#I’m never gonna stop drawing strawberry dress

[lovelycatdraws]

Matching

[skzdarlings]

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 1/2

masterlist.

PART 1/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. handcuffs. cat-and-mouse. eventual smut will be kinky dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. (chapter word count: 7400 words.)

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Seungmin is one of your best friends and also a conniving master of manipulation.  Being a malevolent source of wicked verbal wizardry, he convinced you and Minho that it would be totally super easy to sneak into the Hwang Hyunjin concert.  It’s only the final night of the pop-star’s sold-out world tour and the most anticipated concert of the year.  What could go wrong?  

It sounded like a good idea when Seungmin said it.  Now the three of you are standing in a pushy crowd of overeager fans with some very intimidating looking security guards at the end of the queue. 

“Reconvene,” you say.  You grab the boys by their scruff and drag them out of the line. 

“Ah, hey!” Minho snaps at you like piranha.

You release him to grab Seungmin by his collar.  “You better have an idea for getting us past security,” you say, “because I do not like the look of the Incredible Hulk up there.”

The three of you look at the shortstack beefcake who looks like he could bench all three of you at the same time. 

“Yeaaaah,” Seungmin says.  He flashes you a not-so-innocent smile as his strawberry-pink bangs flop into his eyes.  “I didn’t really think this far ahead.  I thought you’d have a plan.”

“Why would I have a plan?” you ask.  “This whole thing was your idea.  Seungmin.”  You drag him close so your noses touch, going cross-eyed at the proximity.  It does not lessen the severity of your frustration when you state, “I waxed for this.  And you know how I feel about waxing.” 

“You waxed?” Minho asks loudly.  It draws a few glances your way which might be because Minho is so loud, or might be because he’s so good looking, or a combination of the two.  His dark eyes narrow at you like you’re a completely alien creature.   “Why would you wax for a concert?” he asks. 

“Wax,” Seungmin parrots.  Your hands are on his collar like you intend to shake him up but it doesn’t deter him asking, “Like… like wax-wax?  Like your human body waxed?”

“Like your human pussy?” Minho asks.  “For a concert?  What did you think was gonna happen?”  He is on the very visible verge of hysterical laughter when a thought lights his eyes.  “Wait,” he says.  “I know how we can get in—”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You shove Seungmin and grab Minho by the collar instead.  “I’m not fucking our way in.  And I waxed,” you drop your voice, “just in case.”

“Just in case…?” Minho tips his head.  “Just in case you had to fuck your way in…?”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You push him away too.  “Never mind.”

“Did you think Hyunjin was going to summon you out of the crowd for a green room quickie?”  Seungmin asks with a shit-eating grin. 

Minho cackles.  “No way she’d even go,” he says.  “She doesn’t get summoned.  She likes to be chased.” 

“She is walking away now,” you say.    

“Bet she’ll walk away quickly,” Seungmin says.  “She waxed so she’ll be aerodynamic.”

You stomp away from the stadium but only make it a few steps before Seungmin runs in front of you. 

“We can’t just give up here,” Seungmin says.  “We made it this far already.”

“One bus stop?” you ask dryly.  “We literally live like five minutes away—”

“Exactly!” Seungmin says.  “That’s called destiny.”

“We might as well try,” Minho says.  He cups a hand over his eyes to look at the stadium in the fading light of the sun.  “We all got dressed up.  Seungmin skipped a class.  You waxed.” 

“There’s no way we’re getting through those doors,” you say. 

“We’ve done it before,” Seungmin says.  He turns you to face the stadium and massages your shoulders like a boxing coach, all the while regaling you with tales of your past victories.  “Remember all the other concerts we snuck into?  The sports games?  That celebrity wedding—”   

“Well,” Minho interrupts, “we did get arrested at that one.” 

“Yeah and we got arrested together,” Seungmin says, “because that’s what friends do.” 

“I don’t know why,” you say, “but for some reason this is working.”  Maybe it’s Seungmin’s words, or Minho’s cologne, or maybe it’s the soft glow of a perfect summer sunset as it pours over the stadium like a pink-orange waterfall.  Or maybe it’s because this really is the concert of the year, and you love a challenge, and you fucking waxed. 

You throw your head back and sigh, soulfully resigning yourself to your imminent fate.

“Fine,” you say.  “So how are we doing this?”   

“Don’t worry,” Seungmin says thoughtfully.  “I think I have a plan.”

Seungmin proceeds to explain the plan.  It is hardly the pinnacle of heist endeavours but is more feasible than rappelling down the stadium walls into the concert arena.

Basically, the plan is to find a group of people with a solitary ticket holder and leech onto their tail with the hopes security will miscount the party and let you sneak past.  It means you will have to split up because security will definitely notice three extra people.  You will then hopefully reunite inside the arena.

You scamper around the periphery of the stadium, perusing lines for oblivious groups of excited fans with an e-ticket-wielding ringleader.  You also double-check which security guards seem the most lax or checked out. 

“I get that one,” Minho says. 

He points to a trim, athletic guard with floppy brown hair and a giggly smile.  You and Seungmin protest because that guard is an easy mark so you all want him, but Minho takes off running for the queue. 

The thing about Lee Minho is that he never hauls ass.  He coasts through life with a casual slouch, but he is completely capable of annihilating everyone if he deigns to do so. 

He does.  So he did.

You and Seungmin look around.  Your grin widens when you spy the next easiest target.

“Aha!” you say.  “I call dibs on that one!  Good luck, Seungmin!”

“Hey!” Seungmin bellows.

He is far too late.  You are already booking it towards the line with a pretty, chipper, skinny security guard.  He is in jeans and a loose windbreaker that says SECURITY across the back, about the only indication he is a man of any authority.  His hair is a vibrant, neon blue and is delicately styled, long enough to pull back in a pretty half-ponytail.  His features are sharp, cheekbones sloping, but there is a natural tenderness to his whole countenance.  He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. 

Also, he really is lean.  Worst case scenario, you can probably push your way past him and disappear into the crowd before he can do anything about it.  

You find a group of girls to sidle alongside anyway.  You are satisfied you will easily slip into the stadium. 

The group reaches the front of the line, a couple of them giggling at the security guard’s friendly attention.  His name tag reads Felix, a cute name for a cute guy.  Up close, you can see a smattering of dark freckles across his face, as well as a few playful glitter stars for the concert.  He is admittedly pretty but as a professional gate crasher, you refrain from distraction.  You successfully avoid his gaze and stick close to the girl in front of you. 

Felix gives them each a friendly nod, smiling brightly.  He laughs at one of their comments and it’s a charming, low sound. 

“Enjoy the show, ladies,” he says, his voice about a hundred decibels deeper than you expected.  

Maybe that’s what trips you up.  It has to be something, because you were doing everything right.  But just as you go to follow the girls into the arena, a skinny arm shoots out and you smack right into it.   

“Sorry,” Felix says.  He drops his arm and smiles.  “I just need to see your ticket.” 

“My…?”  You look ahead at the group of girls, but they are already gone.  Oops.  “Ha, ha,” you say, looking at Felix. 

He is staring back at you, still smiling a close-lipped smile.  He blinks a couple times then lifts an eyebrow.

“Uh, ticket?” he says.  He holds out his hand.  

“Right,” you say.  You smile at him with all the saccharine sweetness you can.  “I have funny story about that, Felix,” you say. 

“Hm.”  His smile turns into a line, eyes narrowing as he looks at you.  “And what’s that?” 

“Well, you see…”

It’s all you say before you bolt, fast on your feet.  You sprint for the entryway behind the guarded queue.  There’s a crowd inside and you’re an expert at disappearing into a crowd.  You just need to get in there and find your boys then you are home free.  Hwang Hyunjin, here you come. 

There’s just one problem.  

Felix is fast.  

Like, track star fast.  Like, road runner fast.  Like, you’re that dumb coyote getting an anvil dropped on your head, except this anvil is a skinny blue-haired Australian with a voice like a god and the apparent hidden strength of one too. 

You make it a few desperate steps before Felix literally sweeps you off your feet.  You shriek when he hauls you under his arm, dragging you away from the stadium door.  He deposits you a few feet from the queue then swiftly resumes his position. 

“Hello,” he says to the next person in line.  “Sorry about that.  Ticket?”   

Your mouth is agape.  

No one has ever got the jump on you like that.

“Hey!” you say, but Felix has moved on.  He is smiling at the next guest as he checks their ticket, not paying you any mind.  “Excuse me,” you say, despite the people between you and him.  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.  I do have a ticket.”

“Uh-huh,” Felix says.  He doesn’t look at you, scanning someone’s e-ticket with a little device.  It lights up green and he smiles at them.  “Enjoy the show,” he says. 

You jump into the queue, cutting off the next person.  Felix’s smile vanishes and is replaced with an astoundingly sassy expression.

“Uh, this line is for ticket-holders,” he says. 

“I have a ticket,” you say.  You unzip your purse and spend a minute rifling around, ignoring him when he sighs.  He apologizes to the people behind you.  You turn and offer a tight-lipped apology of your own.  “I was in line,” you say, as if they didn’t just witness this ten-pound bully haul you around like a sack of potatoes.  “There was just a misunderstanding.”

Felix rolls his eyes. 

You pull out your cell phone and flip through a folder of fake screenshotted tickets, hoping at least one of them marginally resembles the tickets for tonight.  You pick one and flash it at Felix. 

“Happy?” you say with a lot of false indignation.  You turn off the screen when Felix goes to grab your phone.  You give him a snooty, squinty-eyed look, then saunter right past him. 

This time when he comes after you, you are better prepared for his speed.   You zig-zag and he stumbles, cussing very unprofessionally.  You make it all the way to the door before he grabs you.  You have no idea where he is getting all that muscle because he feels like a sturdy stick when you grab at him, but he puts you over his shoulder like it’s easy. 

“Um, excuse me!” you shout.  “Hello!  Someone film this!  I’m being assailed!”

Felix intentionally jostles you on his shoulder.  He is even less gentle when he drops you this time, though you do manage to keep your footing. 

“Try that again,” Felix says, “and it will be trouble.  Got it?” 

Felix is very good looking.  He’s an incredible combination of pretty and handsome, not to mention that voice, guh.  But what gets you going is how much you are clearly pissing him off.  It’s hot.  Out of nowhere, the freckled sunshine sweetheart is just oozing confidence, standing square and pointing at you with a very stern expression.  And if you get a little hiccup in your blood, a little skip in your heartbeat, a little stampede southward that makes your pussy hum like the interested kitten it is, well.  That’s not your fault.  It’s his.  Asshole.

You flip him off.  He ignores you, shaking his head as he returns to his position.

“Sorry,” he says to the queue.  “Some people are so inconsiderate, aren’t they?”

Ugh. What a sexy bitch. 

You text to check in with the boys.  Minho made it inside, no surprise, but apparently Seungmin is also struggling for an in. 

what is with these security guards, Seungmin writes, are they military trained? fuck 

maybe you’re both just losing your touch, Minho replies.

never, you say.  we still have lots of time.  we'll get in there.  seungmin, meet me by the benches.  we need another plan.  

Usually, the best way to crash an event is with minimal attention and no theatrics.  It’s all about pretending you are exactly where you are supposed to be.  If you act like you belong, then you will.  

A spectacle is a desperate measure, but you are desperate people.  After a few hushed whispers on a bench, you and Seungmin spring into action. 

“Help!”  Seungmin shouts.  “My wife needs help!  Please!” 

“Your wife?” you whisper through gritted teeth, opening one eye to look at him.  You are currently laying on the pavement in a dramatic swoon, Seungmin hunched over you. 

“My companion of ambiguous relationship is hurt!” he says.  “Ouch,” he adds, because you swat his arm.

Fortunately, he does draw attention.  A few people run over, the beefy security guard one of them.  His nametag reads Changbin and he is in a black t-shirt at least two sizes too small.  You do not begrudge him this, as you would do the same if you had biceps like that.  

“What happened?” he asks, crouching down beside Seungmin. 

“My friend just passed out,” Seungmin says.  He hoists you into his arms as your tongue lolls out of your mouth.  “Is there somewhere inside I can take her to sit down?  I think all the chaos out here overstimulated her.” 

“One second,” Changbin says.  He pulls a walkie-talkie out of a holster.  It buzzes with static as he turns it on.  “Hey, we have a collapsed woman in front of Entry Door B.  Can I have back-up clear a path, and someone with First Aid training?”  The walkie-talkie buzzes again and Changbin puts it away.  He stands up, waving away the small crowd that has gathered.   “Yah, everyone back up!  This is an emergency!” 

“It’s really not,” Seungmin says.  He scoops you into a bridal hold then struggles to lift you off the ground. “I just need – whew – somewhere I can – agh – put her down.  I can just – AH! – carry her myself.”

Naturally, it is at that moment a familiar voice descends from above. 

A familiar, deep, Australian-accented voice.

“Move aside, please.”  

“Oh no,” you say, eyes closed.   You open them just in time for a glitter-faced, freckled, blue-haired pretty boy in a SECURITY windbreaker to cut through the crowd.   

Unfortunately, Felix is just as good looking at this angle.  He waves away the gathered onlookers as he approaches, but looks at Changbin first. 

“I have First Aid,” he says.  “What happened?”

“I just found her collapsed,” Changbin says.  “Her friend thinks it’s the crowd.  Should we bring her inside?” 

Felix looks at you.  The concerned furrow in his brow immediately gives way. 

You smile innocently. 

“No,” Felix says, frowning.  “We shouldn’t.” 

“Oh come on,” you say.  You smack the ground.  “I collapsed!  I need help!”

“No, you need a ticket,” Felix says.  He crosses his arms and stomps a foot.  “Seriously, what is wrong with you?  Some of us have a job to do, you know?”

“Naaaur ya need a ticket, mate,” you say in a mockingly deep chest voice. “Some of us have jobs ya knaaaaur!”

“Do you guys know each other?” Changbin asks, looking between you and Felix – who is growing increasingly red in the face and breathing much harder. 

“I have no idea who this guy is,” Seungmin says. 

“Ah!”  Felix yells, spinning to Changbin.  “She doesn’t have a ticket!  She’s just trying to sneak in!”

“She doesn’t have a ticket?”  Seungmin asks, gasping.  He drops you onto the concrete, ignoring your yelp of pain.   “But I thought she – she told me we – I – I –“

You watch in betrayed horror as Seungmin pretends to faint, flopping down beside you on the concrete.  You sit up, very tempted to slap him across the face but not wanting to give Felix more reasons to accost you. 

“Seungmin,” you say.  You grab him by the shirt and rattle him around like a ragdoll.  “Seungmin, you bastard, don’t even think about it!”

“You.”  Felix stomps up behind you.  “Get off the ground and come with me.” 

“No,” you say.  “I don’t want to and you can’t make me.” 

You shriek – again – when Felix grabs you under the arms and hoists you to your feet.  He manhandles you with only a modicum of effort, dragging you away from your stupid traitorous best friend. 

You step on Felix’s foot deliberately and he swears.  For such a pretty thing, he sure has a filthy mouth.  You grab a fistful of his hair and tug, to which he cusses up a storm and pries your hand off his head.   

You hear the distinct buzz of Changbin’s walkie-talkie.    

“We have a collapsed man in front of Entry Door B.  Can someone who isn’t going to start fighting the patrons come help me move him?”

“He’s faking it!” you cry in protest, watching Changbin scoop Seungmin off the ground. 

Changbin disregards your outburst.  Seungmin gives you a thumbs up behind his back.  Felix, of course, doesn’t see it because he’s too busy dragging you away.  You are left to sputter in bewildered protest at the injustice of it all. 

Felix marches you to the sidewalk, far away from the stadium queues.  You are both out of breath by the time you get there.  Even so, you attempt to manoeuvre under his arm to run away.   In a few quick moves, he knocks you onto your ass. 

 “Holy fuck!”  You are panting now.  A line of sweat dots your hairline.  You wipe at it and stare morosely at this stupidly competent minimum wage security guard.  “What are you, like some kind of karate master or something?”

“Taekwondo, actually,” he says, brushing off his jacket.  Then he tips his head and stares down at you.

You would be lying if you said the intensity of his stare didn’t have your heart racing for an entirely new reason.  Danger and desire have always danced a close dance for your tastes.  Felix is not helping matters, tucking back loose strands of vibrant hair as he looms over you, wetting his bottom lip and staring. 

You cross your arms and feign nonchalance, but you can’t look away from him.  When he crouches down slowly to meet you at eye level, everything below the belt goes pitter-patter. 

“No ticket,” Felix says slowly.  “No concert.  Do you understand me?” 

You stick out your tongue.

“Wow, mature,” he says.  His departing farewell is another snarky eyeroll.  He shakes his head as he stands, muttering to himself in obvious frustration. 

So much for not a mean bone in his body.  That bully is all business.   

So hot. 

You huff and puff for a bit.  Your phone is going berserk in your purse, probably the boys trying to reach you.  Eventually you succumb to the necessary confession of your twice thwarted efforts.  Minho teases that you are losing your touch for real.  It makes angry little fireworks pop out of your ears.  

Plenty of occasions you have assessed a situation and deemed it unreasonably complicated, but quitting while you’re ahead is not the same thing as admitting defeat.  You do not lose.  This isn’t even about the concert anymore.  Fuck Hwang Hyunjin, he was never worth the pain of a wax in the first place.  No.  This is about your pride.   This is about your dignity.  This is about your honour. 

You are getting into that concert, one way or another.   

First, you gather intel.  This comes in the form of snooping, running between queues to figure out the easiest mark.  You don’t judge the guards by their appearances this time, because apparently this security team has secret taekwondo masters hidden in their midst. 

You watch their every move, calculating and determining your odds therein.  Based on visual research and Minho’s confirmation, it seems your best bet is the smiling guard who let Minho through.  His nametag reads Jisung and he is a veritable flirt. 

Flash him your tits, Minho texts.

Uh, no, I’m not that desperate yet.       

Second, with your intel now acquired, you get into the dwindling line.  The sun is almost set and a breezy summer chill dances across your cheeks.  The concert will be starting soon.  You shuffle behind the other stragglers, adjusting your outfit.  The jean shorts hug your hips and flash a nice chunk of thigh, and your shirt is already low cut but you figure another tug won’t hurt.  You also pull your flannel down your arms to look as flirtatious as possible. 

Jisung is barely looking at the tickets as he scans them, chatting merrily to the guests as he lets them through.  You pull up a random ticket on your phone, something to hold out while you distract him. 

“Hi,” you say. 

His eyes flick down to your chest, then back up.  He smiles brightly.

“Hi!” he says.  “You look nice.  Excited for the concert?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say.  “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this.  It wasn’t easy to get in.”

“I know what you mean,” he says.  “Tickets are hard to come by, and so expensive!”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you say, leaning in while he scans your phone.   This was a bad idea because he looks down at your chest again, just in time for his little device to flash red.

“Oh, oops!” he says.  He smiles at you as he shakes his device.  “Sorry!” he says.  “I think you showed me the wrong ticket.  Could you pull up the right one?”

“Ohhh!” you say, looking down at your phone with fake surprise.  Life is so unfair.  “I’m so sorry… Jisung.  Hehe, that’s such a nice name.”

“Haha, thanks,” Jisung says.  “My parents picked it, but, yeah, it’s cool.  Anyway.”  He wiggles his device.  “Ticket please!” 

You keep smiling and giggling, even as you turn around under the guise of searching through your phone.  You glare down at the stupid device, keeping your back to Jisung while you do so.  How the fuck are you getting out of this?  You flip through screenshots then open your text messenger.  Minho’s last words of wisdom blink up at you. 

Apparently, you are that desperate. 

With a sigh, you put your phone in your purse and zip it shut.  You shrug your shoulders and plaster that fake smile on your face again.  With a swift of flick of your thumbs, you lift your shirt and bra up over your tits and spin around to look at Jisung. 

“How’s this for a ticket—”

Jisung looks surprised and delighted.  Jisung, however, is standing a few feet back.  Probably because he was told to step back.  Probably by Felix who is standing in front of you with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face.  

“Wow,” Felix says.  “Just committing crimes now, are we?”  

You shove your tits back into your bra indignity, not even embarrassed, just annoyed. 

“Tits aren’t a crime,” you say. 

“Public indecency is,” he replies.  

“You’re… publicly indecent…”  Not your best comeback.  You glare at him while fixing your shirt.  “There’s no way they pay you enough to be riding my ass this hard.” 

“They don’t,” Felix says, grabbing your arm.  “Believe me when I say riding your ass has been my pleasure.”

“Twisted fuck,” you reply. 

You wave at Jisung as Felix tugs you away.  He waves back but does nothing to rescue you, because all men are traitors. 

You groan loudly as Felix leads you away from the stadium yet again.  “Just let me innnnn,” you whine.  “Why do you hate meee.”

“I don’t even know you!” Felix says.  He deposits you on a bench and takes out his phone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, eying the device.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “You tried to break into a ticketed event three times.  You faked an injury.  You flashed yourself in a public place—”

“I wouldn’t have done any of that if you just let me through in the first place!”

“You cannot be serious.”  Felix looks ready to rip his hair out.  “You don’t have a ticket!  Why would I let you in, why would I – AH!  Why am I arguing with you!  Be quiet, I’m phoning the police.”

“The po— the police?!  How dare you!” You try to stand but he pushes you onto the bench one-handed.  He holds you there, palm on your shoulder, still way stronger than someone this scrawny should be. 

“Fine!” you exclaim.  “Fine!  You win!  I’m sorry, Felix, I was wrong.  I was wrong and you were right.”

Felix pauses.  “Really,” he says, sounding unconvinced. 

“Yes!”  You look up at him with the saddest, most watery eyes you can muster.  “I just wanted to see the concert but it was stupid to think I could break in.” 

He turns off his screen.  Success.   You watch him slip his phone in his pocket. 

“It’s not about being smart or stupid,” he says, the ire gone from his voice.  It takes a lot of willpower not to bite his fingers when he pats your shoulder.  “It’s about the fact we can’t always get what we want,” he says kindly as he crouches in front of you.  His hand goes from your shoulder to your knee, still patting it in a friendly manner. 

You bite your tongue because you want to tell him you liked him better when he was being a mean bitch, but that would be counterproductive to your escape attempt. 

It turns out, you don’t need to say anything, because he decides to be a bitch again anyway.  Felix looks at you with a too-sweet smile and says, “It’s about time someone taught you that lesson.”

“Um, excuse me?” you say, aghast.  You clasp your hand over your heart.  “Just who do you think you are?  First of all, you taught me nothing, I’m still a horrible bitch and I lied when I said you were right.  Second, you absolutely can get everything you want, you just have to want it enough to get it.  But you wouldn’t know anything about that.  You know why, Felix?” 

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head like he expected this, which he probably did, but you’re too far gone to retreat. 

You reach out and cup his face in both hands, turning it to you.  Those sharp eyes are unflinching, even with your fingers on his face.  You try really hard not to gulp. 

“It’s because you are a good boy,” you say.  “You always do what you’re told.  You always follow the rules.  I bet everyone thinks you’re the nicest guy on the team, don’t they?  I bet they call you cute little nicknames and all the nice little girls think you’re a sweet, innocent baby.  And you are, aren’t you, Felix?  You’re just such a good, good boy.  But me?  I’m not good.  I’m not bad.  I just like to win.  When I want something, I get it, because I chase it, and I don’t stop until I get it.  Until it’s all mine.”  You lean in close.  “Get it?” 

His gaze darkens, brows pinching.  You take his fleeting moment of vulnerability to shove him onto his back.  He sprawls on the ground with a surprised yelp.  You sprint away at top speed and flip him off over your shoulder. 

It’s a haphazard ploy at best but you are fresh out of plans.  What you need is distance between you and Security Guard of the Year, a breather long enough to come up with a final plan.  Maybe you can physically break in somewhere: an office window, a janitorial stairwell, something.  

You keep an eye out for potential openings as you run. 

And run.

And run. 

Hmm.  You’ve been running a long time.   Even with the head-start, Felix should have caught you by now.  You doubt he would have truly given up.  Felix had a deranged look in his eye, similar to the one you get when someone is trying to beat you at your own game.  He doesn’t want you to win anymore than you want to lose.  You suspect it isn’t about the concert for him either; this is a personal battle. 

You come to a gradual stop, hands on your hips as you catch your breath.  It’s quiet on this side of the stadium as the queues were on the opposite end. 

Quiet, yes.  Too quiet.   

There’s a stairwell that leads to second level just above your head.  Felix is good.  You have to give credit where credit is due.  If you weren’t a scheming nightmare with a penchant for con-artistry, he probably would have caught you.  But without turning around, you know he booked it up the stairs and is two seconds from springing an attack. 

You take off running, just in time for him to thump into the grass beside you.  You laugh at his strangled cry of frustration as he scrambles to his feet. 

Around the next corner is the parking lot.  You stop a split second to look over your shoulder and see him hot on your heels.   He discarded his jacket and is in a loose sleeveless shirt, revealing he does have some light toning to his lean body.  But you don’t stop to measure how proportionate it is to his strength, because he is focussed on you like a laser. 

Then he smiles.  A slow, slinky smile like a cocky predator about to swipe at its prey.  That cat has claws, nasty ones, and you almost want to get tangled in them.  Almost.  You want to win even more.   

And he just set you up for success.  There’s a SECURITY jacket on the ground somewhere nearby.  That’s your ticket in.  You just have to lose Felix in the parking lot and loop back around to find where he tossed it. 

You spare no time setting that plan into action, giving Felix a smile of your own before you run.  He thunders after you.

The pair of you weave in and out of parked cars.  He disappears for a second behind a row of trucks.  You whip your head around to figure out where he went, only for him to summersault around the corner and cut you off.  You yell instinctively but narrowly dodge his reaching hand.   He curses, running after you with his arm outstretched.   You duck behind a trailer and lose him, scurrying between some SUVs.  You peek at him through the windows, watching him turn in a circle to find where you went.  Smiling to yourself, you quietly but quickly back away.  

