#this is my final attempt in getting people to pull for her banner before it disappears *winks with both eyes*

[olibabart]

Here, have a sexy miko doodle because I am down bad for her (≖ᴗ≖✿) 

[cherienymphe]

Teenage Dirtbag XV

JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, mentions of violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, blood, semi public sex,  jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

⭑

“Mother, please…”

Your parents and Rafe found your exasperation amusing, your back vibrating from the feel of his soft chuckle as you leaned against him. The blond wrapped his arms around you as your mother quietly pleaded for ‘just one more’. Your father wasn’t on your side on today of all days, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“You know how she gets,” he told you. “Let her have this.”

“It’s just Midsummers,” you said to them. “We do this every year.”

You tried not to let your unenthusiastic thoughts slip through too much, but where there was once a time you loved Midsummers, you mostly just wanted to get the night over with now. It still brought you joy—this you wouldn’t deny—but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. You used to look forward to it, and while you enjoyed getting dolled up and seeing your parents’ friends as they asked about you, you didn’t enjoy smiling in everyone’s faces and gushing over how happy you were with Rafe.

You looked forward to the food and drinks and floating around in a beautiful dress, but you didn’t look forward to Rafe’s hand on your waist all night. You didn’t look forward to laughing along as countless people wondered when Rafe planned on popping the question. You didn’t look forward to posing for countless pictures.

…as you were currently doing.

“Mother,” you sighed.

“You should be used to this by now,” she softly laughed. “…and grateful because I’m going to be far worse than you could ever imagine on your wedding day.”

Your stomach twisted at that, and you swallowed down bile just as Rafe tightened his arms around you.

“Stop being such a brat and just let your mom take the picture.”

His voice was quiet as his lips grazed your ear, and you kept a smile on your face as he straightened again. The older woman made a noise of approval, and you felt no relief when she was finally done. You glanced at Rafe just as your mother turned to your father to discuss the best ones, face even as your boyfriend adjusted your necklace.

He’d just bought it.

“Just stop smiling,” he murmured. “You look like you’re being tortured.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

Rafe paused, staring you down for a moment before a small smirk made its way onto his lips. Dropping one arm, the other hand moved towards your face, touching your red lips.

“Cute…”

“We’ll meet you both there,” your father said over his shoulder as he walked your mother to his car. “…and please don’t forget to set the alarm. I think someone broke into our pool house.”

His words made your heart drop, and you whipped your head around to stare at the older man with wide eyes.

“What?” you said, voice uneven.

Your father made a gesture with his hand like he was scolding himself for forgetting to tell you that.

“Yeah, I went in there the other day looking for my golf clubs, and it just looked…off. Lived in,” he said, opening the car door. “I might install a camera or two, I don’t know.”

They bid you both goodbye, none the wiser to the internal turmoil he’d just caused, and you swallowed just as Rafe started to pull you back inside. You heard him scoff.

“Probably some Pogue looking to mooch,” he snidely commented, making his way to your father’s bar. “Typical.”

Clearing your throat, you grabbed your purse.

“It’s probably nothing,” you found yourself murmuring. “Besides, it’s a pool house, not exactly The Hilton.”

“Babe, your fucking basement would be like The Ritz to those people,” Rafe said with a shake of his head as he downed a quick drink. “You think too highly of them and their lack of standards.”

You really didn’t want Rafe of all people to preach to you about standards, and you huffed.

“Do you plan on driving there drunk or…?”

Rafe was in a lighter mood today, and so that actually brought a chuckle out of him. Pouring one more drink out of your father’s bottle, he made his way to you. When he kissed you, you could taste the alcohol on his lips, and you watched him pull away to empty the glass.

“I need something in my system if I’m going to be around my family and their friends all night. Especially Rose’s book club women,” he said with a shudder, guiding you out after setting the alarm.

You were almost to his truck when he stopped you, forcing you to face him. You felt nervous as you looked at the blond because you had no idea what he was thinking nor what was about to come out of his mouth. You rested your hands on his arms as he pulled you closer, his own hands comfortable at the small of your back. His blue gaze flitted between your own.

“Try to lose the pout, alright?” he said to you. “Your knee is much better, your nose is practically like new, and you look good enough to eat.”

Rafe leaned in, gently pressing his lips to your cheek.

“Things could always be worse,” was what he said to you when he pulled away, a hint of a threat in his voice as he stared into your eyes.

Yes, you supposed that was true, and you allowed him to walk you to the passenger door.

You didn’t know what Ward had said to him exactly, but you couldn’t ignore the restraint Rafe had practiced for weeks, now. You didn’t know if Ward had legitimately found something to scare him with or if it was a conversation that went more along the lines of ‘at least wait for her to fully recover’. You realized that your thoughts were bordering along something much worse than praising a fish for swimming, but it was relieving to not have to deal with Rafe’s violence and especially for this length of time.

The reprieve was almost enough to make you feel bad for seeing JJ behind his back.

Almost.

“I almost didn’t recognize you.”

The dark-haired girl turned to look at you, her confusion dying down as she placed the face to the voice. Kie weighed your words over in her mind, head slightly tilting from side to side before a small smile adorned her face.

“I know that’s meant as a compliment, so I’ll take it as one,” she said, taking her drink from the bartender. “I look like an uppity Kook princess…no offense.”

You didn’t take any offense to it.

“I know you wouldn’t dare be caught dead here willingly,” you commented, and Kie rolled her eyes over to her mom.

The woman was talking to your mom, a third woman with them that you didn’t recognize.

“It’s amazing how you know me so much better than my own mom,” she snidely replied, taking a sip of her punch. “She keeps waiting for me to ‘grow up’ as she puts it…”

You felt her eyes on you as the bartender finally gave you your own drink. You discreetly shook your head when he asked if you wanted anything else in it, the man no doubt familiar with how underage attendants got their way around here. At Kie’s surprised look, you spoke.

“I still take painkillers, so…”

The tan girl nodded at that, and a look passed over her features that looked a lot like concern.

“Sarah told me that your leg is much better.”

“It is, yeah,” you confirmed. “I can walk without a splint for the most part, but Rafe and my parents still want me to stay off of it if I can.”

She nodded, a soft ‘that’s good’ reaching your ears. Kie looked like she wanted to say more, and despite you two being friendly—with her eventually coming around to you—it was very clear in this moment that you were not friends. You blamed Rafe for that and was just about to go find him when she spoke again.

“It’s not my place…it’s really JJ’s to tell you the truth, but… He was really out of line that day in the hospital.”

Her words took you by surprise, her expression even more so because she looked genuinely embarrassed by what had occurred.

“Yeah, Rafe’s an asshole, and sure, sometimes he’s an asshole to you, and we’re probably the only ones who ever see that, but… JJ accusing him of that was really gross and uncalled for,” she continued.

You looked down at her words, unable to defend JJ in the way you wanted. Everyone thought he was just being a dick who hated Rafe, but in actuality he was right, and you took a sip of your drink.

“His feelings aren’t any excuse to accuse someone of something like that…”

You looked at her again at her words, expression inquiring.

“You know, about Rafe…and you,” she eventually added, albeit reluctantly.

She shrugged at the look on your face, her own expression softer than what you were used to.

“I think he likes you,” she said, shocking you. “Or…at the very least you surprised him. You’re just not what he expected.”

You struggled to respond to that, taking another sip.

“What makes you say that?” you wondered with a scoff.

“He brings you up sometimes. Just to me,” she added at the look on your face. “Nothing crazy. I just think he worries about you dating Rafe, and I keep telling him you’re with that guy for a reason.”

You swallowed, unsure of how to feel about JJ talking to Kie about you.

“There’s probably a whole other side to Rafe the rest of us will just never see…”

You thought to yourself if she only knew.

“That’s flattering,” you slowly said, attempting to steady your heart. “I didn’t even think JJ cared enough about me to talk about me to anyone. Especially to you.”

Sarah was always vocal about how tight-knit John B.’s friend group was before she came along. There’d been a few days where you absentmindedly listened to her talk about how she’d felt like she was intruding at first, only feeling welcomed by all after some time. You especially remembered a few comments on how protective Kie was over her boys, doubly so towards Sarah considering their history.

“I was surprised too,” the other girl agreed. “…but I guess he just wanted to talk to a girl about it.”

You only nodded at that, and you could feel her gaze on you, although it was hard to read when you looked at her.

“You know he’s here tonight…”

Even though your face didn’t move, your heart did skip a beat in your chest, and you sharply inhaled. You didn’t need her to confirm who she was talking about, but she did anyway, and you took another sip of your drink.

“He’s making some extra money,” she explained. “I didn’t get why he’d want to work Midsummers of all events, but…maybe now I do.”

Your gaze met hers at that, and before you could really study her expression, you were interrupted.

“You’re going to hang by the bar all night?” Rafe wondered, saddling up next to you as he flagged down the bartender.

He only just noticed Kie after a moment, throwing her a dismissive look before resting his blue eyes on you.

“Is she why I’ve had to entertain myself with Kelce and Topper despite coming with my beautiful girlfriend?”

You hated the way he talked about her like she wasn’t there, but before you could scold him on it, Kie made herself scarce with one last glance thrown your way. You forced it out of your mind, sighing at him.

“You three were discussing football. I figured that was your subtle way of excluding me…”

After being handed a drink he was just shy of being legal for, Rafe snaked his arm around your waist. He pressed his lips to yours, humming to himself.

“If I’d wanted you to go away, I would’ve said so,” he murmured into the kiss.

His lips made their way to your cheek, and that was the moment you took note of familiar blond hair over his shoulder. Just as Kie said, he was wearing a uniform, a serving tray in his hand, and you blinked. Was he really here just for you? It seemed like way too big of a risk to take, but you found yourself glad that he was.

You needed to tell him that he couldn’t sleep in the pool house for a while.

It was then that you heard Kelce call your boyfriend over, and you both turned to see the other guy waving him over. He and Topper and some of Rafe’s other friends were laughing down at someone’s phone, and Rafe squeezed your waist.

“Now I’m telling you to entertain yourself,” he chuckled. “I won’t be long.”

He left you to go and see what was so funny, and you tapped your finger against your glass a few times before stepping away. JJ’s blue gaze was already on you when you glanced over, and you looked back at Rafe one more time before stepping into the building. A few beats had passed before you heard footsteps mirroring yours.

Knowing this cursed place like the back of your hand, you were quick and discreet in slipping into a storage room. You swallowed down the rest of your drink as you slowly paced, telling yourself you were on a time crunch. It wasn’t too much longer before you had company, and you were quick to get your words out before JJ got the wrong idea.

“You can’t stay at the pool house tonight,” you told him, giving him pause. “Not for a while actually. Not until I can convince my father he doesn’t need to install cameras.”

You sighed.

“I might just tell him I’m the one who’s been in there.”

The blond nodded at that, and you watched him purse his lips.

“So…this isn’t what I thought it was going to be.”

You couldn’t hold back your smile at that, gently laughing to yourself.

“No, JJ,” you admonished. “Rafe is…right outside.”

You gestured towards the door.

“…and his friends will keep him occupied for a while sure, but definitely not long enough to…”

You trailed off, shrugging and dropping your arm. Your words made JJ’s eyebrows raise, and he gave you a look you were more than familiar with.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

You gave him a look.

“JJ…be serious…”

He slowly made his way to you, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time.

“I am,” he breathed, gaze finally dropping. “You look beautiful.”

Rafe had given you the same compliment, but it meant more coming from JJ’s lips, and your own lips parted. Your stomach always flipped when he said things like that to you, and you reminded yourself that you hadn’t met up with him for this. You said that, but the more you looked at him the more you thought how nice he looked in something akin to a suit.

JJ’s blond hair was just a tad neater, resembling Rafe’s almost, and you didn’t think you liked it. Too busy taking in his uncharacteristic appearance, you didn’t pay attention to how close he’d gotten until his hand was touching your necklace. It was a tennis one, the expensive piece of jewelry catching the light, and you focused in on JJ’s face just as he let out a low whistle.

“Rafe bought it,” you explained, noting how much it felt like a collar. “He insisted I wear it tonight.”

You glanced at the clock on the wall, telling yourself to leave, to tell JJ that you’d see him later. However, you couldn’t deny that you didn’t want to, hating that you were here with Rafe instead. You wanted to prolong your time with the other blond for as long as possible, and you knew that JJ was thinking the same thing by the way his hand rested on your cheek.

“JJ…”

Your voice was low as he moved closer.

“Rafe isn’t going to be distracted forever.”

He looked between your eyes at that, his teeth sinking into his lip. He seemed to be contemplating it for a few moments before dropping to his knees. Your heart thudded in your chest as he reached under your dress, dragging your underwear down, and you didn’t stop him as your stomach flipped. You didn’t miss the way he slipped them into his pocket as he stood, lips immediately finding yours.

You couldn’t resist rubbing your thighs together in anticipation, feeling heat settle in the pit of your stomach. JJ tasted the inside of your mouth, and you could tell he’d had a drink or two earlier. He took his time in kissing you, mouth slowly moving against yours, and somewhere along the way he seemed to remember where you were…what you were not supposed to be doing…and who you had to get back to.

Resting between JJ and the wall, you helped him undo his pants, hand immediately wrapping around his cock the moment it was free. He hissed against your lips, and you couldn’t hold back your smile, kissing him harder and stroking him. He groaned into the kiss when you squeezed him, and reminding yourself of Rafe, you pushed your lower half against his.

One of JJ’s hands slid behind your thigh before hooking your leg against his waist. He rested between your legs as his lips traveled down your neck, and with your underwear in his pocket, you could feel the tip of him poking at your bare skin, a shudder passing through you as you wrapped your arms around him.

Guiding the tip of him between your folds, JJ pushed himself through his fist a few times before sliding into you with one quick thrust. You threw your head back, gasping at the tight fight and thinking you liked it a little better when you weren’t as wet. The slight burn made you buck your hips, and JJ’s hands were tight on you as he started to thrust into you.

You couldn’t swallow down your moan, reaching out to press your hand against the wall as JJ fucked you. Wrapping your other arm around his shoulder and neck, you pressed your face against him, teeth sinking into the nice shirt he had on. His hands were guiding your hips to meet him thrust for thrust, his cock stretching you out. You grew wetter with every movement, and it wasn’t long before each thrust was smoother and easier than the last.

For a few moments, you forgot all about Rafe and Midsummers and the fact that you had to go back out there and smile on your boyfriend’s arm. There was even a faint thought that he might be looking for you that you pushed out of your mind. All you could focus on was the feeling of JJ inside of you, chasing both of your climaxes. You wanted to keep fucking him for hours, but you knew that wouldn’t be possible, now.

You glanced at the clock again when JJ left open mouthed kisses against your throat, groaning against your skin as you squeezed him. You kept pushing your hips forward to meet his thrusts, dripping around his cock, and pulling at his uniform. Your other hand reached between you, dipping under your dress and circling your bundle of nerves. Your toes curled at the feel, and when you came, you came hard.

You swallowed down your moan as you tightened around JJ, and when your climax triggered his own, he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. You clung to each other as you came together and getting it in your head that you needed to go, you dropped your leg. You were going to help JJ get redressed, but he deterred you with a quick kiss.

“Go, go,” he urged, ushering you out of the room, and you hurried to make sure your hair and dress were fine as you sped away from the room.

You were down the hall when you felt JJ dripping down your thighs, and with a start, you realized he still had your underwear. You were contemplating turning back when you heard your name, the sound getting closer and closer until Rafe finally rounded the corner. Your eyes were wide as they met his angry ones, and you didn’t get a word out before his hand tightened on your arm.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“The bathroom,” was your quick answer, blinking before adding to it. “…and then the kitchens. I was trying to find a ginger-ale. My stomach felt weird.”

“I’ve been looking for you forever,” he spat, pulling you in the opposite direction of the party. “Sarah and my dad are being especially irritating, right now.”

When Rafe pulled you into an empty room, your heart sank.

…because you knew what he wanted.

“Rafe…not here…”

Your words actually gave him pause, and your boyfriend looked at you like you’d lost your mind. One of his hands pressed to the very door you were leaning against, and you watched him tilt his head at you. His hair wasn’t so neat now—a sign that he’d been running his hands through it—and you swallowed at the way he looked between your eyes.

“We’ve never not fucked at Midsummers,” he told you. “It’s practically a tradition, now.”

He softly laughed to himself, finding that funny.

“Can’t we just go? Let’s just go home and shower and-.”

“I’m not ready to go,” he cut you off, eyeing you. “My sister has been annoying me, and my dad is making me want to snort four lines of coke, and instead, I choose to fuck my girlfriend.”

The determination on his face made your nerves spike, and you were all too aware in this moment of the feel of JJ’s cum drying on the inside of your thighs. You didn’t think Rafe would even notice such a thing in his haste to be inside of you, but you knew you didn’t have the capacity to not feel icky fucking Rafe after just doing so with JJ.

“…but for whatever reason, she’s fighting me on that.”

Now, he looked angrier than he did before, and you looked towards the ceiling.

“I thought we were past this…”

When you looked at him again, his face was much closer.

“I thought we were on the same page about the least you could do in this relationship.”

You looked down at that, chest clenching painfully at the memory. The silence between you was thick with tension, and when he slowly reached up to touch your face, you let your eyes close.

“Are you going to fuck me, or do I need to give you another nose job?”

At his soft words, you looked into his eyes. Rafe was entirely serious, and with a shaky sigh, you reached for his belt. He didn’t say a word as you unbuckled it, and you shuddered when he leaned in to kiss your cheek, inhaling at the feel of you slipping your hand into his pants. His hand reached up to the back of your neck as you stroked him, fingers finding that stupid necklace and tightening it around your throat.

“Fuck,” he cursed against your skin.

Rafe moved you towards an empty table, hurried in pushing you onto it, and he didn’t hesitate in covering your frame and guiding himself into you. He groaned at the smooth entry, kissing you again and pushing his hips against yours.

“So wet for me already?” he hummed into the kiss.

He reached under you to lift your hips a bit, holding you right where he wanted you as he thrust into you. So eager to fuck you, Rafe didn’t even notice your lack of underwear. Or at least not enough to comment on it if he did, too preoccupied with taking out his frustrations on your body. You held onto him and his arm as you squeezed your eyes shut, fighting to convince yourself that you weren’t as horrible as you felt.

It wasn’t even twenty minutes ago when JJ was inside of you, fucking you in some storage room and fighting to make you come before you had to get back to Rafe. Now, here you were, once again in an empty room but having sex with someone entirely different. You shuddered as you recalled Rafe’s words, knowing that it wasn’t your arousal for him but instead a combination from both you and JJ after the other blond had come inside of you.

The thought made you want to shy away from the man on top of you, but there was nowhere to go. The table shook beneath his rough thrusts, and Rafe seemed to forget that you were there as he pounded into you. You flinched and squirmed beneath your boyfriend from both the rough treatment and the overstimulation, feeling torn between wanting to come again and pushing Rafe away.

When he fisted his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back, you knew that you were in for a long night.

Your chest was painfully tight as you stared at Rafe in horror. Your boyfriend looked nothing like the gentleman he pretended to be but instead like the monster he often was. Only this time, that violent gleam in his eyes wasn’t directed at you. It had set its sights on JJ.

“Rafe…come on, this is ridiculous, let’s just go,” you repeated for the umpteenth time.

It was only an hour ago that you were hanging onto him as he fucked you in some empty room, pent up and angry at both Sarah and Ward. Now—somehow—you’d found yourselves outside as his friends held JJ’s arms, your boyfriend gearing up to hit him again. It was unfair and disgusting and cruel.

“You’re being an asshole, and for what? Because he’s here?”

The party was still going on, and twenty minutes ago you’d thought you were leaving. Now, you were basically forced to watch Rafe hurt the guy you were sleeping with. He kept telling you to leave, that this wouldn’t take long and wouldn’t be much longer, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to abandon JJ so easily.

“Rafe!”

“Get in the damn truck,” he called over his shoulder.

He sounded exasperated with you, and his friends chuckled. You looked between them in disgust, most notably at Topper who clearly wasn’t enjoying this as much as the others but didn’t have the balls to actually say something. Disappointed in all of them, your eyes briefly met JJ’s, his practically pleading with you to just leave.

You huffed.

“Fuck this,” you spat, making your way back towards the building to find someone who worked here.

Your tone must have caught Rafe’s attention because he was quick to stop you, roughly grabbing you.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he chuckled, but it had an edge to it. “I thought I said to wait in the truck?”

He looked at you like you’d lost your mind.

“What, you’re-you were going to go tattle on me?”

“This is shitty, and I won’t stand by and let it happen,” you replied.

“Who gives a fuck? He’s a Pogue!”

“…and so that makes this okay? I want to go home, and you want to stand here beating on someone who can’t even fight back!”

Rafe looked between your eyes, and you hated the way he tilted his head.

“Why do you care so much about what happens to him?”

“You’re so stupid-! It could be anyone, Rafe,” you sneered. “This is childish and mean.”

Rafe stared you down for what felt like too long—too still—and your heart beat faster the longer it went on. Before you knew it, his hand had fisted into your hair, and he was dragging you over to his friends.

“See… This is why he’s always making googly eyes at you,” Rafe said, not sounding the least bit amused. “This is why he’s making comments and accusations about me and our relationship.”

Rafe maneuvered his arm around your neck, holding you close as he grinned at JJ.

“You’re too nice, baby. Too sympathetic,” he chuckled, gesturing to the other blond. “He’s got himself a little crush, I just know it.”

You attempted to move out of Rafe’s grip, but he wouldn’t budge. You hated the bruising that was already forming under JJ’s eyes and the blood on his lip too. You made a noise of protest when Rafe kissed you on the lips, sloppily and rough, before turning away.

“Hey, JJ,” your boyfriend softly said, tone mocking. “She’s just being nice…because that’s just who she is.”

“Rafe…”

“Don’t go getting any ideas.”

“You’re making a fool of yourself,” you spat at Rafe, knowing that he was doing so in more ways than one.

Rafe looked at you in mock outrage, shrugging.

“I’m just trying to help him out,” he told you. “It’s not my fault these Pogues always want what we have.”

“Rafe, stop this,” you hissed. “You’re being an asshole.”

The words had barely left your mouth when his hand roughly closed around your chin. You winced at the feel, and neither you nor Rafe missed the way JJ tried to break free. Rafe’s friends chuckled at the sight, but Rafe didn’t, merely staring at the other blond.

“Look at you,” he finally mused. “I don’t know whether I should feel flattered or offended that you feel so protective over my girlfriend.”

There wasn’t a hint of humor in his tone, and before you could quite marinate on that, you were harshly thrown to the ground. The mood seemed to shift at that, and you could tell that his friends hadn’t been expecting that. You didn’t know if Rafe was drunk or high or both, but he’d never been so public in his cavalier treatment of you.

“She’s my girlfriend, JJ, and I could do anything I want to her…”

You attempted to push yourself up when you felt the sole of his shoe on your knee…that knee.

“I could set her little healing journey back…”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, sure that he wouldn’t with so many witnesses, but also…not so sure. You glanced at JJ, but the other blond was staring at Rafe with wide eyes, and you couldn’t tell whether he was angry or scared. Probably both.

“I could rip her hair out right here…” he gestured to his friends. “…and do you think any of them would stop me?”

“Rafe,” Topper finally said, and your boyfriend’s gaze snapped to him.

“Would you?”

Topper just stared at him, but his silence spoke volumes, and you only attempted to stand again when your boyfriend finally moved his foot. He pointed around, his gaze resting on JJ again.

“None of them are going to do shit,” he said to him. “So, what makes you so special to think you have a say in how I treat my girlfriend?”

Your lips trembled as you finally stood to your feet.

“…because she was nice to you once? Because she doesn’t want me to kick your ass now?”

You looked between them, the faint sounds of the party reaching your ears.

“Truth be told, I should kick your face in for that stunt you pulled at the hospital,” your boyfriend sneered.

“Rafe, you’ve made your point!”

You hated this entire pissing contest he was doing, and at this point, you half expected Rafe to whip it out and mark his territory. He stared JJ down for what felt like too long, his friends equally uncomfortable now with the turn the night had taken. You could see it in his eyes that he wanted to slap you clear across the face—maybe even break your arm—all just to prove that he could do whatever he wanted to you, and there wasn’t a thing JJ could do about it.

Rafe, however, settled for harshly grabbing your face and spitting right into your mouth as you gasped.

Taken aback, you couldn’t hold in your coughing fit, forced to follow along as he roughly grabbed your arm.

“Like I said JJ. Anything I want,” he repeated.

Dragging you along, Rafe tossed his next words over his shoulder at his friends.

“That Pogue’s all yours.”

You felt riddled with disgust the whole way to his truck, humiliated and angry. You blinked back tears as you recalled the way his friends did nothing, didn’t even move a muscle as he threw you to the ground, and you didn’t know what you hated more—that or Topper’s cowardly attempt that he ultimately backed out of.

Once you were at his truck and away from prying eyes, the slap came harshly and swiftly.

It made your ears ring and your cheek sting, tears forming behind your eyes as Rafe leaned in. His nose grazed the burning cheek, and you could hear his labored breathing as his chest heaved against your arm. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and neither did you, just staring into the darkness as a few tears finally spilled over.

“That is the last time you defend that Pogue…especially around me,” he whispered. “Do you understand?”

You started to nod when his hand circled around your throat, making you sharply inhale.

“I want to hear you fucking say it.”

Pulling at his arm, you eventually gave up on that, forcing the word out.

“Yes,” you struggled to say.

Shoving you away from him, he opened the passenger door, telling you to get inside. Wiping your face, you did, settling in the seat with a newfound hatred for Midsummers.

[nancy-reads]

am I the one you think about?

part 2!!

pairing: fred weasley x reader

summary: having your heart broken before love really blossomed hurts more than it should. but fred's flirty banter never quits. maybe your love story isn't quite over?

warnings: slightly angsty but with a happy ending

authors note: i am so sorry for how long this took! school got crazy and college applications are a nightmare. however, i hope you all had a good holiday season and enjoy this late christmas gift!

part one

CROSS-POSTED TO AO3

You refused to cry as you stomped back to your shop. Fred could do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t like the two of you were together or anything. He just flirted with you like crazy and you developed a massive crush on him. 

And of course, the girl Fred was kissing was gorgeous. You couldn’t get her face out of your mind. Clear, gorgeous dark skin and eyes, black hair in a braided ponytail that looked effortless, and a tall figure that looked like she was meant to be a model for Quidditch robes. 

You didn’t know how you even thought you could pull someone like him. Fred was gorgeous and strong and funny, and you were just…well, you. Not anything special. 

You swore as you stepped into a massive puddle near your shop. Tears were beginning to prick your eyes, but you blinked them away. You would not cry over a man you knew not even twenty-four hours. 

And it would be better if it didn’t work out, you thought. You were going to be very busy with your shop once it opened, and you wouldn’t have time for any sort of relationship. It would be an absolute logistical nightmare, and you had to focus on your business. 

You nodded to yourself as you stepped inside your shop, decorated with candles, fairy lights, and plants. This was where you belonged. This was the important thing, not some stupid boy you met once. 

*

MAGICAL HERBS AND HEALING GRAND OPENING!!!

You smiled to yourself as you lowered your wand and took in the exterior of your shop. Everything looked perfect. The plants were in place, the widow displays were shining, and best of all, the banner hung front and center, inviting anyone and everyone to come in. 

People were beginning to trickle into Diagon Alley for some early morning shopping, so you rushed inside your shop and flicked the sign from open to closed. You bounced on your heels as you did some final checks to make sure that everything was in place.

You had already checked about seven times, but there wasn’t any harm in one more, was there? 

Soon enough, you didn’t have time to check anything, too busy ringing up the barrage of customers who entered your store. The line was spread throughout the shop, and you couldn’t stop smiling as your products and potions flew off the shelves. 

Your dreams were coming true. Everything was running smoothly, the customers were marveling at the aesthetics of your shop, and you’d gotten many promises to come back.

But the day couldn’t stay perfect forever, and your eyes widened as a familiar face entered the shop. You couldn’t help but notice Fred’s handsome face and body, but you cursed yourself. You would not be thirsting for a taken man.

Attempting to look as busy as possible, you straightened the boxes behind you and fussed with the register. You could feel his stare on your back, and it took every ounce of your will not to turn.

He is a taken man. He has a girlfriend. 

And he is still staring at you.

After a generous amount of time, Fred cleared his throat. You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment, and finally began to turn around. As slowly as humanly possible. 

“That excited to see me, huh?”

You ignored him.

“And what are you looking for today sir?”

His eyes widened. “Sir? You haven’t forgotten my name already, have you?”

Taken man. Taken man. Taken man.

This was going to be an exercise in self-control.

“Just-” you paused. “Come on, Fred-”

“I knew you remembered-”

“This isn’t a great time-”

“Well then tell me when is,” Fred said. “I’d be glad to arrange a date.”

Why did he have to say these things?

“Are you really going to make me do this now?” you asked, anger coloring your tone. “It's opening day, and I’d really rather you not ruin it.”

“Ruin it?” he asked, dumbfounded. “What do you mean?”

“You know what? Fine,” you snapped. “Come here after closing. We can talk then. I have customers to help, and I’m sure you do too.”

Fred’s eyebrows were scrunched together, and his mouth pulled into a frown. “I-” he paused when he looked at your face, and a defeated expression appeared on his face. “Okay.”

You stared at him as he left, and a part of you wondered if you’d hallucinated the whole thing. He seemed so earnest, like he actually wanted to talk to you. Like you were important, not some other girl he wanted to have on the side. 

But you couldn’t think like that. He probably had some other ulterior motive.

You turned to the next customer in line. “Hi, how can I help you today?”

*

You had to give him credit, Fred was at your shop door at six pm sharp. You tried to ignore him for a while, but he eventually caught your eye as you wiped down the counters.

He gave you a big smile as you opened the door, and part of you wanted to melt. His smile was so bright and full of ardent hope. His freckles made him look younger, and it really added to the sweetness of his face. 

“So,” Fred began after a moment. “Why didn’t you come see the shop? It’s been weeks.”

You sighed. “Look, Fred. I just don’t think us talking like this is appropriate.”

He scrunched his brows. “Appropriate? Why not?” his eyes widened. “I haven’t been impolite, have I? I swear I’ve never meant to say anything weird, I just like to have a laugh-”

“No! Nothing like that,” you said. “I’m not interested in the kind of relationship you want.” There you said it. You would not be someone’s side piece or a good fuck. You wanted something real.

