from mine and the way I could see the teeniest of smirks on his lips – on the lips I was very, very close to – instantly made me know that it was deliberate. “The party’s going well.”

“Yeah, you’ve gone down a hit.” Zayn murmured, smirking again. I stared at him for a moment, about to say something – but unsure of what – before I turned away. “Everybody’s going to be leaving soon.”

“So early?” I asked in surprise, turning back to him, but making sure there was more distance between our faces this time.

Zayn gave me a funny look.

“Soph, it’s nearly midnight.” Zayn blinked. “Countdown to Christmas starts in a couple of minutes and then people will be leaving. Including you. Are you coming to lunch tomorrow?”

“No idea.” I shrugged, stiffening and wincing as, by shrugging, my arm grazed Zayn’s stomach. Okay, so he was wearing a jumper, but still. WHAT IF HE HADN’T BEEN? Oh my God. I was going to find that out soon enough, wasn’t I? What it was like to brush against Zayn, in general, when he wasn’t wearing ANYTHING? Argh.

You see, this was why I had been “avoiding” Zayn. It wasn’t avoiding him as such; it was more the fact that I was kicking myself. I mean, I’d been this super-confident, borderline-cocky, perfect flirt before. Not before, before, I mean between before before and now before and URGH – you get the point. And with the wedding approaching (by wedding I mean D-DAY), I was expected to still be that sexy motherfucker (if I do say so myself). And I wasn’t. I was petrified. Not in THAT way, but just, generally...

Argh.

“Oh, God.” I muttered, seeing couples standing up and slow dancing, as a cover of “All I Want for Christmas Is You” by Michael Buble began to play. Mum was shifting next to Dad, who was probably playing a game, on his iPhone. Zayn followed my eyes. “Way to make her feel like shit, Dad.”

“What’s the matter?” Zayn frowned, looking at them. “Your parents?”

“He’s not dancing with her.” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “It’s something small, but it’ll hurt her. And even if she says it – which she probably already has – he’ll brush her off.”

“Does that bother you?” Zayn turned to me, his eyebrows furrowed. Argh. Perfect eyebrows. NO SOPH, STOP IT. “That she’s not dancing, I mean. Do you want her to?”

I snorted.

“Yeah, watching my mother slow-dancing has always been on my bucket-list.” I snorted, before sighing. “But... I don’t know, she doesn’t have memories like that with my Dad. Romantic ones, I mean. That makes me sad, not the fact she’s not dancing.”

Zayn folded his arms across his chest, watching Mum, and I could see the shape of his arms.

I’m going to go and kill myself now.

“I’ll be back in a sec, alright?” Zayn told me, walking off before I could answer.

“Yeah, that’s-” I stopped muttering and felt my eyes widen as I saw him walk over to my parents. OH DEAR GOD, NO. “Zayn!” I hissed, even though he couldn’t hear me. Which was weird, because I saw him incline his head slightly, from the other side of the room. “No, no, no, Zayn, no, you stupid-”

“What’re you spazzing about?” Adam asked, appearing of out nowhere, looking at Zayn. Adam frowned. “Why’s he over there?”

“Come on.” I muttered, edging closer to them with Adam, trying to make it look natural.

“... Married first.” Dad was saying, glowering at Zayn’s head. I winced. Not good. “Then she’ll be your mother-in-law, ask me if you can dance with her then.”

I can safely say both Adam and I gaped at Zayn after hearing that.

“Well, Uncle, I was going to ask you, but it didn’t seem your thing.” Zayn told Dad sweetly, smirking a little. I stifled a gasp over my mouth. Oh my God.

“Nooo.” Adam muttered. “Dude, no way.”

“Shut up, Adam, it’s not funny.” I muttered, trying not to laugh. No. Not funny. “He’s challenging Dad’s authority, that’s not nice, that’s not, uh, what’s that word? Oh yeah, respectful...”

“He’s also standing up to the grumpy old man, I don’t know what planet you’re living on, but I find this bloody hilarious.” Adam snorted.

“Shut up, Adam!” I shoved him gently, covering my mouth as I laughed. Okay, so it was a little funny. Very funny. “Oh my God, look.”

Dad had waved his hand dismissively, standing up and already calling somebody, Zayn taking Mum’s hand, her face full of a mixture of surprise and a blush at what I guessed was Zayn’s flattery.

I smiled to myself, without meaning to. Yeah, Zayn was good at stuff like that.

I watched as Zayn said something to Mum, making her laugh and slap him on the shoulder, telling him to shut up. Zayn was grinning as he danced with her, slowly, to the music.