You leave the lot and run back the way you first came.  You find Felix’s jacket draped on a random bush. 

Your heart is practically singing with adrenaline.  Victory is in sight.  You push yourself to run faster and reach out with both hands –

— only to find yourself rolling in the grass, Felix’s arms tight around your middle as he tackles you to the ground. 

You push and pull at each other, cursing and scrambling very ungracefully.  You get out of his arms but he climbs on top of you, then you knee him in the gut so he rolls over, but when you start crawling he grabs your ankles and drags you back. 

Ultimately, he Taekwondo Masters you onto your front, hands clasped behind your back.  You kick your feet and wail despondently into the grass as he kneels over you, breathing raggedly and swearing again. 

“You’re a monster!” you shout.  “You’re a tyrant and a bully and you have no right to – HEY!”

He handcuffs you.

“Ha.”  He leans in close, speaking right into your ear.  “I win.” 

“That’s not fair,” you say.  “You can’t just—ahh!”  You wail in petulance as he lifts you onto your feet.  His grip on your bicep is unyielding so you are forced to stomp alongside him as he escorts you…

…back to the sidewalk.

“You’re not busting me?” you ask in confusion.  You thought for sure he was going to drag you into some shady office and plop you in a chair until the police arrived.   He would probably be super boring and professional about it, staring at you with his dumb horny eyes but not doing anything about it.  Nothing sucks more than being all trussed up by a pretty boy with manners. 

“I just want you to go and never come back,” Felix says. 

“Fine.”  You turn around and hold your arms straight behind you.  “But I’m like a wolf, Felix.  I have your scent for life.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says.  “Not how wolves work by the way.  But fine.”

“Oh wow, sorry.  Didn’t realize you majored in Wolfology.  You got any other fun facts?”  

“You are so—”

You smirk at his grumbling.  You are just biding your time until he uncuffs one wrist, then you whip around faster than he can compute the action.  With one cuff still attached, you grab the second and clamp it down on his wrist.  He sputters in bewilderment, at which point you snatch the keys.

“What are you doing—”  He tries to grab them but your joined hands make the angle too awkward.  You spin around together in a few circles, bonk heads twice, until finally you reel back and chuck the keys as far into the distance as possible. 

He stands there, mouth agape.  You tap your foot impatiently. 

When he realizes what has happened – that you have handcuffed yourself to him and thrown away the keys – he looks at you with fiery eyes, fierce enough you stumble.  He yanks your joined hands, the chain ungiving.  You watch as he goes through several stages of grief in a matter of moments.  Then he closes his eyes and breathes in and out.    

“Why,” he says slowly, “did you just do that?” 

“I dunno, Felix,” you say.  You plop down on the ground and sit cross-legged.  It forces him to bend over, your cuffed wrist dragging him down.  “Guess we’ll have to go inside and get some back-up keys.  And when I’m in the stadium and you uncuff yourself from me, I promise not to run away.”   

“That’s your plan?” he snaps.  “That’s your plan?” 

“What, is there an echo out here?”

“That’s your plan?” he asks again, his deep voice pitching up an octave.  He crouches down and shoves his free hand into his hair, shaking his head.  “This can’t be happening,” Felix says, more out loud to himself than you.  “Why is this happening.  Oh my god.” 

You squeak when he tugs on the chain, yanking you close, nose to nose.

“What if I just called for back-up?” he asks. “Or skipped that and went right to the police?  How would you get out of that?”

“Wait,” you say.  “Why aren’t you doing that?” 

“Because.”

He leans back as far as he can, sitting on his heels.  You duck your head, trying to meet his eye to no avail.  He clenches his jaw.

“Felix,” you say.  “Why aren’t you just calling for back-up?”

“Because,” he says through gritted teeth.  “The handcuffs.  Are.  Not.  Regulation.” 

You look at each other.  There is a long moment of silence. 

Then, “What!”  You cackle with complete and utter abandon. 

A very unamused Felix glares at you while you throw your head back and laugh. 

“You?” you cry, poking your finger against his chest.  “You?  You?  You are just walking around with a pair of handcuffs that you aren’t supposed to have?  What the fuuuuuck—”  You think you might die laughing. 

“Jisung gave them to me before our shift!” he exclaims.  “It was a joke because— Never mind! I don’t have to explain myself to you!  Hello.  Hello.”  He grabs your chin with his free hand and turns your face roughly to his.   He jingles your joined hands.  “Not regulation,” he says.  “There are no other keys in this building.” 

Silence falls again. 

Then, “Oh.”  You stare at him.  “Shit.” 

A minute later, you and Felix are scuttling around trying to find the key.  You must have a very good arm because it landed near the stadium and disappeared in some bushes.   

You and Felix keep forgetting your wrists are connected, reaching in opposite directions only to snap back together.  You are certain you are going to end the night with a few bumps and bruises. 

The entire time you are searching for the key, Felix is grumbling irritably.  He tears his way through a bush, his deep voice pitching up with a miserable whine when he can’t find it. 

“This is so stupid,” he says.  He throws a stick at the wall.  “I am a good worker.  I never break the rules.  I am not getting in trouble for this. You did this.  You did this to me.” 

On he goes, grumble, grumble, grumble, bitch, bitch, bitch. 

“It’s not like the key disappeared,” you say, pushing some pebbles around.  “It has to be here somewhere.” 

It is starting to get dark, the sky a deep purple.  The stadium lights blare down on you.  Felix uses his phone flashlight to beam extra light at the ground.  The only time he stops grumbling is when the noise in the stadium changes, the concert clearly beginning.  He takes time out of his busy searching schedule to give you a mean smile. 

“When we find those keys,” you say, “I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and leaving you to freeze to death in your stupid tank top.”

“It’s not a tank top,” he says.  “It’s a t-shirt.  I cut the sleeves off.  And when we find those keys, I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and phoning the police.”

“Well then,” you say, “may the best key finder in a slutty tank top win.” 

“It’s not a tank top.”   

You continue to search.  It is utterly illogical that the keys would just vanish but the longer it takes, the more concerned you get.   It just doesn’t make sense!  Things don’t just disappear!  The keys landed somewhere over here, so they have to be…

You see it first.  You sit there in a stunned stupor.  You swat at Felix with your cuffed hand.

“What?” he says without looking at you.  You continue to slap him until he forces your hand down, tangling your fingers with his.  “What!” 

You point.  He crowds in behind you to look over your shoulder.  You feel him exhale. 

“Please don’t tell me…”   

You both lean to look down the sewer drain.  He flashes his phone light over it.  Something silver glints back in the darkness. 

“Fuck!” Felix says.  He doesn’t stop there.  What follows is a string of cusses so unbelievably foul and complex that you honestly believe it should quality him for Pulitzer in poetry.  When he has exhausted every expletive in several different languages, he plops down on his ass and stares up at the sky with mute despondency.   

“So what happens now?” you ask.  “Do we fuck?”

“What?”  He looks at you with utter bewilderment.  “What the fuck?  Why would you suggest that?  What would that solve?”

“Nothing,” you say.  “But it would kill the time and couldn’t make things worse.” 

“You are insane,” he says.  “I am handcuffed to an insane person.” 

“Hey, ‘mate’, you were the one with the non-regulation handcuffs in the first place.  I could solve this problem real quick by phoning the authorities myself and saying some crazy guy put me in cuffs.” 

“I dare you,” he says.  “Try.”

“No,” you say.  And not just because you have a record with the police and they would never take your side.  But Felix doesn’t need to know that.  Well, you suspect Felix is smart enough to guess it, but he doesn’t need the confirmation.  “I’d rather make you suffer,” you say instead.  You sit back in an insouciant slouch like the whole circumstance is beneath your attention.  “Figure it out, pretty boy.” 

“Well,” he says, “apparently if you break your wrists then you can force them through the cuffs.”

“Ew!” You push him in the middle of his chest.  He doesn’t fall, but he does glare at you.  “We’re not doing that!  What a stupid plan!  You’ve been guzzling the hair dye fumes, buddy.  Think of a plan that doesn’t involve injury, thank you.” 

“I didn’t want to do this,” Felix says with another put-upon sigh, “but fine.  I have another pair at home so the keys—”

“Wait,” you interrupt.  “I thought someone gave you the cuffs today?  Why do you have another key at home?”

“I have another pair,” he repeats, “of the same handcuffs.”

“You—”

“Already own a pair, yes, move on.”  He aggressively pushes hair out of his eyes.  “He clearly bought it from the same place so my key should work for this one too.”

“So despite your uppity school boy routine, you do own non-regulation handcuffs and not just as a joke.  Wow, Felix.”  You giggle helplessly.  “Be careful or I might start to like you.” 

He is glaring at you, no surprise, but the tips of his ears blush pink. 

“Let’s just go,” Felix says.  “The sooner I get you off, the sooner I can forget about your existence.”

“You can get me off as fast or slow as you like—ahh!” 

Once more, the secret superman is manhandling you onto your feet.  Without pausing for breath, he turns and marches away.  You are forced to stumble behind his swift strides, your hands swinging close enough that your fingertips brush every so often.   

“How do I know you’re not gonna murder me?” you ask.

“You don’t,” he replies.

“How do you know I’m not gonna murder you?” 

“I don’t.”  He sounds more annoyed than afraid.  “But it sounds better than being cuffed to you forever.  I’ll take my chances.  Come on.” 

“Not like I have a choice,” you grumble. 

He comes to an abrupt halt and you crash into him with a sharp exhale.  He grabs your hand and tugs you close. You blink at him with surprise while he tips his head in that studious way.

“You’re right,” he says. “You don’t.  In fact, it’s almost nice, you forced to finally do what I’m asking.  If you’re not careful, it might even make me like you.” 

It is so cold and sarcastic. 

It gets you so hot. 

Seriously, what is with your stupid brain?  How does it cross the wires of fear and desire like that?  Felix is speaking at you with that deep, dark, nasty voice of his and your heart should be skipping beats in concern, not because you think he’s sexy when he’s being a bitch.  

You hide it from him well enough, glaring at him like he glared at you.  He just snorts and shakes his head. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Interesting,” he replies.  “Very interesting.”   

“What?”

“Nothing.”  He smiles politely, for a moment looking like the unassuming pretty boy you thought he was.  He bats his long eyelashes at you, smiles a coy smile, and squeezes your hand.   “Come on,” he says.  “We tried this your way and it got us in trouble.  Time to be a good girl and do it my way.  No, stop, don’t say anything.  Be quiet.  Just walk.  Let’s go.” 

You stumble when he tugs you after him.  Your mouth is hanging open yet again.   

You are proud to say that in your many years of bad girl shenanigans, you have never truly met your match.  You’ve played pretend a few times, let a couple losers think they won, if only because you liked the game of it.  But no one has ever really taken control.  No one has ever really beat you.  No one has ever come close. 

No one.  Until today. 

You glare at the back of Felix’s head, brain stampeding as fast as your heart.   Because finally, you’ve found him, your perfect match.  Lashed to you through the metal manifestation of fate’s red string. 

You didn’t know what game you were playing before, but now you do.

And you’re going to win.  

[phantomenby]

Into the Lions Den

immortal-velociraptor asked:

I’m curious, could you do something where Paul has a younger sibling he’s protective over. They aren’t as open about being a vampire as him. But instead of David choosing Micheal, the reader does and he hates Micheal for this. Like Paul just rags on Micheal for looking at his sweet little sibling in the first place.

<3333 im kissing ur 4head can u feel it

"Why do they even like him anyway?!"

Dwayne and Marko shared a look, their eyes staring off into space as Paul ran around the walls of the cave, hair going wild as he picked up speed.

"I mean, he's still new in town and we only know him because Max wanted to-"

"How long?" Dwayne turned to Marko confused, "how long until he gives up?"

The brunette shrugged, reaching for a book he had brought with him, finding where he was last reading, "until Michaels dead I guess."

They shared a laugh before zoning back out and watching their friend go by in short flashes of blonde and black.

"-they could have anyone else, and I mean ANYONE else, BUT HIM!?-"

-

Paul hated this.

He hated every damn second of it.

And he hated even more how David had forced him to tolerate it. I mean David, the guy spent the first week of knowing Michael trying to get him killed in some weird hazing ritual.

Now here he was, slouched on his bike as he glared at Michael who was doing nothing more than treating you to some ice cream like any good friend would do on a hot summer's day.

And while he couldn't say anything to Michael, or hurt him as per David's many warnings, he could do everything in his power to make the dumb half as uncomfortable as possible.

And Michael could feel it.

The two murderous eyes burning into the side of his head weren't subtle, and he was sure Paul had some secret mind powers like David that he was using to make it feel like the world was closing in on him.

But it all washed away when he looked into your eyes.

Your sweet bright eyes, always watching him so adoringly. If you let him he would spend all day getting lost in them.

"You're sweet-" Michael flushed, choking on the ice cream sitting on his tongue, "I-I mean, the-" taking a deep breath he covered his embarrassment with a smile, eyes flicking to your brother followed with a slight wince at how dark the blonde's eyes had become, "the ice cream, the- yeah strawberry's my favorite-"

You laughed, a sweet breathy sound that made his chest feel warm.

Smiling at him you reached towards his cheek, thumb rubbing away a small bit of ice cream near the corner of his mouth, bringing it back to lick it away.

Paul might have shown mercy when killing Michael before, but now he was going to make it hurt.

Even David was glancing at him warily as small rumbled left the taller man's chest, sending Dwayne a nod as an indication to use any means necessary to prevent Paul from ripping apart Michael in front of hundreds of civilians.

"I'm gonna kill him-"

"No you're not," Star cut him off, leaning beside Dwayne and rolling her eyes, "they don't belong to you Paul, they can date who they want."

Paul merely shook his head, "not Michael, I draw the line at Michael fucking Emerson."

"He's not even that bad," all eyes shot to Marko who was currently buttering up some redhead called Suzie, sending the rest of his pack a blank stare as Paul seethed beside him, betrayal shining in his eyes, "I mean, he's awkward, can't dress for shit, doesn't know how to make someone cu-"

"Stop." Paul shuddered at the thought, his sweet sweet sibling doing that with Michael? No, definitely not.

Brushing him off Marko continued, "but he's nice, and remember how respectful he was with Star, and he's never judged us even when we tried to ki-scare him."

Marko smiled down at Suzie, fortunately, the poor girl was too busy picking at her nails, evidently bored with their friendly-ish banter.

The group turned back to look at the pair of you, instead finding that you both had disappeared.

And when they turned to look at Paul he was gone too.

-

"Having fun?"

Michael froze, the hand he had so comfortably placed on your back flinching away from you, trying his best not to look scared as he turned to see your brother.

"Paul!" He gave his usual smile, hoping his puppy-dog charms would work as well on Paul as they did on you.

"Mike." The brunette found himself, being yanked away from you as you inspected some rings, barely noticing as he was dragged towards a darker part of the market.

Never mind, Michael thought, death is just a short moment away.

"Can I help-"

Paul cut him off, "let's cut to the chase," he stepped closer to the brunette, making him inch back into the dark alley between the stalls, cornering him, "what are your intentions with my sibling."

Michael spluttered, trying to figure out what to say that wouldn't end up with his face on a missing poster, "I-I, well I- we-"

"We?" Paul's face grew darker as he moved them both further into the alley, the shadows on his face making his eyes look darker than ever.

"N-no not we, I mean I just-"

"Paul?" Your voice piping up behind the blonde made him freeze, his body no longer hunching over Michael as he relaxed his face, his usual dopey grin meeting your eyes as he spun to face you.

"Hey, bubba!"

Your brother's arms wrapped you up in a tight hug, his legs moving you backward and away from the alley he had been looming in.

You had assumed it was a meal, someone who had annoyed him, but when you caught sight of your boyfriend looking scared shitless you damn near shredded your brother's back with your claws.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!- Paul-" shoving him back you sped towards Michael, taking his face in your hands and inspecting him carefully, "are you okay, did he hurt you?"

He shook his head, glancing behind you warily to where your brother stood glaring at him.

"Bub-"

"Fuck off Paul," grabbing your boyfriend you brought him back to the crowded central walkway, ignoring your brother's pleas as you continued on until you were a good ways away.

Michael was watching you, skin still flushed and hand clinging tightly to yours, his hand brushing against your shoulder was the only thing to begin calming you down, "you okay?"

You laughed, leaning forward to press your face to his collar.

"I should be asking you that."

"Hey," his hand met your hair, smoothing down the long fraying locks softly as he encouraged you to meet his eyes, when you did he pressed a kiss to your hairline, "I don't mind it, it's probably one of the most normal things he does."

And it was, between Paul's tendency to walk around the cave upside down and play soccer with human heads being overprotective wasn't the worst thing he could spend his time with.

Still, it was annoying. And you were an adult, you could do what you want.

"I guess it's better than him eating you."

Michael laughed, but his slight discomfort at the fact that he was friends with people who would have eaten him under other circumstances wasn't particularly reassuring.

"True, nice to know I won't end up on a missing poster in the morning."

You scoffed, pinching his cheek teasingly, "don't be silly, if anyone's gonna eat you it'll be me, you're too tasty to pass up."

Michael watched slack-jawed as you sent him a wink, disappearing into the crowd ahead and leaving him behind.

"Did they just-" following after you he shouted your name, hearing your laughter scattered across the crowd, "babe!-"

[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.” 

[writerpeach]

Expensive - Part Deux

Twice Mina x Male Reader

smut, oral, anal, richgirl!mina

4941 words

masterlist

“Here you are, ma’am. Please enjoy your meal.”

Myoui Mina thanked the waiter while flashing her signature gummy smile, reaching for the newly opened bottle of ketchup placed in front of her. She shook the bottle a few times, drawing a smiley face on her over-easy eggs and cutely giggling to herself before taking a bite.

“Delicious,” Mina said, taking a strip of bacon elegantly eating it. She took a sip of strawberry milk, using a napkin to wipe her mouth afterwards. Even in such a quaint and simple diner, Mina stayed prim and proper to the very end. It was quite the juxtaposition, the blonde Japanese girl being dressed to the nines in a restaurant where sweat pants and a t-shirt was the unspoken dress code.

Mina had traveled the world, dined in several countries and expensive Michelin star restaurants, sampling various cuisines in several different continents but there was a time where a girl just needed bacon and eggs to start the day, especially when you were lucky enough to be accompanying her to breakfast.

Your plates had been cleaned off, your stomachs filled and appetites satisfied. The only thing left was what Mina had planned for the day, and you were willing and able to obey whatever needs she needed fulfilled.

“Where to?” you asked, finishing your own glass of cold milk as Mina took her black card from the waiter, replacing it with a crisp one hundred dollar bill and signing the receipt with the prettiest signature. Mina never allowed you to pick up the check when you were in her presence, insisting on you never spending a dime. You stopped arguing after the first few times she had done this, it was one of the few things you learned she wasn’t going to budge from and you weren’t going to complain about a free meal.

“You’ll be accompanying me to several places this morning, I have to prepare for a gala this weekend and need new outfits.”

“Sounds fun.”

“You’ll be trying on clothes too, I can’t have you looking like a slob next to me.”

✦✦

The way your back was pressed against the inside of the dressing room door meant you were doing anything but trying on clothes.

“We’ll be out until midnight at the earliest, so there won’t be anytime to play with you later,” Mina said with one hand pumping your leaking cock. Several potential outfits were hung out on the wall, but Mina had taken your pants and boxers off down to your knees as soon as the door had shut.

“Look at me when I’m jerking you off.”

Mina’s tone was cold as the small hand slowly stroked your cock. Her free hand had cupped the side of your face and demanded your attention as she squeezed every bit of pleasure out with her delicate slow strokes.

“I could make you cum in ten seconds if I wanted to,” Mina said, squeezing your throbbing shaft harder with every pump of her slender fingers and running a thumb over your swollen tip.

Your breath hitched at her touch as she gave your balls a firm squeeze, running a finger alongside your shaft from base to tip and rubbing the underside of your leaking cockhead.

“Let’s make it interesting. If you can make it to thirty seconds you can fuck me against that mirror.”

“Ready?” Mina asked, her ice cold gaze staring into your soul as she bit her lip and gave one long stroke from base to tip, making sure to twirl her hand around every inch of your shaft. You took a deep breath and nodded nervously.

The painfully slow pace she had been using up until now dramatically changed as Mina gripped your cock harshly, picking up speed with every stroke.

“Twenty six...twenty five…”

“You already know how loud I get in the bedroom. You’ll have to cover my mouth to keep me from moaning your name while this nice dick is inside me,” Mina said, keeping her eyes tightly focused on your own as you moaned.

“Seventeen...sixteen…”

“You’re doing well. Do you want to fuck me that badly? Do you want to fill my tight little pussy with this throbbing cock?”

It was bad enough you were forced to look into Mina’s lustful bedroom eyes while she jerked you off in the dressing room, counting down with that sweet voice dripping with honey whispering in your ear at the same time.

“Nine...eight...six…”

“Almost there. I can’t wait for you to make me cum on this cock.”

You gritted your teeth and dug your toes into your shoes, trying to desperately find any sort of outlet for the pleasure shooting through your veins. Mina blew hot air into your ear after every five numbers. You couldn’t make it much longer, trying to think of anything but the sexually charged Japanese woman stroking your shaft.

“Bet you’re just dying for me to walk out of here with your hot cum dripping down my thighs...”

Mina went for the killing blow as she furiously pumped your cock, using her other hand to play with and massage your full swollen balls.

“Four...three...two…”

The end was in sight in more ways than one. You tried everything in your power to hold back, but as soon as Mina’s luscious lips said the word, you grunted and erupted uncontrollably, thick spurts of milky white semen firing out of your cock and coating her fingers and the unfortunate dressing room’s tile floor underneath.

“That’s too bad, I really wanted to be fucked before tonight.”

Your body trembled as those few final moments of climax subsided, the disappointed look in Mina’s eyes as she jerked you off past the point of sensitivity. She gave your depleted shaft a few more rough squeezes before licking her fingers clean.

“I like the black shirt, try that one on first. Get dressed and I’ll see you outside.”

✦✦

Mina had an affinity for handcuffs.

The cold steel wrapped around each of your wrists matched the cold atmosphere in the room as each of your arms were spread wide as an eagle and secured to the headboard of her canopy bed. The expensive silk sheets against your naked body were the only comfort you felt as Mina’s cold hands were caressing your bare chest.

“Do you like being Minari’s little fucktoy?” she asked, cocking her head to the side and demanding an answer which was rather difficult to give as she had stuffed her wet panties in your mouth.

You answered the only way you could and frantically nodded your head, knowing Mina hating repeating herself. You were rewarded with a slap to the face as she relentlessly rode your cock, her ice cold gaze staring daggers into your eyes.

“Good answer.”

There was little you could do in that moment as Mina took you in and out of her slippery tight hole, using you for her own selfish pleasure which was arousing in its own way. Perhaps had your dressing room romp got the way she wanted it you would be in a different situation,

Spending a night with Mina was never the same twice in a row. There was always some changing aspect of it, something she had changed to keep you on your toes. At times it was a quick blowjob before you finished inside her, sometimes it was hours of her edging and torturing your cock as she devilishly cackled the entire time. You hated to admit it but you loved the unknown mixture of fear and anticipation.

You didn’t mind the position you were in, limbs splayed out on Mina’s bed as she worked out her frustrations and took her second orgasm of the night. The naked blonde had straddled your waist, riding your cock for what seemed like eternity, each pop of her wide hips bringing you closer to orgasm.

You weren’t sure what was louder, the constant moans and gasps that escaped Mina’s sinful lips or the creaking of her luxurious bed, both competing in a stalemate.

Mina spent several movements grinding away her orgasm as her wetness drenched your shaft, taking every last second of pleasure from your body as her pretty eyes stayed half-lidded.

“Are you not going to cum as well?” Mina asked, and you found yourself unsure at how you had lasted this long as the tightness pulsating around your cock continued.

“I-I was waiting for you to be satisfied,” you said, not trying to convey the obvious fact that you were wrapped around Mina’s little finger.

“Well, that’s sweet but you’ve done your job for tonight. You were a perfectly capable toy for me to use tonight. Now I expect you to cum, I don’t have all night.”

It wasn’t as if you had several options as you were merciless at her whims, unable to do so much as lay a hand on her pristine naked body as much you wanted.

“Hurry up and cum inside me.”

Mina’s words weren’t so much of a request, but that of a demand, as if she grew tired of using you and wanted to move on. She was quick to urge you past that point of no return, the slap of her plump ass bouncing on your crotch as the tightness in your abdomen grew harder to control.

The look in Mina’s eyes was enough to drive you over the edge. The way she rode you mercilessly drove you insane, you couldn’t last another second if you wanted to. The bed squeaked in protest and you swore it was liable to collapse at any second as her tight small body slammed down on your cock, filling up her warm little hole was too much to handle.

“F-fuck, Mina, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned out, sending a desperate sense of relief inside the woman you were buried inside. Mina’s eyes beckoned you to give in to her body, not that you had much of a choice. With one more intense slam against your cock Mina sent you past your limits, causing your throbbing cock to fill her dripping slick walls with thick hot cum, causing endless grunting as her cunt milked every last drop out.

It felt like you had blacked out from the sharp pleasure, every muscle in your body on fire as your climax ran its course through your trembling body as Mina carefully watched. Once you had nothing left to give, your balls fully drained at her hand she gradually ceased her movements and left you gasping for air as your shaft rested inside her.

Mina didn’t say another word as she gingerly lifted her body off of your cock, releasing you from deep inside her with a loud plop as your thick load began dripping down her thighs and down your crotch. She quickly reached for the key to your handcuffs off her bedside table and unlocked them, the relieving click music to your ears.

"You have five minutes to rest, then you are to join me in the shower."

✦✦

It wasn’t often Mina was caught in anything other than expensive designer brands, colorful long flowing dresses that accentuated every curve of her body, or form-fitting pant suits that were tight in all the right places.