You should have known he was too good to be true as soon as you hit him with those boxes. 

“Oh,” Fred said, his face falling. “I’m so sorry that I assumed-” he paused, “I mean, yeah, sorry, you’re really busy so…yeah.” He forced a smile and stepped back. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll see you.”

You ignored the disappointment in your chest as the bells rang, signifying Fred had left the shop.

*

The shop was still packed a few days later. You supposed word had spread about your low prices and fast wait times because potions were flying off the shelves. You’d begun to think about hiring someone else to help check people out while you brewed in the back. 

Plus, people seemed to like the idea of a small A&E in the back, and you’d definitely need more help with that. 

You’d just finished restocking some salves when he walked in. His brown eyes sparkled when they met yours, and that easy, earnest smile was back on his face. There was no hesitation or the anxiety you’d seen the other day. He was acting like nothing had happened. 

You hesitatingly smiled when he reached the counter, but your jaw dropped when you noticed the bruise that had formed around his eye. 

“Holy shit, Fred!” without thinking, you reached to touch his black eye. “What happened?”

He scoffed. “This is nothing. We just had a slight malfunction with one of our new products.”

“This doesn’t look very slight.”

“I’m fine. But,” he smirked. “I do appreciate your concern.”

“It’s professional concern,” you muttered as you searched for the anti-bruise cream behind the counter. “You’re not special.”

Fred’s jaw dropped dramatically. “You hurt me, dear lady.”

You snorted. “I think you can take it.”

Fred’s hand brushed yours as you handed him the cream and the anti-swelling potion. Your cheeks flushed, and he gave you a sweet smile as he left the shop. 

You could feel yourself smiling throughout the rest of the day, and you cursed yourself every time.

 He isn’t actually interested. He’s just a flirt. 

*

The next time Fred came in was a week later, and this time he had a cut branching up his arm. Thankfully, it was nearly closing time and most of your customers had trickled out by then. 

“What is this?” you fretted, grabbing his arm. “You hurt yourself again?”

“It was just a small incident with one of the pygmy puffs,” he chuckled. “They don’t like being told what to do.”

“Probably because they’re your orders,” you joked. “They can probably sense the stupidity from a mile away.”

“Hey!” he mock-yelled. “They don’t listen to George either.”

“My point still stands,” you said, tapping the cut with your wand. You held back a shiver as your thumb brushed his strong bicep. Was it just you, or did he have goosebumps?

“You don’t even know George.”

“He’s your brother, so if he’s anything like you, I’d be worried about his intelligence.”

Fred pouted. “They don’t listen to Angelina either, and she’s got a good head on her shoulders, so I think they just don’t listen to anyone.”

You paused your cleaning of his cut for a moment and tried to make your face as neutral as possible. “Who’s Angelina?” Could she be the girl he was kissing?

“Oh she’s George’s girlfriend,” he said, oblivious. You breathed a silent sigh of relief. “I don’t know how they’re still together, honestly she could do so much better, but she likes him, I suppose.”

You hummed, finally letting go of his arm to grab a potion. The cut was just barely a scratch now, but you wanted to make sure it didn’t get infected.

“Make sure you drink this, Fred, tonight and tomorrow morning. It’ll wash out any weird pygmy puff or whatever you call it infection from your body.”

“Yes ma’am!” he saluted and headed for the door. You couldn’t help but watch him make his way back from his shop, a spring in his step and a smile on his gorgeous face.

*

It kept happening. Fred came in with food poisoning, many more bruises, and even boils at one point. They were apparently from his inventions and experiments, but you were starting to get worried. Who gets injured this much?

The last straw was when he walked in with an injured leg. Your A&E hadn’t been opened yet, but you had hired a retired healer to run the counter so you could run in and out on occasion.

You were in the back, mixing a new potion when there was a loud commotion at the entrance. You had a sneaking suspicion of who it was but continued to stir the liquid until Martha poked her head into your office. 

“It’s your boy,” she said. “And I think you’ll want to see this.”

That got you out of your seat immediately. Most of the time Fred’s injuries honestly seemed more like excuses to come see you, for what reason you didn’t know, but Martha’s tone made it seem much more serious.

“What’s wro-” fear shot through you as you saw the pain on Fred’s face, and the fact that he was leaning on….a direct copy of himself?

You weren’t sure whether to be more worried or confused. Had Fred somehow invented a cloning machine? 

As you looked closer, you realized that they weren’t completely alike. The person next to Fred’s face was more rounded, and his nose was slightly bigger. His face was a bit uneven, and there was something off with his ear, but you couldn’t tell from far away. 

Suddenly, it all clicked. 

“You must be George!” you exclaimed. “Fred, you never told me that you had an identical twin!”

“Pleased to finally meet you,” George said, turning to Fred. “I can’t believe you never mentioned we were twins!” He glanced at you, mischief in his eyes. “It’s like you don’t care about me or something.”

“Shut up, George,” Fred said, turning your attention back to him. “I’m sorry to bother you again, darling-” your heart jumped, “-but I’m in quite a bit of pain and I was wondering if you could fix me up again?”

He is just a flirt. He is just a flirt. He is just a flirt. 

“Yes, of course,” you scooped Fred’s other arm over your neck and helped George carry him into the patient room. “Martha! Can you hold down the fort for a bit?”

You didn’t wait to hear her affirmative before slowly and carefully lowering Fred down onto the patient bed. His face was contorted in pain, and you couldn’t help yourself from squeezing his shoulder in support once he was safely in bed. 

“Drink this,” you said as you passed him a cup full of silver liquid. “It’ll make the pain go away for a bit.” Fred gulped it down, and a goofy smile filled his face when he finished. 

“You’re so pretty,” he said lazily.

You could feel heat creeping up your face, but you ignored him.

“Sleep well.”

You cleared your throat and turned to George. 

“Judging from the dirt and the Quidditch robes, I assume he fell off his broom?”

George nodded. “Yeah. He got distracted and a Bludger came flying toward him and…” he made a violent gesture, “Crash!”

You nodded. “Did he fall unconscious at any point, or hit his head?”

“He was a bit confused at first,” George said, hesitating. “He kept asking to come here though. My girlfriend kept trying to convince him to go to St. Mungos, but he wasn’t having it.” George smiled. “Are you two together? Because he kept asking specifically for you.”

Call the fire department, because your face was scorching. “I-” you stammered. “I thought he had a girlfriend or something?”

George snorted. “Fred? A girlfriend? He hasn’t dated anyone in a long time. I was honestly starting to wonder if he was gay and just afraid to tell me or something.”

“Really?” Your mind was spinning. Had you actually just hallucinated seeing Fred kiss someone outside of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes? “I thought saw him kiss a girl outside your shop a few months ago.” You sighed for a moment. “They looked really happy, so I didn’t want to intervene or anything.”

“That would be news to me,” he paused for a moment, lost in thought. “Wait, what did she look like?”

There was an insistent knock on the door. 

“Sorry, we’re busy right now!” you called. “Ask the counter if you need anything.”

The door burst open, and your jaw dropped when the women came crashing in. She was much less put together than the last time you’d seen her, her hair flying everywhere and her cheeks flushed. But she had the same dark skin and hair, and the same commanding appearance that made you see why Fred liked her. 

“I’m sorry,” you said politely. “But I’m currently busy with a patient. Please wait outside or go to St. Mungos if you-”

“She's fine,” George interrupted. “This is Angelina, my girlfriend.”

Suddenly, it all clicked into place. It wasn’t Fred you’d seen kissing a girl, it was George. Who was kissing his girlfriend. Like a normal person. 

You were completely and utterly stupid. 

“Angelina, this is that girl that Fred won’t shut up about.”

“Oh excellent!” She strolled over to you and stared at you seriously. “Please go out with him. Just to put him out of his misery. All I hear about anymore is him whining that some beautiful girl from the shops won’t date him and I need it to stop,” Her eyes were wide and solemn. “Please.”

George snorted. “Way to expose Freddie there.”

Angelina grinned back at him. “I think he needs it.”

“Well,” you clasped your hands, ignoring the redness in your cheeks. “I’m just going to do a quick skull exam just in case he hit his head, and then I’ll set his leg and let him rest.”

You couldn’t believe you’d messed it up this bad. Of course, you’d just seen Fred’s identical twin kissing his girlfriend. How hadn’t you thought of it before?

You quickly began your work, murmuring spells to yourself as you ensured everything was fine. You winced at the loud crack that sounded when Fred’s leg was set, but a final “Episkey,” finally healed the break.

You turned to face George and Angelina, who were watching with rapt attention. “Fred needs to sleep for an hour or two, just to make sure he doesn’t feel all the pain right away. I’d prefer to keep him here, just to make sure he stays asleep and pain-free, and I’ll also be able to check him over again once he wakes,” you said. “But I’ll do whatever you guys want.”

Angelina elbowed George before he could speak. “I think Fred will be perfectly content with staying here for a few hours.”

“Yup,” George said. “He’ll be fine.”

*

You’d been running in to check on Fred for what probably was close to every 5 minutes for the past hour and a half. Martha had given you multiple suspicious nods and knowing looks every time you stepped out of the back room, and she winked at you as she left at the end of her shift.

The store was closed and empty after another long and busy day, and the urge to go check on Fred was already pulling at you. 

Just in case.

It seemed your intuition had been correct, as he began to stir the moment you opened the door. His nose twitched adorably, and there was a small smile on his face as his eyes opened, the sleep still present in his stare.

Without thinking, you stroked his hair, but Fred didn’t seem to mind. He actually leaned into your touch, the smile on his face growing. It was all so domestic, and you couldn’t stop your own smile from spreading across your face. 

“Your smile is so pretty,” Fred mumbled. “You should do that more.”

Warmth filled your face. “I like yours too,” you sat on the edge of his bed. “Does anything still hurt?”

“Not when I’m looking at someone as beautiful as you.”

“You are shameless!” you giggled, smacking him on the side.

“Are you slapping a patient?” Fred teased. “I’m gonna have to report you to the Ministry.”

“You’re making me wonder if you have brain damage that I missed somewhere.” You said as you helped Fred sit up on the side of the bed. “Let me check again.”

Fred, much to your surprise, passed all of his exams with flying colors.

“First time that’s happened,” he joked. 

“I guess that means you’re sane enough for me to do this.”

You leaned in and brought your lips against his. Fred gasped into your mouth and responded eagerly, his hand rising to cup your face and bring you closer. His mouth was soft and gentle, and you almost wanted to cry with how sweet he was. One of your arms wrapped around his neck, while your other hand grabbed his bicep.

Fred leaned back for a moment, chuckling. “I guess you’re finally free to touch my arms now.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Don’t pretend that you haven’t been thirsting over my arms the entire time we’ve known each other.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He laughed again as he leaned back in, taking control of the kiss this time. He was more passionate now, and you let out a gasp as his tongue brushed against yours. Your heart was beating faster than it ever had before, and you had to break the kiss because you couldn’t stop smiling.

After you leaned back, Fred just stared at you for a moment, a soft smile on his face. Sure, he was already handsome, but that smile made him look ten times better, and even younger than before. His freckles made his smile boyish, and there was childlike joy in his face as he looked at you. 

“What made you change your mind?” Fred asked after a moment, his brows furrowing. “I thought you didn’t want a relationship.”

“So here’s the thing,” you laughed nervously. “I thought you didn’t want a relationship.”

Fred’s eyes widened. “I think you’re the one who needs to get your brain checked, love. Because I think I was being pretty obvious.”

“Hey! You’re supposed to be nice to me now.” You poked his chest. “But remember when I told you I’d come over to see your shop the day after we met?”

“Vividly.”

“Yeah, so I ended up seeing George and Angelina kissing in front of the door to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and since someone,” you stared at him pointedly, “didn’t tell me he had an identical twin, I assumed it was you.”

Fred was silent for a moment. “I have been coming to your shop nonstop for months, and you still thought I had a girlfriend the whole time?”

“Well now it seems stupid-”

He kissed you lightly before you could finish. “You can never make fun of me for being clueless again.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a way to upstage me.”

Fred wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close. You couldn’t stop the stupid smile that was on your face, and you were sure Fred had a similar one right next to you. He squeezed your shoulder, and you leaned your head against him. Warmth enveloped you, and you’d never been so comfortable before.

“Don’t worry, love,” Fred said. “You’re the only one I think about.”

*

[foxymoxynoona]

ummm i need an extra scene of Meadow couple exploring anal play pretty please

this is my formal drabble request

incredible new banner by @borabae-gx

Clarified with submitter they wanted pegging and so here we are! Hope this is what you were hoping for 😎 It is um pretty filthy so...

Story: Meadow Characters: Jungkook and Enikö Word Count: 4878 CW: Explicit sex! 18+, oh boy this is filthy: so much cum, rutting alpha wolf shifter who gets a lil' subby at the sight of his omega with a strapon, power play, dirty talk to begging, anal sex male receiving (fingers & dildo), rimming, prostate orgasm/milking, little bit of ball slapping and nipple pinching, so much cum (just saying it again), safeword is pineapple

At the start of Jungkook’s rut, Enikö found herself once again lamenting the seasons they’d missed out on because of her pregnancies. How could she not, once she fully understood what her alpha wolf was like in his rut? Why did people complain and roll their eyes about the season so much, and offer her sympathies, as if holing up with him in the uppermost floor of the house and getting fucked brainless for days until he calmed down was somehow a bad thing. Sometimes, enjoyably, several times in a season. It was filthy and glorious and they didn’t even have to feel guilty about the time away from their work and children because it was a medical need! He didn’t have a choice! Maybe he could have tried to suppress it with drugs but… why? Why not enjoy these days sequestered together, getting reacquainted with any inch of each others’ bodies that might have been neglected since last year? And the kids got so much time with their grandparents! Win win!

There was certainly not an inch of Enikö’s body that has been neglected in the last few days. Jungkook’s stamina on a normal day was impressive but after two full days of nearly non-stop fucking, Enikö’s own stamina was reaching its limit. Everything was sticky and sore, and Jungkook’s apologetic attempts to give her a back rub had just riled him up again. She wouldn’t have minded him fucking at the same time except it made the massage too inconsistent to be any good, at times too hard and at other times too soft as he grunted and gasped until his hips stuttered against hers and then he’d dozed off only to wake again hungry and ready to go again. 

“I want to sleep,” she complained when her own attempts at a nap were interrupted.

“I know, baby, I know, one more and I’ll let you sleep,” he promised. Empty words. And she loved those empty words for the first two days but now… now she was ready for something else to finally be empty. She wanted to sleep! A shower and a sleep, and there was no way Jungkook was going to let her shower until he was truly empty and passed out enough to break the rut. 

So the next time Jungkook began to rut against her leg after a frustratingly short meal on the couch, Enikö took matters into her own hands. When his lips moved against hers, she kissed him back harder, and then down his jaw and neck, nipping harder with each kiss until he shouted in pain and his dick twitched against her stomach. 

“En,” he groaned.

“Turn over.”

“Huh?” His voice went lower, his eyes widened as he leaned back to look at her with a mixture of nerves and naked anticipation. 

“You heard me, don’t make me say it again,” she teased, and snapped her teeth at his nose before going to dig through the chest of toys they kept tucked away up here. He sat on the couch, watching her expectantly, twitching dick the only thing moving. Poor baby was hard and leaking and sweaty, flushed, breathing heavily, watching her closely with those wide dark eyes that looked almost soft for the first time since they’d come up here. He’d felt the shift in dynamics and she was glad to see the impact. She hoped that meant this would work. 

She took her time getting the harness on, enjoying how she could practically hear him swallow as she pulled the straps tight around her waist and thighs. She didn’t look his direction; she didn’t need to confirm his attention. Just grabbed a fresh bottle of lube and pushed her hips forward as she sauntered back to the couch, silicone dildo pointing right at him.

“It’s a bigger one,” he noticed, eyes trailing down her body. Already his behavior had changed. Gone was the growling, snapping, aggressive alpha with only a few strokes of her faux-phallus. 

“Yes,” she confirmed. “But I know you can take it, alpha.”

He swallowed and licked his lips and shifted on the couch. It would be easy to read his behavior as nervous but by now, she knew it was more anticipation than fear. He’d been nervous in the beginning, sure, the first time he’d been too embarrassed to look her in the eye as he asked if she could “try that thing you like on me” after years of brushing the offer away. He still hadn’t been able to look her in the eye after either, after he’d orgasmed himself speechless, and it took a long time of soothing and scenting him to get him to curl up against her and admit he was scared about how good it had felt, how much he had loved being fucked by her, and what that meant about him as an alpha.

What she thought it meant was that he enjoyed getting fucked. 

Which was good because it turned out Enikö really, really loved fucking her alpha.

His breath shuddered in a gasp as she grabbed his thigh and lifted his leg up; he grabbed the couch cushion like he thought she was just going to shove in but she only looked. 

“You have covered me in your cum,” she mused. “Hold your leg.” He did, perfectly silent and still as she slid her hand down to brush against his asshole, her other hand still stroking the dildo. “You won’t let me shower or sleep–”

“You’re my mate,” he growled, briefly strong, eyes flickering gold. She stroked her finger over his asshole again and he shivered. It was amusing that he’d tried to sound so possessive while holding himself open for her like that. While trembling with anticipation of what she was going to do to him. 

“You’re so full of cum,” she said. Just her fingers grazing his entrance made his eyes flutter closed. “I’m going to empty you out so we can both get some rest.”

“I’ll keep fucking you until I’m empty–”

She pressed her finger against his asshole and he broke off into a desperate whine. The noise made her shiver. 

“My turn now, baby.”

His voice was much more submissive as he started to move, “You said turn over–”

“I changed my mind. Stay like this,” she decided. She let go of the dildo to run her hands up and down his thighs, spreading his legs the same way he did to her so often. It was a sacrifice, because his grunts as she’d spank him while fucking were so good, but he’d really put her through it this rut, her cunt ached from too much attention, and she would enjoy watching his face as he tried to stay so tough during his rut while splayed out on his back like this. His thighs twitched as she rubbed up and down; his cock bounced against his stomach, begging for touch. She kindly slid her fingers along his shaft and down around his balls, relishing in his groan. His knees bent when her fingers drifted back to his asshole, feet flexing like he was preparing to spring away. 

“Yeah, like this,” she nodded. “I want you to cum all over your own stomach and chest.”

“En–”

“What’s wrong, too tough-guy to get marked by your own scent?” she teased. He didn’t answer as her fingers dug into the base of his cock, thumbs rubbing the softer skin behind his balls. She leaned forward and spit on his asshole and saw the ragged way his breath hitched in his chest. Everything she knew she had learned from him, which made it even more fun to see him affected by them..

Her tongue against his asshole loosened his voice again. His legs shifted, hips rocking as she held him open and lapped at his hole, then up to suck on his balls, then back down. All the while the sweetest gasps and choked moans floated down on her. 

“I’m not even in you yet and you’re already whimpering,” she taunted, certain it was something he’d said to her before. He clenched as she poked her tongue against the pucker, not surprised when his hands drifted down to her head, probably a desperate attempt not to stroke his cock. When she lifted up to take a good look at his flushed face, she noted too the cum leaking from his tip, a gossamer string connecting to the pearly dab on his abs. 

“I didn’t cum yet,” he insisted. 

“Good boy, not yet.” She bit his inner thigh playfully, amused by his nervous laugh at the feel of her teeth on his skin. He laughed because he liked it, she could tell by the goosepimples that spread across his skin. 

“I feel stupid sitting like this,” he admitted. 

“You’re thinking too much.” She slid her hands along his thighs again to soothe, and kept it up with one hand as her other reached for the lube. “Keep holding your legs up, unless you’d rather spread yourself for me.”

“That’s supposed to be my line.”

“Right now it’s mine,” she countered, coating her dildo with the lube and looking down at him posed for her so pretty. So uncomfortable. So nervous. So eager he was leaking. So hopeful he was willing to do what she said with only a little fuss. “Right now your hole is mine. Right now you’re going to take mine until you’re a whimpering, quivering mess–”

“Fuck, Enna–”

“Until you’re so empty you’ll cry at the thought of cumming again, you couldn’t knot if your life depended on it–”

“You like this too much,” he mumbled, dimples showing as his eyes closed, like he could swim in her dominant words. She knew he loved it, even when he acted above it. It was easy to get into character right now. She was tired. She wanted to sleep.

She squirted a glob of lube on his asshole in retaliation and he hissed, then cried out as she pressed her thumb against him, against and in. 

“Ah ah ah!” he cried out, squirming at the slow intrusion. 

“Shhh baby it’s just my thumb, that’s nothing for a big alpha like you.” She squeezed his thigh and pressed her thumb further against the clench of his muscles, a gentle steady thrust to work out his nerves. “Relax, you know you’ll love this.” He groaned as she pushed past the ring of resistance and twitched as his body clenched to accommodate. “Good, baby, just like that.”

“En.”

She continued to thrust her thumb, adoring the way his eyes fluttered closed and his brow dropped and he tried to concentrate on relaxing when his body was telling him to do the opposite. She knew he enjoyed the tremor of discomfort mixed with the pleasure; she took her time working the lube into him, pulling out and rubbing around his hole and then back in, easing his body into relaxing and remembering how good this was. She traded her thumb for a finger, slightly smaller, then had him gasping and twisting again as she worked two fingers in. She dumped on more lube, feeling her own heart rate picking up at the sight of his body swallowing her fingers like that. It would never fail to make her proud that though he’d done plenty of things with other women before her, this was one of many things only she would ever do to him. And he loved it.

“En,” he whined, dropping his knees and grabbing the couch cushions, nails scratching against the fabric. “Fuck… finger my asshole…”

“I am. Don’t be bossy.”

“Ah you’re going to make me cum,” he whined, losing himself and pulling his cheeks apart for her, already surrendering to the pleasure. She watched his cock twitch and another glob of cum slowly ooze out, no force behind it. She twisted her fingers and pressed deeper, sliding along his walls to find that spot that made his legs suddenly straighten and his head curl forward as he panted and moaned.

His whine changed in tone as she eased her fingers out, his eyes pitiful in their disappointment. She enjoyed watching him clench around her absence.

“En, please, please just go back to– I was so close–”

“Shhhh.” She leaned forward and kissed away his trembling worry. He groaned onto her tongue and thrust against her stomach so rapidly, clearly his desperate body driven on instinct.

“I need to fuck,” he gasped. “I need to– sit on my cock, En. I need to cum in you. I –aghh,” he gasped out as she slid the head of her dildo across his hole. She kissed him harder, tongue licking into his mouth as she pushed against him. She’d done her best to soften him open but his body resisted the bigger, harder intrusion. “Please,” he panted. “Please, En, I want you in me.”

She gripped the dildo and pushed harder, planting her feet and leaning her weight into it now as the head of the dildo forced him open. He yelled and grabbed the couch cushions behind his head, legs lifting up without her order as she sank into him. If only she could feel first hand the way his body was clenching around her dildo, the way hers did around his other times. He whined and whimpered and twisted, trying to see around his own erratically twitching cock and swollen balls. 

“Shhhh baby baby, you’re doing so good,” she encouraged, peppering kisses over his face as he gasped. “Just sit for a moment, just relax, just get used to me.”

“It’s bigger,” he whined, nose bumping mindlessly against her mouth. “Fuck.”

“It feels that much bigger? It’s not much bigger.”

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he groaned, squeezing the cushions so hard, biceps flexing, as his hip slowly curled up, taking her deeper of his own accord. “Fuck!” he groaned and cum oozed from the head of his cock, spurting over both their chests. “Please pump me–”

“No. Not yet.”

“En,” he whined. She loved his whine so much, this pitiful little noise only she ever got to hear. She kissed him hard and pulled out a couple inches –not all the way– before pushing slowly deeper, swallowing his strangled cries. She let him rest for a minute like that, impaled on her but unpressured, and just kissed his face as he alternated growls and grumbles and sighs and full body twitches.

“Wolf fighting you?”

He panted and nodded.

“I’m not going to stop fucking if you shift,” she teased, though it was definitely not true. “Tell him not to get any ideas and just to let you enjoy it.”

“So un-alpha–”

“Not true. A good alpha can take it harder than this.”

“I can,” he gasped out. “I want…” He shivered. She rocked her hips slowly and could tell the moment she put pressure in just the right place by the heave of his chest. She pulled slowly out and his groan took on a disappointed edge. “En…”

“Yes, alpha?”

He reached for with one hand, pulling her down into a kiss, and gave his cock a few strokes with the other. It took her a second to realize what he was doing, until the gesture made her recognize the shift in his vibe as he decided to take matters into his own hands rather than beg.

She grabbed his wrists and pulled them away; he put up just enough of a fight for her to feel strong as she pressed his hands back to the cushions behind him.

“Uh-uh. Hands off.” 

“You don’t understand,” he gritted out. “I need to cum, and if you’re just going to tease me…” There was an edge in his voice and she saw the muscles in the sides of his neck straining. 

“Sorry, am I going too slow?”

“Yes, just fuck me already! Don’t make me tell you again, little one.”

She didn’t appreciate the tone and so was less gentle as she shoved the dildo back in. He gasped and twisted. She leaned further forward, pressing deeper and deeper, and bit his shoulders and neck and chest until she was flush against his body and his skin was dotted with her white bites. His chest heaved, panting; he stared at her with wide eyes, mouth hanging open. Everything would feel more right now while he was rutting. Good. His teeth clicked as she shoved his jaw up, demanding the exposure of his neck as she pulled out and thrust into him hard. He shouted and grabbed at her hips, thrusting up to meet her. 

“You trying to fuck yourself on my cock?” she asked him sweetly. Outside of this moment, she’d die talking like this, but he loved it so much, it had made her brave over time. She was still holding his jaw up, making his voice sound strained.

“Please. Please, baby… need it so bad…”

“Need me to fuck harder? Say it again without the sass this time.” 

“Fuck me, baby, hard as you can, please, please.” 

“So polite even when you’re rutting, huh?” she teased, leaning down to bite his earlobe as she gave a hard thrust. He grunted and squeezed the couch cushions. “Too hard?”

“Again.”

So she did it again and bit his neck this time, kissing and licking to balance the pleasure and pain. But she wanted to see him, and pushed herself up, hands braced on the back of his legs so she could watch his contorting face and twitching cock with every stroke of her own. It was intoxicating to watch, delicious to listen to the way different strengths and speeds affected the noises he made. His cock looked so needy and desperate for touch but she refused to just yet. That was going to be the orgasm to end all orgasms, the orgasm to let her get some sleep.

He curled forward, grabbing her hips and pulling her harder and faster against him, pounding her into his own asshole as his groan turned into a roar. She fucked as hard as she could as he helplessly hooked his arms under his legs and cried out. Untouched, his cock erupted again, cum shooting up, dashing across the sweaty flushed skin of his chest, across his chin and cheek, dotting his sweaty hair. It was so fucking hot. He looked up at her through his own cum, clearly shocked, and Enikö fell forward to kiss him, not stopping her hips even when he bucked.

“Shit, I–”

“It’s so hot, it’s so hot, alpha,” she gasped. “I love seeing you with your own cum on your face, oh my god.”

“No, I don’t like it– agh, slow down!”

She did, stilling her hips but not pulling out because, “You aren’t done.”

“Let me breathe a second…”

“Hm…” She wasn’t sure she wanted to. She ran her hands along his thighs and across his stomach and chest, smearing in the cum, but when he started wiping it off his face, she leaned forward to lick off instead. Since she hadn’t pulled out, it pushed her deeper and he groaned and shuddered but remained silent under her tongue. So she began to gently rock again, chasing the high of hearing his voice catch like that. She nibbled his mouth and his jaw, his ear, down his neck and twisted them both sideways onto the couch so she could kneel between his legs this time and stretch out on top of him, pressing his cock between them..

“Good, baby,” she murmured against his skin. “I think you like the bigger one.”

“I…” He broke off with a strangled gasp as she pulled all the way out and pushed back in. His body had relaxed more, it was more accepting of her, but she knew he’d still feel every penetration. She pushed against his chest so she could guide the dildo better, out and in. His mouth hung open, eyes dark and slitted, legs splayed. She pressed his knees to his chest with his dick trapped on her side of his thighs, swollen head shiny and leaking. 

“I get it now,” she murmured.

“Hm?”

“Why you like watching my body take you,” she grinned, staring at her dildo disappearing into his hole and the way he clenched in the void when she pulled out. His huff preceded him trying to cover himself. “No, don’t be shy. It’s sexy.” She pushed in and leaned forward to kiss him. “Don’t be shy, alpha, it’s just me. Your omega can know something like this about you. You know this about me. You know how hungry I am for you.” She bit his mouth, kissing him even though he could barely return the gesture as she found just the right angle to buck against. His whimper made it obvious she’d hit the spot, just like it was obvious he tried not to whine like that, but she was relentless.

“Right there, alpha?” she asked, stroking into him. “Is that the spot?” His body answered for him since he could not, cum oozing out of his cock like she’d flipped his switch. She kept her pace the same but leaned back to watch the pearly jizz pool and slide down his thighs. She scooped it down to smear around his hole instead, letting it join the mess of lube letting her glide so freely in and out.

“Suck my cock,” he pleaded, a sure finishing move, but she refused. He’d fuck her mouth again and her throat was already sore. Instead she pushed his hands back up and pressed his legs apart and pinched his nipples, not giving him a rest. Maybe it had been an empty demand anyway, she could feel his energy starting to flag; she must finally be getting to the bottom of that cum reserve that seemed so endless during a rut. 

She slapped his nipples and pinched them again, then reached down and slapped his balls to make him hiss.

“How much do you still have for me?” she demanded. “How long are you going to hold out? Let it all out, baby.” She slapped his balls again, harder. He whimpered. She slapped harder until he finally croaked out “pineapple.” More cum oozed out, even before she ran her hands up and down his swollen shaft to chase the pain with pleasure. The shudder ran up his whole body and she quickly pulled her hands away.

“You like hearing me whine,” he complained.

“I do.”

“Please, just finish me.”

“Hard or soft?”

“Hard,” he answered quickly. “Hard hard, you have no idea how hard it is not to flip and fuck you right now–”

“You will not–”

“So fuck me harder!”

She picked up the pace, watching his cock bounce with each thrust, watching another dribble of cum leak out as she reached deep. She grabbed his legs to pull and he braced himself against the arm rest of the couch as she fucked harder, so hard she thought it must hurt him but he liked it if it did. The profanities flowed from his mouth, his whole body writhing and bucking as she split him with the dildo. His moans reached a fever pitch until she finally took pity on him and grabbed his dick, dragging her hands roughly up and down, practically using it as leverage as she whipped her hips against his ass. 