As the song began to finish, Zayn caught my eye over Mum’s shoulder (not that that’s particularly hard, at exactly five feet, Mum was the family midget) and smiled at me.

I mouthed a thank you, trying not to smile too much. Stupid charmer.

. . .

Ten minutes to midnight.

Dad had to disappear to the hotel; something about an emergency meeting with Pakistan about the new school or something. Mum was having a great time with Aunt Patricia somewhere – she’d cheered up considerably since Zayn’s efforts – and Adam was inside, playing with the boys.

Zayn had asked if he could talk to me in the garden.

It was cold and I was ill-equipped without my coat, so Zayn gave me the jacket he’d (cleverly) brought with him into the garden. It was snowing in Bradford. A real white Christmas. Maybe it was worth missing the Doctor Who special, not that I hadn’t recorded it. In London, all we wouldn’t gotten was slush.

Kudos, Maliks.

“Well, this is cliché.” I said suddenly, laughing. Zayn looked at me. “You know, the whole... Thing. Me and you originally hating each other, becoming friends and now we’re getting married... Cliché, don’t you think?”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” Zayn asked with a confused smile.

“Definitely.” I nodded. “Rose and I sob like babies every time we see The Notebook, cliché works.”

Zayn didn’t say anything, walking to the end of the garden. He brushed some snow off the small back wall and sat down, motioning for me to do the same.

“Nu-uh.” I shook my head. “I’ll get your coat wet.”

It was weird. Zayn gave me a strange, small little smile.

“It’s fine, Soph.” He said gently, freaking me out even more. “C’mon, sit down.”

I went to argue again, but – realizing that it sounded like I cared – I shrugged quickly instead and sat down, going to brush away the snow. Zayn got there first, shrugging when I looked at him questioningly.

“What do you want for Christmas?” I asked suddenly, looking at him. It was starry tonight. “I never really thought about it before, what do you want?”

“What?” Zayn laughed in disbelief and I shrugged at him, grinning for some strange, strange reason that was unbeknownst to me. “Bit late, isn’t it?”

“Tell me.” I commanded, grinning still.

“Well, good thing you don’t need to go looking for it.” Zayn smiled at me sweetly and I watched him, questioning. “I just want you.”

Oh.

“Well, I, you, I mean, uh, we, um-”

“I mean, all of you.” Zayn said quickly and I stopped stammering to stare at him in surprise. “I know you’re holding back, Soph. I just don’t know why. If you really don’t want to do this, we don’t have to get married, I-”

“No!” I burst out, feeling my cheeks turn red as Zayn raised his eyebrows at me. Awkward. “I... I mean...” Damn it. I took a deep breath. Man up, Soph, where’s your metaphorical penis now? “I do... Want to... Get married.” I said awkwardly. “To you.” I added quickly, watching Zayn’s mouth twitch. “”Oh, get lost!” I muttered, laughing as Zayn burst into laughter. “I was clarifying!”

“I noticed.” Zayn grinned, before becoming more subdued. I watched him, feeling... Weird. Happy weird. GOOD weird. “And you’re sure?” I nodded. Stupid question. I wasn’t exactly one to go gushing my feelings but... I... Liked Zayn. A... A lot. “Well, in that case...”

“In that case what?” I smiled, watching him take a nervous breath. “Zayn?”

“Well, my Malikah-”

“Oh, you Asian.” I snorted loudly. “Princess in Arabic? Next you’re going to start praying aloud on a bus.” I pretended to tut at him, watching Zayn’s incredulous expression. “Bloody terrorist.”

Zayn fought it. I watched him. His mouth was twitching and he was biting his lower lip to not laugh, but his shoulders were shaking and before I could even fully start grinning at him, he’d let out a large hoot of laughter and was trying not to fall over.

In fact, he nearly fell face-forward into the snow, so put a hand on my knee to steady himself, still choking.

For a moment, I froze. Anybody could be watching, aka, my parents.

But... I realized I didn’t mind.

So I laughed too.

“That... Is not the point.” Zayn laughed, shaking his head. “Look, I know we’re not meant to do this until February-”

“If you try and rape me, I swear to God, I’ll kill you.” I said automatically. Not that it mattered. I mean, what could any guy say to that?

“Yeah, it’s not rape if you like it.” Zayn smirked and I felt myself blush. Yeah. He could say that. I watched as Zayn went into his trouser pocket, pulling out a –

I covered my mouth with my hand, refusing to gasp. A turquoise box with a white ribbon.