After a late afternoon business call Mina had neglected putting clothes back on after her scalding hot shower, getting out in a cashmere robe and slippers as she took a seat on the couch, tablet in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other.

“Try some,” Mina said, gesturing to a half-full black bottle resting upon the kitchen table. You retrieved your own glass before joining her back on the couch, giving the glass a swirl as you watched the dark colored liquid splash around in your glass before indulging.

“What do you think?” she asked, scrolling through her tablet, catching up on various events and aspects of her day.

“It’s good. I’ve never really had wine except out of a box in college, but this is really good.”

“That’s a shame, I’ll have to catch you up. It’s one of the finest bottles from my parent’s vineyard.”

“Your parents have a vineyard?”

“They have several. One of my responsibilities is to check in to make sure everything is running smoothly from time to time.”

Every time Mina opened up just a little you felt grateful, feeling just that bit of closeness that existed.

“Do you know what the best way to drink wine is?” Mina asked, putting her tablet down on the glass coffee table in front of her.

“Can’t say that I do.”

Mina paused, downing the leftover wine in her clear glass before carefully placing it away and taking a seat on your lap, letting you feel the softness of her bare thighs. Her small hands grabbed each side of your face, planting a deep kiss on your lips and spitting wine from her mouth to yours.

“The best way to drink wine is off the body of a naked woman,” Mina said, loosening her robe and giving you a peek of her bare chest as you swallowed the wine she had deposited into your mouth.

“Well, clearly you’re the wine expert, but I think I’ll need a demonstration.”

“I’ll be happy to give you one,” Mina said, dismounting your lap as you carefully laid her on her back with one hand, the other keeping your glass upright. She untied the belt of her robe completely, opening it up to expose her perky tits and killer set of abs that complemented such a perfect body.

Mina didn’t linger for a second, taking your glass from your hand and aiming it at her naked torso, tipping it over as dark wine stained her pale skin, the contrasting colors so gorgeous to gander at.

You admired her beauty for a moment before planting a kiss on her tight abdomen and gathering the wine on your tongue, drinking it all up and licking every inch of her sexy midriff.

“You’re right, this is the best way. It tastes even better,” you said, continuing to run your lips and tongue over the surface of Mina’s body, licking in in between her cleavage as she idly watched. Mina had been licked clean at your own accord, the delicious taste of wine lingering on your lips as you kissed her breasts and sucked on her nipples.

“I’ll give you something else to taste,” Mina said, the look on her face as devilish as possible as she pushed your body off hers, causing you to fall flat onto the couch. Moving rather quickly Mina divested her robe from her body, letting you take in the view of her beautiful naked body.

That moment didn’t last long, Mina now fully nude was delicious candy for your eyes but you only got to sample it as you felt her thick supple thighs locking around your head, using you as her seat cushion as she took a seat on your face. It was so abrupt that you barely had any time to react as you were smothered with the warm flesh of her wet heat, the slickness of her cunt introducing itself to your lips.

“You know what to do, don’t you?” Mina said, the cuteness of her tone contrasted with her sinister expression, and you didn’t dare keep her waiting as you darted your tongue and licked her pink slit several times. Mina gasped and began rolling her hips, gyrating her body and riding your face.

Mina’s taste was unforgettable, and this close you were quite literally breathing in her scent as you ate her pussy out, being suffocated with dripping pink flesh as you explored her folds with your tongue.

“I know you can do better than that,” Mina said as she put more of her weight down on you, smearing your lips and chin with her essence. You made sure not a single inch of her delicious pussy went without a swipe of your tongue as you took her swollen clit into your mouth and devoured Mina.

“There you go, eat that fucking pussy,” Mina demanded, grabbing the back of your head as she moaned and dug her nails into the back of your skull, aching to feel your tongue deeper than it was already. Her aggressiveness always caught you by surprise no matter how many times you had seen it, not that you minded for a second as your head was buried in between her luscious thighs.

Mina’s taste was so intoxicating, so satisfying to your palette more than any of the fancy restaurants that she had taken you that you could have done this all day long until the muscles in your jaw gave out.

“Almost there, don’t you dare fucking stop,” Mina moaned out as her thighs squeezed your head, pulling roughly at your hair with her fingers tangled in strands of it. You were powerless to do anything else, pinned to her couch and being a toy and you wanted nothing more.

There wasn’t anything quite like when Mina achieved climax, moaning in a mixture of Japanese and English and practically slurring every word that escaped her lips while her thighs vibrated around your head, hips bucking wildly out of control.

When Mina came was the highest her voice rose, the usual quiet demeanor of her was replaced by such filthy words filth would make a sailor blush. Screams and lustful moans filled the air as her honey dripped into your lips and you lapped up every drop eagerly.

Mina had finished the vigorous use of your face to climax all over, and you lamented the loss of her thighs squeezing your head, but if the look in her eye was anything to go by she wasn’t done with you.

“Good job. You’re proving to be quite useful.”

✦✦

(2:02 a.m.) My place. Now.

It didn’t matter that you had just brushed your teeth, put on your comfiest pair of pajamas and slipped under the covers. When Mina demanded her 2 a.m. booty call you answered, not even bothering to change as you entered the black sports car sent by her personal driver.

Mina answered the doorbell naked, without even so much as a hello you were brought into the familiar bedroom. Within seconds clothes formed a crumpled discarded pile. Build-up wasn’t a word used much in Mina’s vocabulary as she took you into her warm wet mouth for just a dozen or so strokes, if only to make sure you were rock hard and nothing else.

You quickly found yourself inches away from Mina’s naked body, her long legs spread wide in a familiar position that you couldn’t wait to dive into. Your throbbing shaft ached to feel the warmth of her body, but she had other plans as you felt something being jammed into your leg.

“My pussy is off-limits tonight,” she said, leaving you unsure to her reasons but you certainly weren’t ever going to complain about anal with Mina and welcomed the change of pace. She aided in lubing up your cock, using a freshly opened bottle and guided you towards her tight puckered hole.

Mina demanded your full attention, this time not bent over ready to be taken but kept on her back, wanting you to see her as you penetrated her back entrance. It was regrettable missing the view of her bent of beautiful ass, not that this position was lacking in anything while having the benefit of granting full vision of her Mina’s features.

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

You wouldn’t dare as you pushed your cock into the tight opening of her asshole, earning a loud gasp from her lips as you penetrated her. It was a feeling that never got old, the intense tightness that surrounded you as your tip disappeared into her warm hole was breathtaking.

“I want you deep,” Mina said, clearly no stranger to anal as she was able to relax her muscles to allow your shaft to sink deeper into her tight asshole. It didn’t take much, just a few smooth strokes until you filled her ass to the hilt.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” Mina moaned out, letting herself get used to the motions as she instinctively rubbed her clit on one hand as you fucked her ass, keeping her knees up and her feet flat on the sheets as her toes curled with pleasure.

You found a rhythm to fuck Mina with right away, watching the pure unadulterated bliss in her eyes as you slid in and out of her puckered hole, feeling the tight clench of it as you stretched her out little by little.

“So fucking tight. You like how that cock feels in your ass?”

“I do, but I’ll like it better when you stop talking and pound me.”

You got the hint and upped your pace, driving your shaft repeatedly into the overwhelming tightness of Mina. She freely moaned in response, the look in her lustful eyes always demanding more and you readily obliged, moving your hips even faster until you were pistoning into her gripping hole.

“Just like that, show me what that cock can do.”

Placing your hands on Mina’s soft creamy thighs, you gave into everything she desired and more as you fucked her deep as possible, giving perfectly smooth strokes into her ass without pause.

You had a hard time finding what to focus on, the tight little hole that was filled to the brim with cock, or Mina’s pretty face now contorted with pleasure and moaning with delight. The sensations around your body drove you insane, the intense tightness and heat surrounding your cock set your senses ablaze.

Mina had an equal sense of pleasure if the moans escaping her throat were anything to go by, and in no time you were absolutely drilling into her asshole, trying to force your shaft as deep into her body as it would go.

You loved every second of it, the way her tight hole squeezed the life out of your cock, it was a moment you wanted to last forever. The look of ecstasy in Mina’s eyes as you were balls deep in her ass, you wanted time to stop for eternity so you could spend every bit of it fucking her.

Sadly, your body had other plans for you, as it often did. The intensity of your thrusts picked up, and you felt that familiar feeling in your abdomen that you wanted to go away, trying to focus on how amazing Mina made your cock feel.

“Mina, I-I’m close.”

“Don’t even think about pulling out.”

You couldn’t, even if for some reason you wanted to it would be impossible to remove yourself from the tightness you felt yourself buried in. You kept Mina’s perfect features in your view, watching the deep satisfaction as you drove yourself towards orgasm. The end was near and you wanted to savor the last few moments, pumping harshly into her tight ass repeatedly.

“Give me it...give me all your cum in my ass...fill me,” Mina demanded, staring at you as sweat dripped down your brow. It wouldn’t be much longer, just a few more thrusts inside her was all you could take as you used what little remaining you had left.

With one more satisfying thrust you buried yourself to the hilt, filling Mina’s ass as you throbbed inside her, flooding her hole up with your abundant creamy load and grunting with every shot fired.

Your climax lasted what felt like forever as your balls were emptied into Mina, her tight cavern milking you dry until you were able to slowly withdraw from her gaping hole as a stream of thick semen leaked out that was the evidence of your combined pleasure.

“I expected more,” Mina said, taking a finger to her rawly used hole and taking a sample of your cum, licking it clean.

You held back on giving any reaction, unable to do much but try and catch your breath as you watched the mess you had left inside Mina.

“Clean yourself up, my driver will be here in ten minutes.”

✦✦

One of the many benefits being Mina’s companion was getting to visit countries you had only dreamed of, seeing them only in movies. Your passport went from being blank to having pages filled with dozens of stamps from places that some you hadn’t even heard of before and experiencing the comfort of first class.

You had seen so many different places yet it never got old, seeing a new place, full of new culture to learn. It had become tradition that with every new place came a new hotel suite, staying in rooms you swore were bigger than some apartments you’d lived in and you never got used to it.

It also became tradition that Mina loved breaking in hotel rooms by being fucked in them. The thrill of being in a different country with a different language and a different timezone was only second fiddle to knowing the sheets were going to be stained with your combined bodily fluids. Mina always left large bills as compensation for cleaning staff.

Between business meetings and visiting important tourist destinations, Mina still had time to fit in being fucked daily, this time outside of the balcony, giving anyone who looked outside their window a free show for all to see.

Mina was always busy which was par for the course during business trips, but her schedule had been packed to the brim the entire morning. The free time let you roam foreign streets on the lookout by yourself without any blonde eye candy on your arm, a rare instance where you felt naked not having her by your side.

The nighttime view was remarkable, the curtains drawn on the balcony window revealed one of the most gorgeous skylines you had ever seen in your life. It failed in comparison to the view of Mina on her knees with her soft lips wrapped around your throbbing shaft.

“F-fuck, Mina,” you kept moaning out loud, keeping a hand resting on the cold glass window as she loud slobbered on your cock. It wasn’t often that Mina treated you to a blowjob without anything in return, maybe she felt apologetic for being gone all day, maybe she just had an insatiable urge to shove your cock down the back of her throat.

You had to forcibly pry your attention away from the magic Mina was working on your shaft, not wanting to finish in her mouth right away. Looking up you saw the outside view, noticing the night sky filled with beautiful bright stars, tall lit up buildings with neon that could be seen miles away and a gorgeous full moon made up the perfect backdrop of the city.

It was all impossible to focus on.

The only thing that caught your attention was the blonde bobbing her head rapidly, keeping her eyes glued on you as she sucked you off and covered your shaft in her warm saliva. Mina was no slouch when it came to her oral skills, and it was up to her whether she wanted you to last thirty seconds or ten minutes.

It always caught you off guard, the contrasting nature of Mina in the bedroom and outside of it. She was always so elegant, so prim, so proper - and yet here she was so goddamn loud as she gave the sloppiest blowjob without a care in the world, throwing her former inhibitions away.

“Your balls must be so full, I do feel bad I didn’t have time to drain you earlier,” Mina said, letting her eyes do the rest of the talking as she pleasured your cock, holding on to your thighs firmly as her mouth and tongue went wild. You could only take so much from her, the look in her eyes almost taunting you to try and last any longer.

Mina knew all your weaknesses and focused on hitting them all at once, going for the killing blow. Soft lips swallowing every inch of your cock, her wet tongue wildly playing around all while keeping a seductive look on her features, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mina, I-I’m gonna fucking cum,” you moaned out, trying desperately to hold out for just a few moments longer.

“About time, let it all out. I expect you to cover me,” Mina said, removing your cock from the warmth of her mouth and aiming it towards her stunningly beautiful face. The air in the room became harder to take in as you took deeper breaths, watching Mina furiously stroking your cock and encouraging your release.

Your climax didn’t wait for you, the shared anticipation at its peak as you erupted and painted Mina’s face in thick white streaks, splashing her forehead, cheeks and those talented lips, groaning audibly with every spurt released. Mina didn’t stop until she was satisfied you were emptied, sucking the sensitive tip of your cock as your generous load began slowly dripping down her face.

It took the leftover strength you had to not collapse to the floor, the satisfied look of Mina’s gorgeous face now stained with hot semen was an unforgettable sight.

“You made quite a mess,” she said, flicking against your sensitive head and cleaning your cock with her tongue to make sure not a drop was wasted.

“I’m not done with you so you better have some saved up for me later. I’m going to have a very fun night with you.”

[vendettaparker]

Tom Holland x actress reader

Where are there in the same movie together and the cast goes out and Tom and reader really likes eachother maybe smut and after it’s really awkward between them fluff with a sprinkle of angst

Not In Love [T.H]

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: sexual themes, cursing, slight angst, probably some typos

a/n: hi hi! i’m so sorry but i don’t write smut, so i hope it’s ok that i just implied it! i will probably start writing smut in the future but for right now i find it a bit awkward for myself to write. also, sorry that this took so long to get out, i planned for this to only be like 800-1k words, and obvioulsy, it just kept going. hope this works well for you!

                             ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

     (Y/N) (L/N) does not fuck around with co-stars. Ever since you started acting at the young age of eight, you were always told by your mom, manager, and others in the industry to avoid casual, co-star related hook ups. As your career progressed, even through puberty, you remained faithful to your vow. No mingling with co-workers in a non professional manner. Sure, some of your previous co-stars and you remained good friends, even after filming. But the main internal lesson always stayed the same: don’t fuck your co-stars. 

     In your long and glorious career, the only hindrance to your resolve was Tom fucking Holland. His stupid British charm and playful wiles always had your knees buckling and the butterflies in your stomach going haywire. And when he called you darling? In that stupid, yet honey-like accent? You were done for. 

     Tom had the absolute pleasure of working with you in The Devil All The Time. He watched all of your movies and practically grew up watching you on Disney Channel. To say he was simply starstruck would’ve been an understatement, he was enamoured. Practically in love. And when he got to know how kind and sweet you were in real life—not just on screen— he just had to turn on his British charm, just to watch you squirm. 

     Every little comment he made caused your skin to tingle. Your stance on co-star relationships had never been so harshly challenged. He would constantly call you whatever cute pet name he could think of at the time, and unluckily for you, they always seemed to just roll right off his tongue. He even went out of his way to grab you a coffee if he went out to get one, or he’d ask his brother to make sure to bring back your signature order: caramel macchiato with almond milk, two pumps of vanilla, and extra caramel drizzle. How he knew that was your go to order was a mystery to you. 

     It’s not like you didn’t retaliate with your own antics though. Sometimes during his scenes you send him a wink and a smile, just to watch him lose focus. Or maybe you’d tease him about the way he says croissant, but then also say it in the over pronounced way he does, just to bug him. On days when the sexual tension between you two was especially palpable, you’d kiss his cheeks after his scenes and say “good job, babe” or something else to rile him up. So no, you weren’t innocent in this matter at all. 

                   ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

     This build up of tension was bound to boil over at some point. But why the fuck did it have to be during the fucking full cast and director dinner?

     You all arrived at the fancy restaurant, all 40+ of you. You sat next to Eliza and secretly hoped that Sebastian, Harry, or even Robert would take the seat next to you, anyone but Tom. He had been especially touchy that day, and you knew if he continued his ministrations, especially under the cover of a table, your resolve would surely fade away. 

     Unfortunately for you, Tom practically bolted to the seat next to you. You scooted a bit closer to Eliza, who nudged your shoulder playfully. 

     “You should just give in.” She stated, smirking the whole time. “Look at him, poor thing just wants some love and attention.” she giggled, nodding her head to where Tom was whispering with Harry on the other side of him. 

     “Stop it, you’re insufferable.” You rolled your eyes, but still smiled at the joking banter. 

     “(Y/N), hon, he’s one of the hottest celebrities in Hollywood right now, and he wants you.” Eliza pinched your makeup covered cheek, “you’re telling me you don’t wanna just jump in his pants? Do you not find him hot or something?” 

     You smacked her hand away, “No, I do find him attractive, I just d—”

     “Find who attractive, love?” Tom interrupted, smirking at the comment he heard. No, he didn’t know for sure you were talking about him, but one can hope. 

     “Nobody,” you dismissed, “I was just telling Eliza here that I think her dog is cute, right Eliza?” 

     “Sure.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes dramatically, then winking directly at Tom, just out of your view. 

     “Ah, I see.” He chuckled, “Yes, you find her dog attractive then?” 

     “No!” You defended, red faced from being backed into a hole, “I didn’t even use that word; you’re just hearing things.” 

     “Don’t worry, love. I find you absolutely, without a doubt, drop dead gorgeous.” Tom winked, before returning back to his conversation with Harry. 

     Eliza pinched your side, causing you to yelp. “See, I told you!” she whisper-yelled, a knowing smirk dawning her face. 

     “You didn’t tell me shit.” 

     “Ugh, whatever, you’re hopeless.” She sighed, just as the waiter was coming around to take your orders. 

     The majority of the evening went by just as simply and smoothly as possible, it was when dessert arrived that Tom stirred up trouble once again. His damned British charm made him the perfect devil in disguise.  

     “Darling, you have some cake right—” he licked his thumb before drawing it over your bottom lip, slowly, “here.” 

     He smirked at your surprised gaze and wiped the chocolate cake from your rose-painted lip. Never breaking his gaze, he drew his thumb back to his mouth and sucked on the digit, gently humming at the sweet taste of chocolate and strawberry lip gloss that flooded onto his tongue. This bitch. 

     You cleared your throat and ceased your—more than obvious— gawking. He wasn’t going to win this time. You sat quietly, smirking as he watched your every move, simply waiting for retaliation. And it came soon enough, when you knocked your water off the table into his lap, on accident, of course. 

     He jolted up the second the cold water hit his slacks, cursing, yet still keeping that charming smirk on his lips. You immediately started the steady stream of apologies, a faux look of remorse etched on your face. The rest of the cast simply looked on, none the wiser. 

     “Oh Tom! Gosh, I am so sorry.” You stood up as well, taking the napkin from your lap and dabbing his torso where the water splashed up. “I’m just so clumsy, forgive me.” You looked up at him with false serenity in your eyes, but a devilish grin. 

     “No worries, love.” He mused, “I’m just going to go dry off in the washroom. Could use some help though; it’s the least you could do.” The rest of the cast went back to their desserts and conversation, so they failed to notice the hidden glint in Tom’s eyes or the lustful insinuation behind his request. 

     “Sure.” You smiled up at him, determined not to lose this game of cat and mouse. You followed him to the large family restroom in a dimly lit corridor. He opened the door and gestured for you to go in first. What a gentleman, hm?

     He closed the door behind him and locked it before undoing the buttons on his dress shirt and removing it. His toned torso also damp with freezing droplets of ice water. 

     You sucked in a shaky breath, taking in his less than professional, disheveled look. “You gonna come help me, princess?” He reached for paper towels and grabbed a handful, dabbing the wet spot on his lap, right over his crotch. 

     “I—um, sorry,” you snapped out of it. Following his movements, doing the same but to his wet torso. 

     “You’re okay, love.” He looked at you, the close proximity of your bodies creating the most delicious heat in the bathroom. Tom leaned in slightly, just until your noses were brushing against one another. “Though, I’ll admit, the fact that you're not giving me an apology kiss right now, makes this a little less than okay.”

     You didn’t even process your actions completely, the second those words left his mouth yours lips were on his. You held his face in your hands, rough passion seeping through your entire body, and he was just the same. He kissed you fervently, holding your waist with one arm and the back of your head with his opposite hand, tangling his fingers into your hair. The tension and desire that had been building up for almost as long as you’ve known him finally boiling over. 

     Tom gingerly inched his hand up the side of your leg, under your dress. 

     “Wait, wait,” you pulled away, breathlessly, “we need to get back, they’re probably wondering where we are.” 

     Tom was about to concede when a knock rang through the room. 

     “Hey guys,” It was Eliza, “Seb paid for all of us, so we’re gonna head out. Take your time! Oh, and use protection!” You could practically hear the smirk on her face.  

     Tom stopped your little scowl by returning his attention to kissing you, “How lucky are we?” he mused, repositioning his hands, starting to fumble with the zipper of your dress. 

                   ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

     The next Monday at work was hell. You spent the whole weekend internalizing your little rendezvous in the bathroom. Tom texted you nearly fourteen times over the two day break period where you didn’t see each other, and you ignored every single one of them. The first ones were simple ‘hey’s’, ‘hi’s’, and ‘good morning’s’, but they soon progressed to show Tom’s concern over you not responding. The last message being, 

Tom: I hope you know, I don’t regret it, but I’m sorry if you do.

     You didn’t mean to ghost him, but your feelings were so confusing. You liked him and the things he did to you. But you had a code. And maybe the ‘don’t date your co-worker’ was a bit old school and shitty, but you’d been able to stick to it for this long and your work has never been better. Then again, all your previous boyfriends have been assholes; constantly upset over how busy your schedule was. Maybe a fellow actor would be more understanding? 

     The second you arrived to set Harry was on your ass. 

     “(Y/N), hey!” He called to you from the snack table where he was talking with Tom. You gave him a small smile and wave, but proceeded to your makeup chair. He motioned for you to join them, but you waved your hand in dismissal and gave him an apologetic look. Whether or not you regretted your night with Tom, you were absolutely not ready to confront it just yet. However, you didn’t miss the disappointed look on Tom’s face or the way Harry gave his brother a reassuring shoulder squeeze. 

     Harry even came up to you asking how your weekend was and if you were busy or not, no doubt trying to gauge your mood for Tom. You were friends with Harry so you didn’t mind talking to him, but when it was becoming apparent that you weren't giving much away as far as how you were feeling, Harry resorted to more ‘less than subtle’ questions. 

     “So… are you seeing anyone, currently?” He asked, playing with his fingers, the question struck you as extremely off-putting, especially since Harry said it with little to no confidence, like he really didn’t want to be asking that. 

     “Why? Are you trying to ask me out?” You teased. Watching him squirm was almost as fun as when it was Tom. 

     “No! No, I mean— I’m not opposed, you’re very pretty—no wait, I don’t mean it like that, I just—uh, I think you look nice, but not too nice—I’m gonna go.” Harry painfully stuttered out. Cursing under his breath as he walked away, back to where Tom was standing, watching on. These idiots were the most obvious divs in the whole world. 

     After you finished with your stylist, you were ready to start running lines for your scene. You have the majority of your scenes with Tom, so as per usual, you were acting opposite him. As the director was explaining how he wanted the scene to go, Tom kept glancing over at you, raising his eyebrows a bit, obviously wanting to clear the air. 

     The scene went by fine, but it was clear to many of the people around you that you were not on the top of your game today. It even got to the point where the director needed to ask if you needed a break. You said you didn’t and persisted. The scene was finally done to perfection, but it took almost double the amount of time it usually would for you. 

     Tom noticed you struggling the most and couldn’t help but feel guilty. He was quick to give you words of encouragement between takes, but you only responded with a quick ‘thanks’ and moved on. 

     When lunch time came around, the caterers were all set up and prepared on a different part of the lot. You quickly made your way over, running into Eliza on the way. 

     “Oh, hey (Y/N)!” she beamed at you. “Did you finish your scene?”

     “Yeah, are you going to set right now?” 

     “Mhm, I’m shooting the scene at the church with Robert.” 

     “Well, good luck.” You smiled at her, about to move along when she grabbed your wrist. 

     “Wait, did something happen between you and Tom? He’s at the lunch table moping, even Seb is trying to cheer him up.” 

     “Um well no, I mean, maybe? I don’t know, I guess I’ve been avoiding him a bit.” You shrug, now not really wanting to go to lunch, but you know you have to. If you don’t show up then it’d be all too clear to Tom that you were definitely avoiding him. 

     “Oh, well, maybe just talk to him?” Eliza comfortably put a hand on your shoulder before walking away to set. 

     You continued to the lunch set up, seeing club sandwiches, soups, and cupcakes set up. You grabbed what you wanted and went to sit by Tom and everyone else. Yeah, you may have been avoiding him, but you didn’t want to make it that painstakingly obvious. 

     As soon as you sat down, Tom put his arm around you like he always did when you had lunch together. Only this time you stiffened up, not because you hated it, but because the action felt so different after what you both had done, it felt like it meant more. Tom noticed, of course, and removed his arm, frowning. 

     “Can I talk to you, (Y/N/N)?” he whispered to you, the rest of the table in their own little world, too caught up in their interactions to notice yours. 

     “Um, sure,” you mumbled in response, “but maybe when I have free time later? I’m just really hungry right now.” you gave him a small smile, trying to keep up the amicability. 

     He nodded and continued his conversation with Seb, who looked completely uninterested, but still continued responding since he could tell Tom was feeling shitty about something. 

     Later that evening, the entire cast had a one hour break since the next scene they wanted to shoot needed to be done at night and it wasn’t dark yet. That’s when Tom took you to his trailer to talk. 