“FUCK” he shouted, legs curled in the air, face contorted in what looked like rage or pain as cum shot out again. He bucked and rolled and she kept going as he gave a completely silent shout and curled up. His gasp made it sound like he hadn’t breathed in hours but she kept going, slowing her thrusts but busying her hands, squeezing up and up, wringing the cum from his body.

“Yeah, cum baby, cum it all out, I’m not stopping until I hear the word so don’t try to shake me off–”

“Fuck fuck Enna,” he practically sobbed, grabbing his legs and curling forward. Another dollop of cum squeezed out, all over her hands. She’d found the spot with the dildo in his ass and just rocked against it, pressing, working him from every angle as he crumbled in her hands. He bucked into her hand but no word, so she kept going, a tight O around his head hard and fast while her thumb dug down behind his balls and her dildo milked that prostate dry. He shouted and she squeezed less cum out, and then less, until he grabbed her hips and pulled her deep one last time, his body convulsing as she wrung the last pitiful drops out of him.

“Pineapple,” he whimpered. “Pineapple pineapple.” Instantly she released him as he whined it again, “Pineapple.”

“Empty baby?”

His cock rocked and twitched in the air but nothing came out.

“God that’s so much cum,” she gasped, looking around. Certainly more than an ordinary day of this kind of play.

“Enikö…” His voice was whisper faint as he collapsed backwards, chest heaving, eyes closed. 

“I have to pull out. I’ll go slow. Are you ready?”

He licked his lips and nodded and winced, though she did her best to be gentle. His hole clenched in complaint as soon as she was out, and he bucked when she stroked it to soothe. How beautiful he was, completely fucked out like that. She watched with interest at the way his cock pulsed but failed to form the knot it no doubt wanted to. She undid the clasps of her harness and set the whole thing on the table to clean later, and stretched out on top of him, and stroked his hair back. He could barely open his eyes but still smiled and turned into her kiss. His skin was filthy, sweaty, but cooler to the touch. 

“I broke your rut,” she murmured.

“You broke me.”

“In a good way?”

“Fuck.” 

His mouth was lazy, slow against hers. Another shudder ran through his body and she smiled and debated about her own need right now. 

“You still need to be fucked?” he asked, which was honestly a wild question considering he clearly couldn’t move right now. She doubted he could even use his hand, frankly. It delighted her, to leave him like that after he’d done it to her so many times during the last two days. 

“You’ve fucked me plenty,” she assured him. “Just go to sleep, alpha.”

“But you smell wet.”

“Shhh.”

“Ride my face, baby–”

Instead she got up, ignoring the shakiness of her own legs, and retrieved the first vibrator she could find and collapsed back on top of him. He groaned as soon as he heard the noise.

“No, I don’t want it to end with you having to–”

She clamped her hand over his mouth and slid it between her legs. Their faces were inches apart, his lidded gaze meeting hers as she positioned the vibrator just right. Without verbal agreement, neither looked away; everything seemed so still and quiet as Enikö leaned into the building vibration that did all the work alongside the mental video playing in her mind again of exactly what Jungkook looked like when he curled his body up to take her in. It was quick, very quick. She came with a gasp and pulled it quickly away, sensitive sooner after so much activity. The orgasm wasn’t even that strong but it was a needed release, a relief of the tension she’d wound in her body getting to fuck Jungkook like that. Only her. She was the only person in the world he would trust with that need, that vulnerability, that pleasure that still frightened him. Why? Men could be so silly about something that felt good. And damn, did it clearly make him feel good.

“Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a lazy kiss to her forehead.

“For fucking you?” she grinned.

She felt the pout of his lips as he corrected, “For breaking my rut.”

“Thank you for trusting me with your rut and your needs. I’ll do that sooner next time.” Now that she knew he still enjoyed that kind of thing while he was rutting, they could bring so much of their other play into the rut room. She hadn’t known for sure if it would be welcome while he was his most dominant, or whatever but… apparently yes. 

“Hmph. Well. You trust me with yours.” A pause. “Sorry I didn’t get to finish you.”

“Don’t worry. When I go into heat, I’ll be very demanding. It’ll always be even between us, Koo. And anyway, I really enjoy fucking you.”

“Yeah yeah, I can tell.” He chuckled and coughed a little, probably dehydrated. He’d wake up and chug a liter of water in a little bit probably. But for now he stone-cold passed out, body finally at rest, instinct convinced he had successfully pupped his mate –despite her birth control and the fact she was the one who’d left him so dry he couldn’t even form a knot. Enikö, feeling very smug and satisfied and more than a little sore, went right to sleep too curled up on the filthy mess coating her alpha’s body. 

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

I Didn't Know You Were Keeping Count — Part X: Swan, continued

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Author's note: Here it is! Please forgive this super long chapter. It's 12.5k but my dear @elder-dragon-reposes assures me none of it's filler (I love her). ✨ So, here's my attempt to fix the Grand Crystal Ball while interweaving Leara's past, anxiety, and unavoidable plot stuff in.

Also! We finally get to my Silmarillion reference! Maglor my beloved

Tag list:

@ravenmind2001 @incorrectskyrimquotes @uwuthrad @dark-brohood @owl-screeches @binaominagata @constantfyre @kurakumi @stormbeyondreality @singleteapot @aardvark-123 @blossom-adventures @argisthebulwark @inkysqueed @average-crazy-fangirl @the-tuzen-chronicles @shivering-isles-cryptid @orangevanillabubbles @cosmermaid

Content Warning: Nothing you need to be worried about right now 🤞🏻

#######

Leara poured over the Prose Edda until the half-hour chimed in the belfry at the Temple of Divines. Marking her place, it was with a weary heart that she placed it in her satchel. Another bag beside it held her armor, compact yet heavy when not on her body. She wrapped the fur stole about her shoulders before lifting her bags. It may yet be high summer in Skyrim, but the evening air was cool and her arms and shoulders, bare save for the thin straps of her dress, were cold.

Honestly, Victoria cinched the gown so tight that the straps could be removed entirely, and it still wouldn’t fall. No, the only thing at risk of falling was Leara’s chest. The cut of the gown, paired with the tightness and lift from the corset, pushed her modest breasts up in an almost obscene display of flushed decolletage. The last time she saw this much skin from a woman in public was when Bishop got into it with that barmaid at The Bannered Mare. Funny, Leara didn’t recall seeing her there before then, and the girl certainly wasn’t there when she and Bishop were last in Whiterun. Perhaps she got a job at one of the other bars in town. Goodness knows she would’ve just to avoid another public scene like that.

Pulling the black fur tighter, Leara made her way from the dressing room back to the showroom where Victoria was fussing over a package. Beside her, a young Nord in a courier’s jacket stood, shifting from foot to foot. At Leara’s entrance, he stopped. “Woah.”

“Hmm?" Victoria hummed. Following the young man’s gaze, she lit up, “Oh! Is it that time already?”

“Yes, I was just going,” Leara said.

Victoria tutted. “Are you quite certain you want to wear your hair down? I have some ornaments that would create an exquisite updo!”

All at the courtesy of Casavir went unspoken. Where did he get this kind of money, Leara wondered. How much were paladins paid, anyway?

Leara’s hair, long and curling at the ends, brushed her shoulders as she shook her head. “Oh, no, thank you.” The courier gaped at her, and Leara made to offer him a reassuring smile before remembering that his nerves were likely tied to her. Her mouth slipped into passive marble. “Thank you for everything, Victoria.”

“Of course!” Victoria fawned. “Have a delightful time at the ball with Sir Casavir! You will definitely be the envy of all the patrons.”

The courier coughed.

Tracing a frost rune on her palm with her thumb, Leara focused on the sting in her nerves. Anything to divert her attention from the rolling nausea and rose flush burning her face.

Without another word, she exited the shop, skirts lifted as she made her way back to the main street. Sunset was still a few hours away, but it was growing late. Perhaps hiding in the dressing room wasn’t the best use of her time, but she needed some time to herself before subjugating herself to the dog and pony show this ball was bound to be. She made a mental note to ask Casavir about it when he came to escort her.

Walking down the street, she couldn’t help but notice people watching her. The urge to duck her head and hide behind her hair ate at her, but she suppressed it. She didn’t know what this ball was about, but she was familiar with the rules. Balls looked like a fairy tale extravaganza, but in all reality, they were political echo chambers where everyone was in costume. The parade began long before the doors to the ballroom opened: Who was attending on whose arm, what were they wearing, who filled out their dance card – endless questions that haunted the days and weeks before a ball like frost heralding bitter winter. Mothers foisted their daughters off on eligible bachelors while rich men cut business deals in dark corners. Ending the evening with an intact reputation and no personal losses took a particular talent, but Leara hadn’t devoted years of her life to espionage and masks to lose her face in this masquerade now. So she walked, head held high, bags ruffling her skirts, down one street and then another, back to The Winking Skeever.

Bishop was seated at a corner table, a half-full pint of ale next time him. She could feel his eyes on her the moment she maneuvered through the door hotter than any other stare in the room. At the counter, Sorex Vinius dropped a mercifully empty cup, eliciting an indignant scoff from his younger sister. The bard’s fingers trilled a succession of chords on her lyre. Leara swore someone wolf-whistled.

If the Dominion didn’t get her, the crowds would.

Head high, she went upstairs to her boardroom and dumped her bags on the bed. On second thought, she moved them to the table. Divines knew she’d be exhausted when she got back. Out of her satchel, she drew a pair of elbow-length gloves, cream in color, and tugged them on. More silk from Summerset, if Victoria was to be believed. Removing her fur, Leara tugged them on, hiding her rings securely in the glove.

The door opened behind her.

“Wow!” Bishop breathed, “You look amazing!”

Beside him, Karnwyr woofed in agreement.

She gave Karnwyr a soft smile before a sigh slipped out. “As long as Casavir likes it, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” she sneered.

“He’ll like it and he’ll hate it,” Bishop said, “because looking at you will make his blood boil and that’s not something he’s comfortable with.”

“He’ll just have to stomach it.”

Bishop caught her arm as she moved to the door, his calloused hand folding around her elbow. “You’d make any real man’s blood boil,” he murmured, low. His gaze dropped from her face to, well. He whistled. “My, my, that number does wonders for your breasts! If I didn't know better, I'd say you might actually have enough up top to make a man's head comfortable!”

Her sneer blossomed into thorns. “Now Bishop, don’t tell me you’re as put upon as you think Casavir will be.” Leaning closer, she tilted her head counter to his. “I can’t imagine you being flustered.”

Barking a laugh, Bishop dropped her arm. “Flustered? No. Thrilled? Yes. Excited? Yes, without question. Would I lose control? Like Hell I would. Does that satisfy your curiosity, sweetheart?”

“I didn’t realize I was bothering you.”

“Oh, my dear, you can bother me anytime,” Bishop stepped back, brushing her skirts. Karnwyr grunted. “But your knight in shining armor awaits.”

Discontent pooled in the pit of her stomach. “Already?”

“Came in not long after you did. But he’s not man enough to tell you he’s here. I saw him at the bar, guzzling water like a fish right before I came up.”

How attractive. “I’ll see you later,” she said. The black stole was secured around her shoulders, its own kind of armor.

Bishop winked at her.

·•★•·

Casavir spluttered, water bubbling down his chin onto his shirtfront. Leara smiled. “You look exquisite this evening!” he said, standing up so quickly that the barstool teetered. “I fear to gaze at you, that I may lose myself—”

“Shall we be going, then?” Leara asked, saccharine.

“Certainly,” Casavir coughed. His cup clattered on the bar.

Someone scoffed. They probably thought this was as ridiculous as Leara did. They were definitely smarter than her, she mused as she accepted Casavir’s arm and allowed him to lead her from the Skeever into the streets. She was thankful for the protection of the fur stole over her shoulders. The anticipation gave her goosebumps, and not in excitement. She glanced around the street and spied neither a carriage nor any other kind of transport. So, when Casavir said he was picking her up, he meant they were walking clear across the city. How very chivalrous of him!

Silently, she detangled her arm from his and slipped her shoes off.

“What are you doing, my lady?” Casavir asked.

“These shoes weren’t made for walking,” Leara said, tucking them under her left arm. No one would notice she wasn’t wearing them; they’d be hidden by the fur.

“It is not becoming for a lady to walk barefoot through the streets,” Casavir said, watching her.

Now that was cute, given that first, he didn’t really see her as a lady, and secondly, he clearly didn’t care enough to procure a carriage for the evening. Leara’s smile was jagged. “I’ll just have to make do, won’t I? Now,” she said, entwining her free arm again with his, “why don’t you tell me about this ball? I know it must be terribly exciting! What sort of entertainment will they have?”

“I am not sure,” Casavir admitted. They strolled down the street, and Leara angled toward the Dour Run. Like Oblivion, she was walking barefoot down that steep hill to the Avenues! Casavir, distracted by the sound of his own voice, made no move to divert her path. “I am fairly new to Skyrim, so am unfamiliar with many of the customs and practices of the people. Though I am told that the ball traditionally has many great festivities, my paladin vows prevent me from partaking in a few of them.”

Ah, yes, paladin and all that. The only Order whose oaths she ever bothered with was the Blades, and she was the poster child for broken vows. But even as a Knight-Sister and later, after the war, she became acquainted with several different religious orders throughout High Rock, Hammerfell, and Cyrodiil. She wasn’t an expert by any means, but Casavir’s vows pricked her interest, if only because she knew how he seemed to rail against them. Perhaps she was playing Daedra’s advocate by agreeing to accompany him to the ball, but it did make Bishop upset. And now she had a break from him for the evening. That had to count for something, right? And besides, attending the ball, as absurd as it would be, would be good, the people of Skyrim would see her invested in their culture. She was serious.

Although she highly doubted that this was what Ulfric meant.

No, she chastised herself. Do not think about him. Do not!

“Tell me about your vows,” she said, in search of distraction.

“I must not partake in any drink that would impair my senses,” Casavir explained. “Partaking of wine and other strong drink would prohibit me from fulfilling my oaths. I must remain clear-minded so I am able to carry out the commandments of my Order.”

“And what Order is that?” she asked. And what in Oblivion did he drink? Milk? Ulfric’s voice calling Bishop a ‘skeever-faced milkdrinker’ came back to her, and it was all Leara could do to suppress her snort. Casavir was clearly one, too. By the time they mounted the run that cut through the Castle Dour yard, she’d just managed to compose herself. As they passed the entrance to the Court of the Eight and the Tempe of the Divines, Leara sent a silent prayer up to Akatosh, Mara, and Stendarr for grace, patience, and mercy. And then, after a moment’s thought, she asked Kyne for strength.

Casavir’s chest puffed up, swelling his ascot and blue coat. “I am a paladin in the Order of the Divines, my lady. We are a militant arm of the Council of the Eight.”

The Council of the Eight. By Talos. The Council of the Nine was the head of the Imperial Church, and just as they appointed priests to parishes and sent missionaries out to spread the Cult throughout the provinces, they also pandered to politics. Faith meant nothing when the concrete fist of the state threatened to break everything apart. That’s what happened following the White-Gold Concordat: Talos worship was banned, and the Imperial Church was restructured to cut the God of Man from their teachings. The Order of Talos was all but scrubbed from the face of the Empire. In the vacuum that followed, the Council of the Eight, so rebranded, formed the Order of the Divines, knight-paladins whose job it was to denounce Talos throughout the Empire in an effort to appease the Aldmeri Dominion. The Aldmeri Dominion, who despised the Imperial Church’s interpretation of the Aedra on a good day.

Bile clawed at Leara’s throat. She’d heard stories about the Order of the Divines, how they would sell out and even hand over Blades to the Thalmor. And here she was, a Blades operative on the arm of a paladin sworn into the Order of the Divines. Her katana was tucked under her mattress at The Winking Skeever, but the desire to check it burned her. She’d left it there before going to meet General Tullius. She didn’t realize it wasn’t the General’s recognition of a Blades weapon that she needed to be worried about.

“Also, I must not dance too close,” Casavir went on, oblivious. “It would be inappropriate to encourage my sensual thoughts.” Separated as they were by her gloves and his coat, there was a tension in his arm that threatened to snatch her closer, claiming to save her when he could only damn her to Oblivion.

This evening just got far more dangerous.

·•★•·

The Imperial Gardens lining the walk to the grand doors of the Blue Palace were alight with torches and chattering guests waiting to get in. Fiery dragon’s tongue and blushing mountain flowers waved from the flower beds lining the drive, enticing people toward the branching paths that wound off into the manicured gardens. Amid the clouds of perfume and torch smoke, soothing lavender wafted through the air, carried from the depths of the garden on a slight night wind. Arising on either side of the gardens, the wings of the palace loomed, cast into shadow by the westward sunfall. Stained glass windows were aglow with warm lights inviting partygoers in from the cool evening air. But the doors were still closed, and so they could only wait.

Hanging back, Leara fell behind Casavir to slip her shoes back on. By the time he turned to question her, she’d straightened and, with a placating smile, allowed him to lead her into the crowd in the gardens.

Stunned dismay and morbid intrigue seized Leara in turns. Several of the women were squeezed into dresses from The Jewel, some more flattering than others. From what she could tell, no one else’s waist was compressed as much as hers. The benefit of time to order according to measurements and having a trusted maid or relative to tie the corset, contrary to Victoria’s distorted preferences, was not lost on her. If she hadn’t refused Balgruuf’s desire to appoint her as a Thane of Whiterun, it was possible she could’ve had a better gown fitted properly. Although, she thought, sardonic, if she were a Thane of Whiterun, she highly doubted she would openly come to such an Imperialized function. Not while Balgruuf remained neutral in the war.

One woman broke off her twittering to her companion, her kohl-lined eyes wide at the sight of Leara. Too-red lips popped open. “It’s you!”

A cordial mask, the same she wore when attending Elenwen’s little soiree, settled across her face. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

The woman, packed into Victoria’s lavender death gown, flushed. “You’re the Dragonborn!”

How forward. And how very unsettling that this random woman recognized her on sight. A strange little smile tried to pull Casavir’s mouth into something beyond his usual smolder. Lightning teased her nerves.

“The Dragonborn, eh?” the woman’s companion chuckled. “How about you put yourself to good use and Shout the doors open for us?”

Leara just smiled.

Wait, isn’t that what they said Ulfric did after he killed Torygg? Or was she getting her story mixed up? The facts around the High King’s death were so muddled by conjecture and heresay.

. . . and she was not going to think of Ulfric Stormcloak again this evening. She was not.

“You must excuse all the gossips out here tonight,” said one woman in slimming dovetail silk. “You’re causing quite a stir! You’re probably the most exciting thing that’s happened to them.”

More exciting than dragons and war? “Of course.”

“The windows look so pretty when they are lit up from the inside,” a nearby girl let out a dreamy sigh. Mercifully for her, she was wearing one of those high-waisted chemise gowns favored in more refined places, like Evermore.

The too-tight corset dug into her ribs. Leara shuddered.

“Are you cold, my lady?” Casavir asked, low in her ear.

“No, I—”

“I am!” cried a girl whose Victoria-gown was decked out with feathers, of all things. “It’s ruddy freezing out here!” The older woman beside her, clearly her mother or an aunt, tutted.

“I heard the Council of Commerce actually funded new sapphire fittings for the ballroom!”

“Fat chance,” someone sniffed.

Discontent murmured through the crowd. Leara wondered at the delay. It was almost unheard of to leave guests waiting like this. Were they still preparing the dinner and hall? Jarl Elisif canceled the ball last year, in the wake of Torygg’s death. In light of the progress in the war, or lack thereof, Leara began to doubt the young queen’s desire to actually host such a frivolous event. But what did that have to do with the Council of Commerce? Unless this was their party, Leara quickly amended. Ah, but things made sense now. An excess of extravagant and ornamental costumes, the volume of food that no doubt awaited them, the festivities and music – all the product of large amounts of money changing hands so merchants could show up, show out, and make bank.

Good taste and culture didn’t matter as long as money was made, yeah?

A hush fell over the crowd. Leara, who stood taller than most of the women, save a few of the Nords, straightened to see between the men’s heads. Then everyone was moving: The doors were open. Leara allowed herself to be guided by Casavir through the sea of people streaming into the Blue Palace. They went at a sedate pace, guests stopping in turns to hand off wraps and outerwear to servants. The line went quickly. Were these Elisif’s servants, or shop assistants pulled in by the Merchants Guild to work the evening? It probably looked good for business if people entered shops to find the same friendly faces who kept their coats safe for the evening.

All too soon, Leara and Casavir were through the doors, and she was handing her stole off to a bright-eyed maid. The cool air from the gardens brushed her shoulders. Casavir gave their names – and by names, she meant Sir Casavir and the Dragonborn since the knight so courteously never asked Leara her name – and then they were off again, swept along by the crowd.

The Blue Palace was large, larger than the Palace of the Kings or Dragonsreach, and certainly more grandiose. It had to be, having served as the residence of several members of the Septim dynasty during the height of the Empire. It was odd, walking where Uriel III and Pelagius the Mad once stood, never mind the Wolf Queen herself. An uncanny feeling utterly foreign to the reassurance she once felt in Cloud Ruler Temple knowing that Martin Septim once lived there. But, she decided, there was a stark difference between the fortress where hope was kept and the palace where treason and madness reigned. Bad things happened in the Blue Palace, most recently the High King’s death and the outbreak of war. With Leara’s recent string of luck, tonight would be just the latest in its sordid history, and she’d be right at the center of it.

They entered the ballroom, a white marble and gold draped hall that echoed bygone Imperial glory that was out of place in the grey climate of the current age. Amidst the rainbow of gowns and robes and suits already clustered on the floor, she could almost see dried blood on cold stone, blue eyes too bright, and shattered bones. A wolf howled.

“Sir Casavir and the one, the only – at least I hope there’s only one, or things will get interesting – DRAGONBORN!”

Leara slammed into the present. If Casavir hadn’t had her hand tucked into his arm, she might have stumbled at the announcer’s introduction. As it was, she tensed against the pull toward the floor. Casavir all but dragged her, escorting her to the wall where chairs were set aside for the women. Ballroom etiquette. How droll.

Introductions were still being made as Leara settled in her chair. Settling her skirts around her, she found Casavir staring at her expectantly. “May I help you?”

Casavir started. He smiled in what he no doubt thought was a suave display, but Leara wasn’t wooed. Nor would she be, having learned far too much about this man and his views on her to put her off him for the rest of the night. How very unfortunate that she was now obligated to dance with him by virtue of being his guest!

“You look beautiful,” Casavir said.

“Thank you,” Leara stared passed him.

The announcer rattled off several names. Most she didn’t recognize, but after a bit, she could pick out a few. There were many with some connection or another to the East Empire Company, crowned with, “Vittoria Vici and her Stormcloak teddy bear, Asgeir Snow-Shod!”

“You are so fair,” he went on. “For once in my life, I find myself regretting ever taking my vows.”

“Pardon, what?” Where in Oblivion did that come from?

Taking the seat beside her, Casavir reached for her hand. “I am merely thankful that you chose to accompany me this evening rather than remain in Bishop’s company. I fear what a man like him might do to you.”

Leara recoiled, but his grip was too much. “Are you saying I cannot defend myself?”

“My lady,” he pressed. “You are most kind, but I am skilled in the arts of battle and healing. Permit me to accompany you when you leave Solitude.”

This again? He’d mentioned as much when they met in The Prints and the Paper, but she didn’t realize he was serious! Bishop’s insistence that Casavir saw her as nothing more than a temptation only reinforced her realization that all these men who were obsessed with her wanted her. Casavir wanted her, and he wanted to get Bishop while he was at it. She coughed delicately into her free wrist, trying to ease the discomfort squeezing her ribs.

The members of the court began to be introduced.

“I don’t believe this is appropriate ballroom conversation,” she said. Again, she tried to withdraw her hand. With a sharp tug on her part, Casavir let her go.

“Forgive me, my lady. I do not mean to offend you.”

“Of course not.”

“And now, the fairest of them all, Good Queen Elisif!”

Everyone was watching then. Even Casavir turned from Leara to watch the Jarl of Solitude descend the short flight of steps to the ballroom. She was lovely, in a sweet yet melancholic way. Her coppery hair was coiled in a net of sapphires, framing bold green eyes in a gentle face. She indeed wore Victoria’s Blue Palace design and, somehow, it flattered her figure in a way many of the other gowns from The Jewel did not. The pink gem at her heart glittered under the candlelight. A gentleman who Leara thought was from the Merchants Guild stepped forward to meet Elisif. Bowing, he extended his hand to her. Elisif placed her gloved hand in his, and at once, music sprang up, and the first dance began.

Couples, hands clasped, swept onto the floor to join them.

“May I have this first dance, my lady?” Casavir stood and bowed neatly.

Silently, Leara nodded and allowed him to lead her to the lines of couples circling through the band’s lifting waltz.

Years separated her from the last time she stepped onto a ballroom floor. When was it, Fourth Era 190? Then, she was just a petty lord’s daughter’s governess, worth no more attention at a debutante ball than the curtains on the wall. Now as Casavir led her in line with the other dancers, she could feel eyes on her, the Dragonborn. The music swelled, a sweet revelry, and she made the expected step to turn. Casavir’s hand in hers was hot, but she held it as he led her, and they made the necessary pass. Were these the steps to the dance? She was unsure. Everything felt like a caricature of reality.

“Tell me more about your vows,” she said at length. Conversations from the surrounding dancers flitted just under the music. She forgot that it was necessary to talk to one’s partner to get through a set. Who came up with these rules?

“Well, being a holy knight, I must maintain vows, constantly upholding the cause of virtue and light,” Casavir explained. He spun Leara.

Spinning back to him, her velvet skirts flaring, Leara asked, “Does the Order of the Divines demand terribly much of you?”

“I must pray to keep a pure life dedicated to honor and justice,” he explained, evasive. “I must never succumb to worldly temptations.” Again, he mentions temptation, Leara thought. Any decent person would believe it natural to try and avoid obvious temptations when one’s honor and reputation hinged on it. While it was possible that some knights tried to maintain their image of noble chivalry, there were far too many stories of those who did not for Leara to take any knight’s word at face value. Especially one sworn to the Order of the Divines! Whatever Casavir’s personal failings, whether exhibited or mentioned by Bishop, the fact that he was a member of the militant arm designated to choke out Talos and the Blades penned volumes about his worldview.

“Do you enjoy your missions for the Order?” Was she digging? If so, was it anyone’s business but her own?

Their arms joined in an arch, Casavir broke from her, turned, and then rejoined their hands for another pass. “I fight for a worthy cause, just as you do, my lady. The eradication of heresy is a dangerous course, it’s true, but it is no less worth pursuing.”

“I see.”

Casavir clasped her left hand in his, her rings pressed into her skin under the heat of his palm. Too warm, the still-tender nerves of her hands prickled. Around them, the other women separated from their partners, spinning into an inner circle, mixing poised grace with giggling prattle. Leara followed, the netting of her skirts brushing against her legs as she went. In the midst of the sea of twirling skirts, she spotted Jarl Elisif laughing and twining arms with another woman, her dark umber hair coiled with silver ribbons. She orbited Elisif, dancing in a gauzy chiffon piece fluttering as a bank of clouds and as alike to the sky as her eyes. Like noon shining around the Blue Palace, illuminating the windows and gleaming off the great dome. The dark-haired woman mouthed something unintelligible to her companion, but Leara only caught Elisif’s dimpled smile before she felt an arm coil around hers, tugging her into a spin.

“So, you’re the one who has taken our favorite paladin’s arm!”

Momentum brought Leara face-to-face with an auburn woman, her pale complexion and cool contrast against the warm sienna of her skirts, flaring like a sunburst. Her face was aglow, but her eyes were shuttered.

“Pardon?”

“You know, he isn’t as noble as you may think.”

Not that Leara thought Casavir was very noble, to begin with, but this lady’s apparent penchant for gossip pricked her interest. Over her new partner’s shoulder, Leara spotted Casavir moving away in the line of gentlemen circling the perimeter. His back was to her, his hands folded behind him as he pranced away from sight and earshot. “Oh?”

A thin conspiratorial quirk of her mouth. “You didn’t hear it from me, but supposedly, a maid was cleaning his room and found a book under his bed, a certain script about a certain Argonian maid.”

Was that it, then? He read erotic plays? “Has he read the one about the bard?”

“What?”

But then the women were separating, spinning back to be joined again with their partners. Leara slipped back into Casavir’s waiting hold, manacled by his hands. Ballroom etiquette dictated that she only dance two sets with the same partner. She that was what Casavir expected of her, but Leara found herself wishing to vacate the first dance early, never mind finishing the set!

Mercifully, the dance ended moments later, Casavir dipping her low over his arm. Her arm thrown behind her, Leara could only hope and pray she didn’t spill from the top of her gown at this angle. Then he brought her back up, the room righted itself, and her head spun in its own little dance as he bowed to her. Leara curtsied.

A breath of silence from the musicians, and then the next piece sprang from the strings, a bright waltz more boisterous than the last.

Casavir took her in hand again, and Leara was swept across the floor in a dizzying whirl once more.

·•★•·

Gathering her skirts, Leara settled back in her seat as the couples dispersed from the floor. An airy flute melody wafted through the room, filling the absence left by the full orchestra. She wondered if the musicians were all from the Bards College or if some came from one of the conservatories in High Rock or Cyrodiil. Alinor has a very fine academy of music, but she somewhat doubted an Altmer virtuoso would play in Skyrim at a facsimile of a real ball. Not unless they were employed at the Embassy for one of Elenwen’s parties. Leara shifted just so in her seat at the thought. She didn’t recall much in the way of music at the party she essentially crashed, save for a flutist in the corner, but the elf, for all his quick notes and birdlike trills, hadn’t done much in the way of showcasing Aldmeri musicianship to the lower races.

Her fingers quivered, this time for a reason other than her fragile nerves.

In Alinor, at a real ball, harp song and fairy light filled the air, illuminating the room so that it shown with the brilliance of dawn over the Abecean. Flowers and fine stones covered the hall, ornamenting the guests against the backdrop of a thousand silver mirrors, as endless as the rolling seas. Dancers waltzed, their skirts in turns the crystalline sweep of the tide; in others, the pearly kiss of the moons; and again, the blazing gold of Magnus. So much of Alinor was shrouded in shadow and terror, and as an undercover Blade, she became familiar with more than her fair share of fear. But in those days, amid the society parades and political showcases, she took comfort in the starlight, visible and transparent at once as it fitted and fluttered with magic and memory. The arcane was so much more real in Alinor, and the beauty it took on in the land of the High Elves was more poignant than anywhere else in Tamriel. Though the Thalmor tarnished the true silver sheen of her ancestors, the call, the echo of Aldmeris in her blood sprang to life. Her heart longed for the gentle sands, the buzzing meadows, the white cities, and the crystal towers. To be again ingulfed in magic, arcane and musical.