A Tiffany’s box.

“Zayn...” I managed to whisper.

“Your favourite movie is Breakfast at Tiffany’s, I thought it gave me a bit of a clue.” Zayn smiled at me. “Hand?”

Wordlessly, I let him take my hand as he opened the box.

“I know I can’t give it to you now, but I wanted to see if it fit.” Zayn told me quietly, not looking at me properly. I didn’t see the ring as he took it out of the box and put the box away in his pocket. Silently, he slid it onto my wedding finger and tilted my hand in the light, showing me.

I gasped.

It was stunning.

It was simple. A shining, beautiful plain silver ring, a circular, beautifully cut diamond nested in the middle. As it caught the light from the house, it sparkled brilliantly, making me stare at it, speechless.

It was amazing.

“Soph...” Zayn seemed to struggle with his words. Not that I was listening. Oh my God, this ring was stunning. OH DEAR GOD, THIS WAS MY ENGAGEMENT RING. “I l- I really like you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I love you too.” I murmured, staring at my ring. Oh my God. This must’ve cost a bomb. I couldn’t let him buy me this. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was so pretty and it fit perfectly and everything and OH MY GOD, I’D JUST TOLD ZAYN I LOVED HIM.

My words died on my tongue, but I kept my face on the ring. Oh God. I’d just told Zayn how I felt...

... And it hadn’t killed me.

And it felt good to finally say it.

I loved Zayn.

I could feel him staring at me. Slowly, I brought my eyes up to meet his.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it.” Zayn was fighting a smirk, but he lost; he broke into a smirk, then a smile and then such a big grin, he looked at the ground sheepishly and laughed self-consciously.

And instead of pretending I rolled my eyes in my head and thought he was being a girl, I did the same thing. I laughed.

I’d finally admitted my feelings for Zayn. I mean, it was no secret why I hadn’t in the first place; my horrendous commitment issues, maybe, or the fact that we were so different, we were bound to fail?

But... Well, we hadn’t.

Because, yes, we were different and yes, I’d seen people just like us – so opposite – who’d tried and failed to have relationships, even marriages. And I’d seen my own parents stuck in their own, unhappy marriage, despite how crazy they’d been for one another and I’d gone through so much of my life not believing in love, even when it – he, Zayn – had been on my doorstep.

It felt good to allow myself to be happy for once.

And in that moment, I wasn’t scared anymore. I wasn’t scared of D-Day, or the wedding, or what it would mean to be Mrs Soph Malik after it. The pandemonium that would ensue once we released to the press, the constant battle it was going to be to maintain a relationship when Zayn was away; not that we’d discussed that yet.

The idea of us being and making a family.

I’d always told myself I never wanted kids. Cars were better than kids was what I’d snorted at any girl who told me about their plans for a family in high school (you’d be surprised at how low aspirations were for girls with IQs over 100). But, I had secretly admitted to Rose and a few scarce others, that I didn’t want any children because it was likely that, even if I did end up loving my partner, it wouldn’t be the kind of love that could sustain a child. I wanted to be so happy, so in love, so perfect in my life and the man I was spending it with, that having a baby and sharing that love with him or her was the most brilliant idea in the world. I didn’t want to just have a baby for collateral, or because at four years of marriage, that was what I was supposed to do, before my ovaries got dusty and fell out.

Who would’ve thought that guy would be Zayn? If anybody had told me that, I would have punched them in the face.

I still might.

We heard fireworks go off and a loud cheer from inside the house. It was midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Soph.” Zayn told me quietly.

I didn’t think about what I did next, or who might be watching, or whatever other crap. I just did it. I tangled my hand with Zayn’s, my engagement ring sparkling under the sky.

I turned to him and smiled. I loved Zayn. I was in love... With ZAYN.

“Merry Christmas, Zayn.”

#all I want for christmas is you #aiwfciy #zoph #xmas specials #xmas2011

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fraysbanes · 4 years

Text

unlikely partnership

Characters: Aline Penhallow, Clary Fray

Relationship: Clary Fray/Aline Penhallow

Rating: T

Summary: written for the shadowhunters wlw fic bingo, for the square “pirates & royalty au”

also check out this beautiful art based on this fic!!!!

The plan had been simple: infiltrate the palace under the guise of a diplomatic mission, get the king drunk, then wait for the princess to murder him and make sure she had reinforcements when she took the throne.

The plan had failed.

Two things had gone wrong, though they did not both necessarily contribute to the plan failing.