     “Look, (Y/N), I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I can’t help but feel like you’re avoiding me.” He stated, once the door was shut and you were already seated on his couch. 

     “I’m not.” 

     “But you are. I can tell. You didn’t talk to me at all today, even when I made a joke that I knew you’d have the perfect come back to.” He sat next to you, but kept more of a distance than usual.

      “I don’t have to talk to you, Tom. You can’t rely on me to keep you entertained.” You rolled your eyes, annoyed that you’d been caught. 

      “That’s not what I’m saying, (Y/N), and you know it.” Tom pointed a finger at you, equally annoyed now. 

     “Fine, so what if I was avoiding you? You’re a grown man, you can handle rejection can’t you?” You spat. The argument was quickly becoming more heated. If there was one thing you hated the most in the world, it was being called out, especially if you knew you were in the wrong. 

     “What the fuck is your problem today?” Tom asked, exasperated at how defensive you got so quickly. 

     “Tom, I’m sorry, but I don’t do this,” you motioned between the two of you, “I don’t do the cliche Hollywood, sleeps around, one night stand scenario, so back off.” 

     “So you regret it.” Tom looked down, trying to keep his emotions at bay. He really did like you, but maybe it was naive of him to assume that sleeping together would open the door to something more. 

     “No, I just—it shouldn’t have happened. I liked it, but I’m not that type of girl. I’m a relationship type of person. I never wanted to be another girl for you to mark down on your list of possible hook ups.” You sighed. Tom wasn’t necessarily notorious for random hookups, but he was a famous actor who just so happened to also be single. It was hard to not go there with your thoughts, so in your mind, you had him pegged. 

     “I’m a relationship person too, though. I wanted all of this. All of you.” Tom inched closer, gingerly taking your hands in his. “I may have gone about it wrong, I should’ve asked you out first or something.” 

     “Tom, stop.” 

     “No, (Y/N), because you’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t flirt with you or spend time with you just to get in your pants.” Tom pulled you closer. “I surrounded myself with you because I wanted you. And I think you want me too.”

     You looked in his eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity, small as it might be, but Tom was being the most sincere he could possibly be. Tom cautiously leaned closer, just wanting one more kiss, even if it was the last. However, you were the one that took the final plunge and pulled him in, kissing him. You both moved together so fluidly, like you were made for each other. 

     When you did pull apart, Tom was the one to break the silence, “So does that mean you like me or…” 

     “I kissed you, didn’t I?” 

[intheticklecloset]

The Great Academia Road Trip, Part 1 (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Summary: Class 1-A (plus Shinsou) is going on a road trip! In this first installment, Bakugou contemplates how he's going to get Deku back for cornering him before, having a little fun with the nerd along the way.

A/N: Welcome to the first official mini-series within the Primary Universe! I was hoping to do this more in the middle of summer than towards the end, but better late than never! I hope you enjoy taking a road trip with the students of Class 1-A - with plenty of tickling included! ^^

Shoutout to @ticklishscumbag for the "Bakugou loves strawberry milk" headcanon that is briefly referenced here.

Word Count: 1,796

**SPOILER ALERT:** This fic contains spoilers from Season 5 of the anime. (Below the cut.)

~~~

The door to Bakugou’s dorm room slammed open.

“Road trip!”

“What the—?!” Bakugou yelled, instinctively shoving his covers off and scrambling to his feet, heart racing from the anticipation of an oncoming battle. When he saw it was just Kirishima, he clutched his chest and yelled, “Kiri, you idiot! You gave me a heart attack!”

“Forget that,” Kiri replied easily, bounding inside with a huge grin on his face. “It’s road trip time! Where’s your bag? You packed it already, right?”

“Freakin’ – yeah, it’s over there.” The blonde gestured to his closet. “God dang, Kirishima.”

Kiri laughed, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “Sorry, dude. I’m just so excited, and we’re leaving in less than an hour! How could you still be asleep? Get dressed! Eat some breakfast! We’re gonna hit the rooooad!”

Bakugou grumbled as he shoved Kirishima back out his door, barely registering that his friend had grabbed his bag on his way out. Still, he couldn’t help but smile once he was alone. Today was the day. Their entire class – along with Shinsou, who would be entering the hero course next year – were taking a month-long trip around the country as both part of their training and as a vacation. Officially, they were touring the different prefectures and meeting the top heroes across the nation, learning how things worked in different places and sometimes even helping out if needed. Unofficially, they were getting away from the stress of school and the League of Villains for a while, making stops at popular tourist locations and having some down time to balance out the work they’d still be doing.

No rest for the weary, but honestly, Bakugou was looking forward to this trip just as much as Kirishima and the rest of the class were. He couldn’t wait to meet pro heroes in other prefectures, beat up some bad guys, and take a dip in the pool at the end of their long days. It was going to be great.

But first, he had to get dressed.

*

Downstairs, the entire dorm was alive with activity. It seemed everyone was either finishing up breakfast or hauling their gear out to the bus that was already waiting outside. Bakugou made a mental note to ask Kiri if he’d actually gotten his luggage all the way out there before they left. In the meantime, he headed to the fridge, hoping Sato hadn’t taken the last strawberry milk.

It was still there. He grinned, grabbed it, and twisted open the cap.

Just beyond his hearing range in the living room stood Iida, Kaminari, Ojiro, Shinsou, and stupid Deku. Bakugou narrowed his eyes. He still hadn’t gotten the nerd back for tickling him to death while he was trapped under his bed last week. He was rather looking forward to finding ways to mess with him on this trip in retaliation.

“Baku-bro!” Sero said by way of greeting, slapping him on the back. “Good morning! Ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure.” Bakugou took a swig of strawberry milk, savoring the flavor, trying not to let it show how much he loved it. “Where’s Kiri?”

“Probably taking Mina’s bag out to the bus. He already grabbed mine and his own.”

“Mine, too.”

Sero laughed. “He’s pretty excited.”

“Yeah, well…” Bakugou shrugged. “It’s a good opportunity.”

“I take it that means you’re excited, too? Good! It wouldn’t be any fun if you were a grump the whole time. Though we have ways of making you cheer up nowadays, don’t we?” Sero winked, nudged him, and moved on to the next person, greeting them enthusiastically as he made his way to the front door.

Bakugou scowled. He supposed he would have been stupid to think he’d get a break from his own torture just because they were on a tour of the country. Oh, well. As long as no one else found out, he’d survive.

He took another drink just as Deku suddenly broke away from his group and hurried past him toward his own dorm room.

Must have left some All Might backpack or something, he thought, grunting. Stupid nerd.

*

Somehow, despite the fact that it was obvious the two of them didn’t get along, Bakugou wound up seated next to Shinsou right in the middle of the bus. Kaminari had practically shoved him into the taller boy’s lap, much to both of their annoyance.

“Bakugou,” Shinsou greeted coolly, polite but not much more than that.

The blonde bit his tongue to resist calling him a mind-reader again. “Shinsou.”

After that, the two lapsed into silence as the bus finished loading, pulled out of the school grounds, and made its way onto the highway.

It was a long, grueling twenty minutes before Bakugou finally sighed angrily and got up, turning on his heel to stride toward the back of the bus to where Kiri and Deku were sharing a seat.

He interrupted their conversation without an apology. “Deku, switch with me.”

Deku blinked. “What?”

“Swap seats with me. You’re friends with that freak from 1-C, right?”

“He’s not a freak. And yes, we’re friends.”

“Then swap with me. I don’t want to be near him.”

Kirishima gave him a withering look. “You’ll have to get used to having him around sooner or later. When he joins the hero course, there’s a fifty percent chance he’ll be in our class.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

Deku poked his head up over the seat in front of him, glancing to where Shinsou now sat alone. He stood to do as Bakugou asked, but before he could even get a step down the aisle, Kirishima shot out in front of him, declaring, “I’ll sit with him! I never get to talk to the guy.”

“Wait – I don’t want to sit with stupid Deku, either!” Bakugou yelled. “What are you doing?”

Kiri turned back to him. “It’s Shinsou or Midoriya. Take your pick.”

Bakugou gritted his teeth, growled, and shoved Deku down into the seat he’d just vacated. “Fine. Move over, nerd.”

Deku smiled, scooting over to the window seat to allow the blonde to sit with him while Kiri moved up to join Shinsou.

More silence.

“You’re not going to make it, you know,” Bakugou said at last, crossing his arms.

Deku startled. “What?”

“To the end of the trip. You won’t make it back.”

“Why?”

“Because you declared war, idiot. And I’m not going to lose to you.”

The greenette was silent for a long moment, seeming lost. Then it clicked, and his face brightened. “Yeah? Well, I’m not losing to you, either. So where does that leave us?”

“With you begging me for mercy.”

“Or you begging me.”

“Never.”

Deku smirked, then glanced out the window at the passing scenery. Bakugou smirked, too. This was going to be an interesting road trip for the both of them.

*

Several hours later – after they’d arrived at their first destination, unloaded, trained, had dinner, and were wrapping up for the day – Bakugou stood just inside the door of the four-person room he was sharing with Kirishima, Tokoyami, and Shoji, waiting patiently. Any minute now, Deku would pop into the hall on his way to the shared bathroom to clean up before bed, and he’d pass Bakugou’s room on his way to do so. It was just a matter of time now.

There he was.

Bakugou reached into the hall, grabbing Deku by the back of his shirt and pulling him into the currently empty room, throwing him onto a bedroll. Then he pounced, climbing on top of him and digging his fingers into his sides, ribs, and underarms in rapid succession.

Deku burst into hysterical giggles, shocked and confused for just a moment before his brain caught up to what his body was feeling. “Ahahahahahahaha Kacchan! Nahahahahahahaha!”

“So about this tickle war you’ve so stupidly decided to start with me, nerd.” Bakugou spoke casually, though he smirked at his friend’s useless attempts to get away. “How do we know who’s won? Begging for mercy doesn’t seem like enough, since I get you to do that anyway during our normal tickle fights.”

“I-I mahahahahahake you beheheheheg, too!” Deku protested, earning a sharp jab into his hip bone for his trouble. He squealed and laughed. “NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

“Like I was saying, I don’t think it’s enough to end a tickle war. What exactly was your plan going into this?”

“I dohohohohohohon’t knohohohohohow!” Deku writhed on the ground, smiling wide and pushing at Bakugou’s hands weakly. “I dihihihihidn’t thihihihihihihink about it!”

“Well, think now.”

“I cahahahahahahahan’t! Y-You’re distrahahahahacting me!”

Bakugou hummed, swinging a leg over to straddle Deku and reach up into his underarms, drawing out a fresh burst of laughter and kicking. “Better come up with some excuse.”

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHA KACCHAHAHAHAHAHAN!!”

“Is it because you can never beat me on your own? You’ve got to use furniture to help you come out on top?” Bakugou half-mocked, half-teased. “Is that why you decided it was smart to challenge me like that?”

“IT WAS JUHUHUHUHUHUST – JUST AN OPP-P-PFFAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Deku tossed his head back and laughed freely, still trying to push Bakugou away with whatever strength he had left after the long day and the surprise tickle attack. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Opportunity? Is that what you were trying to say?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHES!!”

“Interesting. An opportunity to come after me while I was completely helpless, right?” Bakugou left his underarms at last, trailing back down to his sides and belly. “Because that’s the only way you can really win against me.”

“P-Plehehehehehease,” Deku whined, looking up at him with mirthful but tired eyes. “Lehehehet me gohohohoho, Kacchan…”

Bakugou thought a moment, then relented entirely, grabbing Deku’s wrists and pinning them down by his head, looming over him. “I’ll let you go for now, nerd, since the others will be back soon. But you’d better start watching your back extra closely from now on, because when I catch you, I will not show mercy until you’re pleading for it.”

Deku’s eyes widened, but he nodded, and Bakugou released him and stood up just as Tokoyami returned from the bathroom.

“Midoriya,” he said, “I’m fairly certain sleepovers are not allowed.”

“Oh, n-no, I was just…” Deku trailed off, then laughed and got to his feet. “Ah, never mind. I’ve still got to get ready for bed. Night, guys!” And he hurried out of the room, waving as he went.

Tokoyami turned to Bakugou. “Why was Midoriya here?”

Bakugou scoffed. “Stupid nerd wanted to get his butt handed to him, that’s what.” The blonde flopped onto his own bedroll and turned toward the wall, facing away from Tokoyami and the door.

“All right, then…” Tokoyami muttered, then went blissfully silent.

Bakugou grinned at the wall.

This was going to be the best road trip ever.

~~~

Part 2

[sceptilemasterr]

Endless Winter (ES Book 2) Act 2, Scene 5 - A New Year Dawns

Title: Endless Winter

Main Pairings: Estela x Ian (M!MC), Jake x Alyssa (F!MC)

Other Pairings: Craig x Zahra, Grace x Aleister, Michelle x Quinn, Diego x Varyyn

Genre: Full Rewrite

Rating: PG-13 for swearing, violence, alcohol, and sexuality

Summary: It's New Year's Eve on La Huerta, and the Catalysts are determined to make the most of it.

Previous Scene: Any Port in a Storm

Masterlist: Link

INT. ELYSIAN LODGE RESORT - LOBBY

Several hours later, the sun is just beginning to set outside the windows of the Elysian Lodge’s expansive lobby, which has been completely transformed into an ornate party room, complete with marked-out dance floor in the center of the area. A series of tables laden with food have been set up near the walls, with a haphazard arrangement of various candles scattered around. Craig, dressed in a tight-fitting dress shirt and tie, leads Furball around the room as the little fox freeze a series of impromptu “ice coolers” around the bottles of champagne and other drinks scattered about.

CRAIG: Nice job, little guy!

FURBALL (proudly): Mrrrrrffff!

Raj emerges from the kitchen, dressed in a suit and tie with an apron over it, bringing another food-laden tray out into the lobby. Quinn follows close behind with a tray of desserts, a similar apron to Raj covering her ornate blue dress.

QUINN: Where should I put these?

RAJ: Over here is good!

He indicates a table, and she sets her tray down. Raj looks down at one of the fruit trays and frowns.

RAJ: Hey… has someone been eating all the strawberries?

CRAIG: Don’t look at me… but I think I spotted Alyssa usin’ some strawberries to practice her Time Lord stuff.

RAJ: Aww… (brightens) Ah, never mind! Good for her. If I know anything, it’s that the Time Twins are gonna be the key to getting us out of this place. Besides, there’s still a bunch more fresh strawberries in the kitchen fridge!

FURBALL (excitedly): Ffrrrruuulll!

A few of the Vaanti trickle in, all wearing haphazard mismatches of formalwear. Varyyn, dressed impeccably in a suit and tie, accompanies them.

VARYYN: Hello, Centaurus. I am told today is your people’s New Year celebration. I thank you for inviting us.

Varyyn bows deeply. Raj blushes and laughs.

RAJ: No need to be so formal, Varyyn! You invited us to your festival the other day, the least we can do is return the favor!

Michelle and Ian enter the lobby, chatting animatedly about school. Michelle is wearing a sparkling golden dress, while Ian is dressed in a black tuxedo with matching bowtie.

MICHELLE: --so I think you’d only need one more bio elective if you already finished Genetics and Ecology. And the MCAT, of course, but I’m pretty sure you can take that anytime…

Michelle’s voice trails off as she sees the newly redecorated lobby. Behind her, Sean and Grace walk in, chatting excitedly to one another.

MICHELLE: Wow! Look at this place; Raj, you did all this?

Raj turns and grins broadly at her.

RAJ: Yep! With plenty of help, of course. Quinn here was--

He stops abruptly when he turns and sees Quinn is no longer in the lobby. He frowns, puzzled.

RAJ: …Uh, Quinn was right here a minute ago. Huh.

IAN: This place looks amazing! Perfect for a Raj party!

RAJ: Haha, thanks!

ALYSSA (O.S.): Alright, let’s get this thing started!

Alyssa strides confidently into the lobby, wearing a long white dress with a plunging neckline. Michelle looks her up and down approvingly.

MICHELLE: Wow. Looking good, Alyssa!

ALYSSA: Thanks, Michelle! You too!

Alyssa frowns as she looks around the room, evidently searching for something.

RAJ: Hey, Alyssa, everything okay?

ALYSSA: Yeah, I’m fine, just.. y’seen Top Gun anywhere?

It takes Raj a moment to realize who she is referring to.

RAJ: Oh, you mean Jake? Actually, I haven’t seen him since--

A sudden commotion from the top of the lobby stairs draws Raj’s (and everyone else’s) attention. Emerging from the second-floor hallway, Jake, Estela, Quinn, Diego, Aleister, and Zahra stand on the landing, all fully done-up and impeccably dressed. Alyssa, Ian, Michelle, Varyyn, Grace, and Craig all stare open-mouthed at the sight of their respective significant others, completely lost for words. Estela frowns.

ESTELA: What? What are you all looking at?

RAJ: Hey, there you all are! Come and join the party!

All of them descend the staircase, though Estela is blushing heavily as she does so. She doesn’t look entirely comfortable in her formal dress. When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she beelines immediately for Ian.

IAN (stunned): I… uh. You. Wow.

ESTELA (shyly): I… I know Raj wanted us to dress up for New Year’s, but I never… really went to big parties or anything. Is this right?

Ian smiles warmly at her as he takes her hand in his.

IAN: More than right. Wow. Uh... I actually can’t even think of any other words right now.

In spite of herself, Estela giggles.

ESTELA: You… uh, you’re looking pretty good yourself.

Ian blushes heavily. Near the back of the room, Raj plugs his phone into the stereo system, but nothing happens. He frowns.

RAJ (frustrated): Damn, and here I thought this would work…

Craig and Zahra approach him.

CRAIG: Man, can’t believe it’s been a whole year already.

ZAHRA (frowning): …It hasn’t. We skipped six months, remember?

CRAIG: Oh. Right. Duh. I knew that!

ZAHRA: Raj, y’need some help?

RAJ: Yeah, I’m tryin’ to get the music working, but…

Zahra takes his phone in her hands and fiddles with it for a few moments. Before long, party music starts playing through the whole resort.

RAJ: Awesome! Thanks, my dudes!

CRAIG: Anytime!

ZAHRA: Craig, you didn’t do anything.

CRAIG: What? Naw, I… uh…

Any retort he may have had is cut short when he looks back at her in her formal dress. Craig can only stare open-mouthed.

ZAHRA: Huh. Guess there may be perks to dressin’ up like this after all…

Zahra playfully reaches out a finger and closes Craig’s mouth for him. Near one of the tables, Jake pours himself a glass of whiskey and raises it into the air.

JAKE: So! Who’s up for a toast?

ALYSSA: Personally, I can’t believe I’m still sober. Drink, please!

ESTELA: What are we having?

Jake grins and glances toward Ian.

JAKE: Why don’t we let Hero Boy pick?

IAN (surprised): I… what?!

ALYSSA (smirks): You heard him, “Hero Boy.”

Ian looks nervously at the assortment of drinks laid out on the table, feeling put on the spot.

IAN: I, uh…

Alyssa nudges him, glancing meaningfully toward the glass of whiskey in Jake’s hand.

IAN: Alright, how about this one?

He grabs a similar glass to Jake and pours himself some whiskey as well, then pours two more glasses for Alyssa and Estela. Estela takes a sniff of her glass and frowns.

ESTELA: What is this? It smells like sawdust.

JAKE: Trust me, there’s an art to whiskey. Now, the key to appreciating it is--

ESTELA: Getting it over with. Cheers.

She clinks her glass against Ian’s and throws back the whiskey. She winces.

ESTELA: It burns.

IAN: That bad, huh? Sorry, I--

ESTELA: Pour me another.

JAKE: Looks like Dragon Rage’s a fan, y’all.

Ian pours Estela another shot of whiskey as the four of them clink glasses and toast to the new year. In another area of the party, Varyyn and a few of his Vaanti warriors sip their own drinks as they chat with Diego, Lila, Raj, and Quinn.

VARYYN: It is interesting that your people count your years. You say this year is…?

DIEGO: Well, in a few more hours, it’s about to be 2018.

RAJ: Y’know what Varyyn here needs? One of those party sunglasses with the year on ‘em. Then he’ll never forget!

He, Quinn, Lila, and Diego burst into laughter. Diego claps Varyyn’s shoulder and pulls him into a hug.

DIEGO: Varyyn, I know you probably don’t get it right now, but we will take a picture next year while wearing those, okay?

VARYYN (warmly): I trust your judgement, my light.

Diego and Varyyn snuggle into one another as Quinn glances wistfully across the room. The camera follows her gaze to where Michelle stands chatting idly with a few of the others…

Some time later, the sun has set and most of the Catalysts are noticeably tipsier than they were previously. Several of the Vaanti warriors excitedly clink glasses of whiskey together with a triumphant cheer, then all down their drinks in one shot as Zahra looks on approvingly after downing her own glass.

ZAHRA: Doin’ great, guys! Now this is a New Year’s party!

Behind her, Aleister takes a seat at the grand piano as Michelle stands beside him. The others all crowd around. Aleister begins to play Auld Lang Syne.

MICHELLE (singing): Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never come to mind…

Aleister accompanies her, infusing each note with a delicate, classical touch. A few people sniff back tears, including Quinn and Grace.

MICHELLE (singing): For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne…

Alyssa looks pensively up toward the ceiling while Jake wraps an arm around her. Estela and Ian look deep into one another’s eyes. Raj sniffs back a tear. As Michelle begins the final part of the song, Quinn stands up and joins her:

MICHELLE AND QUINN (singing): We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, For auld lang syne!

Everyone bursts into applause. Aleister stands and takes a formal bow. Quinn and Michelle look at one another; Michelle is the first to blush and look away. Jake walks up and claps Aleister on the back.

JAKE: Nice job, Schroeder. Didn’t think you had it in you.

ALEISTER: Ah. You are most welcome. I did enjoy that quite--

RAJ: Whoa! Everyone, hold up! I almost forgot; we still gotta sing “Happy Birthday!”

Everyone looks back at Raj. He grins broadly and gestures to the crowd.

RAJ: Dunno if I mentioned it to everyone yet, but with the skip forward in time, we missed a bunch of birthdays! Including Aleister, and the Time Twins here! …Not to mention myself, of course!

He steps between Alyssa and Ian, pulling them both into a group hug.

RAJ: Anybody else we missed? Who’s had a birthday between… uh…

GRACE: June 6th and December 26th!

Aleister, Michelle, Craig, Quinn, Estela, Zahra, Raj himself, and the Czasa twins all raise their hands.

RAJ: Alright, cool! Aleister, if you don’t mind?

He gestures to the piano. Aleister nods and takes his seat once again at the keys.

DIEGO: Are we even allowed to sing it? I heard it was copyrighted--

CRAIG: Who’s gonna stop us, bro? Unless… (completely seriously) Dude, does Rourke own the rights to Happy Birthday? That’d be his most evil plan yet!

Zahra shakes her head and sighs. Aleister begins to play, and everyone else starts singing along, with the Vaanti catching on after the first few bars…

EVERYONE (singing): Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear…

A variety of names are all shouted out at once. Ian makes a point to sing Estela’s name rather than his own, and she likewise sings his name in return. They both smile warmly at one another.

RAJ (excitedly): Dudes, that was flawless! Best birthday song ever!

CRAIG: Ha! Take that, Rourke!

Everyone applauds and hugs one another after the song. Lila stands off to one side, glancing around at the others with a strange expression on her face. She glances around furtively for a moment, then quietly slips upstairs as the others continue celebrating.

SEAN (shouting): Hey! Don’t forget, it’s only a few minutes ‘til midnight!

Everyone startles at this pronouncement, glancing at various clocks… which all show completely different times. Sean shrugs.

SEAN: Well… as close as I can tell, anyway. Who knows on this island?

ALYSSA (laughing): Fair enough. Alright, let’s do this!

RAJ: Craig, you ready for our master surprise?

CRAIG: You know it!

Craig and Raj lead the others up onto the roof of the Elysian Lodge. A large crate full of red flares has been set against one edge of the roof; Craig rushes toward it excitedly with a lighter in his hand.

MICHELLE (worriedly): Uh… guys?

JAKE: Are those flares?

Craig stops and turns around, grinning broadly.

CRAIG: Yup! One of those commando dudes dropped ‘em! Me and Raj thought--

JAKE (fiercely): Don’t you dare light those--

RAJ: Aww, c’mon, don’t ruin our fun! I’d have thought you’d be all about this! What’s the harm in--

Estela crosses her arms and steps closer to Raj, glaring angrily.

ESTELA: So, right now, we’re hiding from a death squad of highly trained, well-armed mercenaries… and your plan is to shoot off a bunch of flares directly over our location.

She holds her death glare on the two of them. There is an awkward silence before Craig and Raj finally glance at each other, both clearly embarrassed.

CRAIG: Okay, when you put it like that…

RAJ: Sorry guys. No fireworks this year.

Raj looks down dejectedly and starts heading toward the stairs, when suddenly:

GRACE: Wait! Look!

Everyone follows her gaze off toward a distant mountain range, where the sky is lighting up in beautiful, otherworldly colors. Jake and Alyssa exchange a shocked glance: the colors are identical to those they had seen during their first day on La Huerta, back at the airstrip.

SEAN: What is that?!

VARYYN: Ah, the Lights of Vaanu. Among our people, they are believed to be a sign of good fortune to come.

JAKE: Dunno about y’all, but I’d say we could definitely use some good fortune right about now.

Raj shrugs.

RAJ: Well, it’s not fireworks, but it’s close enough for me! Fifteen seconds ‘til midnight!

Everyone starts looking around at one another, most of them pairing off: Alyssa with Jake, Aleister with Grace, Craig with Zahra, Diego with Varyyn, and two of the Vaanti with one another. Quinn looks as though she is about to approach Michelle, but shies away at the last minute. Ian nods toward Estela, who approaches him. Ian starts to turn away, when Alyssa not-so-subtly kicks him with her heel, pushing him back toward Estela.

IAN (annoyed): ‘Lyss!