To pluck a harp and truly touch the earth’s soul with her fingertips.

She could almost see the cherry harp stand, strung with mithril and gold filament. The bell chime laughter of the other members of her class when she was instructed to play. The hummingbird breath and petal fall of the lament, whispering and sighing as she cajoled it from the strings in turns of forlorn memory and wishful longing.

“Would you care for a drink, my lady?”

Gossamer frayed to rags and crystal shattered. Leara opened her eyes to find Casavir watching her, expectant. The shadow of Alinor passed from her face and she was again in the Blue Palace at a ball with a tête de nœud, a ridiculous dress, and under threat of apprehension from the Thalmor Embassy.

“Yes, please,” she said, anything to make Casavir go away.

With a bow, the paladin disappeared. At once, Leara got to her feet and glided in the opposite direction. Not hurried, but not sedate. She would have to join with him again for another dance, she knew, though whether it was the next set or the dinner set she didn’t know. She couldn’t imagine Casavir to be presumptive enough to expect more than two dances, not when he was so verbally concerned with his vows of chastity and piety. Those were ridiculous in themselves: Why would the Council of the Eight expect their paladins to remain chaste and pure? Unless they wanted them as wound up and disturbed as Casavir seemed to be. The Imperial Church, what an institution.

All around her, skirts and coats milled around, chattering to one another in seemingly pleasant tones. Underneath, however, ran the undercurrent or Imperial snobbery and mercantile calculation she expected from an event footed by the Merchants Guild. Their signature was written in the small print of the ball like an insidious contract. All the pomp and poise that seemed out of place in Skyrim was likely a joint effort from the government and the Merchants Guild to reinforce Imperialism to the Nords. The Empire had already taken so much from Skyrim and the other provinces by way of overlaying native cultures with the glories of Cyrodiil that when the people began to question the Emperor’s decisions, the Empire only tightened its fist and expected the people to fall back in line. Solitude fell in line. And all the while, politicians and merchants exploited the system for power and money.

People in corners, gathered away from the candlestands and the tall mirrors, huddled together in a conspiratorial hush. Yes, whatever else this night brought, money was made, power was promised, and someone somewhere would suffer for it.

“Ah, Dragonborn, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Leara turned and found – of all people! – General Tullius. In polished regalia and with a glass of rum punch in hand, at first glance, he didn’t appear quite as put upon as when she met him that morning. Yet there was a hardness around his mouth and eyes that said he wished to be back in his war room, far away from the spectacle around them.

“It was very last minute,” Leara said. “How are you this evening, General?”

“Not at all drunk enough to be here.”

Leara snorted and then coughed into her wrist to cover it up. “The punch isn’t to your liking, I take it?”

Tullius swirled his glass, the ice clinking against the crystal. “It’s fine enough, I suppose. The best that can expected at a place like this. Not until dinner, anyway.”

“Do they not have a room set aside for cards and brandy?” Leara asked, recalling the arrangements made for the debutante ball in Camlorn and how her charge’s mother bemoaned the prospect of the gentlemen hiding away for the whole evening.

“They do,” Tullius said, “But half the Merchants Council is hauled up in there. I’d rather not get dragged into whatever they’re plotting just to get a decent shot of whiskey.”

“That’s a shame, I could use some,” Leara found herself admitting.

Tullius looked at her then, as if seeing her properly for the first time. “Not enjoying yourself, I take it?”

“You could say that.” Leara watched as the string and percussion musicians on the stairs took up their instruments again while woodwinds sat down for a break. The next set began. “Do you dance, General Tullius?”

He threw back the punch as if it were hard liquor. How much did they water it down to stretch the reserve through the night? “Not if I can help it.”

“Then since you have no intention of asking me, I will have to sit this one out.”

“I suspect that doesn’t bother you too much.”

“Hardly at all,” Leara replied. It suited her just fine, she thought. Walking barefoot across Solitude was enough, but to follow that up with endless dancing was like traipsing through broken glass.

Facing the lines of dancers rushing together in a rapid mazurka as they were, Leara spied a wry quirk on the General’s face. This gave Leara some small hope for the approaching peace council. Tensions would be high – she expected nothing less from a meeting between Imperials and Stormcloaks – but if she could connect to either side, then there was a chance she could connect them together. Tullius was a tired veteran used to leading men but was dragged into politics for the sake of his country. He had a strong sense of duty. She could understand that fundamentally. He would come around, kicking and griping as he came, but he would get there. She wasn’t worried about the Empire.

“It’s a shame we’ll never see Ulfric at one of these events,” a booming voice lamented nearby. “Shouting a man to pieces? Meh. Stormcloak and Dragonborn dance off? Gods yes!”

Tension buckled her knees. Leara would’ve stumbled if Tullius hadn’t grabbed her elbow. “Jackass,” he muttered, frown directed off toward whoever made such a tasteless comment.

And it really was in poor taste. Ulfric already proved that he doubted her ability as Dragonborn and her willingness to take her destiny seriously; He didn’t think she could look out for the wellbeing of Skyrim’s people. He would be difficult to manage. It didn’t matter that at the last party she attended, he’d smiled at her. His ability to make her laugh despite her embarrassment was without merit. And honestly! He would have defended any woman from Alec’s smarmy attentions. She wasn’t special. No, the only thing she deserved from Ulfric Stormcloak was his anger: For Skyrim, for his people, and for what she’d done to him. She would get no quarter from Windhelm, and so every inch would be its own battle.

“Divines,” Tullius grumbled.

“General, are you enjoying yourself?” a warm voice asked.

Yet again, Leara forced Ulfric from her mind, though she suspected at this point he’d return fairly soon. At this rate, she was probably going to hallucinate him stalking her, spying from the windows just to judge whatever she did against his standards. And then, of course, all her secrets would inevitably be laid bare before him: The Dominion, the Blades, her mother’s family recipes. Everything. She took a quick peek at one of the upper-story windows. No, nothing. For now. But this wasn’t the first time she’d questioned her sanity, and it would all be downhill from here.

“Have you met the Dragonborn?” Tullius asked, releasing her arm.

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

Leara focused in again to find the woman in the cloud blue gown poised before them. Her smile was small, but star-bright, framed in all the warmth of a southern complexion. The West Weald accent was slight on her tongue like Surilie Brothers Wine. “How do you do?”

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you!” the woman said.

“Right, Julia, this is Leara,” Tullius said. Julia clasped Leara’s fingers in greeting. “Leara, this is Julia, Jarl Elisif’s favorite attack dog.”

Leara snorted another laugh. Her hand in Julia’s, she was forced to turn into her other elbow.

“Now, General Tullius, that’s hardly fair!” Julia laughed. Exhaustion pinched her mouth, slipping between the laugh lines. “Her Majesty simply has some concerns and I have the means to make them heard.”

Tullius grimaced. So, the General’s relationship with Elisif and her friend was rocky. Interesting.

“Yes, well, a ballroom isn’t the place to get into the war,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me, I just saw Thane Erikur. I must go before he sees me.” There was a note of mutual understanding between Tullius and Julia. Leara vaguely recalled the name Erikur from the guest list at Elenwen’s party, but if General Tullius and one of Elisif’s friends wished to avoid him, it was probably best she do the same. But Akatosh, she thought as she recalled how she fled Casavir, but the number of people she was avoiding in this room was rapidly growing. Now all she needed was Elenwen or one of her lackeys to show up!

Speak of the Daedra. As Tullius retreated along the wall, Leara caught sight of Casavir’s tall figure cutting through the milling groups along the edges of the room, his eyes searching. “Akatosh take me now,” she whispered.

“Are you all right?”

Julia’s concern was unexpected. And painfully real. Leara smiled, pale and practiced. “Perfectly, I’ve just spotted my escort for the evening.”

“Who—”

“Forgive me, my lady. I took a turn about the room to ease my head before I could, in good conscience, return to you. It is not my intention to neglect your excellent company this evening.” With that, Casavir offered her a glass of rum punch. Julia gaped at him, which he staunchly ignored.

Wordlessly, Leara took the glass. Odd that he took a turn around the room. She didn’t recall seeing him and she should’ve. But whatever Casavir did with his time away from her wasn’t her business so long as he wasn’t ratting her out as a suspected Blade to the Temple and Thalmor.

Actually, she was probably going to need to watch him.

·•★•·

She danced the next set with Casavir. His touch burned uncomfortably through her dress and gloves. Her nerves were on fire and she felt too hot. Still, she kept her eyes on the paladin. She did not trust him. Unease boiled under her skin. Whether it was his objectification of her or some secret suspicion that he betrayed her, she couldn’t tell, but the sooner the ball ended and she left Solitude, the better. Paranoia may be hissing in her ear, but its presence was constant at her shoulder. Maddening at times, but it got her this far.

Casavir escorted her off the floor afterward, Leara snagging another glass of rum punch on the way to the chairs. Dinner and hot wine couldn’t come fast enough. Tullius was right: The punch was fine at best but not enough for someone who wanted to be anywhere else on the face of Nirn. She sipped it politely as Casavir went on about saving some lord’s daughter or niece from a charging minotaur during a hunt in the Great Forest. It was a very dry tale, almost as dry as the punch. Divines, and it wasn’t even dinner yet.

“Then when the knave had the audacity to take the poor maiden’s hand in his, I had enough. Brandishing my sword, I drove him off before he could plague her in her weakened state. The look of dismay she gave me afterward told me just how much danger I saved her from. She was insistent that she was perfectly fine, but after being thrown from the saddle because of a charging minotaur, there was no doubt her sensibilities were impaired. Her father would have rewarded me for the protection of his daughter, but I could not in good conscience accept such worldly trophies when I have pledged my life to the Divines’ service.”

Mara’s mercies, he droned on and on and on! Keeping an eye on him meant nothing if he bored her to death. At that point, he might as well kill her outright and do the Thalmor’s work for them. “And how does the Order reward such loyalty?” she asked.

“All that I have is the Temple’s, and all that is theirs is mine,” Casavir flashed her a dazzling show of teeth.

Her stomach flipped, souring. Whose money paid for her dress and gloves and all this ridiculousness?

“Oh, Leara! . . . Sir Casavir.”

As she was trying to decide whether or not to ask Casavir about the dress payment, Julia materialized at her side. Casavir clenched his jaw, but Leara beamed at the Imperial woman. And then her eyes met the startled face beside Julia, and Leara froze.

“Hadvar?”

“It’s you,” he whispered, wide-eyed.

Dressed in a clean uniform styled more for ceremonies than battle was the Imperial officer who tried desperately to save her in Helgen. She could almost feel her hand in Ralof’s as they made the mad scramble through fire and falling debris toward the keep. Screams and General Tullius’s commands filtered through the haze of smoke, but more than anything she recalled the pounding of her heart in her ears and Hadvar’s steady voice across the yard as he led that family into the barracks. He'd pulled her from Alduin’s path before that, before she knew who Alduin was and that the great doom of their time was at hand. She remembered his reluctance before when the Captain wished to send her to the block alongside the rebels.

He promised to send her remains home. To Wayrest.

She took his hand in hers. “It’s lovely to see you again!” she cried, ignoring Casavir spluttering beside her.

Hadvar’s grin was warm and shy and everything that Casavir’s smarmy face was not. Because Hadvar cared about people, not power or pretense.

“Oh, you know each other already!” Julia laughed. “I was hoping you could help me convince him to dance!”

“Julia, please—”

“That won’t be necessary, Lady Lastblood. I will be dancing the dinner set with the Dragonborn,” Casavir said.

Julia’s smile withered. Hadvar’s jaw tightened. Leara wanted to vanish. Feim. Zii. Feim. Zii. Feim—

“That’s a bit inappropriate, isn’t it, Sir Casavir?” Julia said, eyebrow raised. “After two dances, it’s hardly becoming for a man under such holy vows as yours to overindulge in dancing, especially with the same woman three times. Don’t you think so, Hadvar?”

“Yeah,” Hadvar nodded. His arms twitched as if he wished to cross them, but his hand was still in hers. She forgot. The hard stare he directed at Casavir was enough. “Taking up all the Dragonborn’s time when there are plenty of people wishing to speak to her isn’t a good look for the Temple, either.”

“It’s not something you should concern yourself with,” Casavir grumbled. “She’s my guest for the evening—”

“Yes, yes, but see, Hadvar and I are friends, and it’s been forever since we’ve seen each other!” said Leara, her grip on Hadvar tightening.

Hadvar blinked at her, then nodded. Beside him, Julia snickered into her glove. “Yes, you’re right. Actually, can I escort you to dinner?”

The vein in Casavir’s forehead was close to bursting, but Leara didn’t care. “Yes, I’d love that,” she told Hadvar.

A few moments later, the musicians sprang up a lively tone for the dinner set, a cheery Breton song usually played during spring festivals. Definitely chosen to work up the guests’ appetites. Her arm in Hadvar’s, Leara could feel Casavir’s black stare shadowing her as she went. Glancing over her shoulder, Julia’s reassuring wave was enough to send her off. Then the wave turned into a rude gesture aimed behind Casavir’s back. Leara choked on a giggle.

“So, Dragonborn, huh?” Hadvar began as they joined the line of dancers. “Was it your ma or your pa that was the dragon?”

Leara laughed.

·•★•·

Dancing the dinner set with Hadvar meant he escorted her to the dining hall afterward. Leara was relieved. Hadvar asked her about her time after Helgen, cleanly skirting around any mention of Ralof or the Stormcloaks, for which she was grateful. She told him about collecting bounties in Whiterun over the winter. Bitter work, but it kept a roof over her head. She didn’t mention the sheer whiplash she felt going from the anonymous comfort of The Bannered Mare to the spectacle of attending a Solitude ball as Dragonborn. Hadvar asked about Mirmulnir (“That first dragon,” he said) and what it was like to Shout for the first time. Saying she choked on ash and went deaf from the wind in her ears didn’t sound like a good answer. Instead, she told him how the Words of Power sang to her and begged to be inscribed on her soul. Very, very, wild conversation to have over clam chowder and roasted vegetables. More often than not, one of the women sitting nearby would pause their own conversations to stare at her over their glasses; the men were less subtle. Leara didn’t pay any attention to them. By the time dessert was brought out – snowberry tarts dusted in icing sugar – they were discussing High Hrothgar and the call of the Greybeards. Still, as open as Hadvar was to listening to her talk about being Dragonborn, there was so much she didn’t dare mention. Any connection to the Blades was naturally not made. Talos was also off the table; despite her inheritance of the Stormcrown, she wouldn’t risk a word of it when Casavir of the Imperial Weasel Committee was sitting several chairs down. The one time she dared to look at him, snowberry halfway to her mouth, his dark frown stilled her hand faster than any frost spell.

Hadvar asked for her hand in the after-dinner set. Too cold, too warm, eyes on her bare skin, Leara said yes.

She asked him about service to the Legion and how the war was going. As he spun her across the tiled floors, snatches of long nights camped in the weird of Hjaalmarch’s swamps and of scouting missions through the Pale Forest came to her through the swirl of music and movement. She’d thought dinner would be an improvement – when was the last time she ate, anyway? – but eating only made nausea roll through her, twisting with every twirl Hadvar led her through.

She kept dancing. To stop would call attention to herself, a negative, questioning attention. And it would hasten Casavir’s return to her side. Did he find a partner for this set or was he brooding somewhere on the sidelines? Gods, Bishop was right. This was a bad idea.

“Do you think you’ll sign up for the Legion?” Hadvar asked.

“Me?” Her voice was distant to her ears. She shook her head, squeezing Hadvar’s hand in hers. “I can’t say.” I can’t say the day I join the Legion is the day the White-Gold Concordat is redacted and the Thalmor help rebuild Cloud Ruler Temple while singing campfire songs with the Blades they’ve hunted for nearly thirty years. “Being Dragonborn is a full-time responsibility.” Not to mention she’ll probably die when she faces Alduin in Sovngarde.

Hadvar shrugged, and she almost asked if he thought she would die before remembering that hunting Alduin in Sovngarde was another topic she skirted around at dinner.

When the dance ended, he bowed to her, a soft grin playing at his features. “Thanks, Miss Ormand.”

“It’s been my pleasure,” she said, giving a shallow curtsy. Straightening, she swayed back. “I think I’m done for the evening,” she laughed.

“You do look tired, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Hadvar said, halting their retreat from the floor. “Do you want me to help you to a chair?”

“No, no,” Leara waved him off. “I’m fine. I’ve taken up enough of your time already.”

“It’s been fun,” Hadvar assured her. “And Miss Ormand, I just wanted to say, I know you’re not a lot of people’s first idea of a Dragonborn, but I think you’re the one we need, and that’s more than enough.”

Warmth blossomed in her chest. “Hadvar, that’s,” her words caught in her throat. She swallowed. “Thank you, really.”

Ducking his head, Hadvar said, “Don’t mention it.” Just like that, he left, and Leara watched after him.

“I must insist you share the next dance with me, my lady.”

Warmth blazed into fire. Leara rounded, insides rolling, to find Casavir leering over her shoulder. “Sir Casavir, please, I can’t dance with you.”

His too-pale eyes narrowed. “My lady, you are my guest for the evening. Isn’t it right for you to give your attentions to me? I was neglected during dinner, you know.” There was a soft purr in his voice reminiscent of a mountain lion.

“I’m tired.”

“You’re the Dragonborn, untainted by such mundane things as ‘exhaustion’,” he went on. “You are a fair woman, full of grace and power. It is only right for me to display your beauty before the elite of Solitude, where all of your virtues can be truly appreciated.”

Leara squeezed her eyes shut. She shouldn’t have come. She should not have come. Bishop was right. Bishop was—

“I’m here, darling! Don’t mind if I cut in, do you?”

Bishop was . . . here?

Opening her eyes, Leara felt her features slacken, though whether from shock or because somehow she knew this was how the evening was going to play out, she wasn’t sure. Probably both. Through the crowd of guests strode Bishop, but not Bishop as she knew him. Gone were his edgy dark leathers and muddy boots. In their place, he wore linen trousers and a navy quilted vest over white poet’s sleeves. In short, he looked absolutely ridiculous. The collar alone was a stiff, starched piece; she wondered how he managed to get it on. Actually, getting it on was probably why he was so late in coming. Where’d he get this stuff, a barrel behind the clothier’s shop? Strutting right up to them with a smirk, he waggled his eyebrows at Leara. “May I have this dance?”

“What are you doing here?” Casavir growled.

“Why, I’m here to rescue a flustered little boy from himself,” sneered Bishop. He jabbed a finger at Casavir’s oversized ascot. “Now get lost, Casavir. She’s mine tonight.” Bishop’s eyes were back on her in a moment, and the heat under her skin made her shiver. His fingers grasped her chin, firm and callused, and she couldn’t look away. “My, is it hot in here or is that pretty flush for me? That armor you wear doesn’t do you any favors. You look ravishing, sweetheart.”

Bishop’s fingers vanished from her as Casavir wrenched him back. “Bishop! Keep your filthy hands off her! An animal like you has no place with the likes of her!”

“Filthy? Ha! I didn’t get all cleaned up just for you to drag me through the mud!” said Bishop, shoving Casavir away from him.

One step back, two. She wouldn’t be the center of their argument.

“If we’re going to stay here any longer, I need to get drunk,” Bishop went on. “I refuse to put up with you sober!”

“It’s obvious a man like you was never fit for civilized society. Be gone and plague us no longer!”

People were starting to stare. Eyes caught and snagged on her, leaving blazing trails of curiosity and suspicion and derision across her skin. Surrounded by people, she was alone, an island in a choppy sea. It was like the performance in the Palace of the Kings all over again, except the storm was so much darker here. There was no safe harbor. No one was going to pull her out – she was stuck between Bishop and Casavir. At that, she shrunk into herself, her arms wrapped around her. Feim. Zii. Feim. Zii.

“Who wants to be in civilized society when its full of blind idiots like you? I’d rather choke on this damn collar!”

“That can be arranged!”

“C’mon.”

Like a soft whisper, Julia’s hand folded over hers and led her back from the two men. So absorbed in their cock fight, they didn’t see Leara retreat after Julia through the snickering crowd. The steady rainfall of plucked strings and the distant rumble of drums met her ears as Julia pulled her passed the musicians toward the doors.

“That’s so stupid,” she mutters. “Arguing like that in public! At a ball! But I expect nothing less from Casavir. I always knew he was a gross, chauvinistic pig!” Julia stopped just short of the steps. The sympathy in her eyes made Leara want to cry, but she just stood there, frozen. “I’m sorry your friend rose to his bait though.”

She swallowed, hard. “Me too.”

Julia placed a hand on her upper arm. Leara stared at it. It was supposed to be comforting, she knew, but it was hard to connect.

“Is there anything I can get you?” Julia was asking. “Tea? Wine? Sweet roll?”

Leara’s gaze slid over Julia to the musicians and their instruments. They were between sets, and several of them were taking a break. A trio was plucking a cheery harmony together on their lutes, accompanied by another on a snare drum, but the rest were either vacated, or their owners sat at rest beside them. Lutes, lyres, flutes, and whistles. A dozen different kinds at least; apparently the Merchants Guild weren’t ones to skimp out on good entertainment. No, the bright tunes and lively melodies, some Nordic and many cosmopolitan favorites from the Imperial City were the highlights of her evening. A bright patch of sunlight in a blanket of black clouds. And chief among them, curved and strung with grace, was her beloved—

“Harp.”

“What?”

“The harp,” Leara heard herself repeat. So close and so far. It has been years.

Julia stared at her, then followed her gaze over to the musicians, over their shoulders and music stands to the far side, to the harp. “Yeah, okay.”

“Oh!” Leara cried, not expecting Julia to pull her forward. Leara had a handful of precious inches on Julia, but that clearly meant nothing as Julia led her straight to the harpist’s chair.

“Having a nice night, Bragi?”

“As nice as can be expected,” sighed the harpist, a young Nord, his golden hair light and loose around his shoulders. “How’re you?” he asked, lowering his packet of sheet music. Then he did a double-take. “Oh, wow, I’m sorry, Dragonborn.”

Leara wanted to shrink back, but Julia’s grip stayed her. “This is Leara.”

Bragi bobbed his head, his mouth open. Leara offered him a weak smile in return.

“I was wondering,” Julia continued. “Do you think it would be okay for Leara to see your harp?”

Smothering a nervous cough, Bragi’s eyes darted to Leara’s gloved fingers. It was only then that she realized she was twisting them in the silk, and stopped. “Do you play?”

“I, I taught in High Rock, several years ago.”

“Really?” Bragi lit up. “Did you teach at one of the conservatories?”

“I was a private instructor,” said Leara.

Rising for his seat, Bragi stepped back. “Would you like to try something?”

“Is that a good idea?”

“The next set isn’t for another ten minutes,” Julia assured her, beaming like the sun.

“Please, it’d be an honor to have the Dragonborn play my instrument – if you want,” Bragi added, sheepish.

It wasn’t that hard to convince her. Once her gloves were off, Julia helped her shift her skirts so she could sit on the stool and still reach the pedals without too much hassle. Then she brought the harp forward, leaning it against her shoulder, and she embraced it. If the maple and Nordic carvings felt alien from the harps she’d held in the past, she didn’t care. A physical release eased the tension around her heart.

One of the flutists was whispering to the other. Leara didn’t pay attention.

“It’s been so long,” she whispered.

“Just start slow,” a nearby piper urged.

Leara plucked the strings. The melody wasn’t as tender as on an Altmer harp, but she could hardly expect that same level of craftsmanship in a younger race where the people had decades, not centuries, to perfect their craft. Another pluck, this time G, then half a scale, major than minor, C to D. Sweet and simple rudiments, stuff she ran over with her charge every day when she taught in Camlorn. Not dissimilar to the lessons she had in Alinor.

Her chest ached.

The last gala she attended in Alinor before the invasion of Cyrodiil, she played. The summer air curled through the open windows, carrying the fragrance of cherry blossom and petrichor into the diamond hall. She could still taste the Oleander wine and feel the brush of sunbird feathers against her skin. The end of Frostfall. Lord Varlarata was hosting the Lord Generals, and she was selected to play for the kinlords. Even then, she knew what was coming. She had to. More than now, dogging the World-Eater as she was, her terror strangled her. If at any moment, someone suspected she wasn’t who she said she was, that she was a Blades agent, then that would be hit. How terribly close she came to having her head join that of every other Blade sent tumbling along Green Emperor Way like a cart of spilled cabbages in the market.

The ring of fire in her black band glimmered darkly at her, as solemn and present on her hand now as then.

Shutting her eyes to the ballroom and the dancers, Leara was again in Alinor, afraid for her life and desperate for Elenwen’s approval. And she played.

There was the sea and the calls of a thousand birds. Auri-El’s dawn caressed the pearl-foam tide. An eagle soared overhead, and the Aldmere came. Breaching the mists of war and chaos, they brought golden light in their wake. Trills and quivering chords slipped in quick succession. Praises sung to the Ancestors, amen. High towers in crystal like stone and insect as glass rose, brushing the sky but never soaring high enough to reach back to Before. Beauty and loss. An accidental minor. Alas, they saw, the eagle would fall. There was no triumph. Bitter, bitter, bitter, harsh and biting, almost violent passages. Lamenting, because divinity was lost to devilry. Trickster foul and serpent cruel—

Pain bit at her heart, but she embraced it, pressing it into the harp.

Swelling crescendo, growing power. They were of Aldmeris. They would be again. Hope and purity rang high in the register.

“They want you to play one of Rolmelval’s pieces. You have the Dawn Comes Softly?”

“Yes, Mistress, but I—”

“Speak up, Vilya.”

“I’ve been studying Nibenaurio.”

“Have you?”

“Yes ma’am, and I was hoping—”

“We will see.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Chaos and divinity warred across the strings in turns fire and stardust. Steadfast one moment and crumbling the next. They were splintering left and right and left again. Leaving. Leaves falling. Descending notes in minor tears. Hold on to the past. Hold the major lift. Her nerves ached, her soul stung. The Aldmere torn apart, the song deconstructed. Aldmeris was lost in the dark, the dark ate the—

She flubbed a note, a sharp accidental in the major key where there was meant to be a dissonant minor. She sprung from there, a wellspring, and reordered the measure to fall back into harmony.

Can anyone bear the pain of a thousand thousand souls weeping in the dark? Lost children in the forest, untouched by sun, unseen by star. The warmth in the blood was gone.

Tragedy seized hope by the hand and spun betrayal just as fast as her fingers danced down the strings. The heart broke. Her fingers stroked a low dissonance.

The sea was still. The pearls were scattered. Dusk touched the waves to the south in a haze of white poison. Harmony lost, the blood, the strings hummed in discord.

Wander lost, wanderlust, alone but the memory endures.

Everything drowns in the end.

The jarring of the strings was so sudden, yet calculated in its own way as only understood by someone familiar with the Aldmeri notation. Leara eased her hands from the harp strings, stunned. A mixture of pleasure and astonishment struck her. She hadn’t played that since before the war.

Julia was crying. “Oh Kyne,” she breathed, hands over her mouth.

“Are you well?” Leara choked, then bit her tongue, the lapse into the lilt of an Auridon accent comfortable and entirely unwelcome.

Bragi wiped his eyes. “Please, please, if being a hero doesn’t work out for you, come teach to the Bards College. Headmaster Viarmo will take you on. We have a High Elven harp.”

Only then did Leara become aware of the clapping and gentle weeping around her. Easing the harp back in place, she found the guests gathered in the hall watching her, tears staining their faces. Some cried softly, others whimpered. A few were clutching their friends and sobbing, mournful.

And then Leara remembered exactly what it was she played. A song of hope and loss, for the Altmer it stirred their magic to take what once was lost. A horrifying thought, all things considered. But for the mannish races. Actually, actually, she didn’t think anyone ever played Nibenaurio for lesser mer, much less men. It was too much.

It wasn’t acceptable.

The nausea returned. “I have to go,” she said.

“What?” Julia cried behind her hands. Her makeup was smearing. Bragi’s cheeks were red. One of the drummers was hugging his snare.

“I have to go!” And Leara darted to her feet, toppling the stool in the process. She didn’t care. She pushed by Julia and up the stairs toward the entrance.

“Leara!”

“Dragonborn!”

Several varying calls trailed after her, but she didn’t stop. Out of the ballroom and down the corridor, around the corner and down the stairs to the lobby. She paused long enough then to fling her slippers from her feet, and then she was off, out of the Palace and into the night.

·•★•·

Bishop found her in the corner behind the changing screen.

Her katana in hand, she sat huddled against the wall, feet bruised and hands shaking. Karnwyr was curled beside her, his head in her lap and ears flat to his skull. She’d cut herself out of the ball gown, leaving a mess of frost-burnt velvet and netting in a pool beside the bed. She was cold, left in nothing but the corset and other undergarments from The Jewel, but she was too shaken to try and get out of them. She was so stupid. All this time, running from the Thalmor, evading suspicion as a Blade agent, and keeping to herself, and at the first opportunity to touch a harp, she played the one song that would raise red flags throughout the Embassy!

She wanted to disappear, Alduin and the end of the world be damned. Maybe if he consumed Nirn, then she wouldn’t have to worry about the Thalmor or Ulfric or anything because they would all be dead!

“Hey there, sweetness. That was quite the exit,” chuckled Bishop, leaning against the wall beside her.

Leara just stared at the window. Would the Thalmor come in through the door? Or the window?

“You had that paladin on his knees, there. Fell apart like an old woman right on the floor!” Quiet, then, “Sweetness?”

“It’s too much,” she whispered. “I can’t do anything right. They’re going to get me no matter what I do.”

“Uh, what?”

She blinked up at him. “The Thalmor. They’re hunting me, and now they’re going to find me.”

“Now hold up just a minute!” Bishop cried. Grumbling, he sat down on the floor, his knees touching hers. With a growl, he ripped his collar off and tossed it somewhere behind him. Then he placed his hands over Leara’s on the katana hilt. Hers were small and frail with ice; his were a giant’s in comparison. She’d never noticed. “So, the Thalmor are hunting you? You knew that. Are you really worried about them? You’ve got me to protect you, and you know I’m not going anywhere.”