One: there had been a mole. Details of the plan had gotten out, and so the king had been prepared for the attack before it had even begun.

Two: Aline had fallen in love.

Aline did not mind love. She read books about it and she listened to her crew talk about it and she caught herself staring at beautiful women time and time again. But ever since she was still a duchess living with her mother, she had always assumed that when - if - she ever did fall in love, it would be with someone who shared her lifestyle, her interests. Someone she would meet at a pub or a festival or the market and instantly feel the sparks fly with before marrying on her ship. And then things would continue as they always had, except Aline would be in love.

She had never pictured herself with a princess, and she had certainly never imagined herself with someone like Clary.

From the moment they met, the princess had grated on Aline’s nerves. She was spoiled. She was stubborn. She was running headfirst into things she did not understand.

But she was the best chance they had of taking down the king, and she had come to them with the offer herself after the queen’s mysterious death.

If there was one thing everyone in Idris agreed on, it was that King Valentine was a menace. He was ruthless and cruel - and dangerous because he wholeheartedly believed he was doing what was best for his kingdom.

He had been so unjust in his short rule that the people of Idris had stopped fearing the pirates when they docked because they knew that any horrible thing the sea rovers could do would pale in comparison to what the king had already done.

And Clary had volunteered to kill him. Who were they to refuse?

While planning their attack, Clary had been almost amiable. She was focused, which Aline respected, and she had good ideas, even if she was reluctant to admit that sometimes, they weren’t the best at the table.

While discussing strategy, their common goal was more important than all their differences, like how Aline didn’t think a sheltered princess could lead a nation or how Clary thought that the threat of pirates frightened her people too much. How Aline held a certain respect for a fair fight whereas Clary was willing to do anything to win faded into the background and killing Valentine became the most important thing in the world.

But the second the meetings adjourned and Aline and Clary were left alone together, it was a different story.

It started off as thinly-veiled insults, neither fully trusting or respecting the other yet but unwilling to risk an important partnership. As time went on, the insults became more lighthearted and teasing, a way to lighten the mood after hours of discussing dangerous strategies. Then, somehow, at some point, it became something completely different. Something that brought the word "love" to mind when Aline thought too long about it in the dead of the night.

Aline first noticed it one night a week before the coup, when Clary snuck onto her ship in the middle of the night and shook her awake, eyes gleaming with mischief and determination. A combination that Aline had to admit piqued her interest.

“What are you doing here?” Aline asked. Every meeting between the princess and the pirates was a risk: the palace was miles away from the docks and Clary couldn’t keep risking being spotted by the guards or her father when she snuck away. In answer, Clary grinned and drew a sword from under her dark cloak. “I want you to teach me.”

“You don’t need that, princess. We’ll be there to protect you.”

Aline turned to go back to sleep, but Clary wouldn’t let up. She sheathed her sword again and climbed onto the side of the bed to shake Aline again. “Well, that’s very gallant of you,” she said. “But I’d rather know how to hold my own against my father.”

Stubborn as they both were, Aline did realize a backup plan was necessary. So she dragged herself out of bed, picked up her own sword, and took Clary to the lower deck to teach her some basic techniques.

“Your stance is all off”, “stop only using your arm for balance - you’re leaving your side vulnerable to an attack”, and “remember you’re trying to cut through human flesh, not poke a hole in wet parchment” were practically the only words Aline spoke for the next several hours.

“Do you do anything but criticize?” Clary asked breathlessly, blocking one of Aline’s strikes with the edge of her sword.

Aline smirked as she managed to knock the weapon out of Clary’s hand anyway. “No.”

“You’re a terrible conversation partner, you know that?” Clary retrieved her sword and gestured to Aline that she was ready to continue training.

“And you’re a terrible student,” Aline said. She went in for a strike but Clary parried it with considerably little effort and raised the tip of her sword to Aline’s chin. She winked.

“Or maybe you just need to be a better teacher.”

Albeit impressed, all Aline had to do was tap Clary’s blade with hers before it flew out of the princess’ hand and fell to the floor with a clang.

“Damn,” Clary muttered.

“Don’t feel bad, princess,” Aline said. “None of your other opponents are going to be as good at this as I am.”

“Do you have to call me that?”

“An opponent?”

Clary rolled her eyes. “ Princess ,” she said distastefully.

“Why?” Aline asked. “Don’t tell me you want to be referred to as a queen before you’ve even succeeded in your quest to commit patricide.”

“No!” Clary said incredulously. “I just mean… it’s not like I call you ‘captain’.”