He bumps into Estela, who awkwardly catches him in her arms.

ESTELA: Oh! …Hey.

IAN (awkwardly): …Hey.

Everyone else starts counting down from ten. Ian scratches the back of his neck and glances away from Estela. Alyssa shoots him an “are you kidding me?” glance, while Diego raises his eyebrows so far that they nearly vanish into his hairline. Ian sighs and nods in acknowledgement, then takes a deep breath.

EVERYONE: Five… four… three…

Estela steps close, the brilliant otherworldly lights reflecting in her deep brown eyes as she and Ian gaze at one another.

ESTELA: I…

EVERYONE: Two… one… HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The other couples all pull one another into New Year’s kisses as those who are single celebrate in their own ways. Ian starts to hesitate, then relents and pulls Estela into a deep kiss. When they part, Estela smiles up at him.

ESTELA (laughs): I almost thought I would have to do everything myself. Again.

IAN (laughs): Guess I just thought… I was worried you might not want--

He is interrupted by Estela pulling him back in for another kiss. Elsewhere, near the rooftop jacuzzi, Diego and Varyyn sit side-by-side, just breaking apart from their own midnight kiss.

VARYYN: This tradition of yours. Kissing at midnight.

DIEGO (awkwardly): Well, it’s not exactly my tradition--

VARYYN (warmly): I enjoy it quite a lot. Does it apply only to midnight?

DIEGO: Well, uh, if you’re asking if we can kiss again… I won’t say no.

VARYYN (ecstatic): Wonderful! Then, may I…?

Diego nods, and he and Varyyn kiss once more. In the background, Raj can be seen nodding at the two of them, and Craig groans and hands over some cash. Elsewhere, Jake and Alyssa stand hand-in-hand, gazing off at the multicolored lights.

JAKE: Looks familiar, huh?

ALYSSA: How could I forget? That was kind of a big day for me. Y’know.

JAKE: Why, ‘cuz you met me?

ALYSSA (teasingly): Don’t get too excited, Top Gun. A lot more happened than just that.

JAKE: Alright, answer this: were you really looking at those lights the whole time?

ALYSSA: I--

She laughs and rolls her eyes in tacit admission that her attention had indeed been elsewhere at the time. Jake wraps his arms around her and pulls her in close.

ALYSSA: What do you say we take this somewhere else?

JAKE: What were you thinkin’, Princess?

ALYSSA: Somewhere with a bed, if you know what I mean…?

JAKE: I am never gonna say no to that. Lead on.

Alyssa takes him by the hand and leads him back downstairs. As the night continues on, several other couples do the same. Diego and Varyyn are on their way toward the stairs when Diego stops for a moment near where Ian and Estela are sitting.

DIEGO: Go ahead, Varyyn, I’ll catch up. I’ve just gotta check on something first.

Varyyn nods and continues down the stairs. Diego approaches Ian and Estela, resting a hand on the former’s shoulder.

IAN: What’s up?

DIEGO: Can I talk to you for a sec?

IAN: Uh… sure?

Ian gives Estela an apologetic look, and she nods in response. Diego leads him over to a secluded area of the rooftop and lowers his voice.

DIEGO: You know the night’s not over yet, right?

IAN (genuinely confused): What?

DIEGO: Ian! Seriously! Surely you noticed the other couples heading off, right? Me included?

IAN: Yes… and?

Diego seems to be fighting the urge to facepalm.

DIEGO: You. Estela. Do I need to say anything more?

IAN (nervously): Okay, I get what you’re saying, but… where would we even go? It’s not like the lobby is exactly private, and--

DIEGO: This is a hotel, Ian! Are you kidding right now? All the bedrooms you could possibly want! Just go find one!

IAN (laughs): Alright, alright. I’ll ask her. You know, she might say ‘no’--

DIEGO: With how she’s been looking at you all this time? If she says ‘no,’ I’ll literally eat my shoe. Not even kidding. (sighs) Just ask her, would you?

IAN: Will do, Diego. And thanks for the push.

DIEGO (shrugs): What can I say? It’s kinda my job.

He nods at Ian, then turns to rejoin Varyyn and head back downstairs. Ian steels himself, then heads back toward Estela.

ESTELA: What was that all about?

IAN (awkwardly): Diego. He, uh, not-so-subtly hinted that… we should… y’know, ‘find a bedroom.’

ESTELA (coyly): Oh? And what did you think about that?

Ian scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

IAN: Well, uh… if you said ‘no,’ I’d definitely understand--

ESTELA (genuinely confused): …Why would I say ‘no?’

IAN: Dunno, guess I just thought--

She holds a finger up to his lips and smiles.

ESTELA: You think too much.

With a wink, she takes him by the hand and leads him downstairs…

_______________________

Note: If anyone was wondering, Ian was born at 11:59 PM December 31st, 1995, and Alyssa was born at 12:01 AM January 1st, 1996.

Next: The Fourteenth Vaalta (Coming soon!)

CIU Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlesshero1122 @bbaba-yagaa @acidsugar0 @shaylan211 @griselda1121 @acanthisorbis @marmolady @choicesbabie @mauvecatfic

Endless Summer Tag List: @mysteli @edgydepressedchoicesthot @endlessly-searching-for-you @lovelywrites

[liberty-barnes]

The Swear Jar

Part 1 of The Jar Series

Mob Boss!Tom Holland x Single Mom!Reader

Prompt: “I've never said a single fucking swear word in my whole damn life”

Warnings: swearing obviously, Tom’s a mob boss so there’s that, there’s like, one sexual innuendo but also ??? not really??? idk

Word Count: 4k (i really need to learn to write short things)

Estimated Reading Time: 16 minutes

A/N: It’s the pic guys, I can’t help it.

Edit: Wow, you guys actually liked this! So since many of you asked, a part will be coming out soon, maybe more, we’ll see. So if you wanna be added to my “The Swear Jar” Taglist, just ask me or add yourself directly through the link in my bio!

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

The bell above the door to the diner chimed and you perked up, smiling brightly at the young teenage couple.

“Gracie! Stella! It’s so good to see you again!”

The girls greeted you with the same amount of enthusiasm and proceeded to order their usual meal.

“Your hair’s really pretty Stella! You look like a mermaid now!”

“Thanks, Millie! I took your advice and went with blue instead of purple.”

The young girl smiled and captured the couple’s attention by showcasing her current work in progress.

Millicent Rose (Y/l/n) was your five-year-old daughter. She had brown hair, falling on her shoulders in nice large curls, and big (y/e/c) eyes, a perfect match to yours. She loved drawing (the diner walls were crawling with her masterpieces) and pretty hair, especially if it was soft. 

Her bubbly and fearless personality sometimes frightened you, but you mostly came to terms with the fact that your daughter was a social butterfly and took full advantage of the small diner to interact with as many people as she could.

You watched with a fond smile as Millie explained what she had been drawing to the girls, mentioning every little detail while they praised her good work. The young brunette had a gift to make anyone love her.

Soon enough, their large milkshake to share was finished and Lou, the owner and cook, was all done with the food so the girls sat down at a booth and Millie went back to drawing, little feet dangling off the chair and little brows furrowed in concentration. 

As you were refiling Mr and Mrs Lee’s drinks, the bell chimed once more and four men walked in dressed in stylish suits, much too fancy for this place. They sat down at a booth and started talking while you took a deep calming breath.

Oh, fuck me.

You took your notepad and walked over to them, a much too fake smile on your face.

“Good morning gentlemen, what can I get you?”

The table quieted down and you made eye contact with who you knew to be the leader.

“I’ll have a burger with fries and a strawberry milkshake.”

One of the twins said.

“I’ll have the same but with a chocolate milkshake instead.”

The other one added.

“Vegi burger and a coke, please.”

At least the blonde one had some manners. 

Your eyes lifted from the notepad to the leader once again.

“And for you?”

You did your best to ignore the slight tremble in your voice.

“Bacon cheeseburger, fries and a coke, darling.”

“Right away.”

You got out of there as soon as possible, sparing a glance at your daughter to make sure she was still sitting at the counter before entering the kitchen with a panicked expression on your face.

“Lou…”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You’ve got an order… for the Hollands…”

“Well, shit.”

The Holland family was the oldest and most successful mob in London, extremely rich, dangerous, and seemingly untouchable.

Harry and Sam Holland, the twins, were rumoured to have been behind the Burtons’ death, another famous family known for drug trafficking and other crimes.

Harrison Osterfield, the second in command, was a close family friend, accused of drug trafficking, illegal weapons selling, and other such crimes, though the charges all dropped before the first hearing even took place.

And finally, Thomas Holland, the leader. Arrested for multiple murders, arson, extortion, and a long list of other felonies, but never convicted.

Everyone was scared of them, and the fact that they were eating here was not good for business. 

You ignored the tightness in your chest in favour of helping Lou prepare their food, hoping to do it as fast as possible so the group could leave.

Meanwhile, at the booth, Tom was rolling his eyes at his brothers and friend’s stupidity. 

“Okay, we get it, she’s hot, but you don’t have to talk about it all the fucking time.”

Millie turned her head in their direction and scowled. She stretched a bit to the other side of the counter to take the transparent jar and got down from her chair, making her way to their booth, stomping a bit, which made her Sketchers light up.

The diner watched with curious (and slightly frightened, for the Lees) eyes as the little girl climbed onto the booth next to Harrison, one leg after the other, and kneeled next to the blonde, setting her elbow on the table and stretching so the transparent jar was now sitting in front of Tom.

He looked at it: a lid-less mason jar with a pink bow and right in the front, in a child’s handwriting and pink glittery letters were the words 'Swear Jar’.

“You owe a pound.”

He lifted his head to look at the girl.

“I beg your pardon?”

“When someone says a bad word they have to put a pound in the jar. You said a bad word so you owe a pound.”

“I’ve never said a single fucking swear word in my whole damn life!”

“That’s two more so you have to put three pounds in.”

“Yeah, Tom, put the money in.”

Harrison had his arms around the girl and a smug smile on his face, evidently taking a liking to the young brunette.

“Shut the fuck up Haz, you curse more than I do!”

“Four.”

“Shit.”

That one was not on purpose.

“Five.”

“Okay, okay, jeez, hold on.”

He took out his wallet and took his only five-dollar bill amid all the hundreds.

“Just gonna put the money in this stupid jar.”

“Six.”

“Wha- stupid’s not a swear word!”

“I’m not allowed to say it so yes, it is.”

Tom rummaged around his wallet for a stray pound, reluctantly putting a hundred in after finding nothing.

“Does that mean I’m allowed to say ninety-nine swear words?”

“No paying in advance, everything that’s not the money you owe is a donation.”

“To what foundation?”

“The ‘get Millie new glitter pens’ foundation”

She answered with a smirk and everyone -bar Tom- was pretty much crying at seeing their boss be told what to do by a five-year-old.

“Man, you are so screwed!”

“That’s one pound for you, Mister!”

“Oh shit, right!”

“Two…”

Harry took out his wallet (still laughing his arse off, mind you) and didn’t even try to look for the two pounds, simply putting in a hundred.

Millie’s eyes were focused solely on Tom’s hair. She climbed on top of Harrison, her pink tulle skirt flying behind her and stood on the seat next to the brunette, her hands immediately flying to his hair.

“You have very pretty hair. It’s really soft.”

“Thank you, darling.”

She hummed and kept playing with the soft strands.

“My name’s Tom, and these are my twin brothers Harry and Sam, and my best friend, Haz.”

She looked around for a while, not answering, seemingly lost in thought until she looked back at him and her sparkling (y/e/c) eyes focused on his brown ones.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy. I’m Millie.”

“T-Tommy?”

Sam stuttered out between peels of laughter.

“I don’t like Tom, Tommy’s better. Why are you so shocked Twin Nice?”

Harry looked appalled.

“Why's he Twin Nice?”

“Because you said a bad word and he didn’t, so he’s Twin Nice and you’re Twin Naughty.”

Sam did a little victory dance, bragging about his new nickname to his twin.

The little girl sat down on Tom’s lap and started to play with the black ring on his finger.

“What am I, then?”

She looked up to Harrison from in between Tom’s fingers, still playing with the thick band.

“You’re Thor cause you have pretty eyes and you look really strong.”

To say that the blonde was pleased would be an understatement.

“You, little lady, are my new best friend. We need to come here more often.”

Millie smiled and went back to observing the ring.

“Does this mean you’re married?”

Tom chuckled and shook his head slightly.

“No, it means that I’m a part of the Holland family, like them.”

Everyone around the table showed theirs, a symbol of their high status in the mob.

“So you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Do you live with your mommy?”

“No, I live with these dumbasses in a big house.”

She pushed the swear jar towards him and gave him what could only be described as the 'Disappointed Mom’ look.

“Do you like it?”

“Kind of, sometimes they get on my nerves and I wish they’d rot in Hell, but yeah, it’s not too bad.”

She slapped his hand in reprimand and he internally cursed himself.

“Don’t you miss your mommy?”

“A little, but I see my parents every Sunday for family dinner.”

He answered after placing yet another bill in the jar.

“Parents?”

“Yeah, my mum and dad.”

She hummed.

“I wish I had a dad.”

The boys all stiffened. 

Well, that escalated quickly.

Tom cleared his throat, measuring his words before speaking, for once in his life.

“Do you know what happened to your dad?”

“Mommy says he left cause he wasn’t good like her. She says it’s okay, though, cause we only need each other but my friend Lilly has a mommy and a daddy and she told me that sometimes when her mommy’s sad or tired he’ll do all the grown-up stuff like cook and read her a story while her mommy rests and she’s happier that way. I want my mommy to be happy like that too.”

For Tom, it felt like his cold, dead heart was starting to beat again. This little angel sitting on his lap was asking for something most children already had, not for herself, but for her mother.

“You’re a really good person, Millie.”

“If you stopped saying so many bad words you’d be one too, Tommy.”

The boys laughed yet again and they continued talking for a little while, refraining from any work-related issues for the sake of their newest addition, choosing instead to discuss sports and fighting over who’d be on cleaning duty that Sunday. Three more bills made their way to the jar during that particular discussion, one from each boy (bar Sam because he was on cooking duty, as always), and for once they allowed themselves to relax and simply be, instead of always worrying.

You got out of the kitchen with the men’s orders ready and looked at the end of the counter, planning to check on Millie before walking over to the mobsters’ table. Your brows furrowed when you didn’t find her and you immediately looked towards the girls’ table or the Lees’, finding she wasn’t there either.

“Mommy, over here!”

You followed your child’s voice and your eyes widened once you saw her sitting on the leader’s lap. The smiling leader’s lap.

You quickly made your way to their booth, placing their orders in front of them without even taking your eyes off your daughter.

“Millicent Rose! What have I told you about bothering people when they’re in their booths?”

She looked guilty for half a second but immediately perked up again, ready to defend herself.

“Not to, but Mommy, he said a bad word so I had to take the swear jar to him.”

“And why, pray tell, are you sitting in the gentleman’s lap?”

“His name’s Tommy and he said he didn’t mind and this way I can talk to Thor, Twin Nice and Twin Naughty better.”

Tommy, Thor, Twin Nice, and Twin Naughty?

“Oh, fuck me.”

Millie’s jaw dropped open. She’d never heard you swear before.

“You owe a pound, Mommy.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

You pulled a pound from your pocket and put it in, eyes widening at the amount of money in the jar.

“How in the world?”

“I didn’t have singles so I just put hundreds in. Apparently, it’s a donation to the 'Get Millie new glitter pens’ foundation.”

You set the jar down and shook your head in disbelief.

“I am never letting Harley babysit you ever again.”

She pouted and slumped down, arms crossed adorably in front of her.

“Now come on, let the gentlemen eat their lunch in peace and come get yours.”

She cuddled up to Tom more than before, burying her head in his chest and fisting his shirt, and shaking her head in protest.

“Millie, come on, let’s go. I’m so sorry for the bother sir.”

“It’s no problem, she’s welcome to say for however long she wants.”

The brunette smiled at your daughter and then at you, before the man on his right interrupted.

“Besides, she’s very entertaining. It’s nice to see someone else call Tom out on his bullshit.”

You and Millie threw the blonde matching glares while Tom just pushed the jar towards him.

“You owe a pound, Haz”

“Excuse you Tommy, my name’s Thor.”

He then turned to you with a smug smile and attitude.

“Cause I have pretty eyes like him and look very strong. Don’t you agree with your daughter… (Y/n)?”

He read your name tag and smiled charmingly while you pursed your lips, looking him up and down. You then looked at your little girl.

“You sure?”

“Well, who else has pretty blue eyes?”

“Captain America.”

She light up right away and straightened herself.

“Right! And he looks like Captain America when he was tiny! Thanks, Mommy!”

She then turned to Harrison with a gigantic smile on her face.

“You’re Tiny America now.”

The whole table -bar Haz- laughed and you had to bite your lip not to laugh too, instead linking your hands and looking at the clock.

“Come on Millie, it’s time to eat.”

“Can I eat here with Tommy, please?”

“If you eat here with Tommy I won’t be able to make sure you eat your veggies.”

The man’s heart stuttered when you used his nickname, a strange sense of happiness overcoming him.

“Tommy can check.”

“Mm… I’m not sure if he can check you ate them. He’s not used to your sneakiness.”

“What if I pinky promise to eat my veggies and eat a banana for dessert instead of ice cream?”

It was a struggle to get her to eat fruits and veggies. You usually had to settle for one or the other, so when she spontaneously decided to eat both, you jumped at the opportunity, mob be damned.

“Deal! But no annoying the boys.”

She smiled and nodded, settling comfortably on Tom’s lap, waiting for her food. You took out her plate of chicken nuggets, fries, and green beans, chocolate milkshake to wash it down.

You tried not to let the butterflies in your stomach distract you from your job but the way Tom smiled at your daughter and praised her when she ate all her veggies in a row, wanting to get it over with, made your heart ache, the longing for someone still very much present.

“Have a nice meal.”

You made eye contact with the brunette and blushed at the smile he sent you before waving goodbye at the Lees. The teenage couple had left a bit earlier so the mobsters were now your last customers of the day.

You wiped the kitchen counters and said goodbye to Lou, assuring him that you’d close up by yourself. As soon as he left, you took a deep breath and sighed, unable to stop your smile when you heard your daughter’s laugh carrying through the wall separating you from the group.

“Mommy, we’re done!”

You straightened up and schooled your features before walking over to them, taking away their plates while asking if Millie behaved and if they wanted dessert. The answer to both questions was a yes and so you came back a little while later with chocolate pudding for the twins, caramel ice cream for Harrison, a banana split for Tom, and a miniature one for Millie.

“Since you behaved so nicely you get a little sweetness with your banana.”

Her eyes sparkled and she smiled brightly at you.

“You’re the best mommy ever! I love you!”

“Love you too, baby.”

You turned around, ready to leave, when a voice stopped you.

“Why don’t you sit down with us for a bit? I’m pretty sure that if you wipe that table down one more time you’ll remove the paint.”

You blushed but complied, sitting down next to Harrison and watching as your daughter ate her dessert quickly and quietly, wincing from time to time because of brain freezes. As soon as she was done, she reached for Tom’s right hand. He switched the hand that held the spoon, eating with his left so that Millie could play with the ring on his finger.

Unfortunately for him, he had a bit of trouble eating with his non-dominant hand while holding a child on his lap, leading to a bit of ice cream falling on his shirt.

“Ah, fu-”

You shot him a glare that made him change courses immediately.

“-dge. Fudge.”

Millie clapped and gave him a big, approving smile.

“See, Mommy? He’s making progress!”

“Indeed he is, darling.”

“Oh, this is fucking hilarious!”

The young girl gasped, mouth open comically wide and utter betrayal swimming in her eyes.

“I thought you were nice.”

Sam realized his mistake as soon as she spoke, covering his mouth with his hand as if to stop any more of the offending words from leaving it.

“You owe five pounds.”

“What? Why? I only said one swear word!”

She shook her head in disapproval, arms crossed in front of her chest, and pushed the jar towards him.

“You made me believe you were nice so your trickster-y will cost you four extra pounds.”

You shook your head, smile firmly plastered on your face as you watched Sam pull out a hundred dollar bill with a pout on his lips. It was quite endearing, really.

“So, (Y/n), tell us about you.”

You locked eyes with the brunette once again, piercing gaze seemingly looking through you.

“I’m afraid there’s not much to tell, Mr Holland. I’m not a very interesting person.”

Your voice was soft, your words calculated. You knew that these men could kill you in the blink of an eye.

“No uninteresting person could have raised such a perfect little angel.”

He smirked and Millie looked at you with a smug smile.

“See, he said I was an angel.”

Life be damned, it’s not worth living if your daughter has an ego the size of Russia. That would most definitely come back to bite you in the ass.

“Yeah, that’s cause he hasn’t had to deal with you in all your nightly glory.”

She put her tongue out and snuggled deeper into Tom’s chest.

“Well, for one, how did you find yourself working here?”

He got the conversation back on you and you felt slightly intimidated with the whole table’s eyes on little old you.

“Customers are nice, I earn enough money for us to get by, owner’s nice, the school’s at the end of the street, and Millie gets to stay with me when she’s not there.”

Even though he was focused on you, you noticed the way he held your daughter close to his chest, his bigger frame completely enveloping her smaller one. She still hadn’t let go of his hand and kept playing with the ring on his finger. Seeing how calm and caring he was being with your daughter calmed you down and the more questions you answered, the more comfortable you became.

“How can you work at a dinner and not like vanilla milkshakes?”

Sam looked horrified at that, and you just shrugged dismissively.

“I never really liked when vanilla was too present. Like, if you used it to just enhance everything else you know, make it taste better, then sure, but just vanilla isn’t really my style.”

Tom took a sharp breath in and tried to stop his mind from wandering at the possible double meaning of your words. Instead, he chose to focus on the little girl on his lap.

Until he noticed she was asleep, that is.

He smiled a little and shifted her so she was resting more comfortably on his lap. Unfortunately for him, that caught your attention.

“Oh my, is she asleep? I’m really sorry.”

“No worries, though we should probably get her to bed so she doesn’t wake up with a stiff neck.”

For the umpteenth time, you pushed down the butterflies upon hearing him say 'we’ and being so careful with your daughter.

You took the remaining dishes and went to the kitchen, putting them in the wash and turning on the machine, leaving it to run so tomorrow morning you’d be able to put everything away. You went back in to clean the booth and Tom practically shoved a hundred dollar bill in your hand, ignoring your protests.

He waited for you by the door while you finished closing up, and you extended your arms towards him when you finished.

“Thank you for everything today, but you must be getting tired, I can take her from here.”

He gently pushed your arms down.

“Let me take you home, please, I don’t like the idea of you having to carry her all on your own.”

You hesitantly nodded and he guided you to his car. It’s only then that you noticed the other three had left. You settled on the passenger side of his black Audi and he handed you Millie, closing the door softly as to not startle her. He then entered the driver’s side and started the car. You gave him directions to your apartment building and within five minutes, he parked the car right out front.

Ever the gentleman, he insisted on carrying the little girl. Knowing by now that there wasn’t much you could do to protest, you agreed and led him up the four flights of stairs to your door.

“Sorry 'bout the mess.”

“It’s no problem, darling, I quite like it.”

You turned your head for a brief second, as if asking him to elaborate while still leading him to your daughter’s room.

“The fact that it’s messy means that someone lives here, that this isn’t just some house, it’s a home. My house is always pristine but that’s because no one’s ever there to actually use it as something other than a glorified B&B.”

He laid Millie down on the bed and you pulled the covers over her. You both stood side to side for a little while, just watching her breathe.

“That sounds really lonely.”

“Yeah…”

Another minute passed by with no words coming from either of you.

“You raised an amazing daughter, (Y/n).”

“You’re a good man, Tom.”

Hearing those unfamiliar words coming out of your mouth almost brought tears to his eyes. He was always used to being called a ruthless mobster, cold-blooded killer, or many other names that all meant the same thing: monster. But you called him a good man, and the sincerity in your voice was almost overwhelming.

He cleared his throat and straightened up, making you turn towards him.

“I should probably go… You should get some rest as well.”

You nodded and walked him to the door. In a split-second decision, you leaned up and kissed his cheek, locking eyes with him afterwards.

“If you ever need an escape, or just wanna hang out somewhere different, our door’s always open.”

That made a smile take over his face and he kissed your forehead.

“Thank you, darling.”

And as you watched him round the corner, only your back visible to you, you couldn’t help but feel like this wouldn’t be the last time you ever saw Tom Holland.

i have mixed feelings concerning this story but at least i have ideas for a part two (if i ever decide to make one)

don’t forget to reblog, comment or like if you feel like it <3

[sakurabutterflyart]

Hugfia Week, Day 3 AU

The Princess and The Prince of Thieves

Sofia was known to be the Princess of Enchancia. She used to be a village girl in the village which is why she has a closer relationship with the villagers. Even if she's now the princess of Enchancia, she still enjoys being there. 

As she grew older. Since she's not gonna be the heir of the throne, she'd decided to train as a protector of her kingdom. Just like her brother. 

Nobody in her kingdom knows about it except her family and friends, cause she thinks that it's best to remain a secret. And it did. 

When she was just having a secret patrol in her village and decided to go home with some ice cream, that's a bit far away from other houses. There are currently only few people since it's already closing. Which is a perfect opportunity for thieves to attack. 

Sofia was about to eat her favorite flavored strawberry ice cream, she heard loud noises behind her. Before she could respond what's going on, she saw a guy with black hair and dark green eyes knock her out.

The thieves who are called Black Ice, have been known to be constantly stealing banks, restaurants, and shops. They are known to be the kingdom of thieves, for they can't be easily caught and it's been years but it's still an active thieves group. For they are being well trained and well strategize by their leader named Hugo, who hides behind the name the Ice Prince. For he is the prince of thieves. He used to be a beggar who was about to loose his life, since he still has his fellow brothers in the streets who needs to be fed. Which is why he has no choice but to live his life this way in order to provide all of them.