Conflict tugged at Leara. Yes, he’d said before that he would protect her from the Aldmeri Dominion, but still, the threat of him betraying her to Ulfric Stormcloak as a former member of the Thalmor continued to simmer under the surface. Oh! She should’ve never gone to that ball! She should’ve listened to Bishop when he warned her off Casavir!

His head in her lap, Karnwyr grumbled.

“You were right,” she whispered. “About Casavir, the ball, everything.” Tears stung her eyes, but they did not fall.

“Yeah, I am, but as great as it is to hear you say that, I’d rather you not be hiding out in a corner.” He pried her frozen fingers from her katana. “Here, let’s set this down and you come to bed – fully clothed!” he added when the tears threatened to burst. “Gods, woman, I’d think you’d have more decency at this point!”

“I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.” The blade set aside, Bishop skooched forward and lifted Leara into his arms. “C’mere, I’ll take you to bed.”

His arms around her back and under her knees, Bishop picked her up and toted her to the bed. Karnwyr grunted at the displacement, but followed after, hopping onto the foot of the bed. As he was letting go to set her on the blankets, Leara found herself tightening her fist in his vest. “Thank you for protecting me.”

A brief smirk, followed by Bishop pressing his lips into her hair. “Don’t mention it, darling.” He hesitated. “Do you really wanna sleep in that contraption?”

Leara shifted against the pillows, the corset’s boning digging into her ribs, suffocating. “N-no.”

Bishop nodded. “I’ll get my knife.”

·•★•·

Ruby droplets slid around the crystal bowl as she turned the glass in hand. The deeper garnets at the bottom winked delicious secrets of sun-ripe summers and natural magics. She watched them swirl and fold into the wine, slipping coolly beneath the surface into depths of rose and muscadine. She’d been nursing this same glass for two hours. Not an uncommonality. As with any task worth pursuing, a glass of Russafeld red required time and patience to parse out its secrets.

Not terribly dissimilar to interrogation, but far more pleasant.

There was a knock at the door. “Enter.”

“Mistress Elenwen, our agent has returned from the palace,” the young aid bowed.

Elenwen studied him over the pearl-toned mithril rim of her glass. “The ball was not scheduled to end until an hour ago, was it not?” And it was a two-hour ride on their fastest horses from the city gates to the citadel in the highlands. Elenwen did so hate when one of her agents disregarded her orders. It was already well after midnight. A few more hours of sleep would not soften her retribution for those who disobeyed,

Falcelmo bobbed his head. “It was meant to, Mistress, but I, it’s best if Hindalia tells it.”

There was a clink of crystal on oak as Elenwen sat down her glass. “Yes, I believe that would be wise.” After all, it was Hindalia who disobeyed.

Falcelmo retreated, and in his place, Hindalia strode in. She was tall, raised in the mountains of Firsthold and full of all the fire of someone who was promised the sky and forced to climb for it. More often than not, Elenwen appreciated Hindalia’s tenacity, but disobedience would not be tolerated.

“Mistress,” the girl bowed, her golden braid falling over her shoulder.

“Did I not give you express orders to remain in the Blue Palace until after their little circus shut down?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And yet you left before the festivities were over?”

“No ma’am.”

Elenwen didn’t pause, but she did raise a delicate eyebrow. “You will explain yourself.”

“Of course, Mistress,” Hindalia bowed again, humor pulling at her rose gold mouth. “They canceled it.”

She did so hate it when Hindalia teased out the answers. “It is late, Hindalia. I am not in the mood for your games.”

The smile never vanished. “It was right after dinner. They weren’t even halfway through the second portion of the dances when Jarl Elisif’s little friend, Lastblood, took the Dragonborn to the musicians. You’ll never guess what happened next.”

The half-written dossier in her topmost drawer whispered, as teasing as Hindalia with unlocked secrets and yet not so easily unlocked. Ancano’s letter was in there too. Elenwen leaned forward, gaze sharp. Was this another piece to the puzzle? “Hindalia.”

“She played the harp, and you know, Mistress Elenwen, I wasn’t expecting much when she sat down. I thought that Nord harpist was being sweet on her because she’s their great hero or whatever rot they spout, but no! It was,” for the first time, Hindalia’s face crumpled, the humor dim. Her green eyes were far away, reflecting the meadows and forests of Home. “I’ve not heard anything like it since I was a girl.”

“What did she play?”

Swallowing, Hindalia’s eyes began to water. “It aches to think of it. The Dragonborn played the Aldmere’Loren.”

Elenwen sat back. If she still held her glass, it would have fallen. The Aldmere’Loren. The Darkening of the Aldmer. How in Auri-El’s blessed name . . .?

. . . she used a spell I have only seen used by our own interrogators. Is she from the Justiciar’s branch? . . .

Ancano’s questions circled through her mind, coupled with the lament of the Aldmer.

Leara Ormand.

“You discovered why she was in the city?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Hindalia sniffled, sobering. “The Nords’ elders, the Greybeards, have called a peace council between the Imperials and rebels. She was ensuring General Tullius would attend.”

“Excellent,” Elenwen rose to her feet. “A meeting such as that will be a heated affair. It’s best someone is there to oversee the terms of the Concordat.”

“Ma’am?”

“We are leaving for Solitude in the morning, Hindalia. Tell Falcelmo to prepare our bags.”

“Yes, Mistress,” the girl bowed and was gone.

Elenwen stood beside her desk, her wine glass in front of her. In its depths she saw the Oleander Coast and another agent, quieter and yet not dissimilar to Hindalia. She could almost see the fine gold features in the place of the Dragonborn’s mannish face. It didn’t make sense, none of it did. And yet.

Well, whatever came from the journey to High Hrothgar, she would have her answers.

[daydreamingfuel]

Freak Like Me

Chapter 1

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

AO3 // next

Y/N has just moved to Hawkins from England with her parents and is starting at the high school in the final term of her senior year. Eddie immediately takes a liking to her and they become fast friends, deciding to take her under his wing and falling to her charms. This is Hawkins however and things are never quite as they seem...

WHOLE FIC TAGS & WARNINGS: gratuitous use of Y/N (I'm not sorry), friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, eventual smut, semi-fix-it-fic, angst, injury, canon dialogue and events used, canon graphic violence, no main character death :)

Chapter Tags & Warnings: suggestive tension at most, tooth-rotting fluff at the least, supervised underage drinking??? smoking, swearing, Eddie is a sweetheart

Chapter Word Count: 6.5k

A/N - this is incredibly self-indulgent of me but I have had Eddie brainrot since he first appeared on my screen so sue me.

“Y/N! Wake up honey, you’re gonna be late.” A voice called through the door, disturbing Y/N from their slumber. Mother dearest.

God, what time is it?

Checking the little alarm clock next to her bed, that they forgot to set before going to sleep, they saw it was already eight and that her mother was right – they were going to be late if they didn’t hurry the fuck up.

“I’m up! I’m up!” She called back and heard their mothers’ footsteps retreating “Barely…”

With a huff, they pulled back the covers keeping her safe and warm in bed and forced themselves out of its confines, stumbling slightly as they tripped over a stray shoe on their way to a bag of clothes that had yet to be unpacked. Quickly rummaging through, she found an outfit that should pass the dress code – jeans, band t-shirt, slightly holey cardigan - muttering a small ‘this’ll do’ as they started to dress. Once fully clothed, an attempt was made to make their hair slightly more presentable and freshened up in the bathroom, before picking up her backpack from her room and heading to the kitchen. 

“You look nice darling,” Commented her mother over a hot mug of tea, she leant against the kitchen counter watching as their child frantically found something quick to eat in a cupboard, “There are granola bars of the top shelf…”

“Thanks mum,” smiling slightly as she spoke, and reaching for the box and pulling two out, stuffing one in their backpack for later, not sure whether she could trust unknown cafeteria food to suffice getting through the day.

“Are you nervous? I understand that it’ll be a tough adjustment…” She trailed off and furrowed her brow slightly as Y/N quickly ate their small breakfast.

“Understatement,” Y/N mumbled between mouthfuls, before moving to pull on her shoes. “But I know it couldn’t be helped, this is a great opportunity for dad…my education be damned.”

“Language.” Y/N quirked an eyebrow, her mother rarely commented on their cussing, “You know I don’t mind it but the people at your new school…they might. And as for your education, you’ve always been bright, I’m sure you’ll be fine…besides from what they said of the syllabus, you already know most of it.” Y/N hummed dismissively, so her mother continued,  “Y/N, you’re eighteen, you’ve already done most of the work, this last term will be a breeze and then you’re free.”

Y/N knew she was right, but she was still annoyed about the whole situation. “I gotta go, I’ll see you when I get home. Love you.” She kissed her mother on the cheek, picked up her bag and left for school. Hawkins High, last term, senior year, class of ’86. This should be interesting.

The receptionist at the front desk was kind, as she led Y/N to the principal’s office, chatting mindlessly on the walk whilst Y/N took in their new surroundings. It was so different to what she was used to, but it was only for a few months. The banners on the wall supporting the school team of whatever sport it was they played here, probably basketball if not American Football. Cheerleaders in their small uniforms dotted around made Y/N feel like she as in some kind of movie as opposed to real life. Green and yellow, the school colours, could be seen everywhere, it was an odd combination but somehow it just worked, as she noticed the green and white varsity jacket with the yellow trim. People stared as they passed - she was the shiny new toy, fresh meat - and made comments to each other, but she paid no mind to the whispers. Once they reached the office, Gladys the Receptionist knocked, and a man’s voice called to enter.

Y/N plopped down in one of the dark leather chairs in front of the desk, on older man she had met once before sat behind it, a practiced smile on his lips. Principal Higgins. He was an older gentleman, in a brown suit and starch worn shirt, the tie his wife had obviously chosen for him, sitting snug around his neck.

“Miss Y/L/N, it’s nice to see you again.” Higgins spoke calmly, “I’ve got your transcripts here, you’re all ready to go. How are you feeling?”

She knew she would be getting that question a lot, but they smiled anyway. “I’m okay, it’s all just very different.”

He chortled slightly before standing, file in hand. “I’ll take you to your homeroom, you’re with Miss O’Donnell. Here’s your schedule, and a map of the school. Come see me at lunch so we can talk over a few things and sign a few bits of extra paperwork, we could’ve signed them now but…” He trailed off, checked the clock and, as if on cue, the warning bell rung. He handed Y/N two sheets of paper, which she immediately folded in half, she would look later, as he walked over to the door before turning back to Y/N, “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

The walk to the classroom was quiet, allowing Y/N to focus on where she was going and try to memorise it as best as possible knowing she would have to make her way back to the office unguided. Once making it to the classroom, Higgins and O’Donnell had a quick hushed conversation and Higgins left the room as the second bell rung. Miss O’Donnell, an older looking lady with glasses and an ill-fitting shirt tucked into a lavender skirt, turned to face the horde of students in their desks. Most looked bored and uninterested but a few seemed practically enthused at the new arrival.

“Class, we have a new student, Y/N Y/L/N.” Y/N fiddled with a stray thread on her cardigan to avoid eye contact “She has just moved over from England, and will be joining us for the rest the year.”

“England?” A boy called, making Y/N’s head snap up, “So do you know the Queen?” A blond boy in a varsity jacket asked as his friends on the surrounding table smirked slightly at the question and looked at Y/N in earnest.

“You’re American. Do you know the President?” She couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled out of her mouth. The boy’s face dropped. She heard a muffled laugh come from the back corner and her eyes found the source immediately. An older looking boy, probably held back, sat leaning on the desk hand covering his mouth, long curly hair framing his face and brown eyes glinting with mischief. Y/N smiled to herself slightly, as she moved to her seat, ushered by Miss O’Donnell who was grumbling under her breath about being polite and welcoming.

The rest of the morning was much of the same, teachers introducing her, silly questions asked and sarcastically answered and keeping her head down in class as she slowly caught up with where they were in the syllabus, comparing it to the notes she had brought from her old school.

‘Mum’s right, this is gonna be a breeze’ Y/N thought to themselves as she read through the calculus notes and saw that she had already learned everything important. Though she was never top of her class, she had always prized herself on being intellectual, though it most came off as being a smartass to her peers and wasted potential from her teachers when she wouldn’t pay attention.

By the time lunch came she was pretty confident that educationally, she would be fine, now just came the trouble of a social life. The dry humour she was used to was lost on most American ears so talking to peers had already arisen an issue, not that she hadn’t tried. She had mostly gotten confused, but polite smiles and quirks of the head and a few people believing her when she was being sarcastic. Brushing it off, she smiled at the lunch lady, as they doled out her food onto the tray and paid quickly before turning to face the rest of the cafeteria. As her eyes scanned the room, cliques could easily be seen sat at their tables, engrossed in loud conversation – the jocks being the loudest, the blond boy from homeroom leaning against a pillar laughing boisterously - until she found a semi empty table and made their way over to it. She sat in quiet solitude at the head of the empty table for a few minutes, eating peacefully before, surprisingly, someone joined her.

“Well, look who I found,” he looked up to meet those same mischievous brown eyes from homeroom. “You’re kind of sat in my seat, but I’ll allow it cause you’re new.” His voice was playful but welcoming, immediately making her feel more at ease.

“How generous,” she replies dryly, and he snickers, taking the seat adjacent to her on the table, “I’m Y/N.”

“Eddie, Munson.” He smiles softly. Now able to actually look at him, she saw the Metallica t-shirt fitting snug to his chest under his leather jacket and denim vest, the logo slightly fading from use, heart skipping slightly at the sight of her favourite band’s logo. “You know, normally I’d say that you shouldn’t be seen with me if you wanted to have a slight chance of peace at this school but with the way you bit back at Jason this morning, I don’t think that going to be an issue.”

“What’s not gonna be an issue?” A younger voice piped up from behind them, and Y/N looked up to see that suddenly there were more boys stood around the table, some sat down quickly once Eddie’s head snapped up to look at them, but the two youngest looking still stood. They seemed surprised, like they’d never seen a girl before, or that Eddie had just grown two heads.

“Didn’t your mommy ever tell you it’s rude to interrupt, Henderson.” Eddie addressed the shorter curly headed boy, voice stern but mischievous, almost brotherly. The taller, lankier boy next to him was just staring at Y/N as Eddie and ‘Henderson’ bickered about manners.

“Are you gonna sit down or are you just gonna stand there all lunch?” Y/N asked picking at her food, which made the boy snap back into reality. Slightly shaggy black hair ruffling as he shook his head slightly and made his way around the table.

“Oh, yeah…um, hi...” the boy said as he sat down opposite Eddie, dragging the smaller boy with him, “I’m Mike, this is Dustin,”

“Hi!” Dustin chimed in, with an adorable gummy smile, bright blue eyes lighting up, “Are you the new English girl everyone’s talking about?”

“Guilty,” Y/N leaned back in her chair as the boys leaned in slightly, intrigued. “Moved over here last month,” Dustin nodded along, saying a small ‘cool’ under his breath, going to ask a question but stopping when Y/N spoke again “what were you saying before, Eddie?” Her eyes finding his again as he stopped squinting at Mike and Dustin at the call of his name.

“Oh, just that what you did the morning may get you shit from the basketball douches for the rest of the year, especially now that you’re talking to the freaks of the school, but…from the seams of things, I think you can handle it.”

“Freaks? You don’t seem like freaks to me…dorks definitely,” Y/N nodded at Dustin and Mike who gasped in mock offence, “but freaks? I don’t see it.”

“No?” Eddie said with a cock of his head, “What if I told you that this is my third attempt of finishing my senior year?”

“So you’re 20 and still in high school, because you failed a few tests?” He nodded slowly, and she scoffed, “Standardised testing a bullshit, not everyone learns the same. That doesn’t make you a freak, it just means the system sucks.”

“Well then, it looks like you chose the right table.” He grinned, before turning to the boys at the table, “So,” he spoke louder, to address the group and they all turned to face him instantly, “first meeting of Hellfire this term is on Friday night, bring snacks it’s gonna be a long one.” The boys chattered excitedly at the announcement.

“What the fuck is Hellfire?” Y/N asked incredulously, and Eddie turned to face her with a devilish grin, going to speak before Dustin’s voice piped up again.

“It’s a D&D club!” He spoke excitedly, before Eddie shot him a glare across the table.

“What did I say about interrupting Henderson?!” Eddie snapped at him, and Dustin sank into his seat a little.

“Dungeons and Dragons?” Y/N questioned slowly, with a small smirk, and they nodded “Wow…definitely dorks.”

“First you sit in my seat, now you insult me?” Eddie questioned with a slight twitch to his eye, hands flailing slightly as he gestured to Y/N, leaning into her a little, making her snicker under her breath at the boys antics and clear passion for the fantasy game.

“Who said it was an insult?” She replied with a laugh, closing some more of the distance between them “Personally I’d much rather be a dork, or a freak, than be whatever…that is.” She nodded at the group of boys in varsity jackets across that cafeteria, Jason from homeroom still in the centre of it all. Eddie laughed slightly, before Y/N continued slightly quieter, “Besides, D&D seems like fun…”

“You- You’d want to play?” Mike asked in shock, having been listening on the whole conversation “Do you know how?”

“Well, no…but I do love fantasy stories, and I’m a fast learner.” Y/N responded a little shyer, and the table erupted into what if’s and how’s, some of the boys obviously not wanting or seeing the need for a new member. Dustin on the other hand seems practically delighted by the idea and was instant that it would be a good idea and that he would teach Y/N himself if he had to.

“I could teach you.” Eddie chimed in, making the table fall silent at their leader’s remark. “If you wanted to play with us, I could show you the ropes.”

“Really?” Y/N asked as she picked at the loose thread again, suddenly feeling more anxious than they’d felt all day, “I don’t want to be any trouble if you already have an established group.”

“We’re starting a new campaign anyway, if you wanted to join the party now would actually be the perfect time.” Eddie explained, leaning on his hand and picking at a splinter in the table with the other, he looked calm and unbothered but his voice was hopeful. His words calmed her nervousness somewhat as she considered her options. She didn’t want to be a social pariah, but it was just a fantasy game, what could be the harm in that? And she definitely didn’t want to have no friends forever…

‘What the hell.’

“Okay then,” Y/N said through a sigh, and smiled as Dustin’s eyes grew wide and he drummed a small rhythm on the table in happiness, she giggled slightly and Eddie felt his heart beat a little faster at the sound, before she turned to him and almost took his breath away completely with her next words, “Are you free tonight? I want to get familiar with the rules as soon as possible.”

“Y-Yeah, should be. I think I have a erm- meeting,” Eddie stammered slightly, obviously flustered and hiding something but covering it well, “right after school but I can meet you at 4ish?” 

“Great,” Y/N pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of her backpack and quickly scribbled a note, “here’s my address, I’ll see you there?” She asked sliding it across the table to Eddie who picked it up immediately and put it in his lunchbox, Mike and Dustin watched the whole interaction in awe.

“See you there.” He affirmed with a slow nod as Y/N stood to leave, “Going somewhere?”

“Almost forgot that Higgins wanted to see me at lunch, I still got time right?” She asked throwing her bag over her shoulder.

“Yeah, you’ve got about 15, maybe 20 minutes.”

“Cool, I’ll see you later,” she smiled at Eddie and he smiled back in response, before she turned to leave and called over her shoulder with a small wave, “bye guys!”

Eddie watched her walk away dumbfounded, until Dustin clearing his throat brought him back to the table. He found the entire group of boys staring at him like he’d completely lost his mind. They immediately bombarded him with incredulous questions about ‘what on earth just happened’ until he shut them up with a laugh.

“What just happened gentlemen, is that I think I just met my future wife.”

The second she stepped through the front door after school, her mother pottered over with a mug of tea and handed it to Y/N, asking, “So? How was your first day?”

“Can I at least sit down before you interrogate me?” Y/N replied with a laugh at their mothers familiar behaviours, and made their way over to the kitchen table and relaxing into a chair, “It was fine, I got asked if I knew the Queen like three times so that was fun.”

Her mother laughed heartily and sat opposite Y/N, her own steaming mug of tea cupped between her hands, wedding ring clinking against the ceramic, “Did you make any friends? I don’t want you being lonely.”

“Yeah, I think I did, he’s coming round at about 4-ish,” Y/N spoke carefully, watching their mothers reaction. It was all what she expected, her mother spluttered slightly on her drink as her eyes widened.

“A boy? Already?” Her mother exclaimed, hand reaching across the table to take Y/N’s in her own, “Your dad’s not gonna like this, you know how he was with-“

“Eddie, is nothing like him.” Y/N quickly interrupted, “Honestly. I know it’s only been a day but they are polar opposites, I think Eddie would despise him.” Y/N finished with a laugh, “He’s a nerd and a metalhead, he plays D&D, that’s why he’s coming round, he wants to teach me the game before I try to play with the rest of the group,” at this, her mother’s panic subsided and was replaced by a soft, knowing smile.

“Right, of course, I forget you actually have a chance to act like yourself at school now,” leaning back in her chair, and releasing Y/N’s hand, she watched as Y/N nodded in agreement, “Well, either way, if he hurts you-”

“It’s not like that…” Y/N grew flustered slightly at the thought, cheeks growing hotter by the second, “He’s just a friend, a new friend, I don’t want to fuck it up.” Her mum nodded in understanding and stood up to leave Y/N to her thoughts at the table, “Mum?”

“Yeah sweetie?”

“I won’t ruin things again, will I?”

“You didn’t ruin them the first time.”

Her mum left the room and Y/N slumped back in her chair, head tilting back with a sigh. Her mind raced with all the memories of her friends from her old school, how different they were from the people she had connected with today. How different she was. How different she had to be. Shaking the feeling off, she kicked off her shoes, grabbed her backpack and disappeared into her room, trying to neaten up around the boxes before Eddie was due to arrive. Though they had moved a month ago, Y/N still wasn’t unpacked fully. The only things cleared away and presentable was her bed and her bookcase. The doorbell sounded, and Y/N’s head snapped to the clock. Quarter to. He was early.

In a small panic, as she heard he mother answer the door and greet Eddie, she cleared some floor space and threw some of the cushions from her bed into the space to sit on later, and made their way back to the kitchen. Eddie was leaning against the kitchen counters talking animatedly to her mother about something, fluffy hair flying around and hands flailing.

“Have you ever seen them live?” Mrs Y/L/N asked, nodding to Eddies t-shirt, “You should, they’re amazing.”

“You’ve seen them-!” Eddie started before noting Y/N watching with an amused smirk in the archway, “Hey, Y/N, your mom was just telling me about-”

“Metallica?” Y/N finished for him and he nodded excitedly, “Yeah we saw them in London in 84’, best Christmas ever.”

“I’m so unbelievably jealous,” Eddie looked like he could explode with excitement, and Y/N couldn’t help but grin, as she walked over to him, “Anyway, I brought everything we need to get you started, you ready?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N affirmed and turned to lead him out of the room, “I’ll see you later mum.”

“Have fun,” She said, smiling in approval as they walked out of the room and towards Y/N’s bedroom.

Once inside Y/N sat down on one of the cushions and patted the second for Eddie to sit on but he paid no mind it. He stood in the doorway unsure of what to do with himself now that he was there, scanning the room, seeing band posters and photographs of Y/N and their old friends and family. He could smell her perfume. It was all overwhelmingly Y/N and it stunned him. When he finally clocked Y/N again, it made his heart skip a beat seeing her sat on the floor leaning back on her hands watching him so intently, head cocked slightly, like he was the most interesting thing she had ever seen.

“C’mon, sit your ass down, unless you want to teach from the doorway,” Y/N spoke, amused at his sudden lack in confidence after seeing him so exuberant in the kitchen. He cleared his throat and made his way to the floor, sitting next to her and pulling a few books, a few sheets of paper and a small metal box from the bag that he brought with him.

“Do you have a pen?” he asked suddenly, and she nodded reaching behind her and pulling a pen from her backpack, presenting it to him “Good…good. So, what do you know of the game?”

Y/N explained the little that she knew - that it was a roleplaying game, that you could make your own character and that it involved a lot of mythology and lore. He nodded along as she spoke, affirming that was she said was correct, before explaining a few of the finer points of the game. Y/N quickly found out that, as founder of the club, Eddie was ‘Dungeon Master’ and ran the whole game, planning the story and what obstacles the party would encounter. Then came how to actually play. He picked up the metal box and carefully tipped out the contents onto the floor and out rolled many dice in a dark red colour, and black embossed lettering.

“This, is a D20.” They found themselves laying on the floor facing each other, open books and many-sided di between them. He held up the small di between them with his free hand, Y/N’s eyes fixed on the icosahedron. “This is what makes the game fun, for me at least as DM, if the player rolls too low of a number, they don’t hit and it causes more chaos – fun for me to watch - and if it rolls high, more damage done to the target and one step closer to winning.”

“Right, I think I get it…I guess using the different di will mostly come with practice.” Y/N spoke and Eddie nodded, “Now I know the basics…”

“Now, we can create your character, so what’ll it be? Dwarf? Human? Elf? Princess?” He quirked an eyebrow and gaged her response, noting the slight catch in her throat at the final word.

“When you say elf, do you mean Santa’s Workshop or Lord of The Rings?” Y/N asked with a cheeky smile, already knowing the answer but wanting to see him laugh. She succeeded as Eddie snorted a laugh, rolling onto his back and looking up at her.

“Lord of the Rings,” He responded, “Is that what you want to be?” and Y/N nodded.

“I know in reality I’m more of a Hobbit by nature, but the Elves were always my favourite.” With a smile, she glanced over to her bookcase where her weathered copies of the saga sat in prized position. It was one of the only things her and her father bonded over, as he read The Hobbit to her growing up and then finishing the series herself and continued talking to her father about the stories as she grew older.

“You just keep getting better, Y/L/N,” Eddie closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief, “but this is just too good to be true, there’s got to be a catch.”

Y/N watched him as thoughts of her past life and new thoughts of Eddies smile and adorable brown eyes flickered through her mind. ‘Too soon. Not yet.’

“Maybe I’m just that perfect,” she smiled and leant over him a little, reaching for the character sheets next to him. “My extensive knowledge of Middle Earth and music taste speak for themselves.”

Eddie’s eyes opened to find Y/N closer than expected and he startled. Quickly sitting up and reaching for the Starters Guide, making Y/N sit back slightly as well. She scanned the character sheet and filled in a few things herself before getting to the interesting parts that she knew she would need more help with. Time flew as they created Y/N’s character, rolling the di for each trait and smiling with each new addition, Eddie taking on his Dungeon Master role instantaneously and making her laugh as he enthusiastically read through the guide. Not realising how late it was getting until a call came from the door, Y/N and Eddie were engrossed in their own little world, now sitting shoulder to shoulder and talking animatedly as they read the guide together.

“Y/N, dinner’s ready, can you ask Eddie if he’s staying to eat?” Y/N and Eddie both laughed at the question, Mrs Y/L/N not realising that she had just asked him by proxy.

“Are you staying?” Y/N asked quietly turning her head slightly to look Eddie dead in the eye, with a soft smile on her lips.

“Only if you want me to.” He replied as his eyes flickered down to her lips and suddenly realised just how close they were.

“He’s staying!” Y/N called back without turning her head and heard her mothers’ footsteps retreating, “You hungry?”

“Starving.” He leant in a little further and their noses bumped, both of their breathing a little laboured at the proximity before Y/N pulled away and stood up, reaching a hand out to help him up as well. He took her hand, and the cold metal of his rings made her shudder a little but it went unnoticed. They walked hand in hand back to the kitchen, where the table was set with three plates of steaming food, at which Eddie sat down instantly and thanked Mrs Y/L/N for the food. But Y/N stood in the doorway, staring at the empty space.

“Where’s dad’s?” Y/N asked and saw as their mother sighed and sagged slightly at the stove.

“He called, he’s going to be working late all week.” She answered sadly but quickly brushed it off, “but that just means I get more mother-daughter time with you.”

Eddie stopped mid-mouthful then swallowed, “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?”

“Don’t be daft, I wasn’t going to let you go home on an empty stomach.” Mrs Y/L/N replied earnestly, “What kind of host and mother would I be if I didn’t feed my guests and my daughter’s new friend?” she seemed positively offended at the idea.

“Mum’s always been a feeder, it’s how she shows her love and appreciation.” Eddie made a noise of understanding, nodded, then started eating again, “You really were starving.”

Y/N laughed at Eddie’s sheepish face but continued eating anyway. She sat next to him and dug in herself, before Mrs Y/L/N placed three glasses on the table.

“Wine?” She asked cheerily, pouring herself a drink and Eddie spluttered again when Y/N nodded and said a sweet ‘thanks mum’ when her glass was poured, “Eddie?”

“Is that a trick question?” Eddie asked cautiously, and Mrs Y/L/N cocked her head, confused, until Y/N chimed in.

“Ah! Um, the legal drinking age in the UK is 18, it’s a little hard to get used to suddenly having to be 21 to drink…” Y/N explained but Eddie still looked unsure as to whether he was allowed to except the offer so Y/N continued, “but my parents have always been pretty liberal about it, they’re not idiots and know what they were like at our age - we’re going to drink anyway so why not do it safely, where they can keep an eye out. So, wine?”

“There you go again, being too good to be real.” Eddie takes it all in then smiles at Mrs Y/L/N, “I’ve never had wine before…”

“It’s an acquired taste but it goes well with food,” She pours him a glass and smiles, starting to eat, “Eat, drink, relax, I’m not gonna call the police.”

Y/N laughs and takes a swig of her wine before digging into her food again, watching Eddie in her peripheral as he took a sip and coughed at the unfamiliar taste, making her snicker slightly. He glared at her before trying again and managing to drink without choking. Raising an eyebrow at him, as he swallowed before smiling and focusing on eating. The evening went by smoothly, Mrs Y/L/N continuing to ask Eddie questions, obviously trying to sus him out but doing it so seamlessly that he didn’t notice and answered honestly. Y/N learned that he lived in the trailer park not too far away with his uncle, that he worked part-time at the record store, that he didn’t have that much contact with his parents but didn’t really mind – he only tensed and got a little shy when Mrs Y/L/N asked about his romantic life, laughing awkwardly and muttering a small “it’s non-existent” before moving on and saying his one true love was his guitar anyway. They laughed, and ate, and finished the bottle of wine, Mrs Y/L/N muttering about how her husband wouldn’t be happy they didn’t save him any. With empty plates and full bellies, they all leant back in their seats as they let the food settle.