Aline raised one eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be opposed to you calling me ‘captain’.”

Clary looked taken aback for a moment, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. She quickly shook it off and looked away from Aline. “But that feels so impersonal ,” she said. “We know each other’s names, why not use them?”

“I can’t name you, I’d get attached to you, and then how the hell am I supposed to rob your ships once this whole ordeal is over?”

Clary laughed. Aline didn’t think either of them had expected that reaction from her.

“Oh, my, how charming,” Clary said, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Is that what you say to all the pretty girls willing to give you the time of day?”

“Time of night ,” Aline corrected, gesturing with her head to the moonlight seeping in through the open door. It took her a moment to realize how that sounded and she quickly struggled to change the subject, even as she felt her cheeks flush. “I bet it works better than breaking into a girl’s cabin to ask her to kick your ass in a swordfight.”

Clary smirked. “I believe that’s up for debate.” She glanced outside and sighed. “Well, I should get back home before someone notices I’ve snuck out.”

“That’s a good idea,” Aline agreed. She gestured to Clary’s sword. “Try not to stab yourself with that thing when you practice without me.”

Clary rolled her eyes again, already turning to go. “Goodnight, Aline.”

“Goodnight, Clary.”

Halfway to the exit, Clary stopped and glanced back to smile at Aline. “Goodnight, Aline,” she said again.

Well, Aline thought, that just isn’t fair.

Clary was certain of only three things.

One: her father was a despicable, evil man and everybody was going to be so much happier once Clary finally managed to kill him. (And next time, she would manage to kill him.)

Two: though their initial plan had failed, her best chance was still with the pirates - they had resources and she had their trust. And most importantly, they shared her goal of killing the king and freeing the people of Idris from his tyrannical rule.

Three: she was seasick.

“You okay there, princess?” Captain Penhallow shouted from the deck after the third time Clary heaved over the side of the ship, forehead beading with sweat and stomach turning as if imitating the waves down below. She had never been on a boat before. She was starting to wish she had been, so she would have at least known what she was in for before she ran away with pirates.

“‘M’fine…” she mumbled, certainly too low for Aline to hear. “And I thought I told you not to call me that.”

She heard Aline chuckle and walk down the steps to her side. “You’re right,” Aline said, leaning on her elbows on the side of the ship and breathing in lungfuls of the ocean breeze that was making Clary feel sick. “‘Damsel’ has a nicer ring to it.”

Clary turned her head slightly to glare at her. “If you mean ‘in distress’-”

“Oh, I mean ‘in distress,” Aline laughed. “Good thing I was there to save you from your father’s guards and whisk you away on this ship, wouldn’t you say?”

“I had it under control.”

“What you had was a knife to your throat.”

Suddenly embarrassed at her own incompetence in battle, Clary looked back down towards the waves with a sigh. “I owe you for that,” she said quietly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aline said. “You owe me nothing. I don’t get into business with people I wouldn’t rather keep alive.”

Clary opened her mouth to joke about how that was clearly not true, but before she had a chance to, Aline was pulling a flask from her belt and holding it out to her.

“Here. Drink this.”

“What is it?” Clary asked, taking the flask and peering inside suspiciously.

“Something I whipped up that might help with the sickness.”

Clary stared at her, half-touched and half-disbelieving. She had not run away with pirates because she had expected hospitality. “Thank you.”

Aline made a dismissive gesture. Clary thought she saw the other woman’s cheeks turn pink under her gaze.

“Anyways, you should get some rest,” Aline said. “We have lots of planning to do and lots of people to motivate. And don’t worry, princess, we’ll be back on dry land soon.”

“Hey!” Clary protested at the nickname. But she didn’t really mind anymore. It was actually almost nice to still be referred to by a title she wasn’t sure if she still had.

Aline winked. “Hey, at least this time we’ll have enough time to get you properly acquainted with some weapons.”

“Oh, yeah? Why would I need weapons?” Clary bumped Aline’s shoulder weakly with her own. “I thought you’d be there to protect me.”

Aline’s cheeks did turn red this time, and she couldn’t stifle her smile as she struggled to come up with a retort.

And suddenly, Clary was certain of one other thing.

Four: she wanted to kiss Aline.

#wlwficbingo2019 #c: aline #c: clary #r: frayhallow #banter #swords #nicknames #sword lesbians #pirate x royalty au #girlfriends who plan regicide together stay together <3

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fraybaness · 5 years

Text

unlikely partnership

ao3

clary/aline pirate/royalty au written for the shwlwficbingo