"Is everyone knocked out and tied." He asked his men.

"All down brother!" Desmond answered. Gently placing the citizen and checking the tied ropes to make sure no one's gonna go after them.

"Let's better hurry, before the village guards finds out we're here. We have to take something home for our guild." He ordered and everyone is taking the things that they will need. They were here for the money but Hugo thinks that he should take something special for his family and that is ice cream.

"Hey Hugo look!" Hugo heard his brother called, waving him to come.

He took off the cloak of the stranger I knocked out earlier, revealing she was a lady. She has soft white skin, She is wearing something like a hunter or a high position knight clothing that is very unusual for a girl to wear. Caramel brown hair that's tied into a ponytail. But what really stand out the most is her tiara and her pink amulet, that I can tell right away that this girl is the princess of Enchancia, Sofia. 

"She's a princess Hugo, what are we gonna do?" Desmond ask, a little worried like we're in big trouble. 

"What's with that tone Desmond? Isn't this a great thing? We can just hold her as hostage and demand the king for a fortune of money and treasures." Axel joined in, squeezing the knocked out princess's cheek.

Hugo's POV

"I don't think that's a great idea big brother. If we do that the king is gonna order all his soldier as they hunt down our home, including other kingdoms that is allied in Enchancia. It's best to leave her alone." I spoke, making sure the action we take don't get us into trouble. 

I look at the princess who is out cold and I gotta admit, she's very pretty. I scanned her looks wondering why did someone from the castle go to the village and with this outfit? 

"How about we'll take something expensive from this princess..." It seems like she brought nothing. The only thing I found valuable is her crown and her... "This necklace looks very expensive-"

I was about to grab it until I was surprised that a very strong grip stopped me. I look at the owner of the hand, it's not my brothers nor anyone around this room but the princess.

I looked at her as she got up, revealing her fierce ocean blue eyes burning in rage towards me. "Don't. You. Dare. Touch. My. Amulet. My father gave it to me, this is too precious!" 

She speak in a low tone expressing anger, but before I can even react she punch my face that took me flying across the room to the walls. It must be her pay back for knocking her out earlier. I manage to stay conscious, when I looked at her amulet it was glowing revealing that it's magical.

While I'm still trying to get up. My brothers are going after her to stop her from attacking me. But she managed to spar them with her sword that seems to be magical, even her punch and kicks are strong to make someone fly. She even gets to shape shift into an animal that is strong, she can even fly as a fairy. As few minutes past, she manage to defeat all 50 thieves from the Black Ice. 

"Now it's your turn." She pointed her sword towards me with anger on her eyes. It was threatening but I somehow find it attractive. She charge at me with full speed, and my brothers cried out in worries. I managed to draw out my weapon. Both of our sword clash that creates a strong wind. 

We were glaring at each other and staring at each other's eyes. The longer I looked to her, her glares may be scary, but she was darn cute. I smirk at the thought that this lady is really... My type.

"You... You're this famous prince of thieves who leads the Black Ice." She grumbled, but it fails to scare me but it made me smile.

"Yep, the one and only Ice Prince. But you can all me Hugo my lady. And I'm guessing you're this famous Princess Sofia of Enchancia, the hero of this Kingdom." I get up and manage to recover from  the pain of her punch. Giving a peck on her hand as greeting. She raised a brow, confuse at my response. "Even though you're known to be in dresses and staying at a castle, what are you doing here in this village?"

She pulled her hand away from mine, still glaring at me. "Don't be so casual to me Ice Prince! I've heard so many rumours about your recent attack through every villages, you've given so many problems in our kingdoms! I'm here to arrest you."

She spoke to her amulet, "Amulet, I called James to bring soldiers to the village's ice cream shop. The Black Ice are here..."

Her amulet glowed. As she continue to draw out her sword and charge after me.

Third POV

They were battling, their sparring took longer with Hugo flirting with her and teasing her. Until the fought ended with Sofia's sword skills and traping him to the ground. 

Hugo's POV

"Hugo the Ice Prince and the leader of the Black Ice. You are under arrest for stealing shops and banks, kingdom to kingdom. You bring enough harm to all of us." She declared, pulling the collar of my shirt and pointing a sword to my throat. 

Our face were so close and I can hear my heart is beating faster than ever before. It was a love at first sight with this girl, even though I never believe in those things and think it's a ridiculous way to fall in love. She's just so beautiful and strong, there's something about her that is so special when I look at those eyes. I just can't take it anymore. 

I smirked at this beautiful sight and also pulling her collar towards me, before she could asked and form a sentence, I silenced her with my lips. I can her hear yelp in surprise between our kiss. She was trying to pull away by letting go of her sword and push me, but I also do the same with mine and hold her hands tightly. Deepening our kiss.

I have never thought of myself as being forceful to a lady before. I promised myself that even if I'm a thief I'll still keep my good side especially to a girl that I will like. But she's a different story, I'm a thief and she's a princess who's gonna arrest me, and I also don't wanna let her go.

After enjoying her touch, I finally let go and let her breath. She looked at me in shock.

"Sorry about that, you're just too cute princess" I smiled at her, and I can see her face slowly turning red in embarrassment. "If I'm really going to prison, then I will never regret kissing a strong pretty lady like you."

"Y-you.. you jerk!"

I winked but I met a very hard impact to my cheek, though it doesn't really hurt cause I really meant what I say to her. 

She was gonna slap me with my other cheek, though this time I caught her hand and pull her closer, whispering through her ears with my lowest voice. "I like you, you're going to be my most precious treasure princess, you're mine now. I won't allow anybody, not even another prince to take you."

I let her go and we stare at each other. Her eyes looks confuse, not knowing what to respond. I sigh, as much as I wanted this moment to last forever, I can't afford me and my brothers nor my family to get arrested.

I snapped my finger and shouted, "Now Derek!"

The ceiling opened with our guild's magic. Revealing a bunch of dark carriages, I can see all of my guild mates, which is also my family, throwing rope ladders for my brother's to retreat to.

"What the! What's going on!" I can hear Sofia shout in anger. 

I whistled with my fingers, loud enough for my horse Electra to come to me. I hop on her and look at the princess. She was about to charge me with her magic sword, but this time I manage to catch her sword with my magic. 

"I'm called the Prince of Thieves for a reason Sofia, I use magic too and I never get captured that easily." I gave her a victorious smile, I can see her face looking very angry and also disappointed.

"You tricked me with those dirty moves and pick up lines. Is this what you use to any girls you fought with?" She ask, clearly disappointed being taken advantage of being girl.

I caress her face as I give a quick peck on her forehead, and patting her. To assure her. "Nope, you're the first lady that I ever treated this way. Even I don't expect to feel this way towards anyone."

Third POV

He smiled and suddenly flew away with his horse, when he saw the Commander James charging at them with arrows and chasing them down. "Stay away from my sister!"

As Hugo flew away, he smiled and shouted to her.

"Goodbye Princess, I'll see you again soon! If other prince tries to steal you away from me, I promise I'll steal you first!" He left, revealing he also steal her tiara. "If the amulet is too precious to you, I'll take this one instead dear! Goodbye for now my lady!"

He left and Sofia gritted her teeth, but she was completely flustered. She doesn't have the will to fight and go after them, leaving it to James. But they weren't able to catch them.

She was completely angry as she walk home with her brother, not being able to capture the greatest thief of the kingdom. She felt her heart tingling and beating just by thinking about him.

She felt dizzy at the feeling. She touched her lips, remembering the pressure he placed on her lips. Feeling frustrated about it. 

"How dare he... Out of all people, why him?"

Not only did he steal her first kiss, he also steal her heart. 

(A/N: This is from my wattpad. In Hugfia Week I'm a bit busy but I'll try joining in.)

[chilling-seavey]

Anything But Mine - Last Mother’s Day as a Family of Four

A/N Also thank you to the anon that sent in a request for a abm mother’s day special! I know I didn’t get a reply back about specific ideas but I hope this suffices! 💟

Sunday, May 12, 2024

One of Daniel’s favourite days was Mother’s Day because it was his perfect excuse to spoil his wife. Not that he ever needed an excuse. It was the one day a year he could flaunt everything about her and the beautiful body and soul that gave him his two children…and the one that was working hard to grow their third.

It was early morning and Daniel woke up easily at dawn, shifting under the warm sheets of the king size bed and cuddled right up behind his wife. She sighed sleepily and he leaned up to press a few gentle kisses over her neck and shoulder, his hand draped around her waist. Florence shifted at his obvious presence and smiled lazily as he kissed her cheek, her eyes still closed peacefully.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Daniel said softly.

Florence hummed in sleepy reply and set her hand over his to link their fingers together and pulled his arm farther around her body as if to urge him to cuddle her back to sleep.

Daniel only chuckled lightly, continuing his lazy kisses over her shoulder and up her neck, wiggling his hand from hers to rub loving circles over her swollen belly as he whispered against her neck, “Happy Mother’s Day, Mama.”

Florence giggled quietly and opened her eyes as she glanced at him over her shoulder, “Thank you, Dani.”

They shared small smiles and he leaned down to kiss her lips a few times, savouring the warm familiarity of her touch. Her hand skimmed his cheek as he pulled back and tossed the sheets off his body.

“Get some more rest.” he instructed gently as he pulled his shirt from the chair in the corner and put it on, “I’ll be back with your first surprise.”

“You better not have outdone yourself today.” Florence warned, tucking her arm under her head as she watched him shuffle on a pair of sweatpants from the closet.

Daniel only sent her a small smirk, “I never outdo myself.”

“Daniel James-”

He hushed her with a kiss, lingering on her lips for a while until he was sure she’d stay quiet and then left one to her belly before looking back at her face, “The girls will be very sad if they see you awake. I promised I would let them wake you up but I couldn’t wait. Humour me?”

“I’m the best fake sleeper you’ve ever known.” Florence promised.

He left her with one more kiss and then left the room, closing the door behind him. His next stop was the girls’ room and he let himself in to find them each sitting up on their beds waiting for him. Clementine and Penelope beamed at the sight of him and each rushed over to wish him good morning and he crouched down to shower them in kisses and hugs.

“Ready to surprise Mommy today?” Daniel asked them, holding each of the girls’ sweet faces in his hands. They nodded with wide smiles. “Alright. To the kitchen.”

Daniel was in charge of breakfast and he tried his luck at pancakes (with a mix from a box) and bacon. Clementine and Penelope each munched their small bowls of fruit as they practiced their plans for their Mother’s Day gifts. Being in kindergarten, Clementine had a few little surprises that they made at school but Penelope was still small so Daniel helped her out with a little something for her to give too. Both girls were very excited.

“Daddy.” Clementine rushed over to him in the kitchen and wrapped her arms around his leg, “Are you done yet?”

“Almost, angel.”

“Mommy’s gonna wake up before we can go in.” the five-year-old protested, tugging at his pants until he nearly had to grab the waistband to keep them from being tugged completely off.

Daniel pried her small hands away and gently steered her back towards the table so he could finish setting up the tray with the breakfast, “She won’t be awake before us, don’t worry.”

With the pancakes drizzled in the perfect amount of syrup and topped with whipped cream and a cut up strawberry arranged in a heart shape, and the bacon set neatly on the plate beside a warm mug of tea, they were ready to go in.

“Get your presents.” Daniel reminded them quietly and the girls grabbed their little gifts from the table before taking off down the hallway.

He followed behind them quickly, making sure not to spill anything, and Clementine reached up to open the door and let them in. The girls ran giggling over to the bedside and Florence took all her self-control not to smile as her daughters gently nudged her awake.

“Wakey wakey, Mama.” Clementine called sweetly, shaking her shoulder a little.

Florence did her best fake-wake-up with a yawn and a stretch included and everything and Daniel smiled to himself as the girls beamed at the fact they got to wake her up with surprises. He balanced the tray in one hand as he pulled open the curtains to brighten up the room and the girls climbed up onto the bed.

“How’s baby sister?” Clementine asked quickly, reaching out with her hand that wasn’t holding her present to set on Florence’s stomach.

“She was nice and quiet last night.” Florence said. “Come kiss me good morning, sweet girls.”

Clementine leaned in with little puckered lips to kiss her mother and Penelope giggled as she crawled over to do the same. Daniel brought over the tray and set it proudly on the bed and the girls stared expectantly at their mother for her reaction.

“Wow, this looks amazing,” Florence smiled, glancing up at Daniel, “Thank you.”

He leaned down to kiss her again and the girls only beamed at their parents.

“Mommy! Mommy! Can I give you your present?” Clementine asked loudly, sitting on her knees in the middle of the bed with the paper clutched in her two hands.

“Yes, of course, Clemmie.” Florence smiled, petting a hand through Penelope’s hair as the younger of the two girls sat quietly beside her sister. Daniel sat down with them and busied himself with cutting up the pancakes and feeding a piece to his wife who was busy with her two hands resting on her large belly.

“I made this in school.” Clementine explained. She shoved the paper into Florence’s hands.

It was a little worksheet titled ‘All About My Mommy’ in kindergarten lettering at the top and fill in the blanks for the kids to do. In the centre was a basic outline of a person and Clementine coloured it as if to make it resemble Florence herself down to her blonde hair (coloured in yellow crayon) and her blue eyes and red dress.

“Oh, how beautiful. That looks just like me.” Florence praised her eldest who just beamed in pride.

Daniel shuffled closer to look over her shoulder as Florence read each entry.

“‘My mommy’s name is sweetheart’” she glanced over at Daniel who only smiled and gave her a sweet shrug. She continued reading, “‘My mommy is 35 years old’ Do I look that old to you?”

“Yes. You’re a grown up.”

“I’m just barely 24, darling girl.” Florence laughed lightly.

“That’s close.” Clementine shrugged as she shuffled closer to push the paper closer to her as Daniel fed her another bite of pancake. “Keep going.”

“‘My mommy is really good at reading stories’” “My mommy always says I love you’” “My mommy is most happy when daddy comes home from work’”

Florence’s voice broke a little – those darn pregnancy hormones – and she looked over at Daniel. He only pressed a kiss to her shoulder and then rested his cheek to the same spot. She leaned her head on his and continued reading Clementine’s scribbly little handwriting.

“‘My mommy likes to take me to the park’” “‘I love my mommy because she is the best mommy in the world’”

Florence pouted sweetly and looked over at Clementine’s grinning face, “Thank yo-”

“I’m not done!” Clementine said loudly, scrambling to stand up on the bed. Daniel reached out quickly to steady her. “I have a song too!”

“A song?” Florence questioned. “Let’s hear it.”

“I love Mommy, I love Mommy, yes I do. Yes I do. Mommy’s are for hugging. Mommy’s are for kissing. I love you. I love you.” (A/N To the tune of frere jacques if you know it lol)

Florence’s heart sored with nothing but pride at her firstborn’s little song and the adorableness that seemed to radiate off the five-year-old, “Darling Clementine, you are so, so, so sweet. Thank you.”

Clementine sat back down on the bed proudly.

“Okay, bug,” Daniel looked over at Penelope, “your turn.”

The nearly-four-year-old smiled shyly and Florence patted the bed beside her to invite her to come closer. She crawled over and Florence tucked an arm around her as she held out the drawing in her hand. It was a scribbly little crayon drawing of their family but it was near perfection for the mother and she pressed a kiss to her youngest’s messy brown hair.

“Tell me what you drew me, Penny.”

“Me,” Penelope pointed to the smallest of the stick figures. “Clemmie,” she pointed to the slightly taller one with blonde hair beside her own. “Dada,” she pointed to the next one with short brown hair that had a few yellow scribbles on top too. “And you,” she pointed to the last little person who looked much larger than the rest.

“Why am I so big, sweet girl?” Florence asked.

“Because.” Penelope said, pointing with a tiny finger to the middle of stick-figure Florence’s body. “There’s baby sister in your tummy.”

Sure enough, there was a few little lines inside her triangle-dress that could resemble a baby if you squinted. Florence’s eyes welled with tears again and she hid her emotions behind a kiss to her youngest daughter’s head.

“And flowers.” Penelope continued, pointing to the pink and purple scribbles along the single green line at the bottom of the page.

“And what did you write for Mommy on the back?” Daniel asked.

Penelope turned over the paper to show her (very messy) printing of her name. It was missing a letter or two but the effort was there.

“Dada helped with letters.” Penelope whispered shyly.

“Wow. You are quite the speller, missy.” Florence whispered in near awe. Penelope shoved the paper into her hands and then wiggled out of her arm. “Well, thank you so much, my girls.”

There was a duet of “you’re welcome, Mama” from the girls and Penelope crawled over Daniel’s legs to grab the TV remote from the bedside table.

“Does Blue’s Clues with breakfast sound good, sweetheart?” Daniel asked the woman of the hour.

“Always.” Florence agreed.

She ate her breakfast with her daughters on either side of her and her husband’s arm around her shoulders and her unborn baby wiggling away inside her as if to say don’t forget about me. Florence could never forget about her. She may only have had three people earthside with her so far but she already had four loves of her life.

After breakfast, Daniel cleared the dishes and helped the girls get dressed as Florence got herself ready for the day and whatever he had planned. She then sat in the living room with the girls as Daniel got showered and dressed quickly into a soft green springtime outfit. His phone dinged on the bathroom counter that there was a delivery at the front desk and he finished brushing his teeth to hurry and retrieve it.

He returned quickly from the lobby to his girls in the living room, a bouquet of two dozen purple tulips held in hand. Florence beamed at him as he passed it over to her to look at.

“For me?” she asked as she smelt them.

“Who else?” Daniel chuckled.

“Thank you, baby. They’re beautiful.”

Roses for Valentine’s Day, tulips for Mother’s Day. The usual routine. Florence and Daniel didn’t buy each other gifts really, but Daniel always made a point to buy her flowers. Flowers for his Flora.

He took them to the kitchen to cut them up for her and put them in a vase and set them on the coffee table where they could get the most sunlight and where she could enjoy them. He sat down beside her and she cuddled up close as they watched their two little girls play together on the rug. Florence sighed peacefully and rested her head on his shoulder and Daniel leaned his head on hers, one arm around her shoulders and his other hand resting on the squirmy baby growing inside her.

It was sunny that morning and the apartment was filled with bright sunlight through the floor to ceiling windows and livened up the air with springtime freshness. It was calm and beautiful and home.

Daniel glanced at his wife’s face as she stared across the room at their two daughters playing nearby. She had a small smile on her face and cheeks rosy with love. With his arm that was around her shoulders, Daniel gently stroked her face and Florence glanced up at him.

“You are…the love of my life.” he whispered.

“And you’re mine.” Florence agreed softly, brushing her nose against his in their close proximity.

“Can’t be anyone else in the whole world I would rather have by my side for life…no one else I’d want to mother my children…no one else I’d rather wake up every day to.”

“Daniel.” Florence breathed.

“Being able to have children with you is my greatest blessing.”

“Daniel James, stop it or I’ll cry.” Florence giggled lightly.

“I mean it.” Daniel smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I love you more than life itself.”

Florence leaned her head back against his arm and he dipped down to kiss her lips. He lingered there a while, savouring each long chasté kiss and gentle touch of his wife between their soft ‘I love you’s. Their soft kiss only broke when she groaned sharply and looked down to her round belly.

“Baby girl kicked me in the ribs.” Florence whispered.

“Baby girl wants kisses too.” Daniel tisked, leaning down to kiss over the curve of his wife’s pregnant body, smiling as he felt the little movements under her skin. “Tiny dancer is up and ready to play.”

Florence got another jab and she wiggled her fingers against the top of her stomach, “Move down, baby, you’re hurting me.”

“Is baby sister awake?” Clementine asked eagerly from the floor.

“She’s very awake.” Florence said.

The two girls hopped up and hurried over to set their hands on their mother’s round stomach to feel the little kicks from their baby sister. Florence only smiled widely at her daughters and their faces of awe as they felt the movements and Penelope leaned in to kiss her belly just like Daniel did.

“Baby sister wants to celebrate Mommy’s day too.” Clementine giggled, patting her hand gently to the top of the baby bump. She cooed to her softly and Florence and Daniel laughed quietly, leaning their heads together on the couch, wrapped up close, and completely in love with each other and their three perfect girls.

[bluebellwriting]

Love Me Tender - Part 2

“He’s so in love with ya,” Angel smirks, lying on your bed in your hotel room, surrounded by your folded laundry and knocking over said piles of laundry. You roll your eyes and continue hanging up your newly cleaned dresses and blouses.

“What are you going on about?”

“The fact that Strawberry Pimp has been following ya around like a love-sick puppy for the last year.” 

You throw a sock at Angel and shoot him a glare. Although, your mind can’t help but wander to the last year following Alastor’s insertion into your lives. He has been spending quite a bit of time with you... which is completely understandable! You both enjoy the same type of music, although he was quite affronted when he learned that you don’t really dance and insisted that he teach you. Now he pulls you into a dance whenever there is a good song playing. 

And he loves to cook just like you, even though you are partial to baking. He often joins you in the kitchen around meal times to assist in prep or even to make a dish when you’re overwhelmed. On slow days, you find yourself thinking about the time Charlie had you all celebrate Thanksgiving. Charlie had insisted you all celebrate the holiday in even though nobody, save you and Alastor, could cook to save their lives. You were honestly dreading all the sides and desserts and proteins you would have to prepare for everyone, and Charlie had only added to the stress when she came prancing into the kitchen and revealed that her mother had agreed to eat with you all. Somehow sensing your stress, Alastor was there in an instant and allowed you to put him to work. He was a dream in the kitchen, so helpful and chivalrous, and he even made a curated playlist of all your favorite songs to put you in better spirits. It was one of your fonder moments in the normally stressful work environment, particularly when you had cut yourself chopping sweet potatoes and Alastor had rushed to tend to you. Really, it was just a little nick. It didn’t even draw blood but it did sting a bit causing you to hiss quietly. Alastor heard that sound as if it were as loud as a siren and was by your side, bending down to analyze your hand, behaving as though you had just chopped off your entire hand.

“You really must be more careful, dearest,” he murmured and frowned at the cut, willing it to disappear. 

You think about Thanksgiving and the way he held your injured finger more than you’re proud to admit. 

---

You shake yourself out of your reverie. No. No, no, no. Nope! You were not about to indulge in some small school-girl crush. That would only cause it to fester into something bigger in your heart, something dangerous. And you were certainly not about to buy into your brother’s teasing and tendency to romanticize things. Angel was smart, observant, but was also incredibly naive when it came to affection, or rather, sinisterness disguised by affection. And you were no stranger when it came to love and its effects on perception. You made that mistake once and it got you down here, you were not about to let that happen again...

Even if it was at the hands of that darling deer.

“Come on.” You hang up your last blouse and motion for Angel to follow you to the lobby. You both were late for your weekly family dinner and your father would not be pleased. 

“I’m just saying, when was the last time ya got laid?” Angel asks as you make your way down the hall towards the lobby.

“Angel!”

“What? Please tell me you’ve at least gotten some since--” 

You’re too short to smack his head, so you resort to kicking him in the shin.

“If you say his name in front of me I will maim you,” you scold. 

“Got it, got it. Okay but in all seriousness, are ya ever gonna move on?”

“Nope, and even if I did, he’d have to be very special and very serious. I’m not going to waste my time pining.” You cross your arms, quieting your voice as you draw nearer to the warm glow of the lobby. 

“But Alastor seems more than eager.”

“Of course he does,” you say sarcastically.

“Sis, I’m serious! He follows ya--”

“--Around like a lovesick puppy, yes so you keep saying.” You stop suddenly and shift your arms so that they’re wrapped around your torso. You avoid Angel’s confused and worried eyes, finding the carpet far easier to face than your brother’s concern. You are supposed to take care of him, you don’t need his pity. You don’t need anyone.

“Angel,” you sigh. “He’s like that with everyone. I’m not special to him, he just likes me because we enjoy some of the same things and I fit his idea of ‘polite company.’ But I’m not special. And... And even if I did feel that way about him it wouldn’t matter because I’m not anything to him. He’s made it perfectly clear that he has no use for close friends. So why would I be an exception?” 

You turn and start taking brisk steps towards the door before you allow Angel to hear your sniffs and see your red-rimmed eyes. You bid a quick goodbye to Husk even though he’s passed out at his desk and make your way to your car. You don’t see Alastor, who was leaning against the wall near the mouth of the hallway where you had just pored your heart out to your brother. You don’t see the way his smile falters just a little or the way his eyes widen in alarm. You don’t see the plate of cookies in his hands, ones he had made just for you as a surprise.

But Angel does.

“Ya okay there, smiles?” Angel reaches for one of the double chocolate chip cookies but his hand is smacked away by Alastor.

“These are not for you,” he snaps but his voice lacks conviction and his eyes continue to stare off longingly at the door you’ve just walked through. Angel takes in the Radio Demon’s furrowed brows and follows his gaze.

“They’re for (Y/N),” Angel smirks and elbows Alastor’s arm teasingly. 

“I knew ya had the hots for her! Jeez, could ya have been any more obvious?” Angel cackles.

“Apparently not obvious enough,” Alastor mutters.

“You heard some of that, huh?”

“All of it, actually.” Alastor looks down dejectedly at the plate of cookies. “I... I thought I was--”

“Oh, believe me, if you were being any more obvious with anyone else, you would’ve had your answer months ago. But (Y/N) she’s... she’s not everyone else. She’s very closed off, honestly you’re lucky she even sees you as a friend.”

Alastor barely nods his head in acknowledgement because all his mental energies are directed towards you. You and your bouncy, beautiful hair. You and your enchanting curves and the smooth sound of your voice when you think he isn’t around to hear you. You and your tenderness towards the very few who have earned it, and your willingness to utterly destroy anyone who tries to hurt those few. You and the time he came home with a few scratches after an altercation with Vox and you fussed over him in the genuine way his mother once did. You and your gentle hands that kneed pie crusts and crack eggs, hands that he delights in holding and finds any reason to do so. 