“Thank you again, Mrs Y/L/N, the food was delicious,” Eddie said and rubbed his belly slightly, “Best meal I’ve had in ages.”

“It was no bother,” Mrs Y/L/N shushed him and started clearing the plates, at which Eddie stood up to help, carrying the empty dishes to the sink. Y/N smiled to herself at how well Eddie fit in with her family, like he wasn’t a complete stranger that morning.

“I’ll wash up mum, you go sit and read for a bit.” Y/N said to their mum with a hug and kiss on the cheek before she pottered off to the living room.

“I love your mom.” Eddie said as soon as she was out of earshot, leaning against the counter as Y/N filled up the sink with hot soapy water and gave Eddie a tea-towel, “I don’t think an adult has ever treated me this kindly on first meeting.”

“That woman does not have a hateful bone in her body,” Y/N said with a smile, starting to clean up, handing the cleaned plates to Eddie to dry, “she’s always been like that, my gran said it got her into trouble a lot growing up, always being quick to trust people that she maybe shouldn’t but she still always see’s the best in people.”

“Must be where you got it from,” Eddie said and Y/N flicked some foam at him, he dodged it and lightly hit her with the towel making her laugh, “I’m serious, you very easily could have told me to fuck off when I interrupted your peace at lunch today, you could still tell me to leave you alone, and yet you haven’t, why?”

“Well…” Y/N started but didn’t finish, not really knowing what to say, so she sighed, focusing instead on scrubbing a glass.

“Well?” Eddie prompted, putting the towel down and folding his arms across his chest, looking at her expectantly. She could feel his gaze on the side of her head, as though he was trying to force his way inside it and figure out what she was thinking. The trouble was even Y/N didn’t know what she was thinking.

“I don’t know.” Y/N said letting the glass fall into the water with a small sploosh, and resting her hands on the sink, “What do you want me to say?” She sighed, collected her thoughts and bit the bullet, letting a stream of consciousness pour out of her mouth without really thinking about it, “I think you’re cool, we like the same things, not to mention that you were the only one who didn’t ask me a stupid question about England. Plus, you actually understand my humour - you were the only one that laughed in homeroom this morning and you’ve bitten back whenever I’ve teased you today. You’ve made me genuinely laugh for the first time in a while and I think you could be a really good friend to me…why would I tell you to leave?”

There was silence for a second before Eddie spoke.

“You think I’m cool?”

“That’s what you picked up on?!”

They laughed at each other, as equally as astonished at the other. They fell into comfortable silence for a few seconds before Y/N flicked some more water at him making him gasp as it hit him, causing Y/N to erupt into giggles.

“You did not just do that.”

“Oh, but I did.”

“You’re gonna regret that.” Eddie grinned, splashing water at Y/N, it hitting her décolletage and dripping down her front. She glared at him, her eye twitching slightly before she sprung into action.

“It’s on, Munson.” Y/N stated, quickly picking up the sponge she had been using to clean and squeezing it, the water spraying all over Eddie before she moved to run away, in hysterics at the fire in his eyes, and the exasperated look on his face as water clung to his curls.

“Oh no you don’t…” he murmured as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back towards him, locking her in place with her back to his chest with one arm as the other hand hit the still full sink and covered her in water, drenching her. Shrieking through the laughter, she admitted defeat.

“You win, you win!” she struggled in his arms as he leaned in to rest his head on her shoulder.

“You’re not gonna hit me with more water if I let you go?” He spoke into her ear, and he felt her tense up a little, smirking to himself as she shook her head. “Okay.”

He released her and she turned to face him immediately, almost slipping on the water and laughing even more at the site of the mess they made.

“Dad’s gonna kill me if I don’t get this cleaned up…” speaking to herself and she retrieved the mop and bucket, Y/N quickly cleaned up the puddle, then finished the dishes as Eddie pulled a cigarette from his back pocket.

“You want one?” He asked and tucked his own over his ear, Y/N thought for a moment then nodded, and he got a second from the packet. Once all the dishes were on the drying rack, they made their way out of the house and Y/N led him to a large tree at the end of the path leading to the house. Y/N had found this spot within the first few days of moving. Their house was small and didn’t have a garden, it was the only one her dad could find on short notice, so Y/N had to venture out to find a good place to rest and smoke if she wanted to. Luckily, she found the large tree with its twisting roots that made the perfect little seat, otherwise she would’ve been stuck inside with her dad complaining about work and mum cooking away the sadness. She sat on her favourite root, the perfect size to sit on and leaned back against the trunk of the tree watching as Eddie lit his cigarette in front of her then motioned for her stand up. She walked over to him bewildered, before he held up her cigarette and nodded slightly towards her. Smirking slightly as he placed the cigarette between her lips and lighting the cigarette himself, she blew the smoke in his face with a quirked eyebrow. Retreating back to her seat, she inhaled again savouring the feeling of the nicotine calming her from the inside out and blew the smoke from her lungs up into the air before looking back at Eddie who was looking at her in awe.

“Thank you for making my first day bearable.” Y/N said raising her cigarette in a small ‘cheers’, he snorted and took a seat next to her.

“Don’t thank me yet, you could still hate me,” Eddie said with a knowing, poignant smile, “I can almost guarantee that you’ll be labelled a freak like me pretty soon, and when the rest of the school looks at you the same way they look at me…I’m not sure you’ll be thanking me.”

“Hey, don’t do that.” Y/N said sharply, turning to face him, “From where I’m standing, you have been labelled unfairly. Besides, if this,” she gestures around her, “is what makes you a freak in this town, I’ll call myself a freak with pride.”

Eddie gazes at her with wide eyes and slightly agape mouth, cigarette hanging between his fingers.

“Where have you been all my life?”

“England.”

He laughs heartily and Y/N joins in, leaning into him and resting their forehead against his shoulder. They continue talk and laugh about anything and everything, smoking until the cigarettes are dead and even then, they lay on the grass and look up at the stars for a while longer, feeling as though they had known each other for years.

“It’s getting late, I should probably be heading off.” He sighs and sits up, resting on his forearms, looking over at Y/N, “but I’ll see you tomorrow…I drove in my van but then your mom gave me alcohol so…I’ll come by in the morning and drive you to school?”

“I’d like that, but fair warning, I think you’re stuck with me now,” Y/N grins at him, happy to have made such a good friend on her first day.

“God help me.” He jokes and she pushes him slightly making him collapse back onto the grass. Eddie pulls himself back up and rises to standing before helping Y/N up as well and walking her back to the front door. They said their goodbyes, Eddie winking, before turning on his heel and walking off into the night.

next

[bensonsbobblehead]

Summertime Sadness - Chapter 2

Aubrey and Jack hotchner come home for the summer after living in California with their mom for the school year. How will they deal with the trauma in California and living with their fathers new girlfriend. (the pictures in the banner are NOT the characters in the story besides the Criminal Minds characters) 

Content Pairings: Hotchner Famiy x BAU!Reader (ft; the team and others) POV: switches a lot. 

Chapter Warnings: more angst, cussing, arguing, and yelling. Panic attack. More characters coming soon i promise

wc; 1.5k 

A/N: here's chapter two, hope you’re enjoying. I'll tell you ahead of time it does deal with trauma and abuse in later chapters. 

Aubrey had been applying to jobs since before she left California. Taking master classes with young  choreographers around the area wasn’t keeping her busy enough. She got her a simple job as a patient transporter at the local hospital. 

She refused to drive her dads car so he has been picking her up when she gets off work. She got off work earlier than she expected and needed to be picked up. Just her luck her dad got called in for some reason she didn’t care enough to really listen to the reason why. So, he sent you to go get her, which was the only option. You pulled into the hospital front entrance and parked. Aubrey had been finishing up with her last patient. 

You took in the young girl and her beautiful smile and how caring she was even from a distance. The girl seen the black suv and headed towards it. Aubrey opened the door and hopped in the front seat. 

“Hey, your dad sent me cause he was called to the office.” You pulled off, the hospital wasn’t very far from the house but it was way to hot for Bre to walk. “I know he told me” as she put her seatbelt on and faced forward. 

“How was work?” Attempting to make small conversation with the young women. “I can tell you really like your job from the way you were talking with that patient”

“yeah, I guess” the girl replied,

“You know I use—-“ 

“Please stop” Aubrey begged “Don’t pretend like you like me.” Before you could reply Aubrey was hopping out of the car and heading towards the door. 

“Hey dad, I’m tired so I’m gonna go take a nap.” Aubrey said as she was walking past avoiding any unnecessary conversation. “Okay” Aaron said puzzled, “Hey, did something happen at work?” Asking you who was walking through the door with bags of groceries.

“I barely got two words out of her, but she thinks I’m pretending to like her.” you said making the air quotes with your fingers.

“How do you know?” Aaron asked,

“She said it, I’m going go try to talk to her.” She placed a kiss on Aaron’s lips as Jack was walking down the stairs.

“You know you have a room right?” As he swung open the freezer door, and searched for his frozen grapes. You laughed into the kiss, and headed towards Aubrey’s room. 

The door was slightly open, You gave two knocks and stepped into the room. Aubrey was on her bed taking her shoes off get ready for bed. She looked up to see it was you and looked back down at her shoes, “what?” she said with a bit of attitude. 

“Can we talk?” You asked, “About what?” Aubrey gave her all her attention, Emily shocked the girl is even giving her a chance. 

“Can I sit?” Pointing at her bed Aubrey nodded and you finally sat down. 

“What made you say I’m pretending to like you?” You asked bluntly,

“Cause I know how people like you are”  you were taken aback people like you? 

“What do you mean?” You asked curious as to how the young girl views you.

“People that my parents think are good for them.” Aubrey looked you dead in your eye. 

“Aubrey what do you mean by that, please talk to me I can tell something is going on with you and your brother?" the girl looked at you as if you were the first person to notice how she had changed, tears began to form in her eyes.

“I can’t…I —“ she stuttered with tear falling down her eyes. Aubrey looked at you and attempted to continue. “In California my mom had a—“ Aubrey hadn’t talked to anyone about what happened, only Jack knows. She knew talking about it with anyone would help her get through this but she couldn’t. You'd look at her differently like he said everyone would. She looked at you and completely stopped herself. 

“Never mind, just leave, I’m tired.” she demanded, walking over to her closet to put her shoes away. 

“Aubrey I just want to help you honey—“ she cut you off before you could finish. “STOP CALLING ME THAT! I'm not your fucking honey!” Aubrey yelled as the tears continued to fall. 

“Now get the hell out!” Aubrey said causing her brother and dad to hurry up the stairs. 

 As Aaron was approaching the door he noticed a very distraught you walking out of Aubrey’s room with tears in your eyes.

“Aubrey MARIE hotchner, what the hell is wrong with you?” Aaron yelled loudly,

 “You’re completely different person now, apologize to her. NOW” 

Aubrey ignored him wiping tears as more dropped pulling her legs to her chest 

“Go say sorry now Aubrey.” Aaron was so angry he barley acknowledged bres tears. He tried to grab her arm causing her to scream as she began to panic. Her breathing was heavy and she was hysterical. “Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t” Aubrey repeated with her hands over her ears and knees close to her chest. 

“Aubrey? I’m so sorry bug, I didn’t mean to yell—-“ Bre tried to calm down but continued to fail, Jack entered the room with fear plastered on his face. 

“What did you do!” He yelled toward his father“Jack what’s going on? Has this happened before?” Aaron had never seen either of them like this. They were both in a panic and he could feel there fear. He wanted to do everything in his power to stop it. 

Avoiding the question “Maybe figure out what made your child cry before your stupid, fucking girlfriend.” Jack really didn’t mean it, but no one came before his sister. 

You heard Jacks voice, and your heart broke even more. I’m ruining their summer you thought to yourself. Aaron walked out of the room without his two children and closed the door. He headed to you who was now on the living room couch balling your eyes out.

 “If I need to leave I will” you said sniffling as you wiped your tears. Aaron came and sat next to you, and wrapped his arm around you.“We will figure this out, I love my children and I love you. This will work out.” He kissed you on the head and wiped the rest of your tears, but you couldn’t help but to think about Aubrey.

Meanwhile upstairs Jack was still trying to calm Aubrey down. “Bre it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m right here with you.” He pulled his sister in, rubbing circles on her back. He held her for a few minutes until she finally spoke up. 

“I almost told her about California, I..- I almost trusted her.” Her voice was raspy like she had been screaming. 

“Bre, maybe you should try to talk to someone.I barley know the half of what Calv--” Jack was cut off "don't say his name." Aubrey demanded looking as if she could kill him, Jack stopped himself and continued “all I'm saying is, Y/N might not be your best friend but she’s not like him Bre I promise” he passed her another tissue. 

“I’ll talk to Uncle Spencer, he knows everything, and he’s basically a psychologist.” Aubrey cracked a small smile. 

Jack nodded his head, smirking knowing Bre could never be serious for to long. He continued, “We’ve been through hell in California and I’m sure that’s why you feel different.” Aubrey nodded leaning into her brothers shoulder

“We’re going to the mansion tomorrow and maybe it’ll be easier to talk to her when she’s drunk.” Jack laughed knowing how they got when they had a little too much wine. 

“But you have to apologize to them first, especially Y/N, she’s also basically a psychologist so try talking to her” looking at Aubrey, she knew if Jack trust her then so could she. 

“Okay, okay I will, and you have to apologize too dummy, you called the women stupid and said fucking in front of dad” Aubrey said heading down outing another hoodie on and walking toward the stairs.

 Aarons arm was wrapped around yours as you were watching a rerun of some game show. Aubrey sort of admired your strengths, you never gave up on her like Haley did, she slowly walked around the sofa walking toward the brown, dark chair. It had been there since she could remember.

“Dad..Y/N can we talk?” Aubrey asked taking off her hood to her hoodie showing her messy hair her messy hair. 

Aaron sat up and turned the tv down, “of course Bre.”

“First, I want to apologize for yelling at you Y/N, I’m really sorry you didn’t deserve that.” Aubrey said holding back tears, “and I’m sorry if I scared you dad, I really don't know what came over me.” she lied through her teeth, she had been trying to control her panic attacks since she was 14. Some days were better than other where she could just run into the bathroom stall or jJacks room.

“I accept your apology Aubrey, I care about you and your brother and I’m here for you if you need anything, I know change can be tough.” You smiled and Aubrey smiled back.

Aaron finally spoke up “I promised to never profile you kids, but Bre I can’t help but think the worst here, you have signs of pts—“ 

“That’s all I wanted to say, I have to sleep for the party tomorrow.” Aubrey cut him off and  got up, and gave you a reassuring smile. 

“Goodnight daddy.” She kissed him on the forehead, she only ever called him that when she was hurt or scared. Aaron watched his 16-year-old walk away feeling nothing but worry for her. Wishing he could take away whatever she was going through and feeling. Wishing it was as easy, as kissing a boo boo to make it feel better.

Aubrey hurried back to her room, thankful that Jack had gone back to his. She closed to door and sat down on her bed staring at the ceiling. After a few moments of silence she broke down into quiet tears. She ached all over, Aubrey felt out of place, she had been through hell, and was barley picking up the pieces. 

previous chapter chapter three

[acciotherapists]

Far From Home (Chapter 22: Where is She?)

Loki x Reader

Y/n Y/l/n never thought her past would come back to find her. After all who would look for her on Midgard? But one day in the small town of Puento Antiguo her world is turned upside down when an old friend turns up, threatening everything she has built and the people she’d fought so hard to protect. What happens when the life she left behind finally catches up with her? What happens when the old flame she thought had burned out reignites within her?

Warnings: language (sorry, Steve), eventual smut (slow burn), angst, some mentions of torture (most things won’t be detailed but anything that gets a bit more specific will be warned at the beginning of the chapter)

Warnings for this chapter: angst, mention of dead character

A man called Coulson.

Phil Coulson was dead along with several agents Loki didn’t know the names of. My breaths became shallower as the air refused to reach my lungs.

“Y/n, please… d-.”

“Please what, Loki!? You killed him! He was practically a brother to me and he’s dead because of you!” I shouted.

“Darling, I’m sorry… I-I didn’t know. H-He was in the way and I didn’t have a choice.” “You had a choice, Loki! You could’ve ended all of this but instead you chose to hurt people I care about!”

He took a step forward, lifting his hand but I quickly backed away from him.

“I will never forgive you for this,” I hissed.

“I can fix this, love. I promise I’ll fix this.”

“You can’t fix this, Loki! He’s dead!” I shouted as the tears streamed down my face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling me into a hug. I struggled against his grip but it was pointless. I knew it was wrong and I should hate him for everything he’s done but I couldn’t ignore what I felt with him. His lips slowly moved to my ear as he murmured a thousand apologies, his voice breaking with each one.

"Loki, stop," I whispered, my heart clenching at the sound of his broken voice. 

"I didn't want to kill him," he whispered into my hair, his grip tightening around me. 

"I know, baby…. I know," I soothed, fighting back my own tears as Coulson's face flashed in my mind. He was gone and the man I loved was responsible for his death.

***

I sat in a guest room in Stark Tower, one that seemingly hadn't been used in a long time. A green dress lay untouched on the bed, familiar Asgardian armor sitting beside it. 

"Put this on, darling," Loki had said to me before locking me in the room, saying he couldn't trust me not to run away yet. 

“This is Agent Y/l/n. Does anybody copy?” I asked through my comms, though I knew it was a futile attempt if no one was in range, but I had to try nonetheless. There was nothing. No voice, not even the faintest crackling sound. It was simply dead air. I sighed before realizing there was no point in stalling any longer. I slowly put the dress and armor on, not wanting to anger Loki, and knocked on the door. The lock turned and the door opened as Loki’s face came into view.

“You look stunning, darling,” he whispered in awe before taking my hand and leading me out of the room. “Come with me. I’ll show you our army.”

***

A medic team carried away Phil Coulson’s body as the remaining banged-up Avengers heard the news the agent had not survived. A silence fell over the helicarrier as the news of his passing settled.

Somewhere among the chaos Clint Barton was waking up, sweat dripping from his forehead as the adrenaline and the effects of the scepter wore off, Natasha Romanoff sitting by his side.

Bruce Banner lay in a pile of rubble miles away from the helicarrier with a massive headache and no memory of how he got there.

The scattered Avengers gathered themselves as they picked up the broken pieces of the team and prepared for a fight they didn’t even know if they could win. What they weren’t aware of yet was just how far they’d be willing to go when a member of their team– and the world– is in danger.

***

“I’m not marching to Fury’s fire,” Tony spat, looking down at where Loki’s cell had been ejected from the ship.

“Neither am I,” Steve retorted. “He’s got the same blood on his hands that Loki does. But right now we’ve got to put that behind us and get this done. Loki needs a power source. If we can put together a list…”

“He made it personal,” Tony interrupted.

“That’s not the point.”

“That is the point. That’s Loki’s point,” Tony argued. “He hit us all right where we live, why?”

“To tear us apart.”

“Yeah. Divide and conquer is great but… he knows he has to take us out to win, right? That’s what he wants to beat us and he wants to be seen doing it… so why allow himself to get captured only to break out? Why come here at all?”

Their eyes widened as the realization seemed to hit them at the same time.

“Does anyone have eyes on Agent Y/l/n?” Steve called into his coms, receiving several ‘no’ answers in reply. 

“Sure, he came back here to weaken us but he wanted her, too,” Tony explained as he began running, Steve following closely behind. They made their way to Fury's office as Tony spoke.

“I don’t know how we didn’t see it sooner. We just assumed they were siblings because of Thor but did you see the way Loki looked at her? I think Loki's in love with her."

"But do you really think he'd risk getting captured just to get her back?" Steve asked as they reached the door to Fury's office.

"The right girl makes even a guy like that do insane things."

"I suppose you're right," Steve answered, seeming lost in a memory, before Tony continued. 

"We need to find out where he took her." Without knocking Tony swung the door open, being met with Fury's confused and slightly enraged face.

"What is the meaning of this?!" he hissed, closing the file in front of him. 

"We need you to pull any surveillance footage from the attack," Tony said as he and Steve moved towards Fury's desk.

"You want to tell me why you're bursting into my office making demands?" Fury hissed.

"We think Loki may have taken Agent Y/l/n. We need to find out how and hopefully where,” Tony answered.

“Agent Y/l/n, report in!” Fury called into his comms as he began typing on his computer. A crackling sound filled his comms before they went quiet. No response came.

Fury’s typing increased as the silence in his comms became deafening. Fury turned the computer as a video began playing. Agent Y/l/n stood near the stairs leading to Research Level Four.

“That’s Agent Brown,” Fury explained, pausing the video. “He was taking her to Thor… said he’d been badly injured and requested her.”

“What happened next?” Steve asked and Fury resumed the video. 

A man appeared behind her, injecting an unknown substance into the side of her neck. Her body went limp and the unknown man carefully lifted her off the ground, taking extra care not to hurt her. Agent Brown said something to the man but they couldn’t hear what it was.

“Is there audio?” Tony asked.

“No but SHIELD has pretty extensive lip reading software,” Fury answered before typing once more. The video rewound and the lip reading software worked in the background as a robotic voice spoke.

“Careful with her. She’s a good agent… plus, the boss will kill us if she’s harmed.”

“Where would he go?” Steve asked as the video ended.

“He wants an audience,” Tony murmured as he began pacing the room deep in thought. “Loki’s a full-tilt diva. He wants flowers. He wants parades. He wants a monument built to the skies with his name plastered…” Tony’s eyes widened as he trailed off. “Son of a bitch.”

“Stark, what is it?”

“I think I know where he is.”

****

Taglist:

@purplekitten30 @lokisprettygirl22 @huntress-artemiss @lokis-little-love @lokis-tigress

[ohmyejun]

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 | H.HJ

✩... student!hyeongjun x gn!reader ft. jiseok

✩... 1.6k

✩... fluff, angst, crack

✩... traumatic events (car crash), suicidal thoughts + attempt (not really), mentions of drunk driving, cursing

✩... ideas have just been flowing lately and this one is brought to you by.... training wheels by melanie martinez. i started listening to it the other day and was like "yeah... this is the one." don't be fooled by the banner, this isn't the cutest fic... 😋

✩... You travel back in time to meet the love of your life, Han Hyeongjun, because he has passed away in present time. Though, things take a turn for the worse when you realize you're stuck there, no way to get back to the present. Or, the future in your case. Atleast you're with him.

⎯⎯ ୨ "No training wheels left for you..." ୧ ⎯⎯

You sat in your bed with heavy, tear drenched eyes and broken nose + cheekbone. Your eyebags were dark enough to pass as black holes and you could barely lift your body. If you got up, you'd probably throw up. Why were you such a mess? Just a couple of days before, you'd witnessed your boyfriend being mercilessly hit by a car, falling to the ground as his breathing stopped almost instantly. Not only did he get hit by a car, but it wasn't just a stranger driving the car. It was your sister.

You were in the passenger seat. You both had just left a party, and your sister had been drinking a bit though she swore she didn't. Wanting to go home, you ended up in the car with her. It was going smoothly at first, until your sister decided she wanted to start speeding like it was an empty road even though you told her to stop. You watched it happen. That night was the worse night of your life. You lost two of the most important people and as of right now, you had no reason to live, which was what motivated you to get up.

You held back your sickness, putting on a jacket and walking out the door. You walked slowly in the parking lot of your apartment complex, making your way to the main road. As you were about to step into the center of it, you felt a force pull you back, almost dragging you away.

You couldn't see this person due to their hoodie, but you let them drag you away anyway. You just didn't care anymore. Why should you? You allowed them to pull you into their house, finally able to see their face as they turned around and grabbed your shoulders with wide eyes. "What were you thinking? Is that really what you want? Are you okay?" Though, you were paying no attention to his questions since your vision was directed to his choice of hair color, making you raise an eyebrow. Then you realized he was one of Hyeongjun's bandmates.

Which one was it?... "What? You don't like the colors? I think pink and blue go amazing together, I don't even wanna hear your insults." "Hey Jiseok." Your simple response made him roll his eyes and let go of your shoulders. "Just sit."

Unaware of why he had an attitude, you just sat down. You assumed he already knew, considering the dried tears on his cheeks and the way he talked to you. Why didn't he sty home and grieve? Why was he looking for you? Why did he help you out instead of himself?. No wonder he was so moody.

He went to go make you some water, but also some type of weird drink. He was super into witchcraft for some odd reason, and it made everyone around him collectively fear him without showing it. "What the hell is this?" You sighed and eyed the glass of purple liquid, waiting for Jiseok to explain. "Well.... I have an idea." You scoffed. "Of course you do. Now explain." "Alright, alright! This, my sad, very sad friend, is a time trav-" "I'm gonna stop you right there." You said, letting out a harsh laugh. "I don't want any of your witch bullshit, alright? And of course I'm sad, how the fuck are you not?" He just sighed, refusing to look at you. "I am sad, alright? But If I wanna help you, I can't just break down whenever I want." You gave him a confused look before picking up the glass, shaking it a little and watching it fizz up. "And it's reactive, fuck this shit."

You were about to get up and leave until he ran to the door and blocked it. "PLEASE! Just listen." Your eyes widened, feeling a bit of pain in your eye sockets. "You're crazy." Despite not wanting to hear it, you sat back down. "Alright, like I was saying, you can travel back with this." "Yeah, you've truly gone insane." "No, I'm just smart! Now listen. There's no telling how much it will send you back, but if you decide to do it, you might be able to change the outcome. Just don't wait too long or you'll get stuck." You stared at him in disbelief as he continued to speak about what to do to get back to present time and what time to get out before taking the cup and gulping down the liquid, refusing to put it down at all no matter how bitter it tasted. You were so desperate to get him back.

"What? Why are you looking at m- Oh my god." His eyes widened as you started chugging the drink, slamming the glass cup on the table which left a few cracks in it. "MY CUP!" He yelled, running over to it, but once he picked up the cup he looked over at you as you fell over unconscious, dropping the cup and shattering it.

You don't remember anything that just happened, but you opened your eyes to see a... classroom? With a bunch of students? You looked down to see yourself in your uniform and sighed. You'd just woken up from a nap, atleast, that's what you recall. You looked across the room seeing a student who stared at his desk, not talking to anyone. What's his deal? You thought to yourself. Then your memories hit you. That night... what happened that night? The only thing you could see in your memory was Hyeongjun falling, and you couldn't reach him. You shook your head due to the sudden pain it was causing you, physically and mentally.

The rest of the day was weird, you kept seeing the same guy all day, you started to think he was kinda cute, but also thought it was creepy to keep seeing him. You doubted he was stalking you, though. He probably hadn't even seen you yet. You hadn't spoke to anyone all day. Then it hit you. Today was the first day of your freshman year.

You walked out of the entrance, fixing your backpack until you saw Hyeongjun near the bike rack. (is that what it's called? sorry back to the story LMFAOO) He looked stressed as he unlocked it, keeping his hands on the handle bars while looking at the ground. You decided to walk over to him to see if you could spark conversation.

"Hey!" Clearly you disturbed something because he flinched when he turned around to face you, his face not looking to pleased. You were about to turn around and leave until you heard him respond. "I'm sorry.... hello."

Truth was he was just startled. He doesn't have the nicest resting face, but once he said hi back you didn't mind any of that. You offered to walk home with him and he agreed, though he wanted to be the one to ask you that because he found it a little odd that you were walking him home and he wasn't walking you home. He didn't necessarily mind, though. He thought you were adorable, in a friendly way of course. A very uplifting soul.

You guys didn't even end up going home. You guys went to the park on accident because you both clicked instantly, talking the whole way there. Neither of you payed attention to the route you were going clearly. Hyeongjun felt something while talking to you, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Was it adoration? Love? Maybe hope?

You sat down on the swing together and lost yourselves in thought, but while you snapped out of it, he was still stuck in his thoughts. "Jun? Hyeongjun?" His head immediately turned like a cat once you called his name. "Yeah? What's up?" "I noticed your bike..." Hyeongjun looked towards his bike, sighing as he already knew what you were about to say. You noticed this, so you didn't even bother finishing your sentence, but instead asked him about it. "Is there a specific reason as to why you kept them? Do you not know how to ride without them?"

He shook his head and looked down at his lap. You observed the rest of the bike, noticing the plush on his guitar bag which hung on the right handle. You could feel as though you were forgetting something, but unsure of what. "Do you want me to help?"

He just looked at you with eyes of admiration. Nodding, he watched as you got up and detached his training wheels. "Nothing to be ashamed off. I'll lead you every step of the way." You had a genuine smile that made Hyeongjun feel something in his heart, a contagious smile that made him smile too. He trusted you.

After a couple (a lot) of attempts, he could finally make it on his own. It only took falling quite a few times, of course you caught him everytime since you were right beside him like you said you'd be. You guys shared frowns, laughter, smiles, tears, and hugs all in those 5 hours. It wasn't until he began to ride off by himself, leaving you there, that you remembered what you forgot. Not only did you forget how to get out, but you forgot when you were supposed to get out. By now, you'd remembered everything that happened before you came here and had no idea how to forget it. You could feel yourself slowly breaking, dropping to your knees as the tears flowed out of your eyes. Surely if you saw him again tomorrow it would help, right?

Would you guys want a part 2 of this? If I did one, it wouldn't be that long and it definitely wouldn't have a happy ending. I promise to make it up with something fluffy 😭

[jrmytxt]

Parentese

Fandom: MCU

Characters: Bruce Banner, Justin Hammer

Relationship: Bruce Banner/Justin Hammer

Summary: Justin would put his children above his work any day.

Trigger Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 749

Notes: Something that exclusively I wanted. Bruce and Justin with children, do enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Justin rocked the stroller back and forth, trying to focus on the business phone call he was currently attempting to have. The rocking seemed to work a bit, the little girl inside had quietened down and Justin nodded approvingly, focusing back on his phone before a loud scream startled him away from it once again and he groaned quietly.

“Please hang on for a second,” he told the person on the other hand, quickly switching from phone to bluetooth earpiece and putting the cellular down before glancing at his daughter who was screaming her little heart out. With a shake of his head he reached inside the stroller to pick her up, holding her to his chest as he, once again, attempted to go back to the business call. Ever since his children had finally been allowed home, which was going close on four months ago, he’d decided on being a stay-at-home dad. Everything he had to do to run his business could be done remotely from home, with calls and video chats and e-mails. And everything else, well, he had enough people to delegate those duties onto. And sometimes delegating meant putting his husband on baby duty instead.

And being a stay-at-home dad meant he could hold his kids during most any business interaction he had, save for video chats, unless he was feeling particularly risky. With some investors he really didn’t care as much, and in the end, he always prioritized his kids over his work. Just as he was going to do today, because the little miss did not intent to stop crying, even after being held and kissed and coddled, so, with a sigh Justin shook his head.

“I will call you back, I am in no environment for this meeting right now.”

Without waiting for a response he hung up and looked down at the tiny being in his arms.

“Melissa, you’re making it really hard for daddy to work,” he cooed, kissing her tiny forehead, and smiling at the attempt she made at grabbing onto him. “Guess you wanted my undivided attention, hm? Well, you got it now. No pesky investor to distract me, now I can coo you as much as I want to. My darling, widdle princess.” He blew a raspberry on her belly, rejoicing at the giggle that came out of her. “Aw, you like that? Like when I blow on your tum-tum? Yes you do, yes you do!”

“Looking very serious there, Justin,” a voice sounded from the doorway and Justin looked up from his daughter to find his husband with a smirk on his face and their son in his arms. Justin huffed and pulled his daughter closer to his chest. “I need to be the best dad that I can be,” he protested before looking back at Melissa after she made a noise. “Oh, sorry baby, I said you’d have my undivided attention and then you didn’t. You don’t even allow your dad to distract me, huh? What are we gonna do with that? Not even allowed to look at my husband anymore because my little princess needs me to pay attention to her?” He was cooing again, kissing her cheeks, completely lost in dad mode.

Bruce watched him with a smile on his face. Back when they first decided on having children Bruce had been a little worried. He hadn’t been entirely convinced that Justin was cut out to be a father (nor that he was, either, but his husband had cut down that doubt pretty quickly) but after long talks and almost a year worth of discussing it he’d decided that they could handle it together, and Justin had been a natural. Way better at it than Bruce from the get-go. Perhaps it was his experience with his nephew, maybe he’d just informed himself better, but whatever it was, he was a great father.

In his own arms, Gavin was fast asleep and Bruce’s smile softened at the sleepy noise escaping his son. This was everything he’d ever wanted with Justin. Domestic life, far away from stress, and danger, and his father, and whatever else life felt like throwing at him. Just him, his husband, their children, and their dog. Walking over to said husband he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Justin temple.

“As long as I eventually get some of your attention I’m happy to wait.” “Can’t promise anything, darling,” Justin said with a grin. “The little lady gets jealous very easily.”

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Dwarrowtober 2022 Day 17: Climb- Bofur x OC

Bofur x Gemma

Description: Gemma has a hard time letting go and having fun, so Bofur decides to help her.

Word Count: 1.3k

Anyone who knew Bofur and Gemma knew that Bofur was obviously the fun one between them. Usually he was the happy go lucky one that always had a joke to make. He just couldn’t help but want to put a smile on everyone’s face.

But sometimes his jokes go a bit too far, especially if the butt of his joke is another person. That’s where Gemma comes in. Anytime a such situation was presented she was there to at least soften the blow. She’s always had a way with words, you see. According to Bofur she could “make an execution sound like a slap on the wrist at worst.” And she definitely used that to her advantage to help her husband.

At first many people just couldn’t understand their relationship. They had no idea how someone would want to willingly always have to clean up their partner’s messes. When anyone asked her about it she would just smile at them and say something about how love makes you do things like that. And she left it at that.

There was, however, a price for always having to be the more serious one. For Gemma that meant it was sometimes difficult to let go and just have fun. She was now always constantly worrying over her husband and friends, especially pubs and such. She never drank more than a few tankards as she always wanted at least one of them to be sober for the walk home. Someone had to be sober enough to talk him out of a bar fight (or fight in general) he was about to accidentally start.

Usually she was fine with that. She was just fine being the mom friend and she’d gotten used to not having as much fun as her husband or friends as it’d been happening since before the quest. But that was when Bofur began to notice. The quest and battle had humbled him and calmed him so he was able to be more observant now. He’d begun to realize when his wife would cut herself off and make sure everyone was within eyesight, not getting into trouble or anything like that.

It made him feel guilty watching her have to babysit everyone else without having any fun. Despite being used to it, she wasn’t even enjoying herself when she drank. It was after that fateful night of drinking that he decided he would help her have fun.

It just so happened that Durin’s day was that very next Saturday and there would be a festival to celebrate it. After realizing this, a plan formed in Bofur’s head. The rest of this week went off without incident, though Gemma was quick to notice that she and Bofur didn’t go to the pub like they usually did every Thursday. She didn’t have time to question it, however, as Sienna had asked for her help in planning something for Durin’s Day.

On Saturday Bofur and Gemma woke up early to help the King and Queen with any last minute preparations. The festival would begin at 10:00, which meant they had a couple hours to get everything done. Just before the festival began Bofur walked up to his wife, who’d just finished hanging up a banner on one of the many poles that had been put in the ground for such an occasion.

“Looks great ibinê (my gem),” he complimented as she hopped down from the ladder she stood on.

“Thank you rakle (darling),” she responded proudly. “Did you need something?”

“Actually yes. Are you busy at the moment?”

“Uh, no,” Gemma answered after looking around to see if anyone readily needed help. “Why?”

“Good, come with me.” He gave her no time to say anything before he grabbed her hand and began pulling her away from the fairgrounds. She attempted several times to ask him where they were going as they walked but he merely told her to wait and see. After a few minutes they reached a large sycamore tree and, without saying anything, Bofur dropped Gemma’s hand and climbed up its many branches. For a moment the girl could only watch in surprise as he climbed about halfway up before settling on a sizable branch.

“Bofur, what are you doing?” She finally asked in amusement, though there was an undeniable tone of hesitance laced in her tone. “The festival is starting soon and I thought you wanted to-“

“Just climb up here with me and enjoy the view,” he instructed, but the girl was still hesitant. “Gemma, ibinê (my gem), you know I love you, and I’m worried about you. You don’t have fun anymore! When’s the last time you ever did something fun for yourself like climbing a tree?”

“Climb a tree?” Gemma repeated incredulously as her arms crossed over her chest. “What are we, twelve?”

“If it means getting you to join me up here, then yes,” he responded without hesitation, which made her roll her eyes.”Come on ibinê. For me?” He looked down at her with the biggest puppy dog eyes she’d ever seen and a pout on his lips. A small sigh left the girl’s lips.

“I don’t know Bo… it’s been so long that I don’t think I even know how to.” It sounded silly, but it was the truth. What if she misjudged where to put her hand, or if her foot slips or-

Her thoughts were cut off when Bofur climbed down a few branches before jumping the rest of the way. He landed right beside her, which made her jump in surprise. She shot him an unimpressed glare.

“Bofur don’t do that! You could have gotten-“

“Shh,” the Dwarf shushed her gently before turning her to face the tree. “If something happens I’ll be right here to catch you.” Gemma paused for a moment in uncertainty before turning her head a bit to look at her husband.

“Promise?” She sounded childish, she knew it. But the thought of falling scared her more than sounding like that. Bofur offered her a comforting smile and nodded.

“Cross my heart.” That was all the reassurance she needed to finally take a step closer to the tree. It took her a moment of examination to find out where she could put her hands and feet, but she eventually figured it out and began her ascent of the large tree. Below her she could hear her husband encouraging her and telling her where to go until she ultimately managed to get to the branch he previously sat on. Upon reaching it she finally let out the breath she’d been holding for half the climb then looked at Bofur as he followed her up.

“Alright, we’re here. Now what?” She asked after he took a seat beside her. Bofur merely pointed in front of them.

“Look,” was all he said. The girl giggled at his rather simple answer but did as he said. Immediately her smile dropped and awe filled her at the beautiful sight of the festival in front of her. She hadn’t realized how colorful it was when she was setting up, too worried about making sure everything looked okay to bask in the moment. Just faintly she could hear the excited chatter of people and loud joyous laughter of children as they played. And the smiles on everyone’s face was heartwarming, which made her end up smiling again. It was truly a sight to behold from this height.

“See? It pays to have fun ibinê (my gem),” Bofur said softly, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to her. The girl did little more than nod and lean against him. He was right after all.

They ended up missing the festival, having only watched it instead of joining in. And yet they still had more fun together in that tree that they’d completely forgotten about it. So, it was safe to say that they didn’t really mind.

[waywardxrhea]

Part Forty-Four: A New Hope

[slow burn romance between Steve Rogers and SHIELD agent Emma Baker]

Warnings: 18+, contains humor, fluff, mental health, family trauma, romance, angst, language, violence.

installment list

Word count: 2.3k

Bruce helps the team attempt time travel for the first time.

The next morning everyone is getting ready to meet Bruce after Nat finally gets a hold of him. Emma is sitting at the kitchen island staring into her coffee cup as everyone else is rushing about getting ready. Steve notices and stops to talk with her. He rests his hand on her lower back and asks, "Hey Em, is everything okay? Aren't you gonna get ready to meet Bruce?"

Emma sighs and replies, "I just...after yesterday with Stark I don't want to go because I don't wanna get my hopes up... I just got so mad and upset because he didn't even want to try to get them back so I don't want to go through that again if Bruce says the same thing."

"I understand," Steve tells her and kisses her temple. "I have a good feeling about this though. If you still don't want to go though I get it and I promise I'll keep you posted on what's going on."

"Got it," Emma replies quietly and leans her head onto Steve's chest as he gives her a hug.

"It's gonna work, Em," he whispers into her hair before kissing her goodbye and heading off with Lang and Natasha to meet up with Bruce.

A few hours later Emma hears footsteps approaching the living area where she is quietly playing the piano to distract herself. She looks up and sees Steve, Lang, and Natasha followed by who she can only assume is Bruce Banner who now assumes a half-Hulk, half-Banner form. The look of pure confusion is evident on Emma's face so Bruce laughs and says, "Hey Emma."

"Hey, Bruce. I uh wow this is... a different look." She pauses for a second and adds, "I think there may still be some tea from that shop in my stash from when I was living here, do...do you need me to get you some of that?"

Bruce laughs and shakes his head, telling her, "No, no. All's good here. I actually combined myself with the Hulk so now I'm just like this, isn't it cool?"

"Totally," Emma replies, shaking off her shock. "I'm happy that you found a happy medium."

"Aren't we all?" He looks around the room and asks, "So where are we gonna set up?"

Natasha and Lang start to lead him to an empty hangar and Steve makes his way over to Emma. "So he's gonna help?" Emma asks with hope in her voice.

Steve nods with a smile. "He's gonna try."

"And trying is better than nothing," Emma says as she takes Steve's hand. The pair then head to the hangar so they can help out as much as they can to set up the machine.

The rest of the day flies by in the blink of an eye with Emma running all over the place to get parts for the machine. By the time it's time to head off to bed, she's practically falling asleep as she walks with Steve back to her old bedroom.

Steve chuckles at her state as they get into the bed together. "You really outdid yourself today Emma," he tells her as he pulls her close to his body.

"Oh I didn't do much, I just helped out. You and Bruce did all the heavy lifting, Lang and Nat helped with the science..."

"Hey don't be so down on yourself, you were a big help," Steve tells her and kisses her head.

She's quiet for a moment before asking, "Steve, can you be completely honest with me here?"

"Of course."

"I just..." She sighs and twists herself around to face Steve. Emma wraps her arms around him and rests her head on his chest as she asks, "Do you really think this is gonna work? The whole time travel thing?"

"It has to," he replies thoughtfully. "You and I both know that Banner is one of the smartest people on Earth. If anyone can figure this out it's him."

"If only Shuri were here..." Emma whispers sadly.

"She will be once we figure this out. We will figure this out, Em. I promise." He kisses the top of her head and continues with, "Now let's get some sleep before tomorrow."

"Deal," Emma replies and leans up to kiss Steve before quickly falling asleep in his arms.

The next morning Emma is woken up by Steve who is already dressed in a nice button-up and slacks. "Wow, don't you look great Captain Rogers," Emma mumbles with a sleepy smile up at him.

Steve smiles back and tells her, "I had to raid my old closet to find this."

"Yeah, sorry I didn't get any clothes when I swung by the lodge. It slipped my mind," Emma tells him. "Well, let's see what old treasures my closet holds," she says as she gets up from bed and heads over to the closet. After seeing how nice Steve looks, Emma decides on something on the nicer side, picking one of her old favorite outfits.

After she changes, Steve wraps her in a hug and tells her, "And you look beautiful as always."

"Oh hush," Emma replies bashfully as she takes Steve's hand to head out to where they have the time machine van set up.

As Steve and Emma walk in hand-in-hand, Natasha, Lang, and Bruce are already waiting and ready to go. "What took you two love birds so long?" Natasha asks teasingly.

"I let Emma sleep in a little bit after all that running around she did yesterday," Steve replies. He then looks at Bruce and asks, "Are we ready to go?"

He nods before asking, "Is Emma gonna be recording this like the old days or no?"

"Crap, I forgot, let me go get my stuff," Emma replies before running to the truck to get her AI and tech out. As she boots it up while walking back to the hangar, she apologizes to the AI, "Hey SAM, I'm sorry I haven't used you much lately. I just couldn't without having those memories, but now we have a chance of bringing them all back."

"It's all right, boss," SAM replies. "I am ready for your orders as always."

"Thank you," Emma says as she returns to the others. She takes the drone out of its pack mode and sends it up to have a good camera view of the time machine so they can document the first attempt at time travel.

"Ready?" Bruce asks. Emma nods, so he declares, "Okay, time travel test number one. Scott, fire up the uh the van machine thing."

Lang opens the door to reveal the tunnel which Emma marvels at as Steve announces a safety power check for the area, "The breakers are set and we have emergency power on standby just in case."

"Good, good, because if something goes wrong I don't wanna lose Tiny here in the 1950s," Bruce tells him.

Lang's eyes go wide at the words and Nat reassures him, "He's kidding!" She then gives Bruce a side-eye and whispers, "You can't just say things like that."

"Sorry, bad joke," Bruce says.

Emma leans over to them and asks, "You are joking right?"

He leans down and whispers, "It's time travel we're talking about here! Either all of it's a joke or none of it is!" He then looks up to Lang who turns toward the tunnel and calls, "We're good! Get your helmet on!"

"So for the record what are we doing here?" Emma asks Bruce so SAM can capture the statement.

"So we're gonna send Scott here back a week, let him walk around an hour, and bring him back in ten seconds," he replies.

"Yeah, perfectly not confusing," Lang says nervously.

From beside Emma, Steve says, "Good luck Scott. You've got this."

With admiration in his eyes, Lang smiles and tells him, "You're right. I do, Captain America." Right as he says this, he's swept away into the tunnel and into his small form.

Emma continues to have SAM train the camera on the tunnel for his re-entry as Bruce announces, "Okay, bringing him back on the count of three. Three...two...one..."

He hits some buttons and out comes someone from the tunnel, only, it isn't Lang. Or, well, it doesn't look like him. The young boy standing where he was before says, "Uh guys? This doesn't feel right."

Chaos ensues as Steve, Nat, and Emma start talking and asking questions at the same time.

"What is this?" Steve asks with concern in his voice.

"That can't be him can it?" Emma asks with her eyebrows furrowed.

"Is that Scott?" Natasha asks.

The young boy shouts at them, "Yes it's Scott!"

Bruce starts pushing more buttons and the boy is pulled back in only to be pushed out yet again a second later, only this time as an old man. "Bruce, what's going on?" Steve asks sternly.

"This can't be how this is supposed to work is it?" Emma asks. "Should I stop recording?"

"No, no, we need this to know what went wrong," Bruce replies as he starts frantically working to bring Lang back.

The machine whirs again and this time it spits out an infant. Steve looks at the scene in front of him, dumbfounded, and says, "It's a baby."

"It's Scott!" Bruce retorts.

"As a baby!" Steve shouts.

"He'll grow!" Bruce tells him. "You and Emma can take care of him!"

Frustrated, Steve says, "Bring our Scott back!"

"God I can't watch this," Emma mumbles as she rubs her temples and turns away from what's happening in front of her, her hopes for bringing everyone back dwindling down to almost zero now.

"When I say to kill the power, kill it!" Bruce shouts and Natasha runs over to the power lever to follow his orders.

On cue, Natasha kills the power, and out of the tunnel comes the proper size and aged Lang. "Oh thank God," Natasha sighs.

This sigh of relief lets Emma know everything was okay again so she turns back to the scene as Lang says, "Somebody peed my pants...but I'm not sure if it was old me or baby me. Or me...me..."

"Time travel!" Bruce shouts as he holds out his arms. Everyone in the room beside him doesn't seem to share his enthusiasm though, so he asks, "What? I see this as an absolute win."

"Well he isn't dead," Natasha mumbles.

"I guess it could be worse," Emma agrees as she cuts off the drone from recording and returns it to pack mode before setting it on a table nearby. She approaches Lang and asks, "Do you need anything after that? Water? Food? New clothes?"

"I'll gladly take all of those," he replies sheepishly.

"On it," Emma replies with a pat on his shoulder.

As she turns to go get those things, she sees Steve leaving the room so she follows him. Once she catches up to him Emma can tell he's upset, so she asks, "Hey, what's up?"

Steve sighs and runs his hand through his hair, saying, "That couldn't have gone worse."

Emma takes his hand in hers and decides that she needs to be the positive one here for a moment, so she tells him, "Yes it could have. He made it back in one piece and is completely normal as far as we can tell right now though. Now, could it have gone better? Yes, but..." she sighs and thinks back to all of those she's missing and drops her act for a second, saying, "but I am disappointed it didn't work."

"Me too," Steve replies sadly. "I'm gonna go outside and clear my head, okay? Come find me after you help Scott out?"

"You got it," Emma says before hugging him and heading off to get some things for Lang.

Once finished getting Scott a snack, a drink, and a change of clothes, Emma heads out the front doors to see Steve holding his shield all polished and new looking while talking to Tony. She approaches cautiously and says, "Hey, Stark."

"Newsie," he says. "I seem to have found a solution to all your woes," he tells her as she comes to stand beside Steve.

She runs her hand along the rim of the shield and gives Steve a look asking Are you sure about this? Steve nods and says, "This is our chance to bring them all back, Em."

By now Tony had noticed the ring on Emma's finger and he says, "Wow Spangles finally put a ring on it. See, now this is why we can't die trying to bring them all back because your chance at normal is standing right here beside you. Once you're married you'll see why I didn't wanna come back."

Steve looks at Emma lovingly and nods. "I can see that."

Emma smiles up at him fondly in return. She then looks between Steve and Tony and says, "Well Scott is really craving tacos after that adventure he just had so I'm gonna go into town to grab some. I'll be back soon. Update me on the plan once I get back."

"Will do," Steve says as she turns to head to the truck.

Once Emma gets back with enough tacos to feed a small village, Steve tells her the plan thus far. "So after we all eat, Bruce and Rocket are gonna head to New Asgard to get Thor. Natasha and I have been working and think we have Clint's location so she's gonna go get him. With them and the others coming back from space, we'll have everyone we need to get the ball rolling on this mission. Of course, Tony is gonna need help building the time machine, so we can help with that while everyone else is out."

"You got it," Emma replies with a smile.

With her hope of getting everyone back restored, Emma dances a bit in her seat while she eats which makes Steve look at her with a smile. "You're so cute," he tells her.

"I'm just happy," she replies. "This is the most optimistic I've been about bringing everyone back in five years. I just hope it works this time."

"It will," Steve assures her. 

a/n: okay the time travel scene with Bruce has always been one of my favorite scenes in all of Marvel and I crack up every time I watch it or read it written out in this lmao

next chapter

taglist: @mrsevans90

[earlgreydream]

lover of mine.

| winter soldier!bucky barnes x reader | angst | fluff |

lover of mine.

/When I take a look at my life/And all of my crimes/You're the only thing that I think I got right//I watched the world fall from your eyes/All my regrets/And things you can't forget/Light them all up/Kiss them goodbye/

“You loved him once. You can love him again.”

“I never stopped loving him. That’s what you don’t understand.” 

The fellow Avengers had watched the world fall from your eyes, the joy draining from you with every headline that involved Bucky. Not only had he changed, but you had too. You became completely enthralled with your missions, pouring every waking second into the Avengers. Because if you thought about anything else, you would break. 

Steve begged you to take breaks, begged you to take time off. You insisted you were fine, never wanting to be left alone with your thoughts. You didn’t want to think about the newsreels of Bucky-- the winter soldier-- wielding machine guns. 

You couldn’t bear to see the love of your life slaughtering people.

“I’m not picking up Parker from school... He’s in high school, he doesn’t need me to pick him up! He can take the subway! Or use his webs!” You snapped at Stark, who stared at you impatiently.

“You need to rest. This is how you’re filling your afternoon.” Stark was insistent, and you shook your head, grabbing the keys to a Tesla. 

“Steve?”

“Go, Y/N.”

You sighed and went down to the garage, driving uptown to get the teenager from school. You parked outside of the high school, leaning against the hood of your car while you waited. 

You never got used to the modernity. You were like Steve and Bucky. You’d been alive in the 40s, and frozen like they were. Luckily, you’d fallen to S.H.I.E.L.D. instead of Hydra. You’d managed to stay safe with Steve, and become an Avenger, not suffering Bucky’s fate. 

Before the war, you and Bucky had been married. The memories in your mind of dancing in the kitchen, jazz bars, drive-ins, and reading the Hobbit when it came out, were all raw. Before he was deployed, there was a wedding.

You’d been surrounded by flowers and your friends, celebrating the love of your life. Steve was the best man. You’d left the ceremony with Bucky in his yellow vintage car, going to the coast for your honeymoon. 

You remembered the beach house, and running in the sand with your young husband. It was perfect back then, before Hydra got their hands on him. He was loving and gentle, the kind of man who danced with you in the kitchen and brought you flowers. 

You remembered when he’d gone off to war. You wore his dog tags, and hung a flag in your window. You’d kissed him goodbye, tears blinding you as you tried to focus on the silver eyes that were full of adoration and love. You remembered when Steve came back, and Bucky didn’t. 

There were so many memories of crying in Steve’s arms, and falling asleep with him beside you. Even when you’d moved to Stark Tower with him, even after becoming an avenger decades later, you still slept beside him. He’d listened to you sob for Bucky a million times; Steve had witnessed a lifetime of your heartbreak. 

You remembered waking up from being frozen, and finding out who James Buchanan Barnes had become. 

“Y/N?!” Parker’s cheerful voice snapped you out of your thoughts as he came bounding down the stairs of the high school. 

“Hey kiddo. Stark sent me to get you.” You stood up off the car and hugged him. He waved goodbye to his friends and got in the passenger seat. He immediately started chattering, and you welcomed it, appreciating the distraction from the deafening silence. That was why you were fond of Parker, he was easy to be around, and he was always happy to fill the silence.

“Let’s go to Starbucks!” He announced as the two of you drove back to the tower.

“Are you joking?”

“No! It’s on me.”

“It’s on Stark,” you smirked, and Parker broke out into a wide grin.

You and Peter walked into Stark Tower a half hour later, chattering and laughing. Parker was the only one of the Avengers who cheered you up, and he never made you feel bad for not wanting to talk about Bucky. He was bubbly and warm, and always made you laugh. You were giggling at a story from his school as you went upstairs to the penthouse, unaware of what you were walking1 into.

You nearly crashed into him, stopping dead in your tracks.

“Y/N!” The voice was so familiar, and yet, you thought you’d never hear it again.

You were suffocating. The air was ripped from your lungs, and you couldn’t breathe. It felt like the earth was swaying underneath you, everything shattered. 

Steve ran to you as you passed out, and Parker caught you with a shout before you hit the floor. He knelt on the marble, your head in his lap, and Steve shouted for Banner, who came running to follow you to his medical lab.

“Stevie, what’s wrong with her?!” Bucky demanded, and everyone looked at him. 

“It’s the shock of seeing you.” Steve admitted, and Bucky looked like he was going to break. 

“I’m better now, I’m no longer the...” he couldn’t even say it, his eyes anxious and frightened.

Bucky had spent months trying to free himself of Hydra’s psychological bonds. He was free now, motivated by the thought of coming home to you. Bucky had waited years. Now, he was home, and the second he said your name and laid eyes on him, you’d panicked and blacked out.

Steve attempted to comfort him, and even Parker, the boy he didn’t know. They tried to explain to Bucky that you were just in shock, but his heart broke. 

“I took care of her, Buck. She still loves you, she always has. Just give her some time. Seeing you like that...”

“I know,” Bucky breathed. 

Everyone left Bucky alone with you, giving you privacy. He sat beside the bed where you were asleep, Banner assuring everyone that you were fine, you had only fainted.

He watched you. Bucky hadn’t watched you sleep like this since the 1940s.

He was suddenly back, leaning in the doorway, the soft light pouring behind him as he drank a cup of coffee, taking in the sight of his sweet wife sleeping before he went to work. You’d glow in the golden light of the morning, your face peaceful and serene. It was so intimate back then.

Bucky sat up as you stirred, familiar eyes slowly opening. You didn’t know where you were at first, your mind running through events. You’d picked Parker up from school, stopped for a snack, and came back to the tower. And seen your husband.

You sat up suddenly, and he put his arms out, one made of vibranium. His eyes were soft, full of love, not the empty steel you’d seen on the news. Your name fell from his lips, desperate and anxious.

You jerked away at first, startled by the reality of what was happening. You were frightened, alone in the room with your husband. You scrambled back against the headboard, trying to put distance between you and his outstretched hands.

You were about to scream when you realized he looked just as frightened as you. You slowly sank back against the headboard, slowing your breathing as you stared at him.

“James?”

“It’s me, doll. I’m home.”

You didn’t know how long the silence lasted, but it felt like hours. The two of you stared at each other, and when you finally decided he wasn’t going to hurt you, you gingerly moved toward him.

“I’m free from them. It’s just me, it’s not the winter soldier anymore,” Bucky’s voice was soft, and you blinked back tears.

“It can’t be you. You were gone.” Your voice trembled as you spoke.

“I’m back now. I came back for you. I’m never going to hurt you, or anyone else again.”

“James-”

“I’m not a killer anymore.”

The plea broke your heart, the shattered boy begging you to believe him, begging you to take him back. Tears slid down his cheeks, terrified of your reaction.

“James, I love you.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

Bucky felt like he’d waited a million years to say it, and the words spread through you, filling your empty soul.

You wanted to fall into his arms, to hold him close and feel him again. You wanted all of it to happen instantly, but that’s not how it was. You needed time, time to adjust, and time to trust him again before you returned to your husband fully.

You reached out to touch his arm, and he noticed the wedding ring wasn’t around your finger. His eyes flitted up to yours, and you pulled the chain from around your neck that hid beneath your shirt. It held his dog tags, and your wedding ring. Relief flooded Bucky, and you offered a the slightest hint of a smile.

“What happened?” You asked, cautiously running your fingers along the vibranium.

“I lost my arm when I fell from the train. Steve told you?”

“A bit... you fell, he didn’t know what happened after.”

“Can I touch you?” Bucky spoke gently, understanding your hesitation and being patient.

You nodded, and his hand slowly lifted to your face, fingers brushing over the curves of your skin. You laid your hand over his, kissing the inside of his wrist. He cried softly, a smile crossing his face as he felt you, promising it wasn’t a dream.

“Bucky, we need you for a meeting.” Stark leaned into the bedroom, hours later.

“Stark, now?”

“I’m sorry. Y/N will be here when you get back.”

“I’ll wait for you.” You promised, and he nodded, the words falling heavy between you.

Bucky followed Stark out, and you sat on the bed, processing the day. Bucky had quietly explained the Hydra brainwashing, about how he was held captive in his own mind. You believed him, but it would always be hard to shake those memories of him on the news.

“Hey, we didn’t mean to just drop this on you.” Steve came inside, sitting down on the mattress.

“You couldn’t have kept from me that my husband was suddenly free and home. Is he really, though? It is him? He won’t kill me in my sleep?” You asked, and Steve gave you a sad smile.

“It is. He’s traumatized, he won’t be the same as before the war. But it’s not the winter soldier, it’s Bucky.” 

You knew it was true. You knew the man before you, his heart and his soul, and you were going to grow to know his mind again.

You were curled up in bed, Steve beside you on the other side of the large mattress. 

“Stevie? Y/N?” you heard a soft voice from the doorway, and you sat up in the dark. You had trouble sleeping, and you were awake when he came in during the middle of the night.

“Bucky?” 

“I can’t sleep.”

“Come here,” you whispered, moving over in bed, closer to Steve, who was waking from the disturbance. You didn’t fear Bucky, especially not when he looked so frightened and upset.

You lifted the blanket, and Bucky got in on the other side of the bed. You pulled him to you, silently wrapping your arms around him. You felt Steve against your back, leaning over to place his hand on Bucky’s arm, smoothing over the skin slowly to comfort him. 

“You’re okay now, it’s over, my love,” you whispered, settling between the warm bodies.

Your head rested on Bucky’s chest, and you realized how long you’d spent waiting for it. You felt his lips press a kiss to the top of your head, and Steve bury his face into the back of your neck, needing to be close.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

In Bloom: Alpha!Geto x Fem!Omega!Reader

synopsis: take a look at this ask

wc: 2.9k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

Omega.

The lowest of the low.

You look at your reflection and ask the universe why you aren’t at least a beta. But today you and the other omegas would be passed off to various available and willing leaders of the pack, chosen only by scent.

“It’s not so bad,” your best friend, Geto Suguru, chimes in at breakfast, assuaging your fears. He’s an Alpha, but you know he wouldn’t choose you. You two were too close to consider being part of a household together; you had been best friends since you were young, and that was the extent of it - well, that’s what you knew was true. It’s not what you wanted to be true. “Plus, sometimes you’re not picked for mating, and you meet your mate later. It’s just an easier way to distribute enough people to avoid overwhelming each house.”

“The sniffing test sounds worse than it actually is,” your sister, Marie, chuckles, nudging her beta husband, Yuta. “You’ll see what I mean later.”

And later came sooner than you thought, you realize, standing in a room with the four other omegas in the pack who haven’t been claimed yet and are of age. Nostrils are flaring, eyes are dancing around, and your head is clouded with the smells of the other betas and alphas in the room in front of you.

“No one here is pleasing to me,” Nanami crosses his hands over his chest, looking at the head of the pack with disdain. Gojo shrugs, looking over the four of you with passing interest.

“Anyone?” Toji Fushiguro steps forward, eyeing you all carefully before picking Mei Mei, a small little thing that would definitely be dominated by him inside and outside the bedroom.