He really never believed he could feel this way about anyone. This captivated, this dedicated, this entranced and enchanted. But here you are, captivating and enchanting him beyond all reason. At first it was infuriating, the nights he would lie awake thinking of whatever adorable thing you had done that day. Or the way his body wanted, needed to be near you even when his mind screamed at him that you were a weakness. Someone he couldn’t afford to love lest it make him vulnerable, puny, at risk of losing everything that he had built in Hell. 

Until about four months into knowing each other. Some brute had come to stay in the hotel. He didn’t really bother to remember the creature’s name, just that he was rude and inconsiderate and didn’t know how to respect a lady. Alastor had wandered into the kitchen to help you with lunch, per the subconscious ritual he had fallen into, when he heard a loud smack. He opened the door to see said brute trying to force himself upon you and... the next thing he knew the entire kitchen, himself, and you were drenched in the blood of this horrid man. The kind of carnage Alastor only found himself achieving when in an intense fit of rage. You had stood there, frozen, and Alastor was briefly afraid that he had terrified you beyond the point of repair. But after you had gotten over the shock of the man’s attempted assault, you had sprinted to him and buried yourself into his chest before you could remind yourself about his aversion to touch. But he had always seemed to make an exception for you. And he always would.

After that day Alastor realized two things: that you were not a weakness, rather a new source of strength for him, and that he would literally do anything to get you to run into his arms like that again. Alastor didn’t need anymore convincing of the love he had for you. But apparently, you were in an entirely different boat.

“So what do I do?”

“What?” Angel asks, pulling away a hand that was trying again to steal another cookie.

“You’re incredibly close. She tells you everything. What more can I do to show her I’m serious?” Alastor hates how desperate he sounds but that’s what he is. Desperate for you.

“Well that depends, how serious are ya?”

“Deathly.”

Angel’s eyes glance down and back up at the cookies. Alastor relents and tosses him a cookie so he can continue.

“She’s... she’s so incredibly dear to me. She drives me mad and yet I can’t bring myself to stay away. I need her, I feel like there’s a deep, gaping chasm when I’m without her. I--”

“God, okay, you’ve convinced me. I give ya my blessing, sheesh.” Angel finishes the cookie.

“Angel,” you call, marching back into the lobby. Alastor almost drops the plate at your sudden appearance. 

“Angel we’re going to be late!”

“Good evening, dearest,” Alastor lurches from the wall, smile wide and beaming, trying to convey all the love he holds for you. He tries to lower his tone on the word ‘dearest,’ tries to make it apparent that you are his dearest everything.

“Good evening, Alastor.” You grace him with a sweet smile but your eyes are sad, probably from what he overheard earlier. “Who are those for, Al?”

“Oh, for you, dearie!” He thrusts the plate in front of you, shoulders hunched in an effort to seem more humble, less intimidating for you. You really are quite small and so precious.

“F-For me?” Your face flushes the prettiest shade of red.

“You mentioned double-chocolate chip is your favorite, yes?”

“It is. T-Thank you, Al, that really is so sweet.” You take one cookie off the plate and indulge yourself in the dark chocolate. Oh, he really outdid himself.

Alastor revels in the joy in your eyes and the fact that he put it there. 

“It was my absolute pleasure, darling. I was more than happy to do it. You’ve just been working so hard lately, I thought you deserved something sweet.”

Your smile widens, bathing him in warmth until it falters at the sight of Angel.

“Angel, we have to go or dad and Niss are going to have a fit.”

“Oh,” Alastor interjects. “Where are you both off to?”

You smooth down your fancier-than-normal (f/c) skirt.

“Just family dinner, but it’s important apparently. Dad has an announcement. We would have had more time to chat if Angel didn’t distract me this evening,” you say pointedly at your brother. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll be out in a minute. I just have to go bother Husky for a moment.”

You roll your eyes.

“Fine. Alastor,” you turn back to him. Alastor perks up immediately at your attention. “Thank you so much for this. You really didn’t--”

“I won’t hear it, love. Now go enjoy your dinner, I’ll make sure these are waiting when you get back.” He gives you a genuine grin, something reserved only for you. “And might I add that you look ravishing in that skirt, dear. Is it new?”

“Oh,” your blush increases and glows. “Thank you, Alastor. Um... have a pleasant evening.”

Once you’re out of the lobby, Angel turns to Alastor, noticing the way he deflates in your absence. 

“Look, I gotta go. Now I can talk more when we get back but this,” he points at the plate of cookies. “Is a great start! Personal, sweet, something you wouldn’t do for anyone else. She needs to know that you think she’s special, that you make exceptions for her, that you want to spend time with her outside of “coincidentally” being in the kitchen with her. And for Pete’s sake, ya gotta ask her out soon cause God knows she ain’t gonna take the chance and ask you.”

Angel strolls out of the lobby, leaving Alastor to brainstorm the many ways he’ll make just that happen. 

[the-fiction-witch]

BABY!!

TV SHOW ACCUSED

COUPLE JAKE MURRY X READER

RATING SMUT AF !!!!!

I stood giddy with excitement as I walked around my room in my towel, my mother was out all weekend with her new boyfriend, my gran was on a work trip all week long. So I was home alone, and my beautiful sexy girlfriend is visiting. I'd spend so long in the shower making sure I was nice and clean for no matter what she wanted to do with Me, and because I've been fighting the urge all day not touch myself overwhelmed for her touch. I love y/n with all my heart I really do she's the best girlfriend a boy could ask for, what most boys dream about when they think of a girlfriend. And a few months ago on our one year anniversary she opened up about something.

Ummmm just how fucking kinky she is. 

I had known just… from dating her that she was a very Sexual girl and it never bothered me or anything in fact I rather liked it, but that night. Ohh my God she told me everything, what she dreams of, all her fantasys, what she mastubates too, everything she wants to do to me. I'm not going like I may have uhh cum in my pants that night just from everything she said to me, and I think it only made me love her more discovering just how dirty she is. 

She made a list on her phone of everything she wanted to do to me, I have it shared on my phone too and I have uhhh took out and discusses the ones I am not okay with and the list is currently two hundred kinky concepts long. 

Tonight as in home alone I invited her over and told her to pick one she wanted to do were it's best if we're alone, I have no idea which one she picked and in all honesty I didn't want to know the curiousity only made me harder the longer I waited egar for her touch and for whatever she had planned for me tonight. I got dressed I to my button down and my clean jeans making sure I spayed some extra body spray and the after shave I know she likes on me just as I did I heard the familiar noise. 

I checked myself once more in the mirror and fixed my bed sheets throwing my towel in the laundry as I rushed down the stairs as I heard the gurble of a motorbike engine. I went outside into the chill of the darkening evening as the engine turned off. And there sat infront of my house parked a beautiful blue motorbike and on it sat my sweet y/n, her boots on the floor as she kicked it into the kickstand her skin tight armoured jeans hugging her every curve I could see the curves of her arse as she sat there proving to me she had no panties on, her black leather jacket hugging her close the zip threatening to slip and expose her to me, she turned off her lights and sat up slipping her gloves off finger by finger slipping them inside her jacket pocket she undid her helmet slipping it off freeing her beautiful hair and face she turned and winked at me my heart beating out my chest my excitement growing by the second, my jeans already feeling to tight to be comfortable throbbing for her as she smiled at me "see something you like Jake?" She smiled climbing of her bike keeping her helmet under her arm as she stepped closer to me 

"I do, ummmm let me touch you" I groaned hugging her tightly my head in her chest my hands rubbing everywhere I could, her arse, her pussy, her boobs all of it so soft, so sexy and all with little to protect her from my hands 

"Awww my sugary boy missed me?" She asked petting my hair 

"Uhh so much baby" slightly humping her I was so horny and so desperate just to feel her against me 

"Hey, I think someone's over excited" she smirked pushing me away and tapping my nose "get the stuff out my top box while I get my gear off" she smirked throwing her keys in the air so I caught them, she kissed my cheek before going inside, I bit my bottom lip doing as she asked she had her usual bag of clothes and such as she keeps alot of toiletries and overnight stuff here anyway, and another bag I knew well too, the black zip bag with a combination lock that usually lives in her bottom draw just the sight of it made my cock throb with excitement I locked up her top box and headed inside locking the door behind me throwing her keys on the side I spotted her boots and helmet but the door her jacket over the banister, I went up and noticed her jeans on the floor of the hallway infront of the bathroom and instantly got more excited seeing the light strap shirt in my bedroom door handle, I pushed it open instantly putting her stuff on the side as I looked at her stood by my bed in her bright red lace bra and crotchless panties 

"Ohh my God" I groaned grabbing her waist kissing her beautiful strawberry lips pulling every inch of her against every inch of me kissing all over her and she just giggled playfully at my reaction "ummm I love you, I love you" I muttered between kisses "your so beautiful, so sexy baby" I groan wrapping her leg around me holding the bottom of her thighs 

"You always get so excited when it's been a couple of days jake" she giggled pushing me back a little from her "am I that irresistible? Or is the agreement not to jerk off really getting to you lately?" She smirked 

 "are you trying to make me cum in my pants Tonight?" I asked her 

"Maybe" she giggled undoing the buttons on my shirt 

"What's the plan tonight?"

"Ohh well that would be telling" she smiled kissing my cheek then my jaw, then down my neck and my chest till her lips met my belt 

"Ummm please baby," I groaned just the feeling of her so close to where I wanted her, the sight of her kissing above my belt almost to much to take "I need you" I beg 

"Sit on the bed and get your toys out" she orders going to get her toy bag open 

"Ummmm yes baby" I nodded doing as she asked getting the toys I keep here in my locked draw out and on the bed for her, I got them all as I don't know what she wants and I sat against the headboard fiddling with my belt egar to remove it. She brought her toys to the bed too spreading them out with my own. She took a glass of water from the table and handed me my little box from my draw "oohh? Do we need these tonight then?" I asked taking the strip of pills from the box 

"Well given how… overexcited you already are" she smirked kneeling over my thigh and kissing the crotch of my jeans "I just want to make sure we can play all night jake" 

"Yes baby" I smirked taking two and sipping the water to swallow the little blue pills returning the water to the side she smiled nuzzling into my chest I smiled cuddling her close feeling her soft, warm body, I ran my fingers across one of the toys and she saw moving my hand away 

"Very egar tonight jake" 

"I've told you already how much I missed you, how much I need you" I groaned 

"A little while longer jake, just while we sort out" she smiled slipping her hand under my jeans and her fingertips gently playing with my cock 

"Uughhh baby" I groaned moving my hips desperate for her hands "more… please" I begged grinding against her hands but she squeezed and sat up getting off the bed making me groan more biting my tongue feeling my cock throb with need. She played with the toys a moment before getting her favorite, the handcuffs shark silver metal with red fluffy cuffs she clamped my wrist in one and wrapped the chain twice around the metal of my bed and cuffed the other cuff to its own chain around my bedframe close to the bed post, she the did the same with another pair to the other side of my bed leaving my arms outstreched across the bed with no hope of escape without the handcuff key she now put around her neck and down her bra she ran her hand down my bare chest pushing apart my shirt where it still sat on my shoulders and arms, till her hand met my belt "umm take it off please baby" I begged but she kept going folding my dick a little till she smirked undoing my belt pulling my jeans and underwear off me throwing them to the floor my cock standing tall visbaly throbbing precum dripping down my head and shaft making her giggle playfully, rubbing the precum into my head "ooohh god, yes baby! Yes! More, more I'm begging you" I plead slightly humping her hand but she squeezed my shaft and moved away grabbing my ankle and some rope from her bag, she tied my ankles to either bedpost leaving me at her mercy completely with no way of moving or escaping the only moment I had the thrusting and squirming of my hips "what are you going to do to me tonight baby?"

"You'll find out my love" she smiled grabbing her biggest toy and instantly I wanted to cum the moment the vibrating head of her mercilous magic wand touched my cock 

"UUUUuuuuuuuuhhhhh!! Yes! Yes! Baby I'm gonna cum!" I sqealed grabbing the cuffs in my desperation 

"It's only in low Jake" she smirked 

"Ummmm but it feels so good" I groaned and she turned it up

"Auuughhhhhhhhhh!!! Baby! Baby! Holy fuck! I'm gonna cum! Stop please I'm about to cum!" I begged her my hips jerking up as I was so close feeling my edge seconds away sis she stopped taking it off me 

"Too powerful tonight?" She asks and I nodded getting my breath back so she put it down getting the little toy I was much more used too putting it close to my face so I gave it a little kiss on the rubbery plastic before she squirted a little lube on her hand and rubbed slowly and tenderly up and down my shaft and then around the toy before slipping it on me sitting It at my base and she smiled wickedly clicking it on letting it tighten and vibrate around me not as powerful as the wand by any means but enough to make me squirm from pleasure my knees trying to connect where I was squirming so much against the restrains 

"Uuummmmmm baby" I groaned thrusting my hips up for some mild release from the pleasure she smirked kissing my head whenever I groaned making me groan much much more wanting her heavenly kisses till she pulled back "ummm what else baby? Oe are you just tieing me up and letting me suffer tonight?" I asked her but she smirked winking at me getting the little blue sculped plastic toy squirting lube all over it I was confused a moment was she going to… she never usually lubes her vibrators? And if so why tie me up? Unless she thinks I won't be able to help myself? Plus the blue toy isn't the one she puts inside her? She puts the purple one inside her so where's…. Oooohh "baby? Is that toy going where I think it's going?" I asked 

"Where do you think it's going jake?' she asked still rubbing the lube across the toy 

"Well given I know that's not yours and you are uhhh lubing it alot" I said a little I don't know intreeged, interested, horny, confused, it was a strange mix of emotions 

"Where do you think it's going jake?" She repeated 

"Baby?' I asked slightly groaning from the vibration still around me "is that going… inside me?" I asked and she giggled in her playfully way that I know means yes. "Uuuhh you mean it?" I asked both in fear and excitement, I was okay with it when she mentioned about it months ago it was open to it for sure but to be faced with it  now tonight with the toy in her hand I admit I was a little scared "okay, baby. Just be gentle I've never done it before" I told her and she nodded giving my cock kisses as she gently moved me where she could a moment I didn't know what to think or how it would feel as I felt the cold of the lube on the plastic close to me I held my breath before I felt her push it in. It hurt at first but I couldn't deny it was like getting spanked or a love bite a sweet stinging pain that only made me hornyier she pushed more and more and more until I took every inch of the toy leaving only the base exposed it felt strange like being stretched out but I guess that's how she feels, she smirked gently pulling out and then back in the head of the toy rubbing in something inside me that felt… Soo good. "Uughhh baby! More! More!" I begged and she giggled doing as I asked 

"Aww jake you like it?" She asks 

"Like it? Ummmm baby I love it!" I groaned squirming against the covers as I felt so good feeling it moving inside me rubbing in a place I didn't even know about, the vibration around my cocks shaft and her evil restrains all of it made me feel so good "ummmmmmm I love being your little plaything y/n" I smirked "uuhh! I love you so much" I groaned getting closer and closer

"Aww I love you too jake" she smiled kissing my lips very gently but as she did she twisted the base of the toy and it began to vibrate inside me rubbing it's vibrating head right in that new place 

"UUUUGHHHHHHH!! BABY! BABY!" I Screamed "uuuuuuh faster, harder! Please y/n baby!"

"Awww jake thats so cute" she smiled moving the toy faster and turning up the one around my cock onto full "awww look at my sweet boy all desperate for me"

"I'm more then desperate baby" I groaned "please give it to me. Ummm give me everything baby"

"Is that what my boy wants?" She asks 

"It is, I need you please" I begged 

"The let the neighborhood know who owns you" she growled in my ear Turning up the toy inside me to full too

"UUUUuuuuuuuuhhhhh Uughhh uughhh! Baby! I'm all yours, I'm all yours my beautiful girlfriend, every inch of Me, every part of me ummm it's yours, faster harder please I need you! My body is yours my love now fucking take me!" I screamed and before I could even reach I felt her around me as she let me slip inside her the ring still around my base vibrating like crazy now slightly vibrating in her clit too the toy still deep inside me rubbing on me and now her warm dripping pussy around me "UUUUUUUGGHHHH UUUUUUUUUUUUHHH!!! BABY! Y/N! Y/N!" I screamed second from my orgasum fighting my restrains, fighting my own hips as I desperately and instinctively fucked her unable to stop myself making her moan and groan tightening around me very so often but I saw her hand grab something else and part of me was scared but the magic wand cake back asnsheoushed it against her clit on high vibrating her whole pussy which may have uhhh well… "UUUUUUUUUUHHHHH UUUUMMMM UHH UUUH UUUUH UHH UUUGHHHHH! BABY! BABY! BABY! FUCK! fuck! Fuck! I love you, I love you, I love you, oohhh my beautiful y/n my beautiful baby girl UUUUUUUGGHHHH……" I screamed at the top of my lungs finishing deep inside her feeling her squirt on me as she clearly hit her own seconds after me turning the wand off and collapsing in my chest even if I still felt the toys going drawing all my attention to my cock and my insides "baby, as much as I wanna cuddle can you take the toys off… please, I'll get overwhelmed again if you don't" I remind her and she nodded pulling the toys out and off me and letting me out the restrains "I love when we do that" I smiled cuddling her tightly

"Ummm I do too" she smiled hugging me close "love you" she giggled

"Love you too baby" I smiled kissing her sweet lips and tapping her nose "where did you get that anyway never seen a blue toy before?"

"Online they had a sale and I thought maybe you should have one all for your own" she smiled "you like it?"

"Very much, anything involving that toy can it please uhh be moved up the list" 

"We'll see jake" she smiled "so… your turn?" She asks sitting up hand offering me the handcuffs I smirked taking them from her and flipping her over 

"My turn" I growled kissing down her neck and pulling down her bra to expose those sexy breasts ….

[sweethq]

#30 || Bokuto Kōtarō

♡ “Baby, please tell me why there’s a hole through the window.” // prompt

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* choose a prompt here *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𑁍 Characters: Bokuto Kōtarō, mentions of Akaashi Keiji (<3)

»»—Trigger warning(s): none—-««

➶ Genre: fluff, timeskip!AU

✎ Word count: 1.4k

-ˏˋ A/N: Wow writing things like this just remind me of how single I am and it makes me depressed. It’s okay, if he’s not Bokuto then I don’t want him. Who would’ve known that Ko breaking a window would make him this cute? ˊˎ-

“What in the world is he doing?” you mumble to yourself, the sight of your boyfriend standing in front of your shared house in a suit sparking your interest. His smile widens at the sight of your car pulling into the driveway, checking his appearance in the window’s reflection for the fifth time before running up to the car. He swiftly opens the door for you, making sure to grab your work bag from your grasp.

“Kō, what-”

“Baby! I missed you so much! Come on, I have a surprise for you inside.”

He slides his fingers to lace with yours, pulling you into the house without another word. You silently question his actions, not sure if he was acting strange or if this was just another one of Kōtarō’s weird antics. He drags you into the master bathroom that he proudly decorated just for you. The bathtub is full of hot water, paired with bubbles and flower petals. The petals also scatter the floor, a few small candles placed here and there. The sight is breathtaking. You turn to Kōtarō, a nervous smile present on his face.

“So, do you like it?”

“Kō, it’s beautiful! What’s the occasion?”

“I know that you really like bubble baths but are always too tired to make one when you get home from work, so I thought I’d surprise you! I hope this helps you feel a little more relaxed.” You smile at his words, leaning up to press a kiss on his lips.

“It’s perfect. Thank you, baby.”

Kōtarō left the bathroom and let you do your thing. The hot water feels like bliss against your cool skin, the scent of the candles taking you to another world. You can’t remember the last time you felt this relaxed, almost as if all of your worries and struggles disappeared.

When you exit the bathroom, you notice an outfit laid out on the bed with a note attached.

I’ve always loved this outfit on you, it’s one of my favorites. Put it on and join me down in the kitchen. And don’t bother putting on any makeup, you’re already beautiful.

Even after all these years together, Kōtarō’s words never fail to make your heart rate increase. He always makes sure you feel loved.

You did as he said, getting dressed before making your way into the kitchen. Kōtarō is standing in the entryway, a bouquet of flowers firm in his grasp. You glance behind him and notice the setup on the dining room table. Flower petals were once again scattered, this time on the table that was highlighted with a meal for two and a bottle of wine. All of the curtains were shut, the only light that illuminated the dining area were the tall candles that decorated the countertop. You can feel the tears forming in your eyes when you think about the amount of effort he put into all of this. Kōtarō is very alarmed when he notices a tear roll down your flushed cheeks.

“O-oh my god please don’t cry! Do you not like it? We can do something else if you want, I just thought-” Kōtarō is flustered at the sudden change of emotions, trying to think of a way to fix it. You cut him off with a bone crushing hug.

“You dummy. I love it. I love you.” He never failed to make you feel like the most special person in the world. Kōtarō pulls away from the hug and starts peppering you with kisses all over your face, making you squeal.

The two of you enjoy your meal together, Kōtarō even bringing out a dessert he had made from the refrigerator. You tell him about your day at work; about how you may be getting promoted in the near future and how your coworker who constantly gets on your nerves made a huge mistake and earned himself a scolding. Kōtarō tells you about his day, which he says was uneventful; full of bird watching and trying to perfect a headstand (A/N: honestly, could totally see him doing this random ass shit one day for absolutely no reason). As he was in the midst of explaining how close he was to being able to do a headstand, you cut him off.

“Wait- What time is it? We’re gonna miss the sunset!” you exclaim, quickly searching for your phone to check the time. Watching the sunset was one of your favorite things to do with Kōtarō. Since you spend your entire day at work, it’s one of the things you can do with each other every day when you get home. You love the way the sun creates a golden canvas on everything that it touches, and you especially love the sight of Kōtarō in the yellow sunlight, the rays making his eyes sparkle more than they already do.

You sigh in relief when the clock tells you that the sun was still above the horizon.

“Whew, that was close. I thought we missed it and broke our tradition,” you mutter, a frown prominent on your face. You walk to each of the windows, drawing the curtains to let the golden rays shine into your home. As you approach the window above the kitchen sink, Kōtarō grabs your wrist, making you stop your movements.

“No, not that one.”

“Why not?” You’re genuinely confused, his palms soon becoming sweaty.

“Uh, because. If you do, it’s going to be way too bright in here. Let’s just leave that one closed, yeah?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, this window is the one with the best view! Stop being weird,” you comment, tapping your index finger to his nose twice. Your hand reaches to push the curtain aside, waiting to let the warmth of the sun hit your face.

“Wait-” Kōtarō starts, but is cut off by the bright light in his eyes and a slight breeze through the broken glass. He peers down to look at your face, trying to read your expression to no avail.

“Baby, please tell me why there’s a hole through the window.” Kōtarō freezes, not sure if he should be relieved or terrified at the lack of emotion in your voice. He starts to cower away like a guilty puppy.

“I-I’m sorry, it was an accident! Akaashi came over today and we were playing volleyball in the yard and I was making fun of him because I’m still better than him and he said that he is better than me at every other sport and I wanted to prove him wrong so I grabbed a baseball and tried to pitch it to him but it slipped out of my hand and it went through the window and I messed up but I’m going to get it fixed don’t worry so please don’t be mad at me I love you!” You stare blankly at his face, both impressed and concerned that he was able to push that out without taking a single breath. His face turns a bright red from embarrassment and the lack of oxygen as you laugh wholeheartedly.

“I’m sure Akaashi knows just how good you are at other sports now,” you breathe out, not being able to suppress your laughter. Kōtarō was so close to entering his emo mode when you made the comment, crossing his arms and pouting like a child.

“I’m just joking baby. Is that why you did all of this for me tonight? Because you felt guilty for breaking the window?”

“Yeah.. Please don’t be mad.” You frown at his sullen presence. You take a step towards him and bring your hand to caress his face, smiling when he leans into your touch.

“Babe, I’m not mad at you. How can I be when you went through all this trouble just to make it up to me? You may be an idiot at times, but you’re a thoughtful idiot, and most importantly, you’re my idiot.”

“Thank you?” A chuckle escapes your smiling lips, pulling Kōtarō into a tight hug. He nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling your scent of strawberries and vanilla that drives him wild. You can’t help but melt into his embrace, his arms have always been your safe haven.

“Let’s just forget about the window and go to bed. I want to cuddle,” you whine to your boyfriend, his ears perking up at the thought of snuggling under the blankets and holding you close. He felt so lucky to have someone like you who loves every part of him, even though he has many flaws. Little does he know that to you, he is the most perfect human and you wouldn’t change him for the world.

[carewyncromwell]

“I howled at the moon with friends And then the sun came crashing in -- Wo-o-o-o-o-oh! Wo-o-o-o-o-oh! But all the possibilities: no limits, just epiphanies -- Wo-o-o-o-o-oh! Wo-o-o-o-o-oh! I'm never gonna look back -- never gonna give it up, no -- Just don't wake me now... This is gonna be the best day of my life... My li-i-i-i-i-ife!”

~“Best Day of My Life,” by American Authors

x~x~x~x

Hey guys! This is the first in hopefully a set of Singles Awareness Valentine’s Day posts I want to do that will feature each of my kids with someone that’s close to their heart. To start with, here’s something for my unofficial-teacher!HPHL!vampire, Bartholomew “Bat” Varney! This drawing is going to take some explaining...

A few years into Bat’s friendship with DADA professor Atticus Grimsley @cursebreakerfarrier​, Bat came up with a fun idea of something he and his mate could share together. By trading some information about dragon breeding to an interested wizard, the vampire got his hands on a Patented Daydream Charm, a type of commercial spell that didn’t exist when he was a Hogwarts student and didn’t currently have the magical ability to try out himself. Bat brought the Charm over to Atticus, suggesting that they use it together so that he could show the professor what Christmas was like at Hogwarts when he was at school. Atticus himself had never indulged in such a charm before, given his austere upbringing, so it didn’t take much to coax him. Sure enough, when Atticus cast the charm using the box’s instructions, he and Bat were soon enveloped in an amazingly realistic recreation of Hogwarts’s Great Hall, decorated in a 1770′s-worthy Christmas.