“I’ll add Mei Mei to my group.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, thankful that you wouldn’t be the one Toji picked. It was every girl’s worst fear - well, until he satisfied you in bed, of course. Rumors of his prowess in bed were enough to make any omega tense up, and he was famous for not having a single complaint come from his household about polyamory. In fact, both of his mates - Gunnar and Elizabeth - were some of the kindest and heartwarming people you had ever met, despite being mated the weapons handler for the pack.

“I’ll take Haibara,” Yuki, another Alpha, announces. You look over at the man - who had been waiting patiently for this moment - as he joined the only person he loved in the camp. Yuki’s choice had not been unexpected at all. But now it’s down to you and Urahime, and you eye her with curiosity. Would Geto choose her? Or would Gojo take her? Urahime was an introvert, and not really suited for being the head of the pack, so obviously--

“Urahime,” Gojo holds his hand out, and she shuffles toward him, her hair hiding the blush creeping up her cheeks. You look over to Geto, who smiles and crosses his arms over his broad chest before nodding at you.

But wait--

“Come on, y/n.”

Wait, but wasn’t he-- didn’t he say--

Aren’t we just--

You’re still dumbfounded as he walks you to his - now your - home, which isn’t too far from yours. Geto didn’t have a mate, nor did he have anyone else in the house. That was why he spent so much time with you and your sister in your home.

“Just see this as the main house,” Geto announces as you climb the stairs behind him. “We can bounce between your old one and here if you’d like.”

“Wait,” you finally murmur, finding your voice. “Why did you choose me? Was it because I was last?” Geto turns around, raising a brow as his hand lingers on the doorknob to his bedroom.

“I would’ve picked you first if we hadn’t cast lots to see what order we would go in. I lost this time.” He swings open the door, and you see the room has completely changed from what it used to be. What used to be a bachelor’s pad with flannel sheets, LED lights, gaming consoles, and a massive TV on the wall has become a light-filled room with grey curtains, cotton sheets, a bookshelf, and two comfortable chairs by the unused fireplace instead of swivel chairs and a banner that covered up the brick enclosure.

“You redid the room…” you breathe as you walk past him, and he smiles a toothy grin, watching you take in the transformed space. “All of this for me?” You touch the comforter, and eye the row of candles beside a wooden desk - all things that weren’t there before.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Am I here just to take care of the home? I understand if that’s the case. I’d be happy to--”

“Let’s talk about it over lunch,” he murmurs, and you jog to the kitchen downstairs. Your sister is already there, apparently coming in through the side door that’s closer to your former residence. She’s just finishing up making pulled pork sandwiches, and you help her set them on the dining room table.

“Not so bad, huh?” she laughs at you, and you shrug.

“I mean, staying with Suguru and helping out until he meets his mate is enough for me,” you smile, placing a bag of chips onto the table. Your sister raises her brow but says nothing else while you work. When you finish setting the table, you all take your places and begin to eat, the silence deafening. You glance at Geto, hoping he will explain your duties while you stay here, but he just looks at Yuta, who glares back at him.

“Just spit it out, Suguru,” your sister gripes, and Geto sighs, placing his sandwich back on his plate.

“So, y/n. I know today you joined my household, and I want to tell you why.”

“Sure,” you shift in your seat, placing a chip in your mouth before Suguru announces,

“I want to be mated to you.” Saliva and chip pieces create a blockage in your throat, and you cough, eyes falling to your lap as your sister pats your back roughly.

“Me?” you finally croak, still choking a little. “Are you sure? We’re friends, Geto, not--”

“I would hope that would come with time. But I wanted to know if you would stay with me. You can say no and move back into the house with your sister; I won’t be hurt.”

“It’s not like you would be doing anything you’re uncomfortable with,” your sister adds. “All of this will be at your pace.”

You scoot your chair back, and whisper, “I need some time to think.”

_____________________________________________________________

Your time to think about everything lasted more than one night. It lasted almost a whole two weeks, you realize when you look up from your wooden desk. Geto had given you the room to yourself, choosing to huddle on the couch downstairs or retreat to his study when necessary.

You hadn’t really touched on the prospect of mating with him the entire time, not wanting to betray your feelings for him as a big brother, but the part of you that saw him as a handsome and caring man (and potential mate) wouldn’t go away. Actually, it just grew as you cohabitated with him and learned more about him.

But today would be especially difficult, you remember, rubbing your thighs together. You look over at the collections of pillows and one stolen hoodie from Suguru’s closet. You try your best to avoid being near him because you know what kind of overdrive your heat would throw him into. So you stayed in your room for most of the time, using the master bathroom, and only coming out to eat when you knew he left to run an errand. Your stomach growls angrily, and you clutch at it, hoping Suguru would go out for lunch and leave you so you could grab food and just be left alone to decide what you want to do if anything. You pick up your phone and frantically text your sister:

SOS, need food

Within a moment, your phone buzzes and Marie replies:

Can’t you ask Suguru?

You furiously type:

No! Last day of pre-heat.

Seconds later, a knock at your door startles you so bad that you almost leap out of your seat, and you call out, “Yes?” The door opens to your dismay, and Suguru peeks his head in, his wet hair and grey shirt appearing first. Should’ve locked the door.

“Marie told me to check on you, are you…” He examines the nest of blankets, pillows, and the stolen hoodie, and the confusion in his eyes vanishes. “Oh.” You try not to grimace, but he closes the door behind him, retreating down the stairs then reappearing with a carton of juice and a bag of trail mix.

“I keep these around, just in case,” he explains, then walks out of the room. “Lock your door,” he warns, then shuts it behind him with finality.

_____________________________________________________________

The knob jiggles in the middle of the night.

That’s when you know your heat has started.

“You okay in there, y/n?” Suguru murmurs, lips pressed to the crack of the door. You shift the large blanket off of you and wipe the sweat from your face.

“I’m fine,” you croak and rub your face slowly. “Just tired.”

“L-let me know if you need anything.” You hear him slump against the door and slide down, effectively blocking any and all exits. “Do you want to go home to your sister?” he calls out, and you groan.

“No.” You didn't want to inconvenience your sister and Yuta in this way, and she’d already snitched on you once in hopes that your heat would push you and Suguru together.

“Sure you don’t need anything?”

“N-no.” You whisper, and he falls silent, no doubt attempting to figure out how he can get on the other side of the door. No, you still had to decide. If you held out for long enough, you’d find out that his feelings were just figments of your imagination, and Geto couldn’t be interested in an Omega like you. He needed a Beta, a beautiful one that could match him in every way. You’re not that woman, and you could never be.

“Y/n…” You perk up at the way he whines your name, and inch closer to the door. “Let me in. Please.”

You hold a hand to the smooth wood, closing your eyes and letting it fall to your lap.

“You need a strong mate,” you answer, shaking your head. “I’m not the right one for you.” You stare at the doorknob with longing. You could open the door and let him in, but what would happen when he moved on to someone better? You’d be crushed, settling into the reality that you’re just a replaceable Omega.

“I don’t want anyone but you. No beta or other omega could be perfect for me. Not like you are, y/n.” When you don’t answer, Suguru murmurs, “Remember when we were in the park when you got your first heat?” You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I swore you knocked me flat on my ass right then and there. I knew I didn’t want anyone else from then on, but I had to fight Gojo once you ran off with your sister to go home.” He chuckles, as if this happened yesterday and not when you were seventeen, which was five years ago.

Your hand is reaching for the doorknob before you can stop it, and you unlock the door, anticipating Suguru to burst in and ravage you. But when he opens the door, he walks in slowly, taking stock of you on the floor and in an old t-shirt of his. He’s still in a grey shirt and joggers from before, his hair pulled back like always.

When he crouches down to face you, you’re shaking - whether it’s from fear or from excitement, you can’t tell. Either way, when Suguru places his hand on your cheek, you feel all of your nerves drift away. He taps a kiss to your nose, then tilts your head up to kiss you on the lips, holding you close by the neck. Once he’s done kissing your mouth, he trails below your chin, lips making a path to your collarbone.

“Get this off me,” you moan, and he flips his shirt off of you, tossing it into your nest before lifting you and taking you to the bed. He lays on top of you, spreading your legs wide while you jerk your hips up to meet his palm.

“I know you want to go fast,” he breathes, pressing another kiss to your mouth. “But let’s go slow. Take our time, hmm?” You whine, a fire building in the pit of your stomach while he smooths his fingers and lips over your skin. “I’ve waited for this for years.”

“Please take me now,” you plead, and Suguru shakes his head, diving past your underwear and sliding a finger into you easily.

“Patience, sweetheart.”

You don’t know how you got so turned on, but damn Suguru is going incredibly slow. You grunt in displeasure and your hands feverishly push down his joggers, letting his hard length spring free without hesitation. Suguru is taken aback at your show of aggression, but he follows it with his own, taking his teeth and raking them up your leg.

“Can’t hold back, huh,” he wonders, finally shucking his pants off. The dark-eyed Alpha removes your underwear and spreads your legs, pumping his cock a few times before nestling into your heat. You both give a loud groan of pleasure, which rocks you to your core as he sinks into you before pulling out, then thrusting back inside of you. You keen as he angles his hips so that your hips are meeting him easily without a single ounce of resistance.

“Please, Su,” you whisper, holding him close as he fucks you senseless. A haze settles in over you and you’re lost, wandering around aimlessly in your mind as he continues to pump into you. There’s no pain, no fear, no nothing. Just you and Suguru mating in your bed with abandon.

A stretching feeling fills you towards your entrance, and you pant, feeling even more full than before.

“S-Suguru…” you hiccup, but he hushes you, still pushing into you as his hand ghosts over your cheek.

“It’s okay… everything’s okay…” His fingers are shaking, but you don’t know why. Even so, something in you shifts, and you feel the burning fire roaring to life in your stomach. You grip him a little harder and cry out his name, which makes him lean forward, mouth open. At first, you think he’s going to kiss your neck, but when you feel his teeth graze a sensitive spot and then press down, you know what’s happening immediately. His scent explodes tenfold and you do the same, biting into his neck with equal pressure and feeling a trickle of blood run from the spot after a while.

The feelings that flood in are incredibly overwhelming, and you suddenly lose all sense of time, space, and knowledge. A loud exhalation is ripped from your throat, and Suguru echoes your sound a few moments later, spilling his seed deep inside of you.

A few minutes pass, and he’s recovered considerably, the mark on his neck still fresh with blood but not as red. His knot has only gone down a fraction, but you don’t mind. Your thoughts are like water and mist, just flowing past you easily, nothing sticking for too long.

“Talk to me,” Suguru whispers, but you can’t reply, your mind landing on one word, but then ghosting it away as soon as you go to speak it. All you can do is rest in his arms, nuzzling him close and closing your eyes.

BONUS:

As you rest with your back against Suguru’s chest, he’s making that sound while rubbing your swollen stomach. The sound is like a croon - bordering on a purr - and whenever he does it, it soothes you to the point of sleepiness. Your pup is tossing and turning despite Suguru’s soothing motions, and you wonder what your pup would be for a second before Yuki and Haibara appear in the backyard.

The sounds of greetings from the other pack members echo around the large space, and you watch them hand over a plate of uncooked steaks to Yuta, who is busy flipping the meat on the grill. Yuki approaches you, hands out to touch your bump as Haibara chats with Gojo and a two-year-old Yuji.

“I say it’s an Alpha by how much it keeps you up at night,” Yuki speculates, and you laugh, praying to God you wouldn't have a mini-Suguru running around the house any time soon. Gojo would very easily snatch him (or her) up and train them how to be “the strongest”, which wouldn’t bode well for your doors or kitchen cabinets.

“I’ve been telling her it’s an Alpha,” Geto chimes in, and you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Are you going to also tell Yuki here what you said about the Fushiguro’s son?”

“What?” he asks innocently. “I only said Megumi would make a great Omega.”

“And Toji told you to eat shit.” Yuki leans back and cackles, holding her stomach.

“Sounds just like Toji.” You let the two alphas continue their conversation, tuning them out and watching Megumi run across the grass with Yuji and Nobara.

“You know, there’s only one thing worse than a curse user,” You hear Gojo mutter to Toji, and the green-eyed man nods.

“Yeah, a child.”

[midgardianweasley]

I‘d love to see you write an angsty fanfic with Natasha x reader (male or female is up to you) with a bad ending of your choice.

No pressure of course ✨

as requested Violet!! I hope it's okay<3

How could you do this to me?

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha hasn’t been around recently and Y/N’s been really missing her company, but that changes when some CCTV footage is discovered.

Warnings: Cheating, swearing.

Word Count: 3.6k

there was an attempted proof read, but sorry in advance if i've missed anything!!

message/ask to be added to the taglist<3

Requests are open!

You weren’t surprised when you woke up to an empty bed once again, the space beside you missing a red-head assassin. You’d grown used to the sight of bedsheets spread lazily on your side of the bed, almost completely thrown off of the edge. It wasn’t unusual, however, the feeling of disappointment that lingered in your chest every morning never eased with time.

‘I’m just off to train, baby.’

‘I need to go and see Fury about this next mission, you go back to sleep’

‘I forgot to debrief the team last night, so we need to have a meeting this morning instead.’

‘Off to get some breakfast, my love. I’ll save you some eggs.’

Those were the typical reasons you received whenever you questioned where she was going in such a hurry in the mornings. You knew she was busy, of course you did. But, you missed the mornings when she’d pull you back into her chest, refusing to let you leave until you gave her a few kisses, which never ended up just being kisses, but you always gave in either way.

Now that you think of it, you can’t remember the last time she held you. Not properly. She used to hold you in a death grip, so tight that you could almost feel her heartbeat in your own chest. Nowadays, you were lucky to get more than a few taps on the back, it felt like you were being congratulated for something.

You’d always brushed it off, thinking that you must’ve been selfish for wanting so much of her attention, you had to be more understanding of how demanding her job is. It wasn’t like you never tried, you did, everyday. It would just be nice to feel her love for you a little more, even if it was just a quick peck before she left in the mornings.

“Hey Wan’, Hey Vis” You smiled at the pair as they stood at the kitchen counter, cracking eggs and buttering some toast. They loved cooking together, Wanda always told you how cute it was when Vision was trying to learn, especially after his fiasco with the Paprika.

“Hi Y/N, want something to eat?” Wanda handed you some toast, which you took gratefully, slowly munching on it.

Vision looked up as though to engage in conversation, when he then looked around in confusion. “Where’s Ms. Romanoff?”. You shrugged.

“I’m not sure, I think she’s training, I’ve not heard from her yet.”

You were looking at Vision, but it was near impossible to miss the sympathetic look Wanda was giving you. She knew about how you’d been feeling with Natasha not being around so much, she had tried to help, to hint to Nat that you’d been feeling a bit neglected for a while now, but she hadn’t gotten very far.

“Nat, nat, I just think that maybe you should spend a little more time with Y/N” It was obvious the assassin wasn’t listening to her, shrugging it off and trying to walk past the witch, only to have a hand pressed on her chest to push her backwards.

“Wanda, I need to go, I'm running late.”

“you’re always running somewhere. I'm sure Fury, or Tony or whoever you’re in such a rush to see, can wait. You haven’t seen your girlfriend in forever.”

“I saw her last night.”

“Crawling into bed in the early hours of the morning and sleeping next to her, isn’t seeing her, Nat.”

Her words fell on deaf ears as she watched her friend turn around and walk the other way. She could’ve used her powers to stop her, she didn’t see a point though. She wasn’t listening, and she couldn’t force her to.

“It's fine though, honestly! I can hang out with you guys today if you’re not busy?”

the couple shared a look of awkwardness before looking back towards you.

“Actually, we were going to go into town and do some sightseeing. You’re welcome to join us though!” She smiled, not wanting you to be alone, which you were grateful for, but you couldn’t intrude.

“No no, don’t worry! I think I've got something Tony wanted me to check out in the Lab, now that I think about it.” You didn’t. “You guys have fun though! take pictures!” You winked, knowing full well that your best friend didn’t believe you, she hesitated before nodding her head in agreement and beginning to walk off with Vision in tow.

__________________

An hour or so went by, you still hadn’t seen Natasha at all, or anyone, really. They all seemed to have disappeared to do their own thing, leaving you to find yours. So, you found yourself wandering into your lab, where you found Tony observing the screens with an endless amount of data changing every couple of seconds. You never really understood how he made sense of it all so quickly, but you’d always been intrigued nonetheless.

He must’ve sensed someone was there, as he broke away from his train of thought and glanced over towards you, fully acknowledging how your shoulders were slumped and your eyes lacked your usual sparkle. Tony alway had a soft spot for you, he’d known you for years, taking on a role similar to a father’s. Seeing you look so defeated recently, it’d hurt him a little more than he cared to admit.

Gesturing for you to come in with a gentle smile before moving and adjusting various chunks of metal on the table in the centre of the lab.

“Ah ah!” He tapped the bridge of his nose

“You can’t be serious! Tony I-”

“Nope”

“I’m a grown woman!” You laughed in disbelief at his

“Yes, you are, and I do not plan on taking said grown woman to medical because she got a shot of electricity through her eyeball. Put them on.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up a pair of the obnoxiously large lab goggles and put them over your face. He really took being a ‘father figure’ too seriously sometimes. With your goggles on, you took yourself over to where he stood, hoping to help him out somehow and keep yourself occupied.

You watched him move around blueprints on the screen above. “So, whatcha working on?”

“Well, remember that last mission we went on? How that ended?”

“Well, considering I had to get bullets removed for the last two hours, I’d say I remember pretty well.”

His face cringed slightly “Yeah, that’s the one. I’m basically just trying to layer the suits more, but keep the weight to a minimum so that there’s more protection, but the speed and mobility is almost, if not, the same.” He pondered, mind wandering off again to try and figure out how he could make this work.

Suddenly springing to action, he started assembling some pieces together, chucking some aside and reaching for different tools he required.

Looking towards you, he tilted his head “Can you pass me the-”

His sentence was interrupted. “Hey Tony, hey-” Banner. You didn’t mind Bruce, he was always quite quiet and polite most of the time, a little awkward, but, when you have a literal Hulk inside of you, it’s probably the least of your concerns.

You waved at the Avenger. “Hi Bruce” You gave him a friendly smile, for it to be returned with an awkward gaze, which he tried to quickly shove off.

“Yeah, uh, hi, Y/N. W-what brings you here?”

“Oh, no particular reason, I wanted something to do so I thought I'd come down, just pay a visit.” He nodded, acknowledging your words but appearing a little on edge, almost.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked “You look a little pale?”

“Yeah, yeah n-no I'm fine, just a-a bit tired.” He stuttered before suddenly directing his attention towards the man standing beside you. “How’s it coming along, Ton’?”

“Not bad, I have a wonderful assistant to help me out.” he nudged you playfully.

“Haha, yeah. She’s great. Anyways, you seem to have a good hold on things, so, I’ll leave you to it and come back later.”

Neither of you had managed to get a word out before Banner had walked out and was already out of sight. You turned to face Tony again.

“Was that- did you find that weird at all?”

“I find most of the people in this compound weird.”

It was a serious question, but you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the millionaire’s response.

“I do pride myself on it.”

“As you should. You’re the weirdest one.”

“Hey!” You slapped his arm. “Rude!”

“I’m kidding! Now, pass me that screwdriver, goggles.”

Chuckling, you threw him the screwdriver and zoned out thinking about Bruce’s weird behaviour. While Tony was right, the majority of us are weird. You couldn’t stop thinking about how unusual it was, even for him. You put it to the back of your mind though, focusing back on what the man beside you was working on. You’re sure it’s fine.

________________________

You thought you were going crazy. First you had Nat, who was disappearing every chance she got, Then you had Bruce who couldn’t look you in the eye and when you finally believed it couldn’t get any weirder, you picked up on some strange vibes from Steve.

“Oh finally! I was beginning to think no one else actually lives here.” You approached Steve who seemed to be walking and talking with Bruce, both taking a step back when they looked towards you.

“Hey Y/N, we were just-”

“We were just about to go and have a shower. Training.” Steve cut in, earning himself a glare and a shake of the head from the scientist beside him, subtle, so you hadn’t noticed, otherwise you would’ve questioned it.

“Oh? You were training too, Bruce?”

“Well, I-” He glanced at Steve. “Yeah. Yeah, I, uh, wanted to get some combat down, just in case I needed it.”

“Considering our last mission, I think we all should.” the super soldier quickly added, sending you an enthusiastic smile, which you had returned. You went to speak again, possibly inquiring as to whether or not they knew where your girlfriend was, but you hadn't had the chance as the pair of them quickly rushed off, muttering something about catching you later, leaving you on your own, once again.

What the hell was going on?

_____________________

Feeling defeated, you trudged your way into your bedroom, just wanting to shower, get into bed and sleep, and hope for some form of normality.

What you hadn’t expected, was to walk in and see the back of a familiar figure sporting the black suit she practically lived in, tying her hair into a low bun and beginning to change into some more comfortable clothes.

You were dating, so it wasn’t new to see Nat changing, but you still thought it would be decent to make her aware of your presence. The small “ahem” was enough to make her spin round and flash you a smile, her pearly white teeth on show.

“Hi babe, i’m just changing for bed. You okay?”

The words felt so unfamiliar to you, having not heard them in what felt like forever. Still, you decided to humour it.

“Yeah, yeah I'm okay. A bit of a weird day is all.”

She laughed, returning to laying out her clothes. “Well, we are surrounded by some weird people.”

“That’s what Tony said.”

There was an atmosphere in the air that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It had always felt comfortable with Natasha, you would describe her company as being like a safety blanket, enveloping you with warmth and a sense of security. This felt different. It didn’t feel familiar anymore, it was like you were face to face with a stranger and the more you looked at her, the more it upset you.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Natasha put her palms on your cheeks, bringing your Y/E/C eyes to meet her emerald ones in the process. You hadn’t realised that tears had fallen until the pad of her thumbs gently brushed them away.

“I just, it sounds so stupid.”

“Tell me.”

You let out a sigh, eyes beginning to dart around the room. “It just feels like I’ve never seen you, I don’t remember the last time we’ve spoken and it’s, it’s been lonely.” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your response, lips falling into a frown, but you were quick to speak again.

“It hasn’t just been you though, I understand that work gets in the way, but, it felt like some members of the team were acting differently around me.”

“Really? Like who?”

“Well, I mean, Bruce could barely bring himself to say anything more than a sentence to me and I tried to speak to Steve just before I came here and he rushed off like his life depended on it. I don’t know, maybe I’m just being a bit paranoid.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Detka, I wouldn’t worry about it.” She whispered, hands pulling you forward with ease to bring your lips together. You smiled at the contact, you’d missed it.

You were so caught up in it, that you hadn’t noticed you were the only one smiling.

It wasn’t long before the both of you were interrupted by an electronic voice in the room.

“Miss Romanoff, Miss Y/L/N.” It was F.R.I.D.A.Y. “Mr Stark is asking for you both in the conference room.”

“Alright, thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y., we’re on our way.” Your girlfriend replied, rushing away from the kiss and leading you to the door.

Why was everyone in such a rush today?

_______________________

“So, I was messing around with some things in the lab, and I think I've found a solution to our suit issue. It’s still a work in progress because I'll need to tweak some things and then tailor them blah blah blah, but I thought I'd show you guys the latest. JARVIS?”

“Bringing up footage 182.”

While you waited for the video to be up and running, you took note of everyone sitting around you. For the most part, they looked tired, though you don’t blame them, it was pretty late.

Shuffling to your left, you held Natasha’s hand in yours, sending her a loving gaze before resting your head on her shoulder, just content that she was close by. She sat a little straighter at the action, careful not to push you off of her, but not entirely relaxing either.

The large tv screen lit up, a view from the corner of the lab came into sight where you could see Tony installing different wires and pieces of loose metal into the suit, watching it light up as he did so. He was in the middle of explaining what he was doing as the recording went on, when the screen suddenly turned to static, black and white lines taking over the screen.

“JARVIS?”

“Minor technical issue, working on it, Mr Stark.”

You caught Wanda’s eye across the table, a playful smirk plastered onto her face at the mishap, watching the billionaire get stressed over a television. You couldn’t help but laugh at the words flying from his mouth as he started hitting the remote, as if he was someone who didn’t understand technology.

It wasn’t long before an image appeared back on the screen, however, this wasn’t the same recording. This is from the gym. It focused on one of the square mats in the middle of the room where two people were sparring. One of which, you immediately recognised as Natasha.

The other person definitely wasn’t a girl, their hair was short and muscles so big you were worried that one slice would be the end. It zoomed in a little, and from the blonde hair and dark blue outfit, you pieced together who it was.

“Oooh, Black Widow and the SuperSoldier, one vs one. Now this should be interesting.” A previously tired looking Sam clapped his hands and leaned forward, now fully invested in the scene in front of him.

You turned to Nat, who now looked a little paler than she did before.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, don’t tell me, you lost this spar?” You joked, expecting her to join in and tease you back. Instead, her face displayed an emotion you weren’t entirely sure of.

Before you could question it, you noticed the room fall silent. Not even a breath could be heard in the room. Your head turned slowly, meeting a mixture of shocked and sympathetic faces. And that was when you saw it.

Nat had kissed Steve, and he didn’t stop her.

If you weren't aware of your heartbeat before, you couldn’t be now, for it felt like it had completely stopped. Your jaw fell as your eyes filled with tears, only worsening the longer you saw the two of them on the screen. It was only turned off when a third person walked into view, not needing to ponder on who it could be, you immediately faced guilty stares. Three of them.

“You- you kissed-” You stuttered, incapable of forming a sentence towards your teammate. “And, you knew?” Your voice broke, tears now beginning to find their way down your cheeks for the second time as Bruce couldn’t bring himself to answer you.

You swiftly rose out of your seat, attempting to keep yourself composed until you could be alone.

“Baby-” Natasha murmured, trying to take hold of your hand, which you snatched back before she could lay a finger on it.

“Don’t.”

“Please-”

“Leave me alone.” You spat, speed walking out of what now felt like an overcrowded room.

You didn’t hear it, you’d left too early, but if you had stayed, you would’ve heard the team give Nat and Steve the scolding of their lives, mainly from Wanda and Tony, telling them how disappointed they were in them both. How they’d be lucky if you were to forgive them for what they did.

________________________

You don’t know how long you’d been sitting on your shared bed for. It could’ve been an hour, it could’ve been a couple of minutes. All you knew, was that you couldn’t stay in this room much longer, looking at the picture frames and the shared wardrobe, it just felt painful.

So, you walked over to your wardrobe and gathered every item of your clothing into your arms, lacking any care for if there were hangers or labels in the way, and chucked them on the bed and started to chuck it all into a suitcase intended for holidays but, you don’t see that happening anytime soon.

The sound of sniffles and rustling was all you could hear in the room, so much so that it was suffocating, and it didn’t help when you heard the door creak open.

“What are you doing?” A voice squeaked. Natasha stood beside the door, fidgeting with her fingers as she anxiously bounced from one foot to the other. You didn’t even bother to look up in her direction, focusing solely on getting out of there as soon as you could.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened, I didn’t mean it.” You scoffed at her attempt at an explanation. “I love you.”

That’s what made you whip your head to see her red and puffy eyes, if this was any other situation, you would’ve rushed over and engulfed her in a hug, tell her that everything would be okay and you’re there for her. Now? All you felt was anger.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have kissed him.”

“I didn’t know-”

You stood up straight, almost laughing at her choice of words. “You didn’t know? Bullshit. I’m pretty fucking sure everyone is aware when they kiss someone. Did you know when you were kissing me then? Or did you not know that either?”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“I don’t think I care.”

She tries to step closer to you, only for you to take one back, holding your hand out, indicating for her to stop.

“No. no, you know what Nat, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to treat me like a stranger for weeks, like I'm sharing a bed with someone I don’t know, for you to then kiss someone else and expect me to forgive you. You have no idea how I've felt these past weeks, blaming myself and thinking I was selfish for wanting your time. It’s funny, really.”

She looked away from you, regret taking over her features, both of you now having tear stains covering your rosy red cheeks.

You broke the silence once again. “Was that the first time?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Y/N-” She pleaded

“Answer the question, Natasha.” You spoke through gritted teeth.

Silence returned to the four walls.

“Get out.”

“No, no, we-” She stepped forward, only to halt herself when she realised what she was doing.

“There is no ‘we’. We’re done. I’ll have my stuff moved back into my room by tonight, though I'm sure it won’t make much of a difference to you.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Whatever.”

She walked out of the room, hesitating slightly, wondering if it’s worth staying and trying to figure out whatever this is. She shook her head to herself, knowing she’d fucked up. There wasn’t a fight anymore. It was done.

Collapsing on the bed, the feeling washed over you again as the finality of it all set in. You didn’t stop though. You packed your clothes, your perfumes, all of your loose hair ties and left the room with only one thought on your mind.

Natasha won’t even notice the difference.

Taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @wandaromanova

[hansolmates]

here comes the bride, all dressed in pride

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As if you care.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you two even meet?” 

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” you raise your glass.

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

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

“That’s not what I meant.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t ask questions.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How was the walk over?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It… was mildly cute.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what’s the plan?” 

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

“And why is that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, this is going to be interesting. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I do like Valorant.” 

“He likes pork belly.”

“I do like pork belly.” 

“He’s ripped as hell.” 

“I am ripped as hell.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay yes one bad example—” 

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

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

“See? It’s a mutual decision.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right,” you answer reluctantly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only if you want to.”

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

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

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

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

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

“But, Namjoon got us a table—” 

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

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

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

“Sounds good.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pray tell.” 

“She’s jealous of you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, but compared to Doyeon—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that for?” he asks breathlessly. 

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

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

“We’re in Vegas, baby!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I interrupting a tender family moment?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you were into that bridesmaid.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But this is different!” 

“But Doyeon’s family!” 

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

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

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

“Deal.” 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I will.” 

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

“Excuse me—” 

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

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

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

“Not if it’s Aunt Lillian.” 

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

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

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

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

“Is it something urgent?” 

“Well, no but—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugs, “Looked around.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna come!” 

“Nope! Jungkook called it a date.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then more kisses?” 

“Then more kisses.” 

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

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

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

Jimin: what, a date with your fake date?

Hobi: jeon jungcock? 👀👀

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

Hobi: i’ve heard things in college… 

Taehyung: u are all gross and i hate u 

Taehyung: but so am i bc im very curious 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You: lool, why do u look constipated 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because it’s tradition!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook loves your family. 

(Except Doyeon.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Jungkookie.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The morning of the wedding, you wake up alone. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone beeps conveniently, displaying Jungkook’s name. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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