In Bat’s day, Christmas trees weren’t really the thing they became in Britain and America from the 19th century onward. Instead the Great Hall was decorated much more modestly. Instead of fairy lights, enchanted icicles, and baubles, it was decked with holly, ivy, evergreen branches, mistletoe, white candles, and handmade wreathes decorated with fruit, pinecones, and ribbons. The students dancing around the open floor also twirled around in large communal dancing, constantly switching and sharing partners rather than sticking to strict, formal pairs. It was, in short, a casual winter’s ball hosted and arranged almost entirely by the student body, rather than prepared or moderated by any members of the Hogwarts staff.

Because it was all a daydream composited from Bat’s memories, though, Bat didn’t appear as the tall, auburn-haired, red-eyed vampire Atticus knew. Instead, as he always appeared in his own dreams, Bat resembled his true self -- his curly-haired, dark-eyed past human self, Robert Harker. It was something so second-nature to Bat that Atticus’s hesitance at the sight of him immediately made him feel self-conscious, but before Bat could daydream himself to look more like his “real-world” self, Atticus stopped him, saying that he looked fine as he was. Atticus’s support reassured Bat more than he could properly express, and Atticus noticed afterwards how much happier and freer his usually laid-back friend seemed as he grabbed Atticus’s hand and pulled him out toward the dance floor so he could show him around the entire Hall.

At one point, a pretty girl with a strawberry blond updo and a pretty pearl-white dress encouraged Atticus to dance with the other people on the dance floor. Perhaps because it was a shared daydream, Atticus was able to pick up the steps relatively easily, and to Bat’s surprise, Atticus turned out to be a very talented dancer who soon danced circles around him. It was only after the dance was over that Atticus realized who the girl he’d been dancing next to must have been, when she dashed off to the side to greet a very tall, blue-eyed, auburn-haired boy who’d just arrived -- Cecelia Crouch-Varney, Robert’s ex-best friend and the real Bartholomew’s wife, who had cursed Robert into the form of the vampire he now knew as Bat. Cecelia and the real Barty had been such a fixture in Bat’s memories that they were there even without him consciously thinking about it. Atticus had a bit of trouble looking at the pretty young woman with anything other than disapproval, given how much she’d hurt Bat, and he frankly had no idea how his mate ever could’ve found it in his heart to forgive her, even after over a hundred years.

Bat then suggested that Atticus “take him to one of his parties” next, in their daydream. Atticus was hesitant, since he really hadn’t gone to any big social events at school. Eventually, however, he settled on a private ball held at the Grimsley family estate, circa the early 1880′s. This particular event was hosted by Atticus’s father to “present” Atticus as the heir to the Grimsley legacy before the family’s other well-regarded Pureblood associates. It was also the first time Bat ever laid eyes on or learned much of anything about Wulfric Charles Grimsley -- and from the moment he first laid eyes on the old man and took in how he hovered like a cold shadow over a much younger Atticus, whispering reproachful reminders in his ear as his claw-like hand sank into his son’s shoulder, Bat found an icy hatred settling into his chest toward Atticus’s late father. Because the man was dead and Bat could sense Atticus’s discomfort at how intensely Bat watched the image of his younger self and his father, the vampire didn’t overtly address his feelings, instead shifting the conversation. Since Atticus was both a professor and a talented dancer, it was only right that he show Bat how to dance something next, yes? And if his younger self wasn’t going to get much chance to dance at this party...well, they’d just have to rewrite the night properly, with Atticus dancing as much as and however the hell he wanted. And so Atticus, laughing despite himself, led the slightly taller Bat in a Viennese Waltz alongside the twirling couples of his past, the memory of his father and his lonely younger self slowly fading away until they were no longer there at all. 

“You’re really quite good at this, Grim.”

“Always the tone of surprise.”

Although the daydream only lasted an hour and Atticus had to very quickly restrain Bat and help feed him a lot of blood after they returned to the real world, it remains one of both men’s happiest memories, as a time when they got to share a part of themselves they hadn’t with much of anyone else and (at least in their own heads) be in the kind of close proximity that normal friends could. It wouldn’t be until many years later with the invention of the Blood Pop that Bat could really touch anyone else, so until that day, this was the closest Bat had ever been able to get to interacting with his counterpart “Grim” as if he were an ordinary man.

[sparkle-heart-anon]

Les idées d’amour (Racetrack Higgins x Girly!Reader)

Request: Racetrack x girly reader where she makes him take. Bubble bath, do face masks, watch titanic, and let her do his makeup bx she’s sick. Sorry if this is specific hahah

A/N: Okay, so I hope I wrote what you wanted. I did get a little bit off topic, but I think it combines together well, and is overall pretty cute! 

Word count: 4,609

Love is not one grand sweeping gesture filled with romance and lights and perfection. Love is the culmination of the perfectly imperfect little moments, fragmented together to create a beautiful picture.

No one saw that better than Racetrack Higgins. Every day with you was filled with little moments of love, seen in every action.

“Anthony Higgins!” you gasped, seeing him in the doorframe, bruised and bleeding, his shirt torn and his eye swelling shut. “What on earth did you do?”

Through the pain, he gave you a sheepish grin, which quickly dissolved into a wince, before he headed inside the apartment the two of you shared.

He moved to sink down onto the couch, but before he could, you grabbed his hand to stop him. It was then you noticed the bleeding on his knuckles.

“What did you do?” you asked again, you’re voice slightly less stern this time.

“Relax, Y/N,” he said, leaning in to give you a little kiss. “I did what needed to be done.”

You lightly touched his shoulder and noticed how much he winced. You sighed, then said “I’m drawing you a bath.”

“What?”

He walked after you to the bathroom slowly, groaning in pain with every step.

“Seriously, Y/N, I’m fine. I’ll just lay down for a little bit and wake up fine.”

You maybe have been shorter than Race, and you may have been wearing the least intimidating outfit on the planet, but Race knew when he saw that look in your eye, he stood no chance of winning. “You’re taking a bath and you’re going to tell me what happened.”

He sat down on the closed toilet in the bathroom while you started running the bathwater. He watched as you rummaged through the cabinet before finding a bright pink bath bomb and some strawberry scented bubble bath. You poured in the bubble bath and dropped the bath bomb in the water before turning back to Race.

“Strip,” you told him.

“My, my, my, if you wanted me that bad, Y/N, you could have just told me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Racetrack Higgins strip and get in that bath.”

“Okay,” he sighed, before tugging his shirt off his torso. But before you could get a look -- either at his chiseled chest or the bruises that littered it, you heard a beeping coming from the kitchen.

“Shit, the cookies!” you exclaimed, running to go get them from the oven. When you returned with a washcloth to help with Race’s cuts, you saw him leaning deep down into the bath, the bubbles going up to his neck, his knees peeking out of the water.

“How are you feeling?” you asked him, kneeling down at the side of the tub and dipping the washcloth in the water.

“You should get in with me,” he smiled lopsidedly, reaching out of the water to the hem of your pink sweatshirt, motioning for you to take it off.

“Answer the questions and I’ll think about it,” you told him, bringing the cloth to the biggest cut on his forehead, filled with gravel. His eyes screwed shut in pain.

“Not great.”

“Where does it hurt?”

“Face, I guess. Chest too. But I think my lips might be broken.”

“Your lips are broken?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he laughed, before pulling you into a kiss. “Okay well, I don’t think they’re broken, but they hurt.”

“You’re black and blue and still this cheeky,” you laughed.

“You love it.”

You had finished getting the gravel from the cut on his forehead, and were now moving to his eye.

“Y/N, seriously, I’m fine. It was just a little fight.”

“Over what?” you asked, pushing back a golden lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. “Did someone say that the Red Sox were better than the Yankees? Because they are.”

“No,” he playfully rolled his eyes. But then his tone dropped to be something more somber. “Some people were talking shit, and I just couldn’t stand for it.”

“What were they saying?”

You could see him pause, and he tried to look anywhere but at you.

“Race?”

“I don’t wanna say,” he whispered. Rarely was he ever this serious.

“Were they talking about your parents?” He shook his head. “About the guys?” He shook his head again. “About what you’re gonna do after --”

He cut you off, almost silently. “They were talking about you.”

Neither of you said anything for a long beat. “Me?” At this point you had moved down to working on the bruises on his chest, but you paused and looked him in his eyes. “What were they saying.”

You could see him grow more uncomfortable, not from the pain of his injuries, but from the pain in his words. In the words of the others.

“Disgusting things, Y/N, like awful things.”

“Like what?” your voice grew softer.

“They said what they’d do to you if they got the chance. Commenting on your skirts and your hair and everything. And it was so gross. And I had to do something!”

You watched him ball his fists again and rise in anger.

“Hey,” you whispered, placing your hand on his shoulder. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m yours.”

He gave you a long look. “That’s never what I was worried about. Of course I trust you. But you choosing them was not what they were talking about. More like you didn’t have a choice in the matter.” You could see the hurt and the anger deep in the lines of his eyes.

“Oh,” you said, suddenly wishing that you hadn’t worn that white skirt while you two were out yesterday. I need to cover up more, you thought, ashamed. “Do you want me to dress less feminine -- like more conservative and everything?”

“What?” he was taken aback. “Not unless you want to. That’s why I had to fight them. To put them in their place.” He held your hand in his, and you paused.

“I love you, Race.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

You finished washing out his wounds, and wondered what to do next. “You should join me in the bath,” he said.

“There’s no room,” you laughed, placing a blob of bubbles on his nose.

He smirked. “We could make room. Pleeease?”

“Only because you defended my honor,” you laughed.

He watched you with bright red cheeks, completely entranced as you pulled off your pink sweatshirt, and discarded your skirt.

“What are you staring at, Higgins?” you smiled.

“Only the most beautiful creature on this planet.”

You rolled your eyes, but blushed anyway before sinking down next to him in the bath.

“Where did you get this bubble bath?” he asked, lifting a blob of bubbles in his hand. “I really like it.”

“Lush I think.”

“We should go get some more.”

“Whatever you say,” you giggled and rested your head on his chest. “Just no more fights.”

Racetrack Higgins was not someone who spent undue time on his skin. He had always had pretty much flawless skin, much to your dismay, as you seemed to always break out.

But now, the tables had turned, and while for once your skin decided to be clear, Race had a huge angry pimple right in the middle of his forehead, along with trails of acne on his cheeks.

“I don’t know how this happened?” he asked looking in the mirror, you standing next to him.

“I told you,” you said, singsong, “you need a skin care routine beyond washing your face with a bar of soap.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well I can’t show up like this to the party tomorrow.”

“Worried you’ll ruin your dashingly handsome image?” you laughed.

“Yes!” he said, turning to look at you.

“Let me see your face,” you finally said. He leaned down, and you examined the acne on his face. “Wash your face with my fancy face wash, the one in the blue tin. Then meet me in the living room. Oh! And use the white tube next to the pink lotion, that’ll help clear it up.”

While Race tried to figure that out, you rummaged around, finally pulling out the charcoal face masks you had, and the little silicone brush to brush it on. You had it ready when Race emerged from the bathroom, his face red and some of his pimples bleeding a touch. Except, of course that one stubborn on in the center of his forehead.

“Facemasks?” he asked with an amusing smile, sitting down next to you on the couch.

“You need it for your acne,” you laughed, motioning towards his face. You handed Race the charcoal face masks so he could first skeptically examine the ingredients.

“It’s not going to turn me purple or anything right?” he asked.

“Really?”

“I’m just saying if I’m going with the martian look, I at least want to know ahead of time.”

“Give me that,” you said, taking the bottle from him and squeezing some of the facemask cream onto the brush. You began to brush it onto his face. “And green is the Martian chic now -- not purple.”

“So what planet is purple?” he asked, but you shushed him.

“You’re going to mess it up!” you cried, trying to feign a serious look on your face. “Stop moving.”

Racetrack Higgins is someone who talks a lot. And if he isn’t talking, he needs to be doing something. But with you, hovering over his face, imploring him to sit still and stop talking was torture.

“I need to do something,” he finally broke this silence.

“You need to sit still,” you said, moving from his cheeks to his forehead.

He just smiled (cracking the facemask) before leaning in and kissing you. He threaded his fingers through your hair, and you eagerly kissed back. But when you pulled away after a moment, you saw that half of his face mask had come off onto your own face.

“Race!” you laughed, touching the black goo on your face. “You messed up your facemask! How are we ever going to get rid of your acne now?”

“I’d rather have acne than not being able to kiss you.”

“It’s twenty minutes.”

“That’s a lifetime for a fruit fly! Meaning that’s like impossible for me. Like, I seriously might die if I can’t kiss you for twenty minutes.”

“You’re not gonna die in twenty minutes, drama queen,” you laughed.

“I might.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you want the face mask or not?”

He thought for a minute. “Fine. But I need one more kiss for the long wait I’ll have to struggle to endure.”

A laugh ripped from your chest, and you agreed, moving up towards him to get as close as you could, not caring if his face mask got onto yours.

He kissed you as though he truly thought his life depended on it, holding you by the small of your back so that your chest was pressed to his.

“You know,” he whispered in your ear, touching the hem of your skirt, “we could just forget the face masks.”

No matter how tempted you may have been, you laughed. “You look like an off brand phantom of the opera with half a face mask. We can do that later.”

He pretended to pout for a moment, and you gave him one more small kiss, before moving to finish putting on the facemask.

When you were done with his, he tried to help you put on yours. The key word in that sentence was “tried”.

“You complained to me about sitting still?” he laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“I realized you’re right about not being able to last twenty minutes without a kiss.”

He playfully rolled his eyes. “Nope. Sorry. Closed for business until the facemask is off. So like, thirty years.”

“Race,” you pouted, cracking your face mask in the process, which caused both of you to laugh.

“These are completely unfair standards,” he told you, pretending to act all serious. “I think I’m gonna need to talk to my lawyer. Negotiate these terms.”

“You suck,” you laughed, playfully punching his arm. But as a rebuttal, he pulled you into a hug, and pressed a kiss to your forehead, trying not to get anything in your hair.

You laid down together on the couch, and Race flipped through the channels trying to find something to watch. Eventually, you settled on some crappy Christmas movie.

“It’s like October,” he pretended to complain.

“So, pretty much Christmas season,” you told him, leaning up to look at his face. He took that as a chance to lean in and kiss you.

“It’s not really. And this is a really cheesy movie.”

“But that’s what makes it so good!”

He just laughed it off and pressed play.

And within a few minutes, you had pretty much passed out, forgetting about the face masks and the acne. Now, it became Race’s duty to prevent you from rolling over and getting facemask on the couch or on your shirt or on his shirt.

You rolled around a lot in your sleep, so this was not very easy.

The timer you had set for the facemasks went off, causing a loud beeping to fill the room. You jumped up, not sure where you were and what you were doing. You went to rub your eyes, and before Race could stop you, you realized, pulling your hand away which was now covered with black charcoal.

“Damn it,” you cursed, noticing it would probably stain your nail polish.

“At least my acne will be gone,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips.

You sat at your makeup table, trying to figure out if you should match your pink outfit with pink eyeshadow, or if you should do a complementary color, like green.

“Pink or green eyeshadow, Race? What do you think?” you called to him in the other room. He was getting ready for work.

“Uhhh. . . What color are you wearing?”

“Pink dress.”

“Pink eyeshadow I think,” he said, finally walking into the bedroom, his toothbrush in his mouth.

“Thanks,” you smiled, grabbing the palette.

By the time Race had walked out of the bathroom, you had moved on to eyeliner. Slowly, you were tracing it along your lash line, before swooping out to make the wing. When you had finished one eye, you noticed Race was standing there, completely still, almost transfixed on you.

“You okay?” you asked, turning to look at him with a lopsided smile.

He paused for a moment, thinking, before turning to smile and shake his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

Quickly, he walked out of the room, and you could see the blush on his cheeks.

With your makeup only half done, you got up out of your seat and walked to the door frame, looking at Race, who was now at the kitchen counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” you smiled lopsidedly, “what was that about?”

“Um,” he paused for a moment, and you could see him studying your face. “Can you teach me how to do that?” He motioned to your face.

“Makeup?”

“The eyeliner. . .Sorry, it’s stupid, I know. And really weird.”

“No it’s not,” you smiled, and kissed his cheek. “It’s kinda hard to do, but I’d love to teach you. Besides,” you dropped your voice a little bit, “it would look really hot on you.”

A small smile appeared on his face. “You don’t think it’s weird or anything?”

“Of course not. Why would you think that?”

He paused and looked at his shoes. “I don’t know. I mean, I tried to do something like that in college, and I got a lot of shit from the guys in my frat, so. . .”

“Anthony Higgins, there is nothing you could do that I would think you’re weird for doing,” you smiled, kissing him lightly. “Except, of course, putting your milk before your cereal.”

He laughed, and wrapped his arms around your waist. “I think it would be your duty to break up with me at that point.”

“I agree.” You placed your hand on his cheek and pulled him into a kiss, which he eagerly deepened.

“Can we do the eyeliner now?” he asked hesitantly.

“Sure. Let me just finish my own first.”

You walked to your vanity, with Race in tow. Slowly and steadily, you brushed the eyeliner across your eye, and tried not to laugh as Race sat on the bed, watching you intensely.

When you were done, you got out of your chair, and motioned for Race to sit down.

“Just eyeliner?” you asked. “Because I think highlighter would also look really good.”

He thought it over for a second. “Highlighter’s the sparkly stuff, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Just eyeliner for today, if that’s okay.”

“Whatever you want,” you smiled, kissing the crown of his head, and ruffling his golden hair. “But for this you need to sit really, really still, understand?”

“I promise,” he said, raising his left hand.

“Usually, you raise your right hand for promises, but I’ll accept it.” You took out the eyeliner, and knelt down. “Close your eyes.” He scrunched them close. “Lightly, babe. Close them lightly.”

This time, he followed your instructions, and slowly you began drawing on his lash line.

“It tickles,” he smiled.

“Stop smiling,” you scolded. “You’re gonna mess it up.”

“It’s hard.”

You finished off his first eye with a sharp wing, and then moved to the other. It wasn’t perfect. It was weird trying to do eyeliner on someone else, but when he opened his eyes, it looked pretty good. And he looked hot.

“I don’t think you can wear eyeliner from now on,” you said, feigning a serious voice. Instantly his face dropped, but before the apologies could start tumbling out of his mouth, you moved to sit on his lap. “You look too hot. I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off you.”

He relaxed and kissed you, threading his fingers through your hair.

“You’re sure you don’t find it weird?” he asked quietly.

“Of course not,” you whispered into his ear. “But I think you’re gonna be late for work if we take any longer. And if we do anything else, we might mess up your eyeliner.”

“I wouldn’t want that, you worked so hard on it.” He paused and looked in your eyes, a small smile etched into his face. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing your forehead.

“I love you too, hottie.”

Watch how someone treats you when you’re sick, your mother always told you when you were younger. That shows how much they love you.

Waking up with a pounding headache and the feeling like you were going to puke, that thought didn’t really cross your mind. In fact, the only thought that crossed your mind before you puked all over the sheets was I feel like shit.

You hardly had time to react, before bounding out of bed, racing to the bathroom, puking in the toilet.

You must have woken Race, who was there within a few minutes, holding your hair back, and rubbing your back. When you finally stopped vomiting, you felt completely and utterly gross.

“Fuck,” you cursed quietly.

“Don’t feel well?” Race asked quietly, bringing his hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up Y/N.” He looked at your hair. Despite his best efforts, vomit was in it. “Here, let me draw you a bath.”

You were feeling pretty much out of it and could hardly think clearly, but gave him a half hearted nod of your head, before sinking down to sit down on the cool linoleum.

Race turned on the water, and added some bubble bath, like you had done for him. Once it had filled up, he helped you up and helped you strip before you sank into the water.

“I feel awful,” you murmured, moving to rest your cheek on the cool tiles, providing some much needed relief.

“I’m sorry love,” he said, moving to sit just outside of the tub so your faces were close together. “Is there anything I can get you.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “You’ve done so much, thank you.”

“Let me at least get the vomit out of your hair,” he smiled, motioning to a strand of your hair.

“Yeah, okay,” you whispered, shutting your eyes.

Race was so sweet, washing your hair with the bright pink shampoo you always used that smelled like coconuts. As he was doing that, you were about to fall asleep, your eyes closing. You felt him run his hands gently across your forehead, in part checking your temperature and in part trying to soothe you.

When he had finished rinsing your hair for you, he spoke softly, not wanting to break your half sleep. “Do you wanna stay in the bath or go to bed?”

Your head felt like it was swimming, and you hardly felt like you could stand. But the water, despite being hardly lukewarm, felt like it was burning against your already on fire skin.

“Bed,” you whispered.

“Okay.” He grabbed a fluffy towel, and helped you out of the bath, steading you. He wrapped the towel around your shoulders, and led you over to the bed. “Do you want a nightgown?”

“Sure.” You shut your eyes and thanked that the sheets felt cool. He found one of your white nightgowns and helped you get dressed.

“I’ll grab you some tylenol,” he kissed your forehead. “Try to go to sleep and get some rest. I’ll let your work know too.”

You closed your eyes, and moments that felt like an eternity later, Race returned with some tylenol. You took it, before trying to fall asleep.

Race sat down next to you, and as you were falling asleep, loosely braided your damp hair. He hated seeing you like this -- so sick. And he couldn’t do anything about it.

He called in sick to work, too, so he could be there for you. You fell asleep within a few minutes of the tylenol kicking in, and hopefully it would bring down your fever.

He decided to make some soup for you, and even though he wasn’t the best chef, he luckily didn’t burn anything. (If you were not feeling sick, you probably would have pointed out that you can’t exactly burn a liquid.)

You woke up a few hours later, feeling a bit better that your fever was down, but still nauseated. Race was reading a book next to you, and his face broke into a smile when he saw you. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

“Bit better.” You grabbed his hand and held it, squeezing it tight. “But you shouldn’t be around me. You’ll get sick.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he smiled. “I made soup if you want it.”

“I’d love some,” you said, scooting up on the bed to sit up. While Race was grabbing and microwaving the soup, you turned on the TV in the room, and started looking for a movie to watch. As he was walking through the door, you settled on Titanic.

“Titanic?” he teased. “Really?”

“Is that okay?”

“It’s great,” he handed you your bowl of soup. “Just a bit cliché. But it’ll be cute.”

You watched the movie together, curling into his chest.

“The soup’s lovely, babe.”

“Glad you liked it. I slaved over the hot stove for hours,” he laughed.

“Hours?” You looked at the clock. You had slept for two hours, three tops.

“Okay, maybe it came from a can, but I cooked chicken to add to it.”

“Well, I love it. And I appreciate all your hard work.”

One of the worst things you had found about being sick was how restless you got. You couldn’t do anything -- you didn’t feel well enough to do anything. But you needed to do something.

Race had seen you sick before, from the sniffles to when you had to get your appendix out a few years ago. And he knew, for some godforsaken reason, you gained so much motivation to do stuff when you had so little energy to do anything.

“Do you want to do face masks?” he asks, smiling.

“Sure.”

He got up from the bed, and rummaged around, this time grabbing some sheet masks. He always joked that you looked like a zombie with them. You thought he looked like a ghost.

You helped him put on his sheet mask, and once again he could hardly sit still. Every two seconds he had to touch it, laughing at the goo that oozed out of it.

“Shush,” you joked. “I’m trying to stare at Kate Winslet’s tits.” It was then he realized that you guys were at that part of the movie. Instantly, you could see his face turn a bright red. “You act like you’ve never seen boobs before,” you laughed, turning to kiss his cheek, forgetting about the face mask.

“I just, I mean I don’t wanna. . . Like. . .” he was getting impossibly flustered, and you thought it was cute.

“Relax, you can draw me like one of your french girls later, when I’m feeling better. Although I don’t think I’ll have The Heart of the Ocean to wear.”

He just shook his head and laughed, wrapping his shoulder around you. The timer for the face mask beeped, and you were able to preoccupy yourself by rubbing in the lotion-y stuff. But within a few minutes, Race could tell you were getting restless again.

“Can you paint my nails?” he asked.

You noticed what he was doing, and thought it was the sweetest thing ever. “Sure. What color?”

He thought it over. “What colors do you have?”

“Hmmm,” you looked over to the shelf the nail polishes were placed on. “Gold, black, deep blue, light blue, light pink, hot pink, sparkly pink.”

“Can you paint all my nails black, except do sparkly pink for my middle finger? Give it some flair?”

“Sounds cool.” You got up out of bed and grabbed the colors. He handed you his hand, placing it, and you held it, extending his (very sexy looking) fingers. As the movie continued, you slowly painted his nails, trying not to get excess polish on his skin.

“You have unfairly nice nails,” you laughed. “Like I’d kill for these nails.”

“Great,” he said absentmindedly, and you could hear his voice crack.

“Are you crying?” you asked, looking up to see tears welling in his eyes. Jack was holding on to the door, and you both knew how it would get.

“It’s just so sad. I mean, there’s room for both of them on there. Or they could switch places. . . Or. . . Just, promise me you’ll never let me drown in the Atlantic Ocean, okay?”

“I promise, love,” you kissed his cheek. “I’ll only let you drown in the Pacifc.”

“Not funny,” he pouted, giving you puppy dog eyes.

“I promise I won’t let you drown.”

He ruffled your hair with the hand that was dry, and you scolded him, worrying that he would mess up his nails. They looked so good, and it would be a shame to have to redo them.

“Thanks for making this sick day better,” you said softly as the end credits rolled to the movie.

“Of course.”

The next day, Race woke up just as sick as you were. Which, yeah, kinda sucked, but it meant that you guys could spend the day together again, watching all the cheesy movies you wanted.

You were so lucky to have Race, although he would never stop thinking about how lucky he was to have